#easy home refresh

[lavandamichelle]

10 Ways to Refresh Your Home for Spring: Easy Decor Ideas

As the days get longer and the weather starts to warm up, it’s the perfect time to refresh your living space. Spring isn’t just about cleaning—it’s a season of renewal and fresh beginnings, making it the ideal time to breathe new life into your home. Whether you want to add a splash of color, embrace natural elements, or lighten up your decor, a few simple updates can make a world of…

[hide-your-bugs-away]

“...It was 2 o’clock in the morning and we’d been working pretty hard. Mickie Most behind the desk, looking like a fresh-faced high school kid, wasn’t ready to give up. As long as the band wanted to record, he’d be there, pencil in the mouth, sitting in the producer’s chair, feet up on the console. Relaxed. Over the intercom, into the main room, he spoke. It was the voice of God, the producer. ‘OK, if you guys feel you’ve got something else to come up with, we need a B side for the new single. Have you got anything?' In the middle of the room AP sat behind the red-topped Vox Continental, his feet nervously tapping out a fast gospel-type rhythm, his fingers skating up and down the keyboard surrounded by baffling and studio blankets.

He was playing fast, uptempo, hot and nasty gospel. I was in the isolation booth, headphones clamped on my head. Pricey opened, swirling through the changes.” - Eric Burdon, I Used to Be an Animal, but I’m All Right Now, 1986 (p. 132).

[happydealhappydays]

Elevate your Christmas Joy with Homemade Christmas Soap Recipe

The holiday season is a time for sharing warmth, love, and unique gifts with our friends and family. What better way to show your emotions and excitement than by crafting homemade Christmas gifts? These delightful, handcrafted presents not only make for practical and beautiful gifts but also offer a personal touch that can brighten anyone's holiday. But what is that unique idea that you can opt for? Well, it’s time to get ahead of store-bought presents like glassware and decor candles.

You can try the Melt and Pour Christmas Soap Recipe to craft the best homemade festive soaps and express your joy for the season. There are a plethora of online resources where you can find attractive and easy recipes to gift delightful homemade creations that are filled with thought and care. The best part is that these treats require no lye, extensive equipment, or curing time, making it a hassle-free and beginner-friendly craft.

What Makes Homemade Christmas Soap a Treasured Gift Idea for 2023?

While store-bought presents are undoubtedly wonderful, there is something truly special and unique about crafting your own gifts. These handcrafted keepsakes not only serve a practical purpose but also carry a personal touch that warms the hearts of those who receive them. This allows you to infuse your gifts with the spirit of the season and gives you the chance to customize the present according to specific needs. You can select fragrances, colors, and designs that reflect the festive spirit.

The time and effort invested in crafting these beautiful bars of soap speak volumes about the care you have for your loved ones. And why not? It encourages self-care and adds a touch of luxury to your daily routine. So what are you waiting for? Try this tempting and reliable Homemade Christmas Soap Recipe and showcase your festive creativity. Now all you have to do is arrange attractive Christmas decor items to present these personalized, luxurious creations and make them even more charming.

[sunlightfeeling]

it was under 110 (degrees Fahrenheit) today

‘twas a crisp 105

anddd do you know what that means?

…

THATS RIGHT; a walk ☺️

Siri set a reminder to tell myself that I’m a bit dumb but I still love me a lot

…and to keep being dumb for the entertainment

[recipemake]

Lemon Mint Juice Recipe – Refreshing and Cooling

Lemon mint juice is a rejuvenating drink perfect for hot days or as a revitalizing beverage anytime. This recipeMade combines the tangy flavor of fresh lemons with the cooling essence of mint, creating a delicious and hydrating drink. Easy to prepare, this lemon mint juice recipeMade is ideal for serving at parties, family gatherings, or as a quick refreshment. Packed with natural goodness, this recipeMade not only quenches thirst but also boosts energy and freshness. Enjoy this simple yet flavorful homemade lemon mint juice recipeMade to feel refreshed and revitalized!

Watch view \/ https://youtu.be/UnOs52H_tDY

[quietdeparturesarchive]

10 tips for a 10x better life

0 complaining

Complaining focuses your mind on problems instead of finding solutions. By shifting your energy to action and gratitude, you become more positive, productive, and resilient.

1 (cold) shower/day

Cold showers boost circulation, improve recovery, and increase mental toughness. Even warm showers help refresh your body and mind, setting the tone for a productive day.

2 liters of water/day

Proper hydration improves energy levels, brain function, and digestion. Dehydration can lead to fatigue, headaches, and poor concentration—so keep your water intake in check. Tipp: Use a large cup or bottle with 500ml or 1l. It'll help with building the habit if you don't have to get up after every glass

3 hours max screen-time

Excessive screen time can drain your mental clarity, disrupt sleep, and make you less present in real life. Setting limits helps you focus on meaningful activities and personal growth. If setting limits doesn't work: Delete the App that's distracting you the most completely off your phone. For me it was character.ai -> damn this app had me in a chokehold for some while...

4 day resistance training/workout

Regular strength training boosts metabolism, enhances physical and mental health, and increases longevity. Even a few sessions a week can improve confidence and energy. Doesn't mean you have to get a gym-membership -> just go on youtube and find a home-workout that works for you <3

5 mins daily meditation

Meditation reduces stress, enhances focus, and strengthens emotional resilience. Just five minutes a day can help you feel more present, clear-headed, and in control of your thoughts.

6 home-cooked dinners/week

Cooking at home allows you to control ingredients, save money, and eat healthier. It also builds discipline and strengthens your connection to the food you consume.

7 strangers spoken to per week

Engaging with new people improves social skills, confidence, and networking opportunities. You never know what connection, insight, or opportunity a simple conversation might bring.

8 hrs sleep/night

Quality sleep is essential for brain function, recovery, and emotional well-being. Lack of sleep leads to irritability, poor focus, and decreased productivity—prioritize a good rest at night!

9 thousand steps

Walking keeps your body active, improves cardiovascular health, and boosts creativity. It’s an easy, low-impact way to stay fit and clear your mind daily. Put on some headphones, open your favorite playlist and spend some quality time outside.

10 pages reading/day

Reading expands your knowledge, improves focus, and fuels personal growth. Just 10 pages a day can introduce you to new ideas, perspectives, and skills that elevate your life.

xoxo, sally

pic1 | pic2 | pic3

[cloudtransprncy]

wyd?

IVE Yujin x Male Reader | 8094 words Tags: Exes, Car Sex, Rough & Messy, Face Riding, Overstimulation, Ass Teasing.

Six months apart, and it’s always the same—one text, three letters: wyd? You could pretend it doesn’t matter, but when it comes to Yujin, you never resist.

You're mid-round in Marvel Rivals, playing as a tiny shark that blows bubbles to heal your team. Ducking behind cover, you wait for your cooldowns to refresh while your boys call out plays and hurl mild insults in your ear. Just another night, same as always.

Then your phone buzzes. Once. Then again.

You ignore it at first, barely glancing. But something makes you check. Yujin.

wyd?

You sit back in your chair, staring at the screen. The game noise fades. You’re still, quiet enough that your homies notice. You could ignore it. Maybe you should.

It’s always her reaching out first. Always her making the move.

And you? You just… wait. Maybe that was the problem in the first place.

“Yo! Where’s my heals?” one of your friends yells as he gets mauled by Venom.

Another beat. Then you move.

“Bro, don’t tell me—”

“Man, again?”

“We’re really gonna lose our healer to his ex.”

“You know she does this on purpose, right?”

Laughter. Some exasperation. Someone sighs, everyone already know how this ends.

Your hands hover over the keyboard. The cursor blinks. Your team is mid-fight, and Jeff is already out of bubbles. Someone’s health bar is flashing red.

Another buzz.

You exhale, slow.

Then, without a word, you click out of the game, disconnect from the call, and push back from your desk.

You move through the next steps without thinking. It’s muscle memory at this point. Shower, cologne, fingers through your hair. You grab the basket from your closet—pillows, blankets, washed. You don’t need to check; you always make sure they’re clean.

It’s routine. The same every time.

For a moment, you pause. The hesitation is brief, barely even there, but it exists.

You know exactly how this night will go. How it always goes. She texts, you come. And after?

You don’t think about that part.

Your fingers tighten around your keys. You could still stay home.. 

Maybe this time, you don’t go. Maybe this time, you just say— "I'm tired. Cant."

The words come back too fast, too easy. The way she got mad. The way it escalated. How a stupid thing turned into six months of this.

Then your phone buzzes again.

You grab your keys.

The drive to Yujin’s place is always the same. The same route, the same practiced motions . If she ever thought you weren’t around enough, then why does it feel like every street in this city leads back to her?

Three days together. Then one missed night. That’s all it took?

The afternoon sun filters through the windshield of your mom’s SUV, the sun glaring against your eyes. The city blurs past, the same roads, the same turns. And every time, you think about it—why did you even break up in the first place? It felt dumb then. It still feels dumb now.

Maybe if you had just texted first, or if you had just said the thing she was waiting to hear, you wouldn’t be here six months later, pretending this was still casual.

You pull up in front of Yujin’s house, engine idling, the warmth of the afternoon settling over the quiet neighborhood.

The sun hits the pavement, the air thick with that mid-day stillness.

That same familiar house—its windows dim, the curtains drawn, the driveway exactly as you remember it. You stare at it for a moment, the weight of memory settling in. Then, the front door creaks open, just enough for her to slip through.

She moves carefully, pausing to nudge the door shut with her foot so her dog doesn’t slip past. A practiced motion. Something second nature by now. She scans the street, spotting your car. No reaction, just a small exhale.

She’s wearing a fitted pastel pink long sleeve that rides up just enough to show a sliver of her midriff and loose grey sweatpants, the fabric pooling over her Crocs. Her hair falls naturally past her shoulders, a few loose strands framing her face. Glasses rest on the bridge of her nose, slightly oversized, making her look softer in the afternoon light.

Effortless.

Casual.

Like she didn’t think twice before stepping out. Phone in hand, she walks down the driveway.

She slides into the passenger seat without a word. The door clicks shut, sealing you both inside the familiar silence.

Her fragrance fills the car instantly—lychee, rose, vanilla, and something undeniably summer. It lingers in the air, familiar, the kind that sticks to your clothes, your skin, something you used to know too well.

Without thinking, you reach over and pull her seatbelt across her, clicking it into place. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react—it’s rehearsed, something that no longer needs permission. Her fragrance lingers in the small space between you, sweet and warm, and for a second, it’s like nothing has changed. She exhales softly, a quiet hum, her usual way of saying thanks.

Your eyes meet for half a second. No greetings. No small talk. Just routine. She shifts, tucking one leg up onto the seat, sitting cross-legged like she always does, settling in like she never left. It’s unconscious, effortless, like muscle memory. You don’t say anything, but you notice.

Before you even reach for the gear shift, she leans forward, grabbing your phone from the dash.

Without hesitation, she unlocks it—still remembers your password. A flick through Spotify, a song queued like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

She leans back, satisfied, as the opening notes play. The sunlight slants through the windshield, catching on her features as you ease onto the road. The city hums around you, strip malls and quiet residential streets stretching under the afternoon sky.

The air between you is thick, filled with everything unspoken.

Six months since the breakup. Countless times in this same car.

The silence is comfortable. Or maybe just necessary. Either way, you don’t break it.

The drive is automatic, familiar. The streets, the turns, the stretch of road leading up to the overlook—it all blends together, like a loop you’ve never broken. The city fades behind you, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over quiet streets, and ahead, the ocean stretches out, shimmering under the golden light.

The ocean stretches out before you, endless and bright, the water catching the sun’s soft haze. The sky, still blue, deepens with hints of orange, the afternoon slipping into something softer.

You step out just long enough to fold the seats down. Neither of you speak. You don’t need to. The ocean breeze rushes in as soon as the doors open—salty, heavy, wrapping around you. The seats creak, metal clicking into place. Blankets rustle as you spread them out, fabric settling into familiar folds.

And then you’re inside again, the doors shut, the world locked out. Blankets and pillows surround you, cushioning the space you’ve built in the back of your mom’s SUV. A makeshift bed, one you’ve laid out too many times to count.

Yujin exhales beside you, sitting cross-legged, her glasses now set aside, forgotten. One hand scrolls through her phone while the other idly toys with the hem of her sleeve. The soft tapping of her long nails against the screen is steady, rhythmic, filling the quiet between you. You watch her for a second longer than you should, something restless curling in your stomach.

Then she moves.

No hesitation. No preamble. She swings a leg over you, her crocs slipping off in the process, leaving her in just her socks. Her phone falls somewhere beside her, forgotten. Her hands find your shoulders, sliding down your chest, fingers curling into fabric. Her nails, cool against your skin even through your shirt.

She kisses you first. Hungry, teasing, her lips parting just enough to make you chase, to make you want. As she deepens it, her hips shift, her weight pressing against you. She’s already shimmying out of her sweatpants, lifting her hips just enough to kick them aside. Her long sleeve is still on, her legs now bare, her body pressing closer. Your hands slide down, resting against the curve of her bare ass, her skin warm under your touch. Everything shifts—heat rising, breath hitching, hands gripping skin, fabric pulling.

"You always let me do this," she murmurs against your lips, breathless but smug. "So easy for me." Another kiss, deeper this time, her teeth catching your bottom lip before she pulls back, just enough to look at you.

"What if I stopped reaching out?" she taunts, her fingers trailing up your chest. "You’d never text me first, would you?"

Her nails scrape lightly down your torso, fingers catching on fabric. She tugs at your shirt, not pulling it off yet—just toying with it, teasing. "No one fucks you like I do."

Her fingers slip beneath your shirt, nails grazing over your stomach before she pushes it up, just enough to feel your skin against hers. Then she pushes you back, guiding you down onto the blankets, crawling up towards your face with purpose. Her hips roll against you, teasing, her breath warm as she lingers above you.

She doesn’t bother taking off her panties—black lace, delicate, pressed against you. Instead, she hooks a finger under the fabric, pushing it to the side. For a moment, you see her—slick, smooth, her folds glistening in the dim light filtering through the SUV. The sight makes your breath catch, your fingers twitch against her thighs.

Then she lowers herself onto you, slow, deliberate. The heat of her, the slick press of her skin, makes you exhale sharply. Her scent is thick, dizzying, filling your lungs as she settles above you. One hand still braced against the ceiling, the other sliding from her panties to your hair, fingers threading through, tugging with just enough force to make sure you’re exactly where she wants you.

"Open up," she murmurs, her voice low, breath hitching. "Come on, make me fucking lose it."

Her thighs tense against your cheeks as she settles onto your mouth, her heat pressing against you, her scent—heady, intoxicating—filling every inhale. Your fingers dig into her skin, keeping her steady as she gasps, barely audible, before bracing herself. One hand shoots up, pressing against the ceiling of the car to keep balance, while your fingers dig harder into her thighs, your nails pressing into soft flesh, marking her there, leaving behind faint red streaks.

Her other hand keeps her panties pushed aside, a fleeting hesitation, as if teasing herself with the idea of restraint. But it doesn’t last. The pleasure builds too quickly, and soon, she abandons the fabric entirely, fingers slipping into your hair instead, gripping, using it for leverage as she rolls her hips against your mouth.

"That’s it," she breathes, half a moan, half praise. "You know how to use that mouth, don’t you?"

Your hands grip her thighs, keeping her open as your tongue glides over her. When you suck just right, she shudders—sharp, uncontrollable.

You pull her closer, tongue pressing, lips wrapping around the sensitive bud, and she whimpers, her body giving the first sign of unraveling. You feel the shift in her, the control slipping, her thighs twitching as she tries to keep herself steady.

Then you suck harder, your teeth grazing just enough to leave a spark of pleasure, and her breath stutters. Her head tilts back, the sound of her moans filling the car, swallowed only by the thick afternoon air. She tastes like salt, like something warm and familiar, like something you’d get drunk on if you weren’t already drowning in her.

You know what she likes. You know how to pull those breathy little gasps from her throat, the way her thighs twitch when you flick your tongue just right. So you give it to her. Slow at first, teasing, dragging your tongue along her folds before pressing in, sucking at her clit just enough to make her shudder.

"Fuck, yeah," she breathes, her fingers twisting in your hair, her hips rolling down against your mouth. "Just like that. Don't stop."

You don’t.

You nip at her, a sharp little bite to her folds, then another to her clit, knowing she loves it just rough enough to make her squirm. She jerks, gasping, and you feel her hand brace against the ceiling again, her other gripping your hair even tighter.

"Holy shit," she pants, voice dripping with pleasure, with something wicked and teasing beneath it. "You love this, don’t you? Bet you’d fucking live down there if I let you."

You groan against her, the vibration making her moan louder, her hips grinding down against you, using your mouth to chase the high building inside her. You can feel it in the way her thighs tremble, the way her breath hitches, her body tightening, straining, needing more.

So you give her more. You grip her thighs harder, spreading her open as your tongue works faster, hungrier, dragging her closer and closer to the edge.

She’s wetter now, the slickness coating your lips, your chin, the sounds between you growing filthier, wetter. You flick your tongue over her clit before pressing in deeper, letting yourself sink into the heat of her. You suck, pull, letting her ride the sensation, letting her lose herself against you.

She whimpers, breath stuttering, her nails digging into your scalp. "Fuck—" she gasps, her voice ragged. Her hips stutter, like she’s caught between wanting to grind harder and losing control entirely. "You’re—god, you’re making a fucking mess."

You groan against her, the sound vibrating through her, making her jolt. She gasps, her thighs clenching, and you use that moment to grip her tighter, dragging her down against your mouth. You keep her there, force her to grind against you, matching the rhythm of your tongue. The wet sounds between you grow filthier, obscene, each flick and suck making her shudder harder.

She jerks when you sputter against her folds, your breath hot and heavy, the mess between her thighs smearing against your jaw. Her fingers twitch in your hair, but then she lets go—her hands leaving your head, reaching forward instead, gripping onto the back of the seats in front of her as she steadies herself, her body arching as pleasure overtakes her.

"Shit—" her voice wavers, fingers tightening in your hair. "You love this, don’t you?"

You only answer by sucking harder, wrapping your lips around her clit and flicking your tongue in quick, insistent strokes. She lets out a sharp moan, her entire body shuddering as she fights to keep herself steady, one hand still bracing against the ceiling, the other yanking at your hair, desperate and needy.

She’s losing it now, panting, her thighs trembling around you, her slickness coating everything between you. You feel her breaking, her voice going breathy, whimpering curses spilling from her lips, and you know she’s right there, right at the edge, ready to fall apart.

Then you attack her clit, alternating between sucking and flicking your tongue over it before dipping back down to her folds, teasing her, drawing out every shaky breath. Her thighs clench around your head, her grip on the seats tightening as her back arches.

Her lips part, breath stuttering, and for a second, she fights it—bites down on her lip, eyes squeezing shut, her body tensing. "I'm—" she chokes out, voice breaking. "Gonna—fuck—" But you don’t let up. You suck harder, press your tongue flat against her clit and flick in rapid strokes, pulling a soft, desperate scream from her throat.

Her whole body tenses, her stomach tightening as she crashes into it, hips jerking against your mouth as pleasure rips through her. Her fingers slip, barely holding onto the seats before she gives up entirely, body shaking, breath coming in broken gasps as she rides out every wave, every pulse, every sharp aftershock that makes her legs tremble around you.

Her body is still shaking when you pull her down, her legs weak around you, her breath coming in slow, uneven gasps. She’s wrecked, undone from the way you just had her, but you don’t give her a chance to recover. You guide her down onto the blankets, the weight of your body pressing against hers, and she lets you, pliant beneath you.

Her panties are a mess, soaked through, sticking to her skin from where you had your mouth on her. You hook your fingers under the lace and pull them down, dragging them over her thighs, her knees, tossing them somewhere behind you. She shivers as the cool air hits her, still sensitive, still throbbing. Your hands settle on her inner thighs, spreading her apart, your fingers teasing, stroking lightly over her slick folds. She twitches, her breath catching.

"Sensitive?" you murmur, rubbing slow, just barely grazing her clit. She jerks, biting her lip, trying to suppress the reaction. "Still so wet for me."

She exhales shakily, half a glare, half anticipation. "Then do something about it." She’s bare beneath you now, except for her top, still clinging to her frame, pushed up slightly from where she’d been grinding against your face. You could take it off, but not yet. Instead, you shift back onto your knees, pushing your sweatpants down, kicking them off until they’re lost somewhere in the mess of blankets. Your cock springs free, aching, flushed, and heavy in your hand. Yujin’s eyes flick down immediately, her lips parting, a quiet hum of approval slipping from her throat. She licks her lips, reaching out, fingers brushing against your length—

You catch her wrist before she can wrap her hand around you, pushing it away. Her eyes flick up to yours, a challenge in them, but you don’t waver. Not this time. "Not right now," you murmur, your voice firm, your grip on her tightening just slightly. "I’m in charge now."

Your cock is already aching, flushed and heavy in your hand as you settle between her legs, pressing the tip against her entrance, dragging it through the slick heat of her.

She exhales sharply, her fingers flexing against the blankets. "Fuck—"

You don’t push in yet. You drag the head of your cock against her, teasing, smearing her wetness along your length. She squirms, her hips shifting, her body already responding.

"Don’t tease," she mutters, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown. "You know I can take it."

She gasps at the stretch, her nails scraping against your shoulders.

You don’t respond, just grip her hips, pushing in slow, deliberate, feeling the way she stretches around you. The heat of her is overwhelming, the contrast stark between the cool air against your skin and the wet, pulsing warmth surrounding you. Her breath catches, fingers tightening on your arms, her back arching instinctively.

"Fuck—" she gasps, nails digging in deeper as you fold her legs up, pressing her knees toward her chest, opening her up more. The shift makes her whimper, her body clenching around you, pulling you in deeper, tighter. The pressure is unbearable, intoxicating, her slickness making every inch of you ache as you fill her completely.

"God," she whimpers, her fingers twisting into the blanket beneath her. "You’re so deep—"

You bite down against her neck, hard, sucking at the skin there, not enough to bruise but enough to make her squirm beneath you. She moans, tilting her head to the side, giving you more, her body shifting, arching up against you.

"You love this," you murmur against her skin, dragging your teeth over the flushed heat of her throat before biting down again, harder this time.

She gasps, nails digging into your back. "Yeah," she exhales, breathy, wrecked. "But you love this more."

She’s teasing, but you can hear it, the slight break in her voice when you pull back and thrust into her harder. Her body jolts beneath you, her thighs tensing around your hips as she struggles to keep up with the pace you’re setting.

Her hands find your arms, nails biting into your skin, holding on tight as if grounding herself. It only makes you go faster, makes you push deeper, makes her moan louder.

"Fuck—" she gasps, her legs trembling. "Harder. Don’t hold back."

You don’t. You grip her hips, hold her down like you’re trying to leave something permanent, like you want her to feel this for days. The sound of skin against skin fills the air, loud and messy, her moans breaking between sharp, breathless gasps.

She reaches for you, drags you down into a kiss, messy and desperate, her tongue pressing against yours, her teeth catching your bottom lip before she pulls away, panting.

"Knew you couldn’t take it slow," she murmurs, half-laughing, voice shaking.

You tug at her hair in response, pulling her head back slightly, making her gasp. "Shut up," you mutter against her throat before sucking another mark there, another place to remind her of this later.

She just smirks, but it melts into something softer, her breath stuttering when you hit just the right spot inside her, the one that makes her moan louder, makes her nails claw at your shoulders, her body clinging to yours, desperate, wrecked.

You shift, angling deeper, pushing her knees higher, folding her into herself. She gasps, her back arching, her hands gripping onto your forearms, holding tight as if you’ll slip away. Her shirt is still on, bunched up beneath her ribs, exposing the taut lines of her stomach, the soft ridges of muscle tensing beneath you. You drag a hand up her body, palm pressing flat against her neck, feeling the quick, frantic beat of her pulse beneath your fingers.

"Oh f—" she whines, breath catching as you thrust harder, deeper, grinding your hips into hers. She’s trembling, her body taut beneath you.

You shift too far back, the heat of her slipping away as your cock accidentally slides out, leaving you both gasping at the sudden loss. "Please," she whimpers, her voice breathless, raw. Her hands tighten against your arms, her body arching up, desperate to pull you back in.

But you don’t give in right away. Instead, you slap your cock against her soaked pussy, the wet sound sharp and obscene between you. She jerks, a sharp inhale, a full-body shudder, her thighs twitching. Then you do it again, dragging the head of your cock against her clit before pulling back and doing it once more. One hand stays firm on her hip, keeping her in place, while the other slips down to toy with her clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles.

Her body tightens beneath you, her breath stuttering, her fingers clawing at your skin. "Fuck—" she gasps, her voice breaking. She’s almost folded over at this point, her knees pressing against her chest, fully open, fully exposed to you. The sight alone makes your cock throb.

Finally, you give in, pushing back inside in one hard stroke, knocking the air from her lungs, pulling another sharp gasp from her lips. As soon as you're buried deep again, you shift your grip, pressing her left leg down while keeping the other folded high, trapping her beneath you. The angle makes her moan, high and shaky, her hands grasping blindly at you.

One of your hands moves up, cupping her face, thumb brushing over her parted lips as you thrust into her again. The other stays between her legs, fingers rubbing at her clit, teasing, pushing her further into that desperate, needy space. She's almost folded in half, her body giving beneath you, her moans turning into broken gasps.

The heat inside the car is suffocating now, sweat slicking both of you. Her shirt clings to her body, damp, sticking to her skin, darkened in places where the fabric is soaked through. Strands of her hair stick to her forehead, damp with sweat, and her breath is hot against your face, panting, uneven. Every time you thrust into her, a soft whimper spills from her lips, her voice high, desperate, shuddering through each gasping exhale.

You lean down, pressing your forehead against hers, your breaths mingling, heavy and uneven. She tilts her chin up, catching your lips, kissing you deep, messy, her nails scraping lightly against your arms. It’s all hunger, all desperation, neither of you slowing down, neither of you wanting to.

You thrust into her a few more times, each movement deep, precise, shifting your angle with every stroke to watch how she reacts, how her breath stutters, how her body grips you tighter. Her moans turn guttural, almost a growl, her fingers gripping at your arms, her body arching against yours.

For the last few thrusts, you bring your hand to her throat, gripping firmly, not just to hold her but to claim her. Her breath stutters, a strangled moan slipping out, her body tightening beneath you. Her eyes flutter, her mouth parting as she surrenders to it, to you. Her moans turn guttural, almost feral as her body clenches around you, desperate, overwhelmed, lost in the sheer force of it all.

Then it hits you—the burn in your muscles, the weight of exhaustion creeping in. You push in one last time before pulling out, panting, sweat dripping from your brow onto her collarbone.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The only sound is your breathing, heavy, uneven, filling the small space between you as you both lie there, gasping in silence. You shift back, sitting on your ankles, thighs burning from exertion. Yujin just lays there, boneless, her body slack against the blankets, her chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. Her arms are sprawled out at her sides, fingers twitching slightly, as if she’s still processing what just happened.

The silence lingers, heavy with the weight of everything that just happened, bodies still humming with heat. Yujin is the first to move. Her breath is slow, measured, before she finally tilts her head up, eyes still half-lidded, and murmurs, "Come here."

She reaches toward you, fingers curling slightly, and you don’t hesitate. You help her sit up, hands firm but careful, steadying her as she adjusts. Then, before you can react, she shifts forward, pushing you back until you’re leaning against the interior wall of the SUV. The blankets beneath you are damp with sweat, the air inside still thick, still heavy. She kneels in front of you, her legs folded beneath her, her gaze dark and unreadable.

She starts with her top, but there’s no rush, no fluid motion. She’s still catching her breath, her movements slow, deliberate. Her fingers grip the fabric at her shoulder, tugging at one of the sleeves, pulling her arm free. Then the other, sliding her limbs out one at a time before finally peeling the tank over her head and discarding it beside her.

Your eyes track every shift, every subtle flex of her muscles beneath sweat-dampened skin. Her bra is next. She reaches behind her, fingers fumbling slightly, and you move to help, undoing the clasp with ease. She lets the straps fall down her arms, and you brush them off her shoulders, sliding the fabric down and away until she’s fully bare before you.

She shifts slightly, adjusting her position without thinking—one leg bent closer to her, the other stretched out at an angle, her feet still covered in those white socks. Her body is tight, toned but soft in the right places, the way she carries herself effortless. Then she reaches up, arms stretching, pulling her hair into a loose bun to keep it out of her face. The movement lifts her chest, elongates the lines of her body—the curve of her waist, the soft definition of her abs, the smooth dip of her armpits as her arms stretch overhead. The tendons in her neck shift, her head tilting slightly, lips parting just so. Strands of damp hair stick to the sides of her face, and for a moment, all you can do is watch, hunger curling in your stomach. Your mouth waters.

You lean in, pressing your lips to the side of her neck, tasting the sweat that lingers there. She exhales, tilting her head slightly, letting you in. You trail kisses lower, down to her shoulders, dragging your mouth along the curve of her collarbone. Your hands find her waist, fingers kneading into her skin, feeling the warmth of her beneath your palms.

Then lower. Your mouth finds her chest, your lips brushing over the swell of her breasts before you take one in your hand, your thumb tracing over the sensitive skin. She shudders, a quiet gasp slipping past her lips, and you revel in the way she reacts, the way she melts into your touch. Your mouth follows, lips parting against her skin, tongue flicking over the peak before you suck gently, savoring the taste of her. Your hands roam, caressing, feeling, groping—memorizing the shape of her, the softness, the heat.

She sighs, threading her fingers into your hair, tilting her head down just enough to watch you. There’s no urgency now, just this—just the feel of her, the press of your mouth, the warmth pooling between you as you take your time, exploring every inch of her bared skin.

She lets out a hushed moan before pressing against your chest, gently pushing you back until your shoulders meet the SUV wall. You barely have time to react before she turns around, shifting into your lap. Her knees slide under yours, her body fitting against you perfectly as she moves closer, her back arching slightly.

Then, slowly, she spreads herself open—her fingers parting her ass cheeks, exposing everything to you. Her pussy lips glisten, her tight hole stretching just slightly with the movement, teasing you with the sight. Your cock twitches, aching, as you instinctively reach down, guiding yourself against her folds. The heat of her, the slickness, sends a shudder down your spine.

She shifts back, taking you in slow, the stretch making both of you groan. The grip of her around you is almost unbearable, pulling you in deeper inch by inch, her breath shaky as she adjusts. You watch the way her body takes you, the way she exhales, trembling slightly as she sinks further, her hands bracing against your thighs for balance.

Then she moves. Slowly at first, lifting herself up before sinking back down, her rhythm changing. It’s not bouncing anymore—it’s deeper, slower, a deliberate grind. Each roll of her hips forces you in at a different angle, dragging against every inch of her. It’s slicker, hotter, the sound of her taking you deep filling the thick air, the obscene wetness between you making every thrust a decadent mess. Your grip tightens, your fingers flexing against her hips, nails pressing slightly into the flesh as she grinds deeper, dragging pleasure from both of you in slow, devastating waves. The muscles in her back flex, taut beneath the dim light filtering through the SUV windows. Her breath stutters, a moan slipping out between her parted lips.

You groan, gripping her hips, feeling the shift of her muscles under your fingertips, the subtle dip of her spine flexing with every bounce. Your hands explore, trailing up her back, tracing the defined ridges, the smooth stretch of skin as she moves. One hand shifts higher, fingers spreading over the back of her head, gripping, grounding her as she rocks against you. The friction, the slick heat of her, has you clenching your jaw, your fingers digging into her skin. Her head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, her lips parting with another breathy moan.

"Fuck," you mutter, the word slipping out unfiltered, guttural.

She lets out something close to a whimper, her body shivering from the way you're holding her, guiding her down harder each time. Sweat beads along her spine, her muscles shifting beneath her skin, the dip of her back deepening as she tilts her body forward, adjusting. Strands of her loose bun begin slipping, stray hairs sticking to the back of her damp neck. She keeps one hand planted on the blankets to steady herself, the other lifting to the back of her head, holding her hair up—displaying herself for you. You know she’s doing this for you. She knows it too.

Her back, arched, muscles shifting under sweat-damp skin, the flex of her stomach tightening with every movement. Your cock twitches inside her, and she gasps, breath catching, body momentarily tensing before sinking back into the motion. Your own shirt clings to your skin, soaked through, suffocating in the best way. Sweat drips from your temple, slides down the curve of your jaw. The windows are fogged, the air so thick with heat and breath and lust that every inhale feels like a drug. And still, you can’t get enough. You can feel the sweat pooling between your shoulder blades, the fabric growing heavier against your skin, but you don’t care.

You don’t give her a chance to adjust. One moment, she’s grinding against you, taking everything you give her, the next, something surges through you—your body coming alive again, energy surging back into your limbs, your need for her taking over completely. You grip her waist, lifting her slightly before pushing her forward, pressing her down onto the blankets. Her breath stutters, her body folding into itself, her knees sliding apart as she falls into position—ass up, face down, her cheek pressed against the damp fabric beneath her. It’s different now. You’re not catching your breath anymore. You’re in control again, and you’re going to use it.

The shift is seamless. You’re still inside her, still buried deep, and you don’t stop moving. The new angle makes her whimper, her fingers curling into the blankets, gripping them like they’re the only thing keeping her grounded. She’s already trembling, her thighs quaking from the force of every thrust.

You pick up the pace. Rougher now, deeper, urgent. Each thrust has her jolting forward, her body pliant, wrecked beneath you. Your hands roam, running up her bare back, her waist, gripping her hips, keeping her right where you want her. Sweat rolls down her spine, the slick heat of her skin under your palms intoxicating. She’s so open like this, so exposed, and she moans like she knows it, like she loves it.

You know exactly what to do next, exactly how to unravel her completely. 

You bring your thumb to your mouth, wetting it thoroughly, dragging it across your tongue, coating it in spit before pressing it against her puckered hole. The slickness makes her jolt, a shudder rippling through her spine as you circle slow, teasing, pushing just enough to make her gasp. Her entire body tenses, a sharp cry ripping from her throat. You keep fucking into her, keeping time with the way you play with her, pressing, circling, easing her into it. Every motion makes her squirm, her moans growing louder, breaking into desperate whimpers as she pushes back against you, needing more.

""Oh—fuck—oh my—please—" she chokes out, voice catching on every syllable, her body trembling like she’s unraveling at the seams. Her fingers claw at the blankets, grasping for something, anything, but it’s useless. She can’t ground herself, not when you keep working her open, not when every slow press makes her shudder, makes her walls flutter around you. Her legs twitch under you, every muscle taut, waiting, wanting more.

You push a little more, not inside, just enough to make her feel it, and she screams, her body shuddering, the sound raw, helpless. Her muscles tense, legs trembling, and then she lets go, completely, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. You press your hand into her lower back, keeping her down, controlling the way she takes it. "Take it," you murmur, voice low, firm, the heat in your words making her moan even louder.

"Play with my ass—yes—" she babbles, voice high, wrecked, her mouth hanging open, drool slipping from the corner of her lips. She’s almost crying, her body shaking beneath you, lost in it, falling apart in your hands. Her fingers dig into the blankets, nails scraping, her moans breaking apart as she pushes back against you, desperate for more.

You grip the back of her neck, pressing her further into the blankets, keeping her exactly where you want her. Then you slap her face—light but firm, just enough to make her gasp, her eyes fluttering, her breath stalling for a second before she moans, louder, messier. Drool pools beneath her cheek, her body trembling, fully at your mercy.

You pull out abruptly, and she whimpers, her pussy clenching around nothing, her body instinctively pressing back like she can pull you inside again. Instead, you bring your fingers to her, slipping them in deep, curling, fucking her with them until she’s writhing, moaning in broken, incoherent strings. Her body tightens, her walls fluttering around your fingers, and then you push back into her, filling her in one hard thrust.

You do it again. And again. Pulling out, fingering her, fucking her, over and over, building her up higher, pushing her closer each time. She’s shaking now, her voice raw, nearly sobbing into the blankets.

"Fuck—you’re gonna make me cum again," she gasps, her words slurring, nearly lost in her moans.

"Then do it," you murmur, gripping her hip, slamming into her harder.

"Faster—please—" she begs, her entire body convulsing, her arms writhing against the blankets. You obey without hesitation, thrusting into her as hard and fast as your legs will let you. Your muscles burn, your thighs trembling from exertion, but you don’t stop, not when she’s begging, not when her voice is breaking apart.

Her pussy clenches around you, gripping you tight, sucking you in, the wet heat dragging you deeper with every stroke. The sounds between you are obscene—slick, messy, the sharp slap of skin against skin echoing inside the vehicle, mixing with her breathless, desperate cries.

She jerks beneath you, back arching, her entire body locking up as the tension snaps. "Oh—fuck—I'm—" Her voice cuts off into a strangled scream, her pussy fluttering, spasming around your cock as she cums. You don’t slow down. If anything, you fuck her harder, driving into her through the unbearable sensitivity, through the overwhelming rush that has her shaking beneath you.

Her body writhes, her moans dissolving into helpless whimpers, her fingers clawing at the blankets. She’s sobbing, wrecked, unable to form words, her body so lost in it that she’s barely holding herself up. The car rocks with the force of your thrusts, windows fogged, the air thick with sweat, heat, desperation.

You tighten your grip, fingers pressing into her hip, into her throat, into her ass—claiming every inch of her, making sure she feels everything, making sure she knows there’s nothing else but this, but you. She whines, twitching, sensitive and overwhelmed, yet still pushing back against you, still taking all of it.

The car rocks with the force of your thrusts, the air thick, humid, the scent of sweat and sex drowning you both. You feel it then—That familiar heat curling in your spine, the pulsing, aching pressure that tells you you’re close. Too close.

And so you stop.

You pull out, panting, your cock throbbing, aching, but you don’t let go. Not yet. You want to drag this out, savor it, enjoy her fully, completely. You want to make this last.

And yet, as you look down at her, something inside you tightens—not just from sex. The blankets are twisted beneath her, damp with sweat, her ass still arched, her back curving like something carved from heat and hunger. But it’s her breathing—ragged, slow, mouth parted against the blankets—that freezes you. The way she trembles, wrecked yet impossibly beautiful.

Your hands twitch, wanting to pull her back in, but you don’t. Not yet. Instead, you just watch—every shiver, every unsteady breath. She’s a mess, undone beneath you, and somehow, that feels inevitable.

You shouldn’t be thinking like that. But fuck, she’s still so hot. And she’s still Yujin.

You swallow it down.

She stirs, shifting slightly, her breath still shaky. Then she turns her head toward you, her eyes woozy, hazy, her hair sticking to her damp skin. She blinks slowly, lips parted, breath uneven.

"You… cum next," she slurs, her voice soft, cock-drunk, barely able to form the words. Her body still trembles, wrecked and used, but the way she looks at you makes your stomach twist, heat curling in your chest. For the first time all night, the air feels different.

She shifts, moving with a lazy kind of determination, and before you can react, she flips herself over, swinging a leg over your waist, straddling you face-to-face. Her body still trembles, breath still shaky, but her eyes lock onto yours, something heated, something unspoken passing between you.

She doesn’t give you a choice. Her hands find the hem of your shirt, tugging at it, dragging the damp fabric up and over your head. You let her take it, barely breathing as she tosses it aside, her hands already back on you, tracing the sweat-slicked lines of your shoulders, your chest, your neck. Then she leans in—teeth grazing your skin, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, your jaw, your throat. She sucks at your skin, bites, her nails scraping lightly over your ribs, down your stomach, leaving you raw under her touch.

You groan, hands finding her waist, holding her close. She’s burning against you, skin against skin, the heat between you unbearable in the best way. The windows are fogged, the scent of sweat, sex, and her filling your lungs. Her lips brush your ear, and then she whispers something teasing, something possessive, something she doesn’t quite mean—but maybe she does.

She sinks down, slow, taking you in inch by inch. A sharp inhale leaves both of you as she takes you in, her fingers digging into your shoulders, clutching at you like she needs something to hold onto. She exhales, forehead pressing against yours, her breath warm, shaky. You can feel everything—the way her walls flutter around you, the way her nails dig into your skin, the way her thighs tense as she adjusts to the depth.

And then she moves.

It’s different like this. No frantic pace, no desperate urgency. Just this—her, guiding the rhythm, rolling her hips slow, dragging you deeper into her heat. Her hands trail over your chest, fingertips gliding through the sweat beading along your skin, tracing the sharp lines of your torso like she’s memorizing you. Then she leans forward, pressing her lips to your neck, kissing, tasting, sighing against you as she moves.

She takes your hands, guiding them over her body—up her sides, over the curve of her breasts, down to her waist. She shudders when your palms spread over her back, pressing her closer, her chest flush against yours. Every slow rock of her hips forces out a shaky breath, a soft moan into the humid air between you.

Her lips find yours. A deep kiss—nothing rushed, nothing sloppy, just deep. She kisses you like she wants to drown in you, her fingers tangling in your hair, her body tightening around you, her breath uneven as she pulls away only to come back again. And again.

She smiles, lazy, breathless, her lips just barely grazing yours. "You’re close, aren’t you?"

You swallow hard, your grip tightening against her waist. She knows you are. She can feel it.

"Where do you want it?" you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice.

She doesn’t hesitate. "Inside."

Your body tenses. For six months, you’ve never done this. Always pulled out, always left it on her back, her stomach, her tongue. But this time—this time, she doesn’t let you. Her hands curl against your shoulders, her body pressing down harder, holding you there.

"Inside," she repeats, her voice softer now, but firm. No room for argument.

She leans in, lips brushing against your ear, breath hot, sticky with everything between you. "Fill me up."

Your stomach tightens, your grip on her waist flexing. She knows exactly what she’s doing, how to draw you deeper into the feeling, how to make you lose yourself in her completely. Her sweat mixes with yours, bodies slick, the air thick, humid, unbearable. She’s so close, her forehead pressing against yours, the wet strands of her hair sticking to your temples. Her voice—low, honeyed, almost teasing—sends a deep, primal pulse through you. "I want to feel you. All of you."

She rolls her hips, slow, deep, dragging the moment out, making you feel every inch of her around you, gripping you, milking you. Your whole body tightens, heat flooding your spine, pooling low in your stomach, curling tighter with every deliberate grind of her hips. It’s not just sex anymore. It never was.

"Fuck—," you choke out, barely able to breathe past it, past the weight of her around you, the way her walls squeeze, coaxing you closer, making it impossible to hold on.

"Do it," she murmurs, lips brushing against your ear, voice dripping with something dangerous, something sweet. "I want all of it."

Your stomach clenches, heat rising sharp and fast, spiraling through your spine like wildfire. It builds, unbearable, rolling through your muscles, making your breath hitch, your grip on her tightening like you’re trying to hold onto something slipping through your fingers. Your whole body seizes, every nerve burning as the pleasure crashes through you. It explodes in sharp pulses, radiating outward, drowning you in the moment as your hips jerk up, pushing deeper, filling her completely. Your jaw clenches, your hips snap up, burying yourself as deep as you can go.

"Shit—I'm—" The words barely make it out before you shudder, the release hitting you so hard it nearly knocks you out. But before you can even finish saying it, she grabs your shoulders, pulling herself down against you, her lips crashing into yours. She kisses you through it, deep, needy, like she wants to consume every last sound, every breathless moan spilling from your throat.

Her arms wrap around you, her nails digging into your back as her walls clench down around you, milking every last drop, her body pulling you in like she never wants to let go. She gasps into your mouth, her breath stuttering, her whole body trembling as she takes everything you give her. Your mind blanks, everything narrowing to this—the slick warmth of her wrapped around you, the way she shivers, the way she feels, completely, entirely yours. It lingers—hot, overwhelming, raw. Different. Deliberate. Something neither of you acknowledge, but both of you feel. 

Your body is still pulsing with aftershocks, but your mind is clear. Maybe clearer than it’s been in months.

Her lips are still on yours, the kiss deep, unhurried now, like neither of you wants to break it first. Like neither of you knows what happens when you do. Her hands stay on your shoulders, fingers light, trailing over your skin, and your own hands settle against her back, keeping her close, not yet ready to let go.

She’s still sitting on you, still holding you inside her, her breath shaky against your mouth. She exhales through her nose, her forehead pressing against yours, and for the first time all night, the silence between you is loud.

She’s warm, slick, sticky against you, the sweat between your bodies making it impossible to tell where you end and she begins. The SUV is stifling, the windows fogged, the scent of heat and sex thick in the air, but neither of you moves to break away.

You swallow, your throat dry. Your hands flex on her waist, gripping, grounding. The weight of her is still there, her warmth sinking into you, pressing into places you don’t want to acknowledge. Then, because you always do, you ask—“Was it good?”

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, heavy-lidded, unreadable, and for a second, she doesn’t answer. Then she exhales a laugh, something soft, shaking her head slightly.

“You always ask,” she murmurs, and it should be dismissive, the way it usually is, the way she usually just brushes past it. But this time, she lingers. Her fingers skate up, push damp strands of hair from your forehead, her thumb brushing lightly over your temple before pulling away, but not completely. Her other hand stays against your chest, her palm flat, feeling your heartbeat, like she’s holding onto the moment itself.

“Yeah,” she finally says. Then, quieter, more real: “Yeah. It was.”

It shouldn’t feel different. But it does.

Her body shifts slightly, and you can still feel her around you, still tight, still there, and you realize you don’t want to move. Not yet. Maybe not at all. Your hands slide down to her waist, grounding yourself, feeling the warmth of her, memorizing the way she feels against you.

For the past six months, it’s always been like this—hooking up, fucking, leaving before it could turn into anything else. Before either of you could say something real.

But now she’s still here, looking at you like she sees something she hasn’t let herself before. Like maybe she doesn’t want to leave either.

And for the first time, you don’t want to let her.

--

The air outside is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingers on your body. The trunk of the SUV is open, airing out the lingering humidity from what just happened inside. You both sit on the edge of it, the makeshift bed in the back still rumpled behind you. Yujin has her legs folded beneath her, knees drawn close, wrapped in your zip-up hoodie—the one you’d left in the car weeks ago, the one she threw on without asking after cleaning up.

Your drink sits between you, condensation dripping down the sides, untouched. A crumpled napkin rests beside it, damp from where she’d pressed it against her palm earlier, like she needed something to do with her hands.

Yujin stirs her drink absentmindedly, straw scraping against the plastic lid, over and over, rhythmic, almost like she’s trying to drown out the weight between you.

This is part of the routine. Sometimes it’s ice cream, sometimes it’s boba, but there’s always a buffer spot—a place to sit, to let the heat cool off, to pretend the ending isn’t creeping up on you. But tonight, it feels different. The usual buffer doesn’t seem to be working. The silence isn’t settling—it’s stretching, pressing between you.

She hasn’t said much since you parked outside your favorite boba place. Neither have you. The neon glow of the shop sign flickers against the pavement, catching the light off the curve of your drink. The hum of passing cars, the occasional murmur of voices from inside, the faint bass from a stereo down the street—it all fills the space between you, but none of it breaks the weight of the silence.

The sun is setting now, washing the street in soft gold, the sky burning orange and violet. You both just sit there, watching cars fly by, the city moving around you like it always does, like it always has. A streetlight buzzes to life beside you, casting a dim glow over her skin. Somewhere in the sky, a lone star flickers through the haze, barely visible, like something trying to push through.

You glance at her, expecting something—some offhanded, teasing remark to ease the tension, a snide little smirk, maybe even a cocky joke about how you always get attached. Something easy.

But then she stops stirring.

She exhales, slow, deliberate, like she already knew she was going to say this before she even got in the car today. Her fingers tighten around her cup, just slightly. Like she already knows the answer but still needs to hear it. She looks at you, and then—

"Do you want to get back together?"

Your stomach pulls tight.

You blink, caught off guard, the words settling heavy between you. She’s never asked before. Never even come close. And yet, it doesn’t feel like a question she just thought of. It feels like something that’s been sitting in her chest, waiting for the right moment to spill out. It’s the way she says it—serious, expectant, none of the usual bravado or games, none of the usual ways she brushes past real things before they can land.

You sit with it, six months pressed into your chest, thick as breath. Picking her up. Folding down the SUV seats. Fucking her like it meant nothing. Pretending it meant nothing. But you always ended up here—parked outside some late-night spot, coming down from it all, sitting next to each other like nothing had changed. Except it has. You can feel it.

She watches you, unreadable, but you take in the details—the way her hair is still tied up, loose strands slipping free near her temples, sticking slightly to her skin. The glow of the streetlights catches on her glasses, masking her eyes for half a second before they flicker, searching yours. Her lips, the ones she had redone after you cleaned up, press together like she’s holding back more words.

You think about how you’re supposed to answer.

You always waited. Let her text first. Let her reach out first.

But she’s looking at you now, waiting, expecting.

And this time?

You don’t wait.

You know the answer.

AN: Anotha one. Hope you guys enjoy. I got a fun one comin soon, just finishing it up ;) I always appreciate kind words n feedback.

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

SEUMYO © 2024. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[bluewxrld07]

Been Like This - (Lando Norris)

Lando Norris X F!Reader

Summary: Lando and Y/N are besties. Someone in the friendgroup admits Y/N is a virgin. Little did Lando know this little secret she has been hiding. She ends up getting all embarrassed, and gives Lando the silent treatment after he jokes about it. He soon realizes that maybe it wasn't something she wanted to have joked about. In which he finally corners her on a night out and gives her a taste of what she’s missing, only for her to turn the tables.

Warning(s): makeout, mutual pining, dirty talk

A/N: lemme know if we want part two!!!

It was more of a laid-back night in Italy for the crew, some of the select friend group had gotten together in the suite that Lando and Oscar shared. The balcony doors were wide open to let in the cool oceanside breeze, the sun nearing to sit at the edge of the horizon with nothing but clear skies above.

Y/N had been sitting on the floor by the foot of the couch, inside the large living room with an almost empty glass of whiskey in hand, as she tried to hold in a laugh at something Max was saying in the group. 

She adjusted the papaya-colored sundress she wore, taking another light sip of the drink in her hand. 

"Okay, but that's not fair to say! I had no idea she was going to be coming back with me in the first place, let alone trying to steal shit from my place. Spare me please!" Max groans as he rubs a hand over his face. 

"Yeah, but dude you totally saw it coming with how she kept hinting at her feet hurting, stating she wanted to go somewhere else much calmer with you," Lando argues, the man sitting at the end of the couch as his hand comfortably sits on Y/N's shoulder. 

"She was practically pleading to go home, Max. Come on now." Y/N chuckles.

"Next time I'm doing a full background check before taking someone home. Damn near died from that encounter alone."

"That'll stop from junior down there for sure." Oscar laughs, nodding down towards his groin, earning a look from Max. 

"Laugh all you want, you were ready to kiss the concrete that night," Max mutters while sipping on his drink. Y/N had to hold a snort back as she sipped her drink, wiping away the drop that spilled from her mouth. 

She felt a small squeeze on her shoulder which caused her to look up at Lando nodding towards her glass. "More?" he asks and she nods while handing him her glass as he stands.

"Don't make me miss anything else while I go get more refreshments. This is too good, I need more on Maxie poo." Lando snickers while walking over towards the kitchen. 

"Like you haven't had your fair share of hook-up nightmares!" Oscar yells out, earning a groan from Lando. 

Y/N lets out a loud snort at that, knowing exactly how bad most had been. 

"Yeah, you've got that right. He keeps a list in his notes app on his phone." Y/N admits, earning howls from the group.

"No way, really? Oh, I've gotta see these." Charles claims, leaning his head back as he lets out a laugh. 

"You little snitch!" Lando giggles as he comes back while pointing at her, she puts her hands up in defense. "You never said I couldn't share between the group. Not my fault there were regulations!" she snorts, giving him a thankful smile while he hands her the new glass of whiskey.

"That's insane you hold that so close to you," Oscar cackles. "Lando's Hall of Fame for worst hookups." 

Lando throws an ice cube at him before leaning back on the couch. 

"Hey easy there Oscar, I hear you're not too far behind either with hookups." Y/N points out, earning a playful eyeroll.

"Yeah yeah okay whatever. I won't say you're wrong on that," he admits, adjusting his position in the recliner before pointing at her with a frown. 

"You wanna play dirty? You want to talk about your body count?" Oscar taunts playfully, making her look up from her glass and give him a pointed look. 

"Don't you dare!"

Oscar puts his hands up in defense. "Hey fine if you don't want to talk about your body count of zero that's fine by me," he says, making her mouth drop.

Everyone immediately looks at her with both shock and amusement on their faces. 

"No way! Dear old Y/N, is this true?" Charles asks.

Y/N facepalms. "Since when did we not know this?" Max laughs out, earning a nonchalant shrug from her.

"Y/N you're kidding!" Lando's voice perks up, earning a flinch from her as she slowly turns behind her to see nothing but shock and confusion on his face. 

To say he was shocked was an understatement. He had been friends with her since before they both could remember, seeing how boys would fall at her feet regardless of how she acted. Especially when high school and college came, she had the biggest glow-up. 

Bloody hell he would have been at his knees if she asked. So hearing this statement not only made something in him ignite, but it also made him feel disappointed at the fact she never told him about it.

"What?" she asks. 

Lando tilts his head lightly at her. "You're a virgin?" he questions.

"Yeah?" she says nonchalantly, trying to keep her embarrassment at bay and hiding how she wanted to shrink away.��

"How did I not know this?"

"It just never came up," she says, taking a sip of her drink. 

Lando leans back against the couch with a lazy smirk as he raises his drink to his lips. "Sweetheart I would've gladly helped if I had known."

Y/N shoots him a frown, making his smirk drop when he notices she is not in the mood for jokes like those. "I mean I would not have judged you for something like that," he says quickly. 

"Lando of all people I feel like would've known. You two have been inseparable for years." Max states, that Y/N justshrugs once more before downing her whiskey in one gulp.

"Didn't really find someone I wanted to lose it to, and then I kind of just didn't care for it," she admits with a dry laugh, standing up from her spot and using Lando's knee as support while she stood. 

"I'm in shock right now. Have you seen what you look like Y/N? How? Literally how?" Charles' girlfriend chimes in, and Y/N blows a playful kiss her way as she walks over to where her shoes are.

"I had bigger priorities is all. Not a big deal." Y/N chuckles. "But speaking of, duty calls. I've gotta be up way before any of you lots in the morning," she says, trying to hide the embarrassment in her voice. 

Her eyes land on Lando's, who have many emotions going through them as he looks at her. 

She bids them all goodnight before heading out and back to her room, immediately feeling the weight on her chest begin to cave in. She wraps her arms around herself as she stalks to her room, ready to call it a night. 

As she was doing her nightly bathroom routine she saw her phone buzz and turn on, showing that Lando had texted her. 

Lando 🧡: Sorry for making that joke, I didn't mean any harm by it

Lando 🧡: Girls like you just usually have history. I was caught off guard

Lando 🧡: Shit that sounded really bad that's not what I meant

Lando 🧡: Can we talk, please?

Y/N rolled her eyes at his text, placing her phone back down while she spit her toothpaste out. It wasn't that she didn't want to experience it, she just never had the full chance to.

When she went on dates or was talking to a guy, it just never really got to that point she just never felt the need for intimacy. 

At first, she thought she was crazy or maybe didn't like boys, but it truly just was never that. She had been one of the girls in school that was so much more focused on her studies and getting her degree than worrying about who was dating who. 

But now she just had a busy work life. Working for Formula One did have many pros of course, but it also had cons where she was traveling and working every single day.

She also had come to realize that she only wanted one person to make her feel that way. To make her feel how the men in the books she read made her insides feel when reading, and it made her realize that all the men she rejected were simple because her body had already chosen its person. 

But she knew better than anyone that Lando didn't go for virgins. She's heard him talk about how afraid he is of them getting attached, or hurting them and he didn't want that on his conscience. 

So she stopped pestering herself about it. 

She turned off the bathroom light as she walked back towards her bed, setting her phone on her charger. She saw another couple of messages come in from Lando, not bothering to read them. 

She sighed before sliding underneath the fresh covers, turning the light off, and looking out the balcony glass doors as the moonlight made its presence known through the windows.

Her eyes slowly shut not shortly after.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lando was losing his mind. 

Not only because it was race day, but also because Y/N had been ignoring him all morning. 

Or so that is what he thinks she's doing. He's known her long enough to know when she's ignoring someone, she does everything in her power to avoid wherever they'll be to avoid confrontation. 

She had already set up his room and pre-race plans before he arrived, the man always catching her leaving right as he was entering, but her figure was turned away from him before she could notice he was coming. 

Little notes had been left on his stuff with her handwriting on it, and they were things she would usually say and instruct him before races. He caught her a few times across the lot talking and laughing with Oscar or any of the other workers. As soon as he would make his way over, she would soon begin to walk off and slyly end her conversation with whoever it was.

It was driving him mad.

Although there was one time he knew he'd get to talk to her before the race, and that was right now. 

She had to make sure the car was all set as he got settled in, then made sure his gear was all in place as he got in. When she came into view, she was bent over the side of the car and checking his coms, RPM amongst other controls. 

"Sweetheart, really?" he asks underneath the helmet, watching as she is mumbling to herself and checking off each thing. 

"Do your radio check in your helmet." she instructs, now leaning behind him. He looks back at her and shakes his head before doing as he is told, rather than testing her patience which he can tell is very thin.

"Y/N," he says, not getting an answer while she makes sure his straps are good while he straps in. Her hand comes across his chest to tighten the top, his hand gripping her wrist which causes her to snap a look at him.

"You know better than to ignore me, sweet girl," he says lowly to her, watching as her facial expression doesn't change and she snags her hand from his grip before straightening back to her position and looking up.

"Everything is good. He's ready." she signals out before walking off.

Lando was about ready to risk everything in that moment, unstrap himself, and go after her, maybe even have his way. Show her what it was like to feel that form of ecstasy he so badly wished she would let him give her. He should have known better after the things he said the night before, but he was just so caught off guard by it. 

But if there was anything he knew, it was to not push her if she didn't want to be pushed. 

Besides, he knew she would seem his ass out if he was so much as a millimeter out of line for a race. 

So he decided that this would have to happen after. 

It has to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It ended up being a great night that night, as Lando was placed on the podium. 

They decided since it was their last night in Italy, that what kind of night would it be if they didn't go out and celebrate the beautiful nightlife that it had? 

So here the entire friend group was, the music booming loudly at the Formula One roofless club/party event as the stars and moon lined the sky above. 

Y/N had still kept her distance the rest of the day after the win, only keeping it professional as she didn't want to hash things out during work. She was not a fan of having to avoid Lando, but she just could not bring herself to look or talk to him after he found that out yesterday. 

Not that she was mad anymore at him, she was more so just embarrassed because Lando was this playboy. He had no trouble with girls, and she knew he would never judge her of all people. 

It just made her think things would be different, especially with how she sees him. Not that he knew that. 

So now here she stood wearing a snug black satin maxi skirt and a matching tup top, a pair of nude heels adorning her feet. She was in a conversation with Max and one of her coworkers, a drink in hand.

Y/N jumped lightly when she felt a pair of hands slither around the skin that was showing between her top and skirt, the hands warm and soft while they stopped at her front. She turned her head around to see Lando already looking down at her with a straight face, giving her a light squeeze. 

She says nothing before turning back to finish the story she was telling, Max not hesitating to catch the look Lando gave him as a hint, giving him a sly nod as they let her finish the conversation. 

"We're gonna go find Charles and Oscar and do some photos. I'll come grab you after?" Max offers her before squeezing her arm as they pass by her and she nods with a warm smile. 

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" she jokes, earning a playful grin from Max, 

"That's a short list!" he shoots back before disappearing into the crowd. 

She turns around in Lando's grasp, looking up at his face and trying to read his expression. 

"You gonna acknowledge me now?" he asks, and she rolls her eyes. 

"Try again," she says with her arms crossed. 

"Why are you mad at me?" he asks her in a softer tone but still demanding. She frowns at him. 

"I'm not mad at you."

"Then why? Why ignore me?"

"I'm not-"

"You've been avoiding me all damn day," he interrupts, his hands leaving her sides as they fall to his. "I couldn't even get a look from you. So don't say you weren't avoiding me."

Y/N knew he was the last person to lie to, knowing he always sees right through her. She purses her lips and huffs. 

"I wasn't avoiding you because I was mad," she admits. 

"Then why were you?" he pesters more, and he sees her looking back and forth between his own eyes, but not missing the split second they flicked down to his lips. 

"Because," she answers shortly.

"Because why?" 

Y/N rolls her eyes and looks away from him, running her tongue over her teeth. Lando takes matters into his own hands, using one hand to grab her face and turn her gaze back to him. 

Not knowing the fire was igniting not only in her, but in him as well.

He always loved her feisty side. The way she was always able to dish it back when she wanted to.

When he got her gaze back on him, he crossed his arms over his chest waiting for an answer. "Why, Y/N?" he asks again. 

"I was embarrassed." she sputters out, her own arms coming to wrap around herself. Lando lets his brows furrow. 

"Why were you embarrassed?" he pushes. 

"I really don't-"

"Y/N."

"You won't look at me the same, Lan," she admits.

He leans closer to her. "Try me, sweet girl." he pushes, making her insides begin to spin in more good ways than one at their closeness.

"Because you're you, Lan," she starts. "I also just couldn't get anyone to make me feel a way I want to feel."

"And how is that?"

She gives him a look. "No." she says before turning away, Lando not far behind her as he grabs her hip to turn her back into him. 

"Y/N," he starts. "I'm not going to judge you. I'd never do that to you."

"You said yesterday-"

"Yeah and I was a wanker for saying that shit, I was just shocked. But I promise you, I won't judge you."

She looks at him with a softer serious look. "You promise?" she asks sternly and he nods. She huffs.

"Nobody could make my body, or my senses and all that, react how it reacts to you." 

Lando swears his heart stops beating for a second, and his stomach begins to churn with a whole other feeling. Lust. Want. Need. 

Y/N watches as his pupils slightly dilate, their closeness still making her heart pump fast as he stares down at her. 

"And how does it react to me? What happens?" he asks in a low voice, making her thighs automatically clench. She lets out a breath. 

Instead of letting her answer, Lando lets one of his hands travel up to push a strand of her hair away before gripping her chin and playing with her lower lip. 

Y/N lets out a deep sigh at the feeling of his thumb grazing over the skin, feeling his other hand drift down to play with the hem of her skirt. His hand every so often caressed below the hem where her lace panties were. 

"What do you feel?" he asks her lowly, a sly smirk on his face. 

She says nothing, only holding their eye contact with such fire and need in her eyes. Instead of her saying something this time, she decides to act. 

Y/N's bottom lip falls open wider, letting her teeth graze his thumb before taking it in her mouth. 

To say Lando was frozen for a second is an understatement. The way her tongue flicked against his thumb made his pants tighten, not missing the way one of her hands trailed up to his toned chest and pushed him lightly back onto the chair behind him. 

She stood between his legs and let his thumb fall from her mouth as it trailed down her chin, to her throat, down the valley of her breasts and her stomach, and joined his other hand at her hips. He kept one hand squeezing at her hip as the other began squeezing at her thigh as he held eye contact with her fiery ones. 

"You asked me what my body feels," she says, trailing her hand that was on his chest up towards his hair. She was softly running her fingers through it as she watched him bite his lip to hide a not-so-slick groan. 

Before he can decipher what was happening, her grip on his hair tightens and she pulls his head back so he is fully looking up at her. She watched his lips part in a soft moan, a sly smirk going to her lips. 

She has him right where she wants him. 

Her other hand finds home on his jawline. She slowly bends down and lets her face hover over his, their lips barely grazing. Lando tries to reach and close the distance but is stopped by the tighter grip she has on his hair. 

"What's wrong, sweet boy?" she taunts, earning a smirk from the boy below against her lips. 

"I want to finally feel how those lips are against mine instead of it being in my dreams, baby," he says back, making her chuckle lowly. 

She obeys his command, placing her lips fully on his. She doesn't miss the noises coming from him as their lips move in sync, or how his hands want to move but stay respectfully where they are.

Y/N pulls away far too shortly after for Lando's liking, smirking against his lips before looking into his eyes. 

"How you're feeling right now," she mutters. "Is exactly how you make me feel. All the time," she admits, making his breathing become rapid. 

She lets go of his hair before standing up straight turning away from Lando and taking a sip of her drink while going to find the rest of their friends. 

Lando didn't fail to watch as her hips swayed side to side when she walked away, having to adjust his pants. 

The fact that she had all this fire in her, the way she was able to make him so close to begging in the span of a minute made him realize how down bad he was for her.

He knew that when he finally got her, he was never letting her go. She was his and he would make sure every man knew that.

This was definitely far from over, and he knew she knew that too.

[harmoonix]

☆ Mantra ☆

• Birthday Edition ▪︎

☆ People can have more than 1 prominent planet in their chart. Most people have max 2-3 prominent planets (strong aspects and houses)

☆ The planet with the most aspects of your chart can also have a strong influence over all your chart. Look at the planets with the most aspects

☆ Having a stellium in your 7th house can the native to dependent too much on others, is that energy of you not liking to do things alone so you rather have people around you

☆ Your ex/crush/future spouse will at least have a common placement like you in their birth chart, it can mostly be the venus/moon or a sign who makes good aspects with these

☆ South node in pisces/cancer/libra/capricorn can make the native very nostalgic, this person often gets stuck in the past and that can create this nostalgic memories

☆ Having opposite venus signs with someone does not matter who is the vibe of "right person. wrong time. " sometimes it works, sometimes not. It is also important to move on once this happens

☆ Pluto in the 1st/6th/10th or 11th house can make enemies fast, sometimes it happens because of envy/jealousy and sometimes out of pure evil because worlds changes

☆ You can feel safe around people who share placements in the same sign as your 4th house. They may give you a feeling of home and comfort

☆ You can easily learn your chart if you learn the order of the zodiac signs. So you can remember everything instead of checking idk astro.com every time

☆ Talking about astro sites, I love astro.seek more than astro.com is also more easy to read the chart. Just my opinion

☆ Cancer Rising in your solar return chart can indicate a more emotional year that's to come in your life. Lots of healing is happening

☆ Leo Venus/Rising/Moon natives like to be seen in a positive light or to seem like everything is alright. They don't want people to see their flaws. It's a common thing i observed mostly with Leo Moons

☆ You can have a glowup in your life every time the sun and venus return to the signs you have in your chart. Basically, a Sun/Venus return

☆ Sagittarius Dominant natives truly inspire other people. I think because of their expanded mindset and optimistic nature, they can influence others the same way

☆ Moon in Aries in your solar return chart, it's finally the time to take courage and to do the things you wanted from a long time

☆ Mercury x Ascendant aspects (both harsh and good) can smile a lot when they feel awkward. They can also seem eccentric

☆ Jupiter x Ascendant aspects can give an attractive body type or usually the type of body that gets a lot of attention (Jupiter can also make the body appear more thick)

☆ You will have the craziest conversations with Gemini/Libra/Scorpio/Sagittarius Mercuries. These are the Mercuries who jump from one topic to another and later forget what they were talking about

☆ Sun in the (10th) 8th and 12th houses can happen to experience shame publicly or to be ashamed by others in public.

☆ Having an air rising or an air venus can indicate you have a very refreshing style/appearance. Flawless

☆ Having an Aquarius/Virgo MC (Midheaven) can indicate getting liked/admired for your projects or your work/people will appreciate what you do

☆ Chiron in earth signs do not get the praise they deserve. These natives often take care and heal everyone around them, but when it comes to their own needs..these can be ignored

☆ Placements in the 10th house can end up working in politics, especially Mars or Pluto. This can also happen if these planets are in Capricorn or at 10° 22° degrees

☆ You will always be vibing with the people who have their moon/mercury/venus in the same sign as your 3rd/7th/11th house. These houses involve good relationships

☆ Moon in Aries or Capricorn can ofen spot toxic energies, and truthfully, they don't fuck with toxic people. The native will get irritated

☆ Having an empty 6th house can indicate you can lack routines in your daily life, and it can be any type of routine, from the morning routine to the evening

☆ Lacking 6th house placements or having a weak 6th house can also indicate issues with your health overall. Is good to check in with a doctor from time to time

☆ Leo/Taurus/Virgo Venus, they really pay a lot of attention to the details. They know how to read the room, energies of other people

☆ Having Neptune or Pluto in your 1st house can indicate you tend to forget about your own needs, you'll rather focus on something else than yourself

☆ 10th house ruler in the 1st house or vice versa cand indicate a person who can be known for their personality or looks, also you tend to get compared to others

☆ 12th house ruler in the 2nd house can indicate the person can invest in their spiritual journey, can meditate a lot, buying things that can heal them

☆ 3rd house ruler in the 11th house can indicate friends having the same hobbies, dreams, etc. You can share common things with them

Hope you all have a beautiful day and a beautiful weekend ☆ first weekend of 2025!! Special post today because it is my b-day, enjoy 💖💖💖

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.

We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.

I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.

But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.

Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.

And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.

It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.

It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.

And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.

[happydealhappydays]

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[woso-story]

Topless

Alexia Putellas x Reader x BarcaTeammates

You woke to the golden light of the Barcelona sun streaming through the bedroom window, spilling onto the sheets and painting lazy streaks across Alexia’s bare shoulder. She was still sleeping, her breathing soft and even, one arm slung around your waist. You took a second to just look at her, admiring the way the morning softened every sharp edge, how even the most intense captain in the world could look so at peace.

Today was rare—a full day off. No training. No meetings. No press. Just freedom. And better yet, beach plans with your favorite people.

You gently nudged her shoulder. “Lex…”

She groaned lightly, hiding her face in your collarbone. “Five more minutes.”

You laughed. “We’re gonna be late. And if we’re late, Mapi will steal our spot.”

“She can have it,” Alexia muttered, but she was already sitting up, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

---

The drive down the coast was easy. The playlist was on point—mostly Spanish pop, with a few of your favorite songs Alexia had added for you. The city slowly fell away behind you, replaced by cliffs and sparkling water to your right. Alexia drove barefoot, sunglasses on, her hand resting on your thigh like it belonged there.

When you finally pulled into the dusty parking lot by the hidden cove, you already recognized the other cars. Patri’s SUV, Mapi’s Jeep - everyone was already here. You stepped out and immediately felt the warmth of the sand beneath your sandals, the scent of salt and sunscreen carried on the wind.

You grabbed your bag, threw on your sunglasses, and followed the trail down to the beach.

The moment you stepped onto the sand, it felt like a different world. Pina and Jana were already tossing a frisbee, Ingrid and Kika were setting up towels, and Mapi was halfway through building some kind of elaborate sandcastle. Patri was just cracking open a cooler filled with cold drinks, and Esmee waved at you from beneath the shade of an umbrella.

Alexia squeezed your hand as you joined them, and for a moment, everything just felt right. Easy. Sunlight shimmered off the water, and laughter echoed across the cove.

After a quick snack and a lot of sunscreen, someone shouted the obvious: “Water?”

You all charged toward the waves like kids on summer break, splashing and diving into the Mediterranean. The water was crystal clear and just cool enough to be refreshing. Salma dunked Jana almost immediately. Alexia swam up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist, spinning you gently in the water before pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

You felt so light. So free. For a while, there were no matches, no tactics, no cameras. Just you, the sun, the sea, and your friends.

Eventually, tired and wrinkled from the saltwater, you all stumbled back to the towels, laughing and dripping wet. That’s when something… unexpected happened.

Without much fanfare, Mapi unhooked her bikini top and tossed it onto her towel, laying back with a satisfied sigh. A second later, Patri did the same. Then Pina. Salma. Jana.

You blinked. Okay. That was… new.

You weren’t a stranger to nudity—being a footballer, you’d spent enough time in locker rooms to see it all. But this wasn’t like the locker room. This was casual. Public. Almost intimate.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her—Alexia. Sitting up on the towel next to you, untying her bikini top like it was the most normal thing in the world. And for her, it was. For all of them, it seemed.

You weren’t sure what to do with your eyes. You stared back at the water, blinking, a little flushed.

A soft chuckle came from beside you.

“I can feel you overthinking,” Ingrid said, settling back on her towel to your left. She still had her top on.

You looked at her, sheepish. “Is it that obvious?”

She smiled. “You’re not the first. First time I was here, I thought I’d wandered into some nudist retreat.”

You laughed, grateful for her presence. “It’s just… I’m not used to it. At home, we don’t really—do this.”

“I know,” she said warmly. “You’ll get used to it. No one expects you to. It’s just a Spain thing. They sunbathe topless like it’s no big deal.”

You nodded, a bit more reassured. Ingrid laid back, still wearing her top, and you exhaled. At least you weren’t alone.

Still, you couldn’t quite relax. Your thoughts were doing somersaults. Why was this such a big deal? You’d seen all of them in every state of undress before. So why now, lying next to your topless teammates on a beach, was your brain acting like this was the most scandalous thing ever?

You felt a hand touch your shoulder.

Alexia.

She scooted closer, resting her chin on your shoulder. “Everything okay, carino?”

You gave a small nod. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“You never think this much at training.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because at training, I’m not surrounded by topless teammates.”

She laughed then, a full laugh that shook her shoulders. “Oh no,” she said between breaths. “You’re having a crisis about boobs, aren’t you?”

You slapped her arm gently. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not. Okay—maybe a little. But it’s cute. You’ve probably never had this many thoughts about Patri’s boobs before.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hand.

“Hey,” she said, her voice softer now. “You don’t have to do anything. No one’s expecting you to. You’re not Spanish. This isn’t normal for you, and that’s okay. Look—Ingrid’s still wearing hers. So is Esmee. And you can keep yours on too. There’s no rule here.”

You looked at her, grateful.

“Really. Just… relax. You’re allowed to feel out of place. But don’t let it ruin your day, okay?”

You nodded slowly. She kissed your shoulder blade, just over the strap of your bikini, and then lay back down beside you.

For the first time since returning from the water, you let yourself breathe deeply. The sea breeze was soft against your skin. The sound of laughter, waves, and Spanish chatter floated around you like a lullaby. And slowly, your thoughts quieted.

Maybe you didn’t quite understand all the customs here yet. Maybe there would be more moments like this—awkward, confusing, new. But you were learning. You were growing. You were finding your place in this beautiful, sun-drenched world.

And as you turned your head slightly to glance at Alexia, sun-kissed and smiling, you realized: as long as she was by your side, you’d get used to it all eventually.

One sunburn and bikini dilemma at a time.

[sugardollyxoxo]

Dolly's guide to a bimbolicious summer pt 2

pt 1

Appearance

Pale pink lip gloss, fluffy curls, bombshell bras, pink mini skirts, dolly lashes, body glitter. Being a bimbo is about expressing your inner femininity that society has tried to suppress and shame for far too long. Reject conformity & embracing individuality.

Define your persona- Who is she, really? What’s her color palette? soft pastels or chic neutrals. Is she a sultry video vixen or a sweet dolly princess? Who are her icons? What does a day in her life look like, from how she gets ready to what she wears when she runs errands or lounges at home?

Closet clean out- Put on your favorite playlist, light a candle, and set the mood. When I'm cleaning out my closet I like to imagine it as one of those makeover montages from those 2000s movies.

The easiest part is getting rid of anything you truly dislike. Old baggy tees, cargo pants you never wear, sneakers you don’t love, your brother’s hand me downs Let. Them. Go.

And I know we all have that pair of jeans or sweater with sentimental value that we just can’t let go. That's okay! fold it up and tuck it away in a keepsake box. Out of sight, out of your new aesthetic.

When I’m deciding on what to keep, I like to ask myself:

Does this have potential?

Can I crop it, accessorize it, or layer it?

Does it match anything on my Pinterest board?

I always keep plenty of basics, they can be zhuzhed up later or personally, I like to wear them on gym days or on low effort days when I still want to look cute without doing too much.

Shopping smart- This is the fun part, but also where it’s super easy to fumble. Do not impulse buy the first cute thing you see, or you’ll end up with a piece that’s impossible to style with anything else in your closet.

Keep your Pinterest board open while you shop and make a list of your essentials. Stick to a clear color theme that matches your new vibe, this helps keep your wardrobe cohesive and makes styling way easier.

Now, when it comes to actually shopping I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE thrifting. It’s not only sustainable and budget-friendly, but it makes your aesthetic more authentic.

Let's be real, so many of our fav Y2K brands are now shadows of their former selves and websites like Depop, Poshmark, and Whatnot have so many of those vintage pieces for reasonable prices. If you’re lucky enough to have local thrift stores go! You never know what gems you’ll find between worn denim and random graphic tees. That perfect low-rise mini or baby tee might be waiting for you on a $3 rack.

REMEMBER Your closet becomes an authentic version of you, not just a copy-paste of what’s trending so shop with intent.

Dolly maintenance- Think of yourself as your own personal doll. You would never want your favorite doll to have messy hair, chipped nails, or dull skin right? So treat yourself with the same love and care.

In addition to your daily routines, make time for weekly or monthly beauty appointments. Whether that’s getting your nails done, refreshing your hair, or getting a wax. These rituals keep your inner doll glowing.

Also, make room for spa days at home. Put on a cute robe, light a candle, and pamper yourself with a hydrating sheet face mask, exfoliation, hair treatments, and body oils. Being high maintenance isn’t a flaw. It’s a lifestyle 🤏🏽 🤏🏽 🤏🏽

Posture- Your posture is one of the first things people notice, it silently communicates who you are before you even speak. Slouching expresses shyness & insecurity. Standing tall and open radiates confidence and power. Even the most plain outfit can be elevated simply by the way you sit and walk.

Think of yourself as honey: slow, and intentional. You are not a stick !!! Shoulders back, chin up, and sway those hips. Your posture is not about perfection it’s about presence.

Other tips♡

-Full maximalism I wholeheartedly believe minimalism will be the death of society. So apply that glitter like there’s no tomorrow, wear that statement outfit, none of that “clean girl” around here.

-Even on your off days wear causal outfits in your favorite color

-Find your signature scent. Our smell and memory are closely related, so even if someone doesn't remember your face, that association with your scent can evoke strong emotions.

-Incorporate gua sha and other lymphatic drainage massages into your skincare & body care routine

🎀 TAKE UP SPACE, NEVER apologize for being sexy, girly, soft, loud, or sparkly🎀

[nanenna]

A bit of detective work

A continuation of this post, now separated so you don't have to scroll forever to get to the newest installment. Also: masterpost

---

After escorting the Fentons back to their home, Batman, Wonder Woman, and Constantine mutually agreed it was best to stick around Amity Park for a little while. Constantine wandered off to look around on the civilian side, while Batman of course kept his promise to excuse Danny from school. Wonder Woman, also of course, kept with him. Sadly even as a very prominent member of the Justice League, well known to be one of the founders, somehow in situations like this it always took twice as long to get anywhere with civilians if he didn’t have at least one other League member with him.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the secretary asked with a forced grin as the two heroes entered the school’s front office.

“Good morning,” Diana said cheerfully, thankfully taking point. “I’m not sure who we should speak to, we’re here to excuse a student.”

“Oh, you are?” The secretary looked unsure, glancing back and forth between the two heroes.

“Yes, he’s currently marked with an unexcused absence, we’re here to change it to an excused absence.”

“Right…” the secretary squinted up at them suspiciously. Or rather, up at Diana suspiciously. “Well, if you would just hold on one moment please.” The secretary picked up an old style land line and pressed a button. “Principal Ishiyama, there’s a Mr. Batman and a… Ms. Wonder Woman here, they wish to speak about a student’s absence.” The secretary made a few “I’m listening” sounds before hanging up. They turned their attention back to the League members. “Principal Ishiyama’s office is just down that hall.”

“Thank you!” Diana beamed at the secretary before walking confidently down the hallway, Batman at his side.

The inside of Principal Ishiyama’s office is rather cramped,clearly intended pubescent children and not adults who keep such active lifestyles. Diana graciously sits in one of the austere, hard chairs. Batman chooses to remain standing.

“Now, what’s this all about?” Ishiyama asked, eyeing Wonder Woman warily.

How odd, it was usually Batman that everyone eyed suspiciously.

“We’re here about Daniel Fenton’s absence,” Diana started. She paused long enough for the principal to pull up the young man’s information. “The investigation is ongoing so we can’t give out any details, but last night we rescued Danny from kidnappers. He has been returned to his parents, but for obvious reasons he will not be back in school today.”

“Ah, I see,” the principal said. She did not seem to see. “And you want his absence excused?”

“If the police had come to you saying he’d been kidnapped,” Batman stated clinically.

“Yes, right, of course.” The principal set about clicking a few things on her computer before returning her full attention to the heroes. “Was there anything else?”

It was almost refreshing how easy that had been. Normally Batman would have to lay out what he meant in excruciating detail and have whoever was with him repeat it before a civilian in half a position of power listened to him, outside of Gotham anyway. “Dr. Madeline Fenton was upset not to have been informed of Danny’s absence,” Batman stated.

Ishiyama flinched, “Oh dear. Thank you for warning me, I shall look into that before they arrive later.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“Dr. Madeline Fenton also stated that everyone in Amity Park knows about the Ghost King.”

“Ghost King?” The principal looked up in surprise, “What does he…? No wait, ongoing investigation.” She side eyed Diana warily, then sighed as she looked back towards Batman. “Last year the Ghost King got out of his sarcophagus, we still don’t know how, and pulled all of Amity Park into the Ghost Zone. Fortunately Phantom, along with the help of most of the town, managed to put him back in the sarcophagus.”

“Why didn’t you contact the Justice League for help?” Diana asked with a frown on her face.

“How were we supposed to do that from inside the Ghost Zone?” The principal asked with a raised brow. “By the time we were back in the real world everything was over and dealt with, aside from cleaning up all the damage his army of skeletons did.”

“And Phantom is?” Batman prompted.

“Out local hero, I suppose. At first he was a menace, but recently the good he does far outweighs the inevitable collateral damage.”

Batman leaned forward, looming over Ishiyama’s desk. “Are you aware the Justice League has programs specifically meant to give support to minors doing hero work?”

“I was not, but considering Phantom is a ghost we’re not sure exactly how old he is. Either way, you’re here now.”

“Yes, and we should speak with the mayor about the supervillain attack recovery programs the Justice League also has.”

Ishiyama smiled and nodded along, “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Once out of the school and walking towards city hall, Diana turned to Bruce. “Phantom is a minor?”

“He is described as appearing to be in his mid-teens, strangely no photos of him despite there being photos of other ghosts all over the residents’ social medias and newspaper articles.”

“That is odd,” Diana mused.

“This whole town is odd,” Constantine said as he sidled up to them. “Apparently getting sucked into, and I quote, the lime jello dimension by the ghost king is just another Tuesday here.”

“The principal called it the Ghost Zone,” Diana supplied.

“A silly thing to call the Infinite Realms, but not the silliest name it’s been given over the eons. What I don’t get is how Pariah Dark got bloody out for a day and not one single person noticed, that should’ve been a huge event everyone even remotely sensitive to æther should’ve felt.”

“You believe someone intentionally hid this event?” Batman asked.

“It’s the only thing that makes a lick of sense, but that would take either someone scarily powerful or a group of very powerful people. And that’s not even getting into the why.”

“Perhaps this cult wasn’t the first to attempt to summon him,” Batman mused darkly. “Someone chose to release him, and since Amity Park is already a ghost hotspot I can see why this is where they’d choose to attempt such a thing.”

Constantine nodded along, “I was thinking the same thing. But it gets worse, no one in the JLD has heard or sensed a single thing about this town before today. I’m thinking it’s less someone chose to cloak Pariah Dark specifically and more someone is cloaking the whole town and everything going on inside it.”

“Then how did whoever freed Pariah Dark know to come here for their attempt?” Diana asked, “How did this cult know enough to use one of the residents as a sacrifice?”

“Ain’t that just the million pound question?” Constantine asked airily. “Along with: how did they even get into the Infinite Realms to let the bloody tyrant out?” The group fell into silence, no one having an answer to that question. “So, what next?”

“We’re heading to the mayor’s office to make sure they’re aware of Justice League resources that are available to anyone who’s suffered from villain attacks,” Diana answered.

“Despite numerous attacks and complaints of collateral damage, not one request from Amity Park for villain attack relief,” Batman added.

“Now that is interesting,” Constantine said.