#isa x reader

[faebled-stories]

Healing Touch

Kinkvember Day 14: Oral (TW: Emotional & Physical Abuse)

StayC Isa (Lee Chaeyoung) x Male reader

8.5k words

AN: Just a heads-up, this story has more character development and plot, with less smut than usual. I hope you guys still enjoy!

“AGH, fuck!” Isa’s breath comes in shallow gasps, her body still tingling from the waves of pleasure that had just torn through her. The room is filled with the quiet aftermath of your lovemaking, a soft hum of satisfaction buzzing in the dim light. She lies beside you, skin slick with sweat, her heartbeat slowly returning to its natural rhythm. For a few moments, neither of you speaks—just the sound of your breaths mingling as you both come down from the high, letting the silence settle in comfortably.

You lie on your back next to her, staring up at the ceiling with a lazy grin, your chest rising and falling in sync with hers. Isa turns her head toward you, her body still warm and electric from the intensity you just shared. She treasures these moments—the calm after the storm—when every part of her feels alive yet settled. But tonight, something lingers at the edge of her mind, a familiar ache that always seems to resurface after these most intimate moments.

It’s been a year and a half since you became a couple,—since you reached the point where words were no longer enough to hold what you shared. You’ve grown closer with each passing day, yet even now, there are places in you that feel just out of reach to her, guarded and closed. Isa longs to reach those parts, to touch you in ways that go beyond the physical. She feels it most in the aftermath of nights like this—when your bodies speak a language all their own, but she knows there’s still something more, something unspoken between you.

You both bask in the comfortable silence, bodies entangled yet thoughts drifting. Isa’s fingers trace the lines of your chest lazily, feeling the steady warmth of your skin beneath her touch, grounding her. Her body hums with contentment, but her mind is already longing for something beyond it. She feels the quiet tension that always lingers after, a sense of wanting to give herself more fully to you, to offer parts of herself that words or touch can’t fully convey.

After a few moments, Isa turns her head toward you, her voice soft, carrying a hint of hope. “Do you want me to… take care of you?” She doesn’t need to be more specific; you know what she means. She wants to show her love in this way, to take you to that place of vulnerability she finds beautiful.

You smile faintly but shake your head, brushing it off. “No need, baby. You don’t have to. I’m good.”

Isa’s heart sinks, a familiar disappointment settling in. The rejection stings, even more than she lets herself admit. “I know I don’t have to,” she murmurs, her fingers still tracing patterns on your chest, searching for the right words. “I want to.”

Your response is gentle but dismissive, as always. “I’m spent. Too tired,” you say, your voice already softening with sleep as you turn to spoon her from behind. Your arm wraps around her waist, pulling her close, and Isa can feel the warmth of your body against hers, your breath soft against her neck. But despite your words, she feels your half-hardened length pressing against her, betraying your claim of exhaustion.

Her mind swirls as she lies there in your embrace. She’s noticed this pattern before—how you always find a reason to decline her offer. It isn’t the first time you’ve said you’re “tired” or that it “wasn’t necessary.” Each time, it leaves Isa feeling more confused and frustrated. For her, it isn’t about obligation; it’s her way of showing love, an expression as important as anything else you do together. She wants to share that intimacy with you—to feel the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure in her own way. And yet, every time she tries, you have an excuse.

Tonight, with the way your body presses against hers even as your words tell her no, the quiet rejection stings more deeply than ever.

As you hold her, your arm draped over her waist, you sense a shift in her, a quiet tension. Normally, after moments like these, you would both talk softly or drift into easy silence. But tonight, there’s a difference in the air, something in the way her body feels tense against yours, her breath slow but not fully relaxed.

“Chae,” you say, your voice breaking through the silence. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Isa hesitates, biting her lip as her thoughts tumble over one another. Should she brush it off? Or is tonight the night to finally voice what’s been building inside her? After a long moment, she sighs and rolls over slightly to face you, her gaze soft but searching.

“Why don’t you ever let me… you know, give you head?” she begins quietly, her voice uncertain but steady. “It’s not like I don’t want to. I love doing it. I love making you feel good in that way. But you always say no.”

You blink, momentarily taken aback by her honesty. You open your mouth to respond, but Isa continues, the words pouring out now that she’s started.

“I don’t want to pressure you, I swear,” she says, her fingers resting lightly on your chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of your heart. “I just… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something. You say you’re tired, or that you’re fine, but it’s a way for me to show my love, and I want to share that with you. But you keep shutting me down.”

Her words hang in the air between you, a weight both of you can feel. Isa’s heart pounds as she waits for your response, vulnerability tightening in her chest, wondering if you’ll brush it off or finally explain what holds you back.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, your gaze shifting as if searching for the right words. You’ve always avoided this conversation, not because you don’t care about Isa’s feelings, but because the truth isn’t something you like to acknowledge—not even to yourself.

Finally, after a long pause, you look back at her, your expression serious but softened by affection. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… complicated.”

The words sit between you, a partial explanation that leaves Isa feeling both relieved and unsatisfied. She knows you well enough to sense that you aren’t ready to share more, so she nods, squeezing your hand gently before releasing it. She won’t push you any further tonight, but a familiar ache remains, lingering like an unanswered question, a space between you still waiting to be bridged.

-----

The next day, as Isa strolled through the market, the weight of your quiet rejection still lingered, gnawing at her thoughts. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the comforting aroma of baked goods from nearby stalls, yet the usual warmth she felt here seemed dulled. The marketplace buzzed around her—children laughing, vendors calling out their offers—but Isa moved through it, distracted, her mind tethered to the unsettled feeling that trailed her since last night. As much as she loved you and felt a deep connection, there was this persistent gap—your quiet refusal to let her give you pleasure in the way she most wanted.

It wasn’t that you were harsh about it; you always deflected her with gentle excuses: Not right now, I’m too tired, You don’t need to. But Isa cherished to have this connection with you. For her, it was an act of love, something woven into her very identity. Giving herself in that way made her feel closer, like she was tapping into a deeper level of intimacy, one that words or gestures couldn’t quite match. Yet, every time she offered, you gently closed the door. The rejection, soft as it was, had begun to settle into her, like an ache that didn’t quite fade.

Lost in thought, Isa approached a vegetable stall, barely noticing the colorful array of produce before her. Just as she reached out to pick a ripe tomato, a familiar voice pulled her back to the present.

“Isa? Is that you?”

Isa looked up, her heart skipping a beat. There, standing a few feet away, was Sojang—your ex—smiling at her with an easy familiarity that immediately set Isa on edge. They had met once before, briefly, and Isa hadn’t thought much of her since. But seeing her here, unexpectedly, in the middle of her own thoughts about you, made Isa feel oddly unsettled, as if her internal worries were somehow surfacing before her.

“Oh, hey! Sojang, right?” Isa managed a smile, though it felt tight, her voice sounding more strained than she intended.

Sojang beamed, her expression disarmingly friendly, almost too friendly. “Yes! It’s so nice to run into you. How are you? How’s Y/N?”

Isa nodded, trying to mirror Sojang’s warmth. “I’m good! We’re good, thanks. Just picking up a few things for dinner,” she replied, hoping the conversation would remain light and fleeting.

“Ah, nice, nice,” Sojang said, her eyes gleaming with an interest that made Isa feel oddly exposed. There was something too sweet, too earnest in her tone. Isa couldn’t quite place why, but there was something about Sojang’s bright smile that felt like a performance, a mask that was a little too carefully worn. Isa pushed the thought away, telling herself she was just being paranoid.

They exchanged a few pleasantries, Sojang filling Isa in on her recent return to town. Isa responded politely, though the conversation felt increasingly forced, like Sojang was trying to carve out some deeper connection than Isa wanted. As she listened, Isa’s intuition prickled, a sense that Sojang’s friendliness was intentional, perhaps even calculated. Nothing was explicitly wrong, but her smile seemed too eager, like a practiced act Isa hadn’t signed up to watch.

Then, out of nowhere, Sojang’s tone shifted, becoming playfully teasing. She leaned in, her voice dropping conspiratorially. ���So, since you’re with him, your jaw must be tired all the time, huh?” Sojang winked, a sly smirk dancing at the corner of her mouth.

Isa blinked, her mind momentarily freezing. “Uh… what?”

Sojang laughed, seemingly taking Isa’s reaction as bashfulness. “Oh, come on. You don’t have to pretend. I know he’s practically begging you to suck his dick all the time.” She winked again, as if they shared some private joke, as if they were in on the same secret.

Isa’s stomach dropped, a cold, twisting sensation gripping her. “I… um…” Her thoughts raced, scrambling for a response. That wasn’t you. You never begged for oral—if anything, you avoided it. What was Sojang talking about?

Oblivious to Isa’s discomfort, Sojang continued, her tone light, even bubbly. “Oh, trust me. He loves it. He was always asking me for it. Like, constantly. It was kind of his thing, you know? Blowjobs were his main way to unwind.” She giggled, reminiscing with a fondness that felt almost too casual, as if she were sharing a harmless story. “I mean, I used to joke that my jaw was always sore because of him!”

Isa tried to process Sojang’s words, but they didn’t align with the version of you she knew. Her pulse quickened, each beat intensifying the confusion as Sojang’s words echoed in her mind. Constantly? Always asking? She barely managed to keep her expression composed, though her head was spinning. This didn’t sound like you��at least, not the you she knew. The more she tried to piece it together, the more alien it felt.

With effort, she forced a smile, though it wavered. “That’s… interesting. I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah!” Sojang replied, all too happy to continue. “If there’s one thing he loved, it was a good blowjob. I used to give them to him all the time. It was like the highlight of his day,” she added with a carefree laugh. “I’m sure you’re keeping him satisfied.”

Isa’s throat tightened, each of Sojang’s words adding to a strange, hollow ache that made her feel smaller, less certain. The more Sojang talked, the more Isa felt a creeping sense of inadequacy. She wanted to respond, to say something—anything—but found herself grasping for words that wouldn’t come. You had never once hinted that you wanted that from her, and every time she offered, you politely refused. Yet here was Sojang, painting a completely different picture of you, one that seemed to revel in a kind of pleasure you wouldn’t let her give.

A sliver of doubt wormed its way into her thoughts, each repetition of Sojang’s words chipping away at her confidence. Was it her? Was she the problem?

“Yeah, um, well…” Isa stammered, her voice trailing off as she glanced down, feeling awkward and exposed in a conversation that had turned sharp without warning. Sojang kept talking, oblivious to Isa’s growing discomfort, but Isa could barely focus on her words. All she could think about was the contrast Sojang’s experience painted, a version of you that felt foreign, unsettling.

If you loved it so much, why didn’t you want it from her?

The question echoed in her mind, nagging, each repetition a sharper edge to her doubt. After a few more forced pleasantries, Sojang finally said her goodbyes, leaving Isa standing alone in the crowded market, the buzz of conversation and laughter around her feeling oddly muted. As Sojang walked away, a heavy feeling settled in Isa’s chest, as if she’d been blindsided, caught off guard in a game she hadn’t known she was playing. Sojang’s cheerful demeanor had made it seem casual, unimportant even, but Isa’s heart felt weighed down by confusion and self-doubt.

On the walk home, the conversation replayed in her mind, every detail sharpening the ache inside her. Sojang’s words kept circling back, as if taunting her: you loved it, needed it, craved it. So why didn’t you want it from her? Was something wrong with her? Did you not trust her the way you had trusted Sojang? Or was there something deeper—something about her that just didn’t move you in the same way?

The doubt gnawed at her, a relentless churning that she couldn’t shake. She told herself not to let Sojang’s words get to her, that people change, that your past with her was just that—the past. But the seeds of insecurity had been planted, and they were starting to take root, their grip tightening around her heart.

More than anything, something about Sojang’s comments unsettled her on a deeper level. The way Sojang had been too familiar, too knowing, as if she’d relished the chance to make Isa feel small. Isa tried to shake the thought, to dismiss it as paranoia, but the suspicion lingered, settling uncomfortably in the back of her mind.

By the time she reached home, the unease had only grown stronger, her heart weighed down with questions she was almost afraid to ask.

-----

That evening, you and Isa sat down for dinner together. You had prepared a comforting meal of pasta in a rosé sauce with a side of golden, buttery garlic bread. On Isa’s plate was a vibrant mix of grilled vegetables and quinoa sprinkled with fresh herbs. Normally, the familiar flavors and your shared meal would soothe her, but tonight, they barely registered. Her mind was elsewhere, tangled in the remnants of her encounter with Sojang and the unsettling thoughts that had trailed her all the way home.

You began chatting about your day, sharing funny stories from work, your face lighting up as you recounted your coworker’s clumsy misadventures with the new coffee machine. Isa nodded along, trying to stay present, even forcing a few laughs. But her mind kept drifting back to the market, to Sojang’s words, each one chipping at her sense of ease, making her quieter than usual.

After a moment, you looked up from your plate, brow furrowing as you noticed her stillness. “Hey, is the food okay?” you asked gently, eyes filled with concern. “You’ve barely touched it.”

Isa shook her head quickly, offering a faint smile. “Oh, no, it’s good,” she replied, taking a small, obligatory bite of her vegetables, though she hardly tasted them. She didn’t want to bring up Sojang or the thoughts stirring inside her—not now, not over dinner. But she couldn’t shake the tension, and every time she looked up, she could feel your worried gaze settling on her.

The two of you finished the meal in subdued silence, Isa barely eating, her appetite dulled by the emotions she was wrestling with. You quietly gathered the dishes and moved to the sink, washing them with your usual care, while Isa slipped into the bedroom, feeling the weight of her unresolved thoughts pressing down on her, heavier than before.

Later that evening, Isa sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror, her mind a whirl of doubt and frustration. From the bathroom, she could hear the sound of running water as you washed up, the quiet rhythm amplifying the silence around her. She tried to focus on her nightly routine, brushing her hair, massaging moisturizer into her skin, but her thoughts kept dragging her back to the market—to Sojang’s playful, almost taunting voice. I know he’s practically begging you to suck his dick all the time. The words echoed in her mind, louder and sharper with each repetition, until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

How could Sojang’s experience with you have been so different from her own? Isa had tried to offer you that same intimacy, that same pleasure, only to be gently brushed off each time. She wanted to feel close to you in every way, to connect with you on the most vulnerable level, but your repeated refusals… they were beginning to feel like a rejection of her, not just of the act.

By the time she crawled into bed, you were coming out of the bathroom, hair damp, smile easy. Normally, Isa would feel comforted by your presence, but tonight her body tensed as you slid in beside her. You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close like always, but instead of the familiar warmth she usually felt, Isa found herself resisting, a strange weight pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Hey,” you murmured, noticing her stiffness. You pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet since dinner.”

Isa swallowed, managing a weak smile though her heart pounded in her chest. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

You didn’t look convinced. Shifting slightly, you propped yourself up on one elbow to study her face, concern etched in your expression. “Chae? You seem… off. Did I do something?”

Isa felt her throat tighten. She didn’t want to talk about it—not yet, not when her thoughts felt this raw and tangled. She wasn’t even sure how to explain it without sounding insecure. “I’m just tired,” she repeated softly, turning her head away. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

You hesitated, clearly worried, but you nodded, giving her space. “Alright,” you said gently, settling back down beside her. “But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

Isa didn’t respond, keeping her back to you as she curled up on her side. Normally, she would lean into you, her back against your chest, feeling safe and grounded. But tonight, she held herself apart, feeling an unfamiliar anger simmering beneath her sadness. You shifted behind her, closing the gap between you, your arm slipping around her waist again, but she stayed still, not moving to nestle into your embrace.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice soft, tinged with guilt. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

Your words tugged at her heart, yet Isa couldn’t bring herself to respond. She wasn’t even sure if it was something you had done, or something inside herself that had shifted. She stayed turned away, eyes shut tightly, fighting against the frustration building in her chest. The image of Sojang’s cheerful, too-knowing smile and her casual comments gnawed at her, each one twisting further into her insecurities.

Eventually, Isa drifted into an uneasy sleep, her body still tense with your arm draped over her. But for the first time, the warmth she usually found in your touch felt distant, as if a wall had formed between you, quiet but unmistakable

-----

When Isa woke the next morning, sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, but it did nothing to ease the tension gripping her chest. She turned over, expecting to find you still asleep beside her, but you were already up, pulling on a t-shirt at the foot of the bed. You smiled when you saw her stirring.

“Morning, beautiful,” you said gently, crossing over to kiss her forehead. Your touch was familiar, warm, but Isa’s thoughts were elsewhere—trapped in yesterday’s conversation with Sojang.

Isa sat up slowly, her mind racing, replaying Sojang’s words over and over. You slipped back into bed beside her, draping an arm around her waist like you always did, but today, it felt wrong. She tensed, her skin crawling with unease. You kissed her shoulder, your lips soft against her skin, but Isa couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts—the image of Sojang talking so casually about how much you had loved receiving oral.

She tried to smile, tried to shake the thoughts from her head, but the tension inside her was building too fast. Isa pulled away from your touch, sitting at the edge of the bed, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. You immediately noticed the shift, frowning as she distanced herself.

“Chae... what’s going on?” you asked, your voice gentle but filled with concern. “You’re not yourself. Did I do something?”

Isa bit her lip, her chest tightening. She could feel the frustration and doubt bubbling up inside her, and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

“Why won’t you let me do it?” she asked quietly, her voice tense.

You furrowed your brow, confused. “Do what?”

Isa’s hands tightened in her lap. She turned slightly toward you, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Give you head. Why won’t you ever let me? Why was it okay with Sojang but not with me?”

You instantly stiffened at her words. Your entire body went rigid, eyes narrowing slightly as you processed what she was asking. Your reaction was immediate and unmistakable.

“Wait... why did you and Sojang meet up?” you asked, your voice sharp with unease.

Isa blinked, caught off guard by your sudden tension. She frowned, shaking her head, thinking you were deflecting. “Seriously? That’s your concern right now? You’re trying to change the subject.”

Your eyes stayed fixed on her, body still stiff with discomfort. “No, I—I’m just asking—”

“Sojang told me everything,” Isa interrupted, her voice rising with emotion. “She said you two broke up on good terms. She made it sound like you had this perfect relationship and then just decided to part ways. She implied that blowjobs were practically your favorite thing.” Isa’s voice wavered as her insecurity bubbled up. “She made it sound like she could give you something I can’t. Is that why you keep pushing me away?”

Your face tightened further at the mention of Sojang, your jaw clenching as your eyes flickered with something Isa couldn’t quite read. She mistook your reaction for guilt, for confirmation of her worst fears.

“If that’s what you want—if you still want her—I can leave,” Isa continued, her voice cracking. “If you’d rather be with Sojang, just tell me. I won’t stand in the way.”

You blinked, expression shifting from tense to confused. “Wait, what?” you asked, clearly thrown off. “Leave? Babe, what are you talking about?”

“You guys are perfect for each other. I get it. If she’s still important to you, I won’t—”

“Chae, don’t think like that,” you interrupted, your voice firm but bewildered. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That’s not what this is about.”

Isa froze, tears pricking her eyes as she stared at you, her frustration and confusion now battling with her fear of rejection. “Then why?” Her voice broke, and her tears finally spilled over. “Why won’t you let me show you how much I love you? Why do you keep pushing me away? What’s wrong with me?”

Your face softened with guilt and regret, shoulders sagging as if the weight of what you had been holding back was finally crashing down on you. You reached out for her, but Isa pulled away, too hurt to accept your comfort.

“Honey, please, listen to me,” you said, your voice low, thick with emotion. “It’s not you. I swear, it’s not about you.”

“Then what is it?” Isa demanded, her voice trembling with frustration and heartache.

“Sojang...” you began, your voice strained, “she’s not what you think.”

Your hands trembled in your lap, eyes darting away from Isa’s as the weight of your past pressed down on you. You could feel your throat tighten, chest aching as memories you had tried to bury for so long began to resurface. Isa’s heart pounded in her chest, watching you with growing concern. She had never seen you like this—so vulnerable, so visibly distressed. You were always the strong one, the one who held her together when she felt like falling apart. But now, sitting there with your hands shaking and your gaze far away, she realized how much you had been hiding from her.

You took a deep breath, jaw tightening before you finally spoke, your voice low and strained. “Sojang... she’s not who you think she is. And we didn’t break up on good terms. We didn’t end things cleanly like she made it sound. I didn’t even tell her it was over face to face. I just... I left.”

Isa’s eyes widened slightly, her heart already sinking at the pain she could hear in your voice. “What do you mean?” she asked softly, not wanting to push, but needing to understand.

You stared at your hands, fingers fidgeting with the sheets as you tried to explain. “Sojang… She was my first girlfriend. I didn’t know any better back then. I didn’t have anything to compare it to. I was just happy that someone wanted to be with me, you know?” You glanced up at Isa, your eyes filled with a mixture of shame and sadness. “I thought that was love.”

Isa’s heart broke at your words. She could see it now—the innocence, the trust you had given Sojang, not knowing what a healthy relationship looked like. You had believed Sojang loved you, that the way she treated you was normal, and it made her stomach turn.

“At first, everything seemed fine,” you continued, your voice growing quieter. “But slowly, she started changing. She got controlling. She’d use sex as a way to manipulate me.”

Isa felt a lump form in her throat as your words sank in. She could see how much this was hurting you, how difficult it was for you to relive these memories. She wanted to reach out and comfort you, but she didn’t want to interrupt. You needed to get this out.

“She’d use it to punish me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “Whenever I did something she didn’t like, whenever I tried to pull away from her, she’d… use her mouth to cause me pain. I know that sounds weird, but she knew exactly how to hurt me. She’d make it seem like it was this intimate thing, but it wasn’t. It was about control, about making me feel powerless.”

Isa’s breath caught in her throat, her mind reeling. The idea that Sojang had weaponized something so intimate, something that should have been about love and connection, made her feel sick.

“It got worse,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “If I flinched, if I tried to tell her to stop, she’d accuse me of not being a real man. She’d say things like, ‘How can you not like blowjobs? What kind of guy doesn’t enjoy that?’ She made me feel like there was something wrong with me. And when I started to believe that... I didn’t know how to leave.”

You swallowed hard, your voice growing even quieter as the memories overwhelmed you. “Sojang would say things like, ‘Don’t you know how lucky you are to have a girl like me suck you off? You should be grateful.’ And for a while, I believed her. I thought… Maybe she was right. I didn’t feel lucky, but I felt like I had to be. Like I was crazy for not wanting it.”

Isa’s heart shattered as she listened. She had no idea that Sojang had twisted something so intimate into a way to control and demean you. Your hands clenched in your lap as you continued, the words pouring out now, like you had been holding them in for too long.

“I hated it,” you said, your voice raw. “But I stayed because I thought that was what love was supposed to be. I thought… I thought maybe this was all I was worth. Maybe she was right.”

Isa’s tears fell freely now. She wanted to reach out, to tell you that none of it had been your fault, that you weren’t the problem, but she stayed silent, letting you finish.

“I started dreading it,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “Every time she’d order me to undress, I knew it wasn’t about love or making me feel good. It was about control. And I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Isa’s stomach churned, imagining the fear and helplessness you must have felt, trapped in a relationship with someone who wielded intimacy as a weapon.

“I couldn’t take it anymore,” you said, your voice barely audible now. “I reached my breaking point, and one night, I just… I left. I snuck out. Cut all contact. I didn’t even tell her it was over. I was scared she’d pull me back in again. I was scared she’d make me feel like I was the problem, all over again.”

Isa’s tears blurred her vision as she reached out, placing a hand on your arm. “Oh my God… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked, filled with sorrow and regret. She couldn’t believe how much you had been holding inside, how much you had been carrying alone.

You finally looked up at her, your expression filled with pain but also relief, as if finally saying these words had lifted some of the weight from your chest. But your eyes still carried that haunted look, as though the trauma lingered, even after all this time.

“That’s why I can’t let you do it,” you said softly, your voice hoarse. “It’s not about you, baby. I love you. But every time you offer, all I can think about is her. The pain. The manipulation. I don’t want to go back there.”

Isa’s heart shattered all over again. She had thought your refusals were about her, but now she saw it for what it was—a way to protect yourself from reliving the nightmare that had nearly broken you.

Tears streamed down her face as she scooted closer to you, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered through her tears. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

You didn’t cry, but she could feel the tension in your body, the way your muscles were taut, as though you were barely holding yourself together. You had always been the strong one, the one who held everything together. And now, here you were, crumbling in her arms, showing her the depth of your vulnerability.

“You’re not weak,” Isa whispered, pressing her forehead against your shoulder, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re not. You’re the strongest person I know, and I love you so much.”

You didn’t speak for a moment, but your hand found hers, squeezing it gently. It was a small gesture, but Isa knew what it meant. You were letting her in, slowly, piece by piece.

The two of you sat there in silence, Isa holding you as if her embrace could somehow mend the cracks in your heart. She wished it could. She wished she could erase all the pain your ex had caused you, take away the trauma that had scarred you so deeply. But she knew that wasn’t possible.

All she could do was be there for you. To love you. To show you that this—your love—was real, and safe, and nothing like the twisted version Sojang had given you.

“I love you,” Isa whispered again, her tears dampening your shoulder. 

-----

In the days and weeks following your confession, something shifted between you and Isa—not in a bad way, but in a way that made her feel even closer to you. She hadn’t realized just how much you had been holding inside, how much of yourself you’d kept hidden. Now that you’d shared your past, there was a lightness about you that Isa had never seen before.

You were still the strong, steady man she’d always known, but now there was a vulnerability you allowed yourself to show. You smiled more, laughed a bit louder, and even in the quiet moments between you, there was a newfound ease. It wasn’t that your trauma had vanished—it never would—but confiding in Isa had released some of its hold, and that brought her a profound sense of love and pride.

Isa never pushed, nor did she bring up what you had told her unless you wanted to talk. She understood that healing was not something that happened overnight, and she didn’t want you to feel rushed or like you had to “fix” yourself for her. She was simply there, letting you go at your own pace, accepting that some things might never change and that this was okay.

Still, she made sure you knew she was there for you, whenever you were ready.

One evening, as you lay in bed together, Isa turned to you, cupping your face gently. “I just want you to know,” she whispered, her voice warm with love, “that whenever—or if ever—you feel ready, I’d love to show you what real love feels like. Not the kind that hurts, not the kind that controls. Just love. Real, safe, and full of trust.”

Your eyes softened, and you covered her hand with yours, saying nothing but giving her a look that held everything she needed to know. You weren’t ready yet, but Isa’s patience meant the world to you.

So, life continued. You grew more open, letting yourself be more at ease. Isa noticed the subtle ways you began to change—the quiet confidence that started to return, the warmth in your touch, the way you kissed her a little longer each morning. Your bond grew deeper, and Isa felt a pride she couldn’t put into words, watching you heal, knowing she had created a space for you to feel safe.

Then, as time passed, things shifted. Slowly but surely, the weight you carried seemed lighter, and the shadows in your gaze began to lift. You still had difficult days, times when memories resurfaced, and Isa could sense your mind drifting to a place she couldn’t reach. But you no longer shut her out. You let her in, allowing her to be with you even when the darkness threatened to creep back in.

And Isa never pushed. She loved you, and that was more than enough.

Soon, your birthday arrived, a day Isa had been secretly looking forward to it. There was no need for grand gestures—it was just a day for the two of you, a time to celebrate how far you had come together. You spent the day as you always did—laughing, reminiscing, and filling each other’s lives with stories and small joys. That evening, after a cozy dinner at your favorite little restaurant, you walked home hand-in-hand, the city lights shimmering like stars around you, the crisp night air wrapping you both in a sense of warmth and belonging.

When you got home, you pulled her into your arms as soon as you crossed the doorway, your embrace tender but filled with affection. Isa’s heart fluttered as you whispered softly against her hair.

“Happy birthday,” she murmured, looking up at you with a soft smile.

“Thank you,” you replied, gazing back at her with a warmth that made her feel like the only person in the world.

The rest of the evening was spent together, curled up on the couch, comfortable and content in your little bubble. Isa had no expectations for the night; she was simply grateful to be with you, sharing another beautiful year. But as the night wore on, she noticed something different in your demeanor—a quiet intensity in your gaze, a sense of anticipation in your touch, as though you were building up to something.

Later, as you lay in bed, you turned to her, your eyes searching hers, the sincerity and calmness in your gaze making her heart race.

“Chae,” you began softly, your voice a bit shy, a hint of hesitation as you traced gentle patterns on her arm. “I’ve been thinking about what you said… about showing me what real love feels like.”

Isa blinked, her heart suddenly pounding. She hadn’t expected you to bring it up—not tonight, not even ever if you didn’t want to. She sat up a little, holding your gaze, her excitement barely contained.

You took a steadying breath, your fingers curling around hers. “I think I’m ready,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to try… with you.” Your eyes softened, the weight of your words filled with trust. “I trust you, more than anyone.”

Isa’s breath caught, her heart swelling with joy. You had always been the one to gently refuse when she offered to give you head, and she had never thought you’d be the one to ask.

And then, as if reading her thoughts, you added softly, “I was wondering if… if you’d still want to. I mean, if you still wanted to… you know…”

“Yes!” Isa answered, her voice bright with excitement before you could even finish your sentence. Her cheeks flushed, a soft, shy laugh escaping her as she realized how eagerly she’d spoken. “I mean… yes,” she whispered, this time more softly, her face glowing with love and anticipation.

Your eyes lit up at her response, and Isa couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. She’d been waiting for this—not just because of the act itself, but because it meant you trusted her in a way you hadn’t been able to before.

“You’re sure?” Isa whispered, her voice tender, but her heart raced with excitement. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to… I’d be happy to wait.”

You smiled, reaching up to gently cup her cheek. “I’m sure,” you murmured, warmth in your eyes. “I want this. With you.”

With a soft smile, Isa moved closer, leaning down to press gentle kisses along your chest, her lips trailing slowly, savoring the feel of your skin. Each kiss was a promise, filled with the love she held for you—a love that was gentle, safe, and real, just as she had always hoped to give.

As her kisses moved lower, Isa could feel your breath deepen, the slow rise and fall of your chest as you allowed yourself to relax. Her hands slid down your torso, brushing over the hard planes of your stomach, and she smiled to herself, feeling the slight shiver of your muscles responding to her touch. There was something deeply intimate about these moments—something Isa had craved, not just for herself, but for you.

She reached your hips, her fingers teasing along the waistband of your boxers, and she could feel the tension there, the quiet anticipation that came with trusting someone enough to let them in. Isa paused, her lips brushing against your hip bone as she looked up at you, meeting your eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper, wanting to make sure you were truly ready.

Your gaze met hers, your breathing a little heavier now, but there was no hesitation in your eyes. You gave her a small nod, your hand threading gently through her hair. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “I’m more than okay.”

With a gentle nod from you, Isa slowly pulled down your boxers, revealing you to her. For a moment, she simply paused, admiring you, taking in the quiet beauty of this moment—your body, open and vulnerable, trusting her completely in the most intimate way. Her heart swelled with love, understanding that this wasn’t just about the act itself but about showing you that intimacy could be safe and beautiful.

Her hand wrapped around you first, her touch soft and unhurried. She felt you respond immediately, a subtle tension running through your muscles as her fingers moved in a gentle, deliberate rhythm. Isa’s heart skipped as she saw you like this—open, trusting, letting her guide each moment. She brushed her thumb over the sensitive tip, watching as your breath hitched, your hand tightening slightly in her hair, not guiding or pushing, just resting there, a silent expression of trust.

Isa lowered her head, taking you into her mouth with tender care, her lips wrapping slowly around you as she savored the warmth of your skin. She moved deliberately, her hands resting on you, steady and reassuring, her mouth exploring you with gentle affection. Each movement was thoughtful, her focus entirely on you, every moment filled with care.

She heard soft sounds escape your lips—quiet, breathy sighs that let her know you were starting to let go. Your hand stayed light on her head, not guiding, just there, a reassuring reminder that you felt safe. Isa moved at her own pace, unhurried, making sure each second was filled with intention and love. There was no rush, no goal; she simply wanted you to feel safe, to understand that this could be pure and healing.

Isa found herself enjoying each second, more deeply than she had expected. It wasn’t just about your pleasure—it was about seeing you let go, watching your body respond in a way that showed you were leaving the pain of the past behind. A quiet warmth flooded her chest, a sense of fulfillment, knowing she was finally able to give you this kind of love and closeness.

As she continued, Isa felt your breathing grow more unsteady, your muscles tensing as you edged closer. Her movements remained gentle but purposeful, her hand and mouth moving in sync. Every soft sound you made, every shiver, filled her with pride, knowing you were allowing her to take you to this vulnerable place. To her, it felt like a gift you were both sharing.

A moment later, your breath hitched sharply, your hand tightening in her hair as if bracing yourself. “Oh, fuck, Chae,” you breathed out, voice thick with a blend of surprise and pleasure. Hearing her name from you, Isa felt a surge of warmth, a quiet assurance that you were allowing yourself to feel fully, without holding back.

Your body tensed one last time, every muscle tightening as Isa felt the warmth of your release fill her mouth, unexpectedly intense. Her eyes widened in slight surprise, her heart swelling with the depth of the trust you had placed in her. The sensation was overwhelming, but she held steady, her lips remaining gentle and firm around you as she guided you through each wave, ensuring you felt safe, cherished, and seen.

As each pulse flowed into her, Isa’s movements grew even more tender, her hands holding you with care, a gentle presence as she felt you surrender completely. She swallowed softly, letting you essence fill her completely, her touch light and reassuring. Each subtle twitch, each surge of release, was a testament to the vulnerability you were willing to share, and she received it all with love.

With every pump, Isa could feel your tension melting away, and a quiet pride blossomed within her. She knew what this moment meant—that you had entrusted her with something sacred, a vulnerability once guarded. She felt a sense of fulfillment, a deep sense of joy and purpose, as she coaxed you through each wave, letting you know with every gentle movement that you were safe and deeply cherished.

Keeping her mouth softly around you, Isa lingered, savoring the warmth of every response from your body. Each twitch, each gentle pulse, filled her with satisfaction, a connection she had longed to share with you. This was her love in action, a gift of care and devotion. The fullness of that feeling glowed within her, making each touch an act of affection.

When you glanced down, your breath caught at the sight of her—her mouth still gently surrounding you, her eyes meeting yours with a look so full of care, warmth, and adoration that it sent a shiver through you. Her gaze was unwavering, her expression beautifully open, filled with a love that went beyond words.

With a slow, tender swirl of her tongue, Isa gently lapped up every last trace, her movements graceful and attentive, savoring each second. Her lips stayed around you until she released you with a soft, lingering pop. She then pressed a gentle kiss to your tip, a shimmering thread connecting her lips to you for a moment before it faded, leaving her with a soft smile of pure contentment.

Feeling deeply fulfilled, Isa continued to shower you with tender kisses, each one unhurried and filled with meaning. She traced a delicate path along your length, her mouth warm, her kisses gentle and intentional, as though committing every inch of you to memory. Her heart swelled with love and pride, knowing that you were allowing her to be this close, to give you this intimacy. Each kiss felt like a balm, a way of rewriting the past, easing old hurts with a touch that was gentle and true.

She took her time, mixing in soft licks with her kisses, her gaze never leaving yours. She wanted you to feel her presence in every touch, to know that this was her gift to you—a gift of safety, of trust, of unconditional love.

With one final, lingering kiss to your tip, Isa’s lips held there, as if sealing a promise. Then, slowly, she began to kiss her way back up, her warm lips trailing along your skin, savoring every inch. Each kiss felt like an affirmation, a reminder that she was exactly where she wanted to be, giving herself to you in a way that felt both sacred and healing.

When she finally lay beside you, your chest was still rising and falling, your breath heavy as you came down from the high of her love. Isa rested her hand lightly on your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart beneath her palm, her own heart swelling with fulfillment and joy.

For a few quiet moments, neither of you spoke, letting the silence fill with warmth and contentment. Finally, as your breathing settled, you turned to Isa, your eyes wide, your expression a mixture of amazement and gratitude. For a moment, you seemed at a loss for words, simply gazing at her with a quiet reverence. And then, with a soft laugh, you shook your head, holding her close, knowing that words could never capture what you both had just shared.

“Honey… that was…” You paused, breath still uneven, feeling your heart race as you searched for words. “I mean, I don’t even know what to say. That was… incredible. You’re incredible.”

Isa’s lips curved into a soft smile, her own chest warm with the closeness you’d just shared. She let out a laugh, eyes bright as she leaned her head against your shoulder. “Speechless?” she teased, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “I think that might be a first.”

You laughed, shaking your head, still catching your breath. “I don’t think I’ll find words anytime soon. That was… way beyond anything I ever imagined it could be.” You rubbed a hand over your face, still looking a bit dazed. “Chae, you’re just… I can’t believe how... we need to do that again.”

Isa let out another soft laugh, her face lighting up as she took in your reaction, the awe in your expression making her feel more than just appreciated—she felt deeply cherished, like she had given you a gift that mattered. Leaning in, she pressed a playful kiss to your nose. “Glad I could surprise you,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth.

You grinned, still in awe. “Surprise doesn’t even cover it,” you said, shaking your head, the sincerity in your voice deepening. “That was…wow.”

Isa’s laughter softened, a tender look settling in her eyes as her fingers traced soft, comforting circles on your chest. “Well, I’m glad I could be the one to show you,” she said, her voice gentle, filled with love. “You deserve to feel this way, to feel safe, to feel everything. And… I’m just glad I could be here for you.”

You reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers, giving them a gentle, lingering squeeze. “Thank you,” you murmured, voice thick with emotion as you met her gaze. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to find someone like you.”

Isa’s playful smile softened, her gaze warm as she squeezed your hand in return. “I think we’re both pretty lucky,” she said, a light laugh escaping her as she nestled closer. “And honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You shook your head, still grinning. “Lucky doesn’t even come close,” you whispered, pulling her close, wrapping your arms around her as if to hold onto this moment forever.

You lay together, letting the silence settle between you, comfortable and content, Isa’s heart swelling with joy at having been able to share this moment with you, and you filled with gratitude for her presence, her patience, and her love. She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your chest, letting her lips linger over the steady beat of your heart. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of warmth.

You pulled her even closer, feeling her warmth against you, a profound sense of peace washing over you. “I love you too, Chaeyoung,” you replied, voice low and filled with sincerity. “More than I ever thought possible.”

With a quiet sigh, Isa tucked herself into you, her hand resting over your heart as the two of you let the night wrap around you, safe in each other’s arms, both knowing that this love was everything you had ever needed.

[tzuyubb]

If you somehow able to have a threesome with a celebrity as they are now, and them how they were 5 yrs ago, who would you pick?

Past and Present

Pairing: Past and Present Isa x Male Reader

Word Count: 903 words

Tags: virgin sex, deflowering, missionary, deep penetration, squirting, rough sex, doggystyle, facial

In a dimly lit bedroom, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation as you knelt on a bed, your eyes fixated on two versions of Isa. Laying on the bed, on one side, the present-day Isa, a confident and experienced slut for big cocks, her eyes gleaming with desire. Beside her, the past Isa, an innocent and inexperienced virgin, her eyes wide with a mix of nervousness and curiosity.

You positioned yourself between them, your massive cock standing erect, ready to deflower the past Isa and pleasure the present Isa with what she craves. With a gentle touch, you caressed the young Isa's cheek, her skin soft and smooth. "Relax, my dear," you whispered, your voice soothing. "I'm going to make you feel things you've never imagined."

The virgin Isa's heart raced as she felt your hand trail down her neck, over her collarbone, and onto her chest. Her breath quickened as you cupped her small, perky breasts, your fingers gently rolling over her hardening nipple. "It's okay to be nervous," you assured her, "but trust me, the pleasure will surpass any initial pain."

With that, you shifted your attention to the experienced Isa, who was watching with a mixture of longing and anticipation. "And you, my little slut," you said, your voice laced with dominance, "you'll get your turn soon enough. But first, let's give this innocent girl a proper introduction to the world of big cocks."

The present Isa's eyes lit up with excitement as she understood her role in this unique threesome. She turned her head and leaned forward, her full lips brushing against the virgin Isa's ear, whispering “Just relax and let yourself enjoy it. His cock will stretch you in ways you've never imagined."

The virgin Isa's body trembled at her words, her pussy already beginning to moisten in anticipation. You positioned yourself at her entrance, the head of your cock teasing her virgin folds. "Are you ready, my sweet innocent girl?" you asked, your voice filled with lust.

The young Isa nodded, her eyes closed, and with a gentle push, you began to penetrate her. Her breath caught as she felt your girth stretching her tight opening. "Relax and breathe," you instructed, your voice calm and steady.

Inch by inch, you slid into her, her body slowly accommodating to your size. The virgin Isa's eyes squeezed shut, her hands gripping the bedsheets as she adjusted to the sensation of being filled so completely. "It's... so big," she moaned, her voice trembling.

"That's right," you encouraged, "and it's all for you. Focus on the pleasure, let the pain melt away."

As you reached her hymen, you paused, giving her a moment to prepare. "Take a deep breath," you said, and with a gentle push, you broke through her barrier, eliciting a sharp gasp from the young Isa.

The pain was intense, but it was quickly followed by a rush of pleasure as your massive cock filled her completely. The virgin Isa's body trembled, her pussy clenching around your shaft as she experienced her first orgasm. She began to violently squirt, her juices gushing out and coating your cock and thighs.

The experienced Isa, witnessing this, couldn't contain her excitement. "Oh Daddy, she's squirting for you so much!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Now it's my turn to show her how to really enjoy that big cock of yours."

The present-day Isa positioned herself on all fours, displaying her glistening pussy and letting you admire the sight of her thick bubble butt and thighs. "Tease me, please," she begged, her voice hoarse with need.

You obliged, releasing your cock from the near unconcious past-Isa’s tight embrace and running the wet tip along present Isa’s moist pussy lips and clit, teasing her and making her squirm with desire. "Please, fuck me," she pleaded, her voice desperate.

As she finished her plea, you grabbed her hips with both hands and thrust forward, impaling her with one powerful stroke. The experienced Isa cried out, her body welcoming the familiar sensation of being filled by a massive cock.

You began to jackhammer her, your hips snapping forward and back, each thrust causing her thick butt and thighs to jiggle and ripple. The contrast between the tightness of the virgin Isa and the wet constriction of the present Isa's pussy was heavenly. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the present Isa's moans and screams of pleasure, and your own grunts of satisfaction.

As your climax approached, you pulled out of the present Isa's pussy, leaving her wanting more. You turned her over, positioning her next to the exhausted virgin Isa, who was still recovering from her intense orgasm. Both their mouths opened in anticipation, tongues peeking out, ready to receive your load.

The sight of their pretty faces, side by side, was the final straw. You grasped your cock and stroked it aggressively, your eyes flicking between the two Isa’s as you released your massive load. Rope after rope of warm, sticky cum shot out, covering their faces, dripping down their chins, and pooling on the bed.

The present Isa, her body still quivering from the rough fucking, reached up to taste your cum, smearing it across her lips and face. The virgin Isa, coming back to her senses, watched with a mixture of fascination and awe as her more experienced self savored the taste of your release.

[chiiyuuvv]

you had me at hello 👋 h. maki

nicholas introduces you to a friend of his

stranger!maki x stranger fem!reader smau

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

︴bonus! stepping out of my comfort zone and trying something new,, i thought it was cute :3 massive &t hc coming soon, i would be down to one more member, but i'm lacking the motivation rn T_T

▸ taglist 📬 @rizzkisworld , @cherrycolaberry , @kehnarii , @wtfisgoingright please apply for the taglist if you enjoy my &t fics <3

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers

[kgirlgroup-stan]

Friends

Angst, female reader.

Isa pov

I sighed for what felt like the 20th time. I looked at the time and it was already 11:34pm. It was pretty late, at least for me. I would have been asleep since 8 but i chose to wait.

My girlfriend should have been home a while ago. But i decided to stay up since i felt like we haven't been spending much time with each other

I was zoning out but quickly came back to reality when i heard the front door open. I stood up to meet y/n.

"hey beautiful, why are you still up?" she looked at me a bit shocked as she set her stuff down.

I couldnt help but get a bit emotinal. "i've just been missing you a lot recently." i felt myself get teary eyed. I looked down and played with my fingers.

I heard her sigh softly before coming closer to me. She wrapped her arms around me and i instantly melted. I pressed my face against her chest, breathing in her warmth. I was expecting her usual scent but was taken aback when she smelled more floral, sweet, not her cologne that she wears.

I leaned back slighty and saw a faint smudge of red on the collar of her shirt. I gently fully pushed myself away from her. 

"b-baby why do you smell like that?" i looked at her expectantly. She looked away for a second before speaking.

"o-oh because a coworker hugged me goodbye since i was helping her today. I guess it was her way for showing graditude." she leaned down and pecked my lips. "do you have work tomorrow, gorgeous?" I couldnt help but melt instantly. I've missed this with her.

"oh o-okay and no i dont" She leaned against my lips again and i gripped her shirt, bringing her closer to me.

"well then i think we have a few things to catch up on, dont you think?" she picked me up, making me giggle as she lead us to the bed room.

**Next-Day**

I woke up as the sunlight shined against my eyelids. I smiled as i remembered the memories of last night. I turned to reach for her but she wasnt there, instead there was a note.

Hey beautiful, hope you had a great nights rest. Sorry for not being there with you, i wish i was. I thought i didnt have work but i got called in. Im sorry baby but i promise i'll make it up to you

~Love, your one and only, y/n

I smiled at her words but couldnt help but sigh afterwards. I got up and started my day. I spent the day cleaning, read a bit, and did a few things. I started getting bored so I decided to invite one of my best friends, Sumin.

She came over once she was free. We started talking and catching up a bit. Though i could tell she was a bit figety. I didnt think to much of it until it didn't stop.

"are you okay, you seem like very nervous." i slowly took a sip of the tea i prepared for us.

She hesitated a bit before setting her cup down. "how have you been noticing y/n?" I tilted my head slightly, confused as to why y/n was being brought up.

"umm i dont see her as often as i would like. She's been getting pretty busy at the office but we spend time with each other when we can." i smiled a bit at the memory of last night.

It seemed like my answer didn't calm her nerves. She took a small moment before speaking again. "i need to tell you something. Today I was at the mall and I saw y/n with someone else. I didnt think to much of it, like maybe a business meeting but they looked a little to intimate for that. here look" she came close to me and showed me her phone.

I took the phone and looked at the picture. It was no doubt y/n her smile was brighter as ever, a smile she would, or used to give me. I looked to see who was receiving her smile and it was indeed her coworker but i knew exactly who it was. 

Her name was Jennie, a coworker that i had met when i visited y/n at work one day. As a girl I noticed her approached to y/n right away but she always told me that Jennie was a friend nothing more, to not worry about her.

"i-isa, sorry you had to find out like this." Sumin rubbed my shoulder trying to comfort me. I didn't even notice that i began to cry.

Just then the door opened, y/n was home. It was way to early for her to be home. Her foot steps came closer to where we were at.

"hel- oh hey Sumin, and bea- why are you crying gorgeous?" she came to me and kneeled in front of me. Holding my face in her hands as she wiped my tears. 

Even though i now know what she did, I hate that she always makes me melt. 

"i'll go get a cup of water." sumin excused her face and disappeared into the kitchen.

"baby whats wrong?" she leaned to peck my lips but i instantly turned my head. "i-isa what is it?"

I grabbed Sumin phone and shoved it in y/n face. She fumbled a bit before looked at the phone. Her body tensed when she realized what she was looking at.

"I-its not what it looks like." she tried to touch me again, this time a bit panicked.

"really because it l-looks pretty clear to me." i stood up, getting angrier, upset, disappointed by the second "y-you lied to me. You said you were at work, w-why are you even here this early."

"I-it was a business thing baby, it didnt mean anything. And well i j-just wanted to spend time with you." she stood up slowly. She didn't raise her voice while looking at me with those puppy dog eyes that she does.

"omg cut the bullshit y/n just tell me the truth. You havent e-even smiled at ME like that since who knows how long, and you expect me to believe you." i came closed to her, i was poking her chest with a finger.

"i-isa le-" she tried explaining againt but i cut her off. "just tell me the truth y/n. I have never done anything to you, the least you could do is just tell me the truth." i broke down even harder, i just needed her to say it.

She looked at me, conflicted on what to say. She looked into my eyes before gulping slightly. 

"I've been talking to her for a long while now."she looked down and said it with a sigh.

"have you both kissed?" she looked back up to looked at me.

"isa, b-bab-" she reached her hands up to try to grab my face and bring me close to her.

"no you dont get to fuckin call me that right now. answer. me" i smacked her hands away from me. she looked even more guilty.

"y-yes" she let out in a low voice. I scoffed in disbelief before wiping my eyes for a quick second.

"h-have you slept with her?" i clenched my hands and the tears were still running down my face. She gave me a look and opened her mouth, i knew she was going to try to avoid the question. "y/n." i gave her a glare.

She dropped her head to looked at the floor before whispering a "yes". I placed my hands on her chest and shoved her back. "get the fuck out."

"i-isa, it didnt mean anything. I l-lov-" I cut her off again but this time i didnt think before acting. I had slapped her, i was too mad to even process what i did.

"you dont get to say that! not after what you did! get out. get out. get out!" i kept pushing her back until she stumbled againt the front door. She looked at me conflicted before opening the door and stepping out.

She tried to say something again but i won her. "I dont ever want to see you again, and as much as i fuckin hate you right now i'll have the decency to leave your stuff outside by tomorrow." I slammed the door before she could say anything.

After a minute of processing what just happened, i leaned against the door and started crying. I jumped when i felt a hand on my shoulder, i looked up and saw Sumin.

"sorry i didnt mean to scare you but i didnt want to just leave you here dealing with this alone." she leaned down and hugged me tight. I began to cry against her and she slowly lead me to the living room, bring a tub of ice cream with us.

Sometimes the only people you truly need is your friends.

[sweet4roma]

can you write something abt isa? IDK WHAY NO ONE WRITES ABT HER LIKE SHES SO PRETTY AND HOT AND EVERYTHING I NEED TO READ MORE OF HER

ty for the request!! and yes i agree she is the prettiest girl ever snd she so underrated!! hope you like it :3

I’ll try

pairing: dom!isa x sub!fem!reader

wc: 0.5k

warnings: smut, pussy eating, established relationship?, no aftercare, thats it ig

‘Do you think i can take the lead tonight?’ you girlfriend asked you as she pulled away from a kiss. She was seated on your lap, with her slender fingers caressing your cheeks. Her request took you aback, as she was usually a pillow princess and a subby person overall. But you couldn’t refuse Isa, she was basically seducing you with her eyes right now.

‘Do you think you can handle it?’ you smiled at her. ‘I’ll try’

That was all she said before diving once again into your lips. This kiss was significantly rougher than the first one. She quickly began biting your lips as to make you open your mouth, and when you did, she slipped her tongue inside, exploring the inside of it. As eager as she was she even sucked your tongue for a little bit, this new version of her giving you a heartbeat between your legs.

She further moved to you neck where she bit your flesh, licking it afterwards to soothe the pain. Isa’s hand moved under your shirt and went to your breasts, where she squeezed one of them through your bra.

‘take it off, baby’ she demanded which you happily obeyed. Everything was moving so fast that you didn’t even notice her taking one of your nipples in her mouth, sucking roughly at it. ‘fuck, isa’ you moaned, gripping her hair. You could feel her smile into your chest.

Getting impatient, you started pushing her head downwards, so she could get to where you needed her most faster. She clicker her tongue but decided to listen to you.

Luckily for you and Isa, you were wearing a skirt so it was easy for her to just slide her head between your legs, disappearing inside of your skirt. The sight was so pretty, you wanted to take a photo.

Your mind went dizzy as you felt her tongue press against your panties, sloppily making out with your covered cunt. You couldn’t stop your moans and whimpers anymore, but you know your sweet sounds were music to your girl’s ears. You felt her move your panties to the side, now making full contact with your pussy. Her warm tongue moved up and down your lips, and brought you closer to your orgasm without any full on touches.

‘Do you like this?’ Isa asked you as she brought your fingers to your entrance, pushing in two at once, streching you. She felt your walls tightened against her fingers, and by the sounds you were making you definitely liked it. ‘More… more’ your mind went cloudly as her fingers combined with her tongue on your clit eventually made you cum on her face, having her drink it up instantly.

Coming up back to you, she gave you a kiss, making you taste yourself on her tongue. ‘how’d i do?’ she asked excitedly. How could you forget that the girl who ripped an orgasm out of you was actually the sweetest girl ever? You kissed her in response. ‘you did so good, baby, let’s sleep now’ she obliged, snuggling agaisnt you.

Maybe change wasn’t so bad.

[weeeeeekly]

stayc fake texts — another member’s pc

info ot6 texts, some playful jealousy, sfw, gender neutral, no reader pronouns. my blog is nsfw so 18+ please, but this specific post is sfw.

author’s note in honor of the girls opening up personal instas!!! pics of my real stayc collection <333

masterlist

[pupyuj]

what do you think abt isa dom?

she embodies the the soft dom + bottom + praise machine wombo combo... now that i think about it.. imagine you're a virgin who finally gets to top for the first time in your life and you're so scared that you'll fuck it all up but ur sweet girlfriend isa is there to guide you 🥺🥺

like she's teaching you how to leave hickies on her neck, how to hit all of those sweet spots inside her, how to make her come... and she praises you with every little thing you do :((( a lot of "good girl"s and "ur doing so well, baby"s 💔💔 you're sucking on her nipples? good job. you're knuckle deep inside her cunt? well done. isa is aiming to boost your confidence so the next time you fuck her, you'll ruin her so hard that she won't be able to get up from the bed 😵‍💫😵‍💫

the one thing she didn't have to teach you is how to eat her out 🤭 YOU WERE ALREADY GOOD AT IT FROM THE GET GO... isa was very surprised!!! the moment your lips met her pussy, she was already shaking, begging for you to move your tongue faster,,, ugh you were so good that she kept asking you to do it over and over again 😵‍💫 she didn't care that she was too overstimulated, she wanted you so bad!! and ofc you were turned on bcs isa sounded so sweet moaning your name, and her tight grip on your hair just made your clit throb.. you wanted to come too :((( but isa was too busy bucking her hips into your face so you had to touch yourself 🫠

isa lifting her head up from the pillow and seeing ur hand inside your shorts while you ate her out :(((( gosh you were so adorable,,, trying so hard to make yourself come but not knowing whose pleasure to prioritize first 😩😩 her just watching you fuck yourself sjdhfjdkf, moaning in her cunt bcs you were so close and your girlfriend's pussy tasted so good, it was addicting 🤤

😵‍💫 coming at the same time as isa,,, somehow managing to drink up her cum while your legs shook from your own climax,, isa being so worried that you might have hurt yourself that she asks you to come up to her,, cradling you and complimenting you bcs you've been her good girl, and you did so well pleasuring yourself!! :(((

🫣 and when i say mutual masturbation where you're fingering each other while making out—

[isasweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.

[binvhs]

# han x reader. mentions of cheating. lots of lots of humping. way too short </3

it's not exactly cheating, right? i mean, you're not really doing anything. except... throwing your head back as your boyfriend's best friend hikes your leg up to wrap around his hips. his hands make quick work to bunch your skirt up, groaning at the view of your arousal soaking through the cotton of your panties.

his hard on strains painfully against the thin material of his sweatpants as he presses his hips forward. face dropping to your shoulder, desperately rutting against you.

"w-we should stop.." you moan out, but your body reacts differently. your hands clutch against his shoulders, pushing your hips closer to feel more of him.

" 's fine, baby." han moans out. "i'm not even inside you, it's fine, this is nothing." he reassures you. his hips continue grinding against you, your underwear all soiled up, probably soaking through his sweatpants as well.

suddenly, han stills his hips, making you let out a loud whine. you see his hands go under his sweatpants and grab ahold of his shaft, pointing it towards your covered hole. he presses it forward and clenches his eyes shut, tip directly to your hole.

the raw feeling of it, the realization that only the thin fabric of your panties and his sweatpants are the only things keeping you two apart, makes you two let out a loud moan.

"fuck.. you feel so good. can i cum, please? please, oh my god, you feel so good." he moans out and you try to nod, feeling too fucked out at the feeling to even respond properly.

when han cums, you give in to your orgasm as well. he drops onto your body, pressing you further into the wall. you both try to catch your breath, the smell of sex clouds the silent room.

the realization of what you just did slowly starts to creep up to the back of your head, but you barely get time to acknowledge it when you hear the front door open.

"i brought food!" you hear your sweet boyfriend yell out. you both hurriedly fix yourselves, getting ready to walk out and try to act like you two didn't just hump each other like bunnies in heat.

(💭) should i make a part 2.... also sorry guys for ALWAYS disappearing for a long time after posting once. i need to act better

© binvhs . do not copy, translate or repost my works.

[ijustwannabecool]

Just Like Him - All Drivers

Dad!Drivers x Reader

Summary... Genetics are wild — and a little bit magical. They say kids get their genes from both parents. But Y/N’s pretty sure hers got 97% dad, 2% chaos and 1% mom.

A/N: Just a little blur of dad!fluff and cuteness overload. This one has Max, Lewis, Charles, Carlos, Lando, and Danny. If you want to see more drivers let me know!! I hope you guys enjoy this one.

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy :)

Have a lovely day today!!

If you loved this story and want to support more F1 comfort chaos like this, feel free to buy me a coke.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Max Verstappen

You catch it the first time when Isa is just shy of two.

She’s strapped into her high chair, smearing avocado across her tray like she’s painting a masterpiece. There’s a soft lull of music playing from the speaker, and Max is leaned over beside her, trying to coax a spoonful of rice into her mouth. She ignores him completely, staring off into the distance, tapping one tiny hand on the tray in a steady rhythm.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Y/N blinks. Because that—that—is exactly what Max does when he’s annoyed but trying to hide it. When he’s in a meeting and the strategy isn’t making sense. When he’s trying to stay polite. When he’s being patient but barely.

She doesn’t say anything. Just watches.

Max finally sighs and puts the spoon down. “She’s stubborn.”

“She’s you,” Y/N says under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she hums, already storing the moment away in that secret part of her heart labeled reasons I love you.

--

The second time, Leo’s barely one. A warm, heavy baby who loves cuddles and hates shoes. He’s napping in their bed after a long morning of teething tears and clinginess, and Y/N comes in with her phone, planning to snap a quiet photo.

And then she sees it.

The scowl.

He’s frowning in his sleep. Like full-on deep Verstappen forehead crease frowning. Lips pressed tight. Eyebrows drawn in. All of it.

Y/N actually snorts. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Max walks in behind her, towel slung over his shoulder, fresh from a workout. “What?”

“Look at him.”

He squints. “He’s sleeping.”

“No. Look at his face.”

Max shrugs. “He’s probably dreaming about milk. Or getting overtaken.” He says it so casually and then kisses her cheek and walks away.

Y/N just stands there, staring at this frowning baby. “You’re not real,” she whispers to Leo. “You’re literally his clone.”

--

When Isa’s five, she builds an entire Lego village on the living room floor. Carefully. Methodically. Quietly.

Y/N is folding laundry in the hallway when she hears it.

“Ugh. No one listens to me.”

Soft. Mumbled. Annoyed.

She freezes.

Because those are the exact words Max said three weeks ago, after his radio calls got ignored during a wet qualifying.

She peers around the corner. Isa’s trying to explain how the Lego airport works to Leo, who is eating the red bricks and not listening at all.

Y/N presses her lips together to keep from laughing. “She really said that, huh?”

“What?” Max walks by, sipping coffee.

“She’s your daughter.”

“She’s our daughter.”

“Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.”

--

Leo’s four when it happens again. It’s a rainy day, and Y/N’s pulled out a big wooden puzzle to keep them busy while Max’s away at the factory.

Leo crouches over the pieces like a man on a mission. He studies the edges. Frowns. Runs his hand through his hair dramatically — a move Y/N has definitely seen during race weekends.

Then he starts pacing.

Pacing.

She’s leaned against the doorway in disbelief. Her mouth is actually hanging open.

Leo mumbles, “This doesn’t make sense,” under his breath and throws himself down on the couch like it’s the end of the world.

She laughs. Out loud. Can’t help it.

He looks up, blinking. “Mama?”

“Nothing, baby. You’re doing amazing. Just like Papa.”

--

It hits her one night when everything is still.

Max is home. The kids are finally asleep after a chaotic bedtime full of bubble beards, mismatched pajamas, and Leo insisting Isa stole his favorite sock.

She walks into the living room to find all three of them piled onto the couch. Max is half-asleep with both kids flopped on top of him like puppies. Isa is curled into his chest. Leo is on his stomach, tiny hand fisted in Max’s shirt. They’re all breathing the same way — slow, deep, synchronized.

She just stares for a second. Heart in her throat.

Max cracks one eye open. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re staring.”

“I know.”

He lifts a hand and wiggles his fingers until she walks over and kneels beside them.

“What is it?” he murmurs, brushing her cheek with his knuckles.

She smiles. “You don’t even see it, do you?”

“See what?”

“You made two tiny versions of yourself.” She smooths Isa’s curls, brushes Leo’s lashes. “And they have no idea how much they’re just like you.”

Max blinks, half-asleep. “That good or bad?”

She kisses his hand. “It’s the best thing in the world.”

--

It’s a Sunday morning when she catches it again — and this time, she gets proof.

The kitchen smells like cinnamon and butter. Isa’s standing on a stool stirring pancake batter. Leo’s at the counter pressing blueberries into already-cooked pancakes with sticky, purple-stained fingers. Max is manning the pan, flipping like a pro.

Y/N walks in, still sleep-rumpled, mug in hand — and stops dead in her tracks.

Because all three of them are standing exactly the same way.

One hip popped. Left foot slightly forward. Right hand resting lazily on the counter. Even their heads are tilted at the same angle as they concentrate.

She doesn’t say a word. Just sets her mug down silently and grabs her phone.

Click.

Max glances up at the sound. “What are you—?”

She flips the phone around to show him the picture. “Look.”

He squints. “Okay…?”

“Look, Max.”

His eyes flick between the photo and the real-life lineup in front of him. Then he blinks. “What the hell.”

“I told you. You’re not raising children. You’re multiplying.”

Isa looks up. “Mama, what’s multiplying?”

Max just shakes his head, laughing softly as he flips another pancake. “That’s terrifying.”

Y/N smiles into her mug. “That’s love.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Charles Leclerc

Mila is six the first time Y/N really notices it.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table, coloring a Ferrari red car with the kind of focus usually reserved for real race engineers. Her little tongue pokes out between her lips. Her eyebrows are knitted. Every few seconds, she mutters something under her breath in French — barely audible, but deeply unimpressed.

Y/N pauses, spatula in hand. Because that face? That concentration? That muttering?

It’s so Charles.

She watches for a moment longer before calling out, “Mila?”

Her daughter doesn’t even look up. “I told you, Mama, this line isn’t straight. I have to fix it.”

Y/N grins. “Of course you do.”

---

Luca and Jules — age four, chaotic energy personified — are building a blanket fort in the living room. Or, more accurately, Luca is building it and Jules is providing dramatic commentary and helpful criticism.

At one point, the blanket slips off the top.

Luca gasps, drops the pillow he’s holding, and stomps his foot. Actually stomps it.

Y/N blinks.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she murmurs.

Because that’s exactly what Charles did last week when he lost a board game to Mila. Same frustrated stomp. Same “I will fix this” energy.

She sneaks a photo from behind the couch.

---

Later that week, they’re at a birthday party and Jules is asked if he wants cake or ice cream.

He frowns, thinks, and says in a tiny but dramatic voice, “That’s too much pressure.”

Y/N nearly spits out her drink. Because what.

She grabs Charles’s sleeve. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That’s too much pressure. That’s what you said when we had to pick a Netflix movie last week.”

Charles laughs, clearly delighted. “He listens, huh?”

“He absorbs,” Y/N corrects. “Like a sponge. A dramatic little sponge.”

---

That night, Charles tucks Mila in.

She pulls the covers up to her chin and says, very seriously, “Can we work on tire strategy for my soapbox car tomorrow?”

He freezes. “Tire—strategy?”

She nods. “Papa, we’re losing time on the corners. I have ideas.”

He walks back into the bedroom with wide eyes. “Mon amour, I think we might be raising a future world champion.”

Y/N smirks. “I think you’re raising yourself.”

---

But it’s not all Charles.

Sometimes it’s her.

And Charles sees it — quietly, when no one else is watching.

He catches Jules humming while folding laundry. The tune is one Y/N always hums when she’s focused — soft, familiar, warm.

He sees Mila do her “thinking face,” the one where she looks up and bites the inside of her cheek. Just like her mama.

He watches Luca walk away after getting told “no,” muttering under his breath in exactly Y/N’s cadence, “That’s fine. I didn’t even want it.”

And sometimes it makes him laugh, sometimes it makes him melt — but every time, it makes him fall a little more in love.

---

One evening, all three kids are sitting around the kitchen island, coloring and munching on fruit.

Charles walks in from a call and stops. They’re all hunched forward, elbows on the counter, chewing pens as they draw — the exact way Y/N sits when she’s journaling.

He pulls his phone out and snaps a photo.

Later, he shows her.

“You see it now, don’t you?” she teases.

Charles nods. “They’re just like me.”

She smiles.

“And just like you.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Carlos Sainz

Camila is three when Y/N first catches it.

They’re in the kitchen, and Y/N has just said the forbidden phrase: “No more cookies.”

Camila gasps. One hand flies to her chest. The other reaches out in despair. She staggers backward like she’s been wounded.

“Mamá,” she says with a trembling voice. “You break my heart.”

Y/N stares.

Carlos, across the room, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Maybe just one more for after lunch,” he mumbles.

Y/N narrows her eyes. “Carlos.”

He glances up. “What?”

“She’s you. That was you in toddler form.”

He squints at their daughter, who’s now slumped dramatically over the kitchen chair. “She’s just expressive.”

“She’s you. And you don’t even see it.”

---

Later that week, they’re at the park and Camila trips on her shoelace. It’s a tiny stumble — no injury, just a scrape — but she collapses to the ground and groans.

Not a cry. Not a whimper.

A full-bodied, frustrated, Carlos Sainz on team radio after a bad pit stop groan.

Y/N runs over. “You okay, baby?”

Camila lays flat on the grass. “I’ll never recover.”

Y/N covers her mouth to keep from laughing. “Oh my god.”

Carlos, jogging up behind them, doesn’t bat an eye. “She’ll be fine.”

“She just said she’ll never recover,” Y/N hisses.

Carlos shrugs. “She’s dramatic.”

“She’s you!”

---

Nico’s only ten months, but he’s already in on it.

He sighs. All the time. Little dramatic baby exhales whenever he doesn’t get picked up immediately or if someone dares to interrupt his snack time.

Once, he actually rolled over, stared at the ceiling, and let out a moan like life had defeated him.

Y/N caught it on video.

She showed Carlos.

He laughed. “He’s a passionate boy.”

“You’re raising a baby telenovela, Carlos.”

“He is Spanish.”

“So are you!”

Carlos just winked. “Exactly.”

---

One night, they’re reading bedtime stories, and Camila interrupts to dramatically whisper, “Mamá, if I had to choose between cake and Papa… I would cry.”

Y/N blinks. “You… what?”

“I love cake. But I love Papa.”

Carlos kisses her forehead proudly. “Mi niña romántica.”

Y/N stares at him. “Do you hear yourself?”

Carlos frowns. “What?”

“She’s literally you.”

---

The final straw comes on a lazy Sunday.

Carlos is on the couch, watching football. Camila is sitting next to him with a play microphone, pretending to do interviews.

“Mila Sainz,” she announces in a posh voice, “do you think you are the most handsome driver in the world?”

She pauses. Flips her hair.

Then replies to herself, “I do. But I also want to be remembered for my heart.”

Carlos gives a thumbs up. “That’s a good answer.”

Y/N walks in with Nico on her hip and just stares.

“She did your post-race interview voice.”

Carlos shrugs. “It’s a good voice.”

“You’re impossible.”

He grins. “And apparently, so are they.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Lando Norris

Ollie talks nonstop.

Y/N counted once — he asked seventeen questions before she’d finished her coffee. Seventeen. Before 8 a.m.

He narrates everything. His thoughts. His snack choices. The way his sock feels “sad” because it’s the wrong color. It’s so Lando it’s ridiculous.

Lando denies it, of course. “He’s just curious,” he says, as Ollie launches into a passionate TED Talk about worms.

“You literally talked through our entire first date,” Y/N replies.

“Yeah, but I was charming.”

Y/N gestures to their son, who is now taping two juice boxes together with painter’s tape. “So is he.”

---

Mornings with Ollie are… loud.

It starts in the bathroom.

Lando’s brushing his teeth, shirtless, hair a mess, doing a little shuffle dance to the music playing off his phone.

Ollie climbs up onto the stool next to him, toothbrush already hanging out of his mouth like a pro.

They lock eyes in the mirror.

And then it begins: synchronized chaos.

They both brush like it’s a sport — dramatic arm movements, mouth foam everywhere, wiggly hips and head bobs.

Ollie spits. Lando spits.

Ollie wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Lando does the same.

Y/N walks in just as both of them slap cold water on their faces at the same time — and then both yell “AAAAH!” like it’s so refreshing and totally not freezing.

She stares. “You guys good?”

Lando gives her a toothpastey grin. “Mornin’, babe.”

Ollie copies him perfectly. “Mornin’, babe.”

Y/N presses a hand to her mouth to hide the smile. “I’m leaving. I can’t parent two of you today.”

“Technically,” Lando calls after her, “you created this.”

---

It’s the little things, too.

The way Ollie laughs — full belly, nose scrunch, falling-over kind of laughter.

The way he claps when he thinks he’s made a good joke (which is every time).

The way he races everything — his scooter, his cereal, his toothbrush. “It’s lights out and away we go!” is heard daily in their house.

Y/N once caught him giving himself a pretend podium interview using a banana. “I think I could’ve gone faster if Mum let me eat cake for breakfast.”

Lando just beamed. “He’s got media training already.”

---

And then there’s the livestream.

Lando’s mid-sentence, talking sim setups and gear ratios, when the door creaks open behind him.

“Ollie—” Y/N says off-camera. “He’s working.”

“I am working,” Ollie insists, popping into frame.

Lando turns around just as Ollie climbs onto his lap like he owns the stream.

“Say hi,” Lando mutters, adjusting his mic.

Ollie leans in, dead serious. “Hi. I’m his boss.”

Lando snorts. “You’re not my boss.”

“I am, because I said so.”

Then he slaps Lando’s cheeks between his palms and says, “Focus, Lando. You’re losing concentration.”

The chat explodes.

THE LITTLE YOU OMG 😭 He’s got the same attitude I can’t breathe NOT THE “YOU’RE LOSING CONCENTRATION” I’M GONE I swear I’ve heard Lando say that on team radio apple didn’t even fall. it’s still attached.

Lando scrolls through the comments, eyes wide.

Y/N walks by in the background, completely unfazed. “I told you.”

That night, they’re curled up on the couch.

Ollie’s passed out on Lando’s chest, mouth open, hand fisted in his shirt.

“You know,” Y/N whispers, brushing a curl off Ollie’s forehead, “he’s just like you.”

Lando raises an eyebrow. “He’s louder.”

“He’s you, baby. Just… uncensored.”

Lando looks down at his son and grins.

“Poor world.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Lewis Hamilton

Lewis is in the studio, pinky finger against his lip, focused on the track in his headphones.

From the kitchen, Y/N watches five-year-old Sofia on the floor with a coloring book. Head tilted, one arm propped on her knee, pinky tapping her bottom lip — exact same posture.

Not imitating. Just being.

“Lew,” Y/N says softly. “Come here.”

He leans out. “What—?”

She points.

He stares for a long second, then quietly laughs. “No way.”

“You do that every time you’re deep in thought.”

He watches her for another beat. “She’s got my thinking face.”

“She’s got you, period.”

---

In Lewis’s mum’s backyard, three-year-old Mateo crouches near a bee on the porch.

“It’s okay, little guy,” he says, calm and careful. “You can fly by me. I’m just watching.”

Lewis pauses mid-step. Y/N sees it — the soft smile, the little catch in his breath.

“That’s you,” she whispers.

He clears his throat. “We respect all creatures.”

“You once whispered ‘sorry’ to a snail for moving it off the sidewalk.”

“I mean… it was in the middle of its journey.”

Y/N grins. “So is he.”

---

Lewis is on a call, pacing, only half-listening when Sofia looks out the window.

“Papa,” she says, “why do the clouds look like they’re holding their breath?”

Lewis freezes.

Y/N turns from the sink. “Did she just—?”

He nods slowly. “I said that once. About heavy skies.”

“She remembered.”

“She listens?”

“She sees you, Lewis. Even when you don’t see yourself.”

---

It’s been a long day. Y/N is quiet, curled up on the couch.

Without saying a word, Leo (now two) walks over with the Bluetooth speaker, pressing the exact button Lewis always does. Lo-fi jazz fills the room.

Y/N blinks hard. “Lew…”

Lewis is frozen, eyes wide.

“I didn’t teach him that,” she whispers.

“I did,” Lewis says, voice cracking. “I just didn’t know he was watching.”

Y/N reaches for his hand. “He was.”

---

Sofia’s drawing again. Galaxies. A rocket ship. A microphone. Earth in gentle colors.

“What is it, baby?” Y/N asks.

“My future,” Sofia says. “I want to sing. And go to space. And fix the world.”

Lewis is quiet.

“I used to say that,” he murmurs. “People laughed.”

Y/N brushes her fingers through his curls. “She doesn’t even think anyone would. Because in this house, dreams are sacred.”

Lewis swallows. Kneels beside Sofia.

“Can I come to your concert?” he asks.

Sofia beams. “You can sit in the front row.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Daniel Ricciardo

His son, four-year-old Rafi, wins a race at the go-kart track (against imaginary competition — he was the only one racing).

He hops out of the kart, rips off his helmet, throws both arms in the air and yelps, “YEEEW!” before spraying juice everywhere like it’s champagne.

Y/N is frozen on the sideline. Daniel is cheering like it’s a world championship.

“He didn’t even race anyone!” Y/N laughs.

Daniel shrugs. “A win’s a win.”

She just points. “That was literally you in Monza.”

Danny grins. “He’s got taste.”

---

Two-year-old Evie walks into the kitchen, sees Y/N holding pancakes, and does a slow-pointing double finger-gun gesture while saying, “Ohhhh yeahhh.”

Daniel almost drops his coffee.

“What was that?” Y/N whispers.

Danny shrugs, too fast. “She’s enthusiastic.”

“You did that at the airport last week. To customs.”

“She cleared me quickly.”

“She’s two.”

“She’s iconic.”

---

Rafi lets out a wild, cackling, snorty laugh at a cartoon — the kind that doubles him over and ends with a wheeze.

Daniel literally stops walking.

“That’s… that’s my laugh.”

Y/N pats his back. “Yes, babe. Your exact laugh. Pitch, rhythm, everything.”

“She didn’t even hear me laugh just now!”

“She didn’t need to. It’s coded into her DNA.”

---

Evie is explaining something to her grandma — arms flailing, eyebrows lifting, dramatic pauses, a fake gasp — like she’s doing a full one-woman theater piece about how the neighbor’s cat sat in the flower bed.

Daniel’s mum turns to Y/N and just wheezes.

“Oh my god,” she says. “She’s Daniel. She’s baby Daniel. That’s how he explained spaghetti sauce at age five.”

Daniel protests from the kitchen, mouth full of toast. “It was very good sauce.”

---

They’re at the playground. Rafi falls off a tiny climbing wall and lands on his bum.

He hops up and yells: “I’M GOOD. JUST ADDING CHARACTER.”

Y/N freezes. So does Daniel.

“That’s… that’s what I said when I broke my toe last year,” Daniel mutters.

She side-eyes him. “You say it all the time. You spilled milk last week and said that.”

Rafi shrugs like it’s no big deal and keeps playing.

Daniel turns to his mum.

She sips her coffee calmly. “You’re not raising children, darling. You’re raising Ricciardos.”

---

Family photo day.

Evie grins, throws a peace sign over one eye, tilts her head and sticks out her tongue like it’s a Red Bull era classic.

The photographer pauses. “That’s a very… specific pose.”

Y/N doesn’t even flinch. “It’s Daniel’s 2018 media day face.”

Daniel just blinks. “No it’s not—”

Y/N whips out her phone. “Side-by-side, Ricciardo. Don’t make me do it.”

His mum leans in. “You really did copy/paste yourself.”

Danny finally groans. “I didn’t even try to do this!”

Y/N just smiles. “Exactly.”

---

The end.

[astralis-ortus]

guess i missed you too much

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— that's what being in love does to you.

w.count → 1.2k genre → fluff warning → reader referred to as baby and my love, 2 (two) chatroom screenshots a.n → based on this request! ngl i was like '!!!' as soon as i read the request bc i can just imagine how it would go i'm—ㅠㅠㅠ also, i have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop—i would really appreciate it if you'd check it and help a girl out♡ ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

to put it simply, chan is dumbfounded.

he's pretty sure he had mentioned to both han and changbin that you're coming here, to seoul, in a exactly week and chan needs to have all the urgent project revisions to be done prior to your arrival. he's absolutely sure the two promised they will only be gone for a little while to get some coffee to wake them up, and chan is now certain that the two are definitely not only heading out to grab those goddamn coffee.

"if you two aren't back here in 5, just know this is your one and only warning," chan muttered through gritted teeth, trying his best not to sound too pissed before sending the voicenote in their '3racha only' groupchat.

it's not that chan didn't understand—he knows he's been pushing both changbin and han more than he usually does, and chan is very much aware that the duo are bound to be a bit more rebellious than usual once they reach their point of exhaustion, but he really is looking forward to the time he's about to spend with you, and he's not about to let anything come and ruin that.

it's been a while since you've last spent a considerable amount of time together with chan. sure, there are stolen dates here and there whenever a holiday would match up and you could take some time off to visit chan's version of paradise (which is unironically everywhere within the bounds of japan) together, but those visits always ends as quickly as it starts and left the two of you with a longer list of regrets by the time you had to let your hands slip away from chan' warmth.

so this time, when you finally were able put your responsibilities on rest for two whole weeks, it didn't take much of a convincing for either you or chan to finalize the dates when you would finally be able to be within each other's reach. chan even went the extra mile to immediately book your flight coming in, though you had to basically threaten him with no video calls for a week if he went through with his other plans to spoil you rotten.

well, you could only hope that chan won't pull any uno reverse card on you once this plan came to an end.

a bell sound from his phone quickly distracts chan from the lines of lyrics he's trying to edit—an action he came to regret when the notification in view were merely a singular line of emojis sent by changbin, consisting of the same teasing faces and a pink ribbon both changbin and han been sending chan for days now on end.

"oh, he's done," chan groaned, head tilted back in annoyance as he threw his poor beanie back at the sofa where changbin was supposed to be seated right now. to be frank, chan didn't understand what changbin has been implying with the string of emojis at all. presumably changbin and han had seen the way chan saved your kakao talk profile—hence the pink ribbon, but why now? exactly when chan's the most sensitive of the topic? the fact that chan couldn't contact you drives him even crazier—you had told him you haven't been feeling well and you'd text him again once you feel better, but that was like, what, an eternity ago? chan didn't want the risk of waking you up either especially with your trip coming up, so…

he's basically helpless.

another set of annoyed groan became chan's initial response when his phone came alive with a new notification. reluctantly grabbing the device, chan was mentally prepared for a text bubble sent by the youngest of the three, containing of the same string of emojis changbin had just sent—only for his heart to jump out of his chest when he saw the pink ribbon next to your name.

before chan could type another reply, his attention were robbed by the knocks on his studio door—which is a little weird considering neither han or changbin would bother, and the fact that it's nearly midnight meant that almost no one that chan knows of should be looking for him around this time of night.

"manager hyung?" chan cautiously called out, instinctively grabbing his discarded beanie before he went to reach for the door. "did you leave something? or are you—"

the words on chan's tongue dissipates soon after the door swung open—but even with the way his eyes just doubled in size, chan still couldn't believe what he's currently seeing right in front of him now.

"hi, my channie," you finally spoke, a wide grin decorating your lightly flushed face from all the adrenaline you've been feeling; and only then, chan seems to wake up from his trance.

"wha—baby?" chan could hear how voice had skipped an octave higher, but he couldn't care less—did he fell asleep? is this a dream? chan had to pinch himself before he even pulled you in his arms, tightly wrapping the giggling mess that you are in his warmth. "you're actually here? wasn't your flight next week? did i got the dates wrong? how—"

"whoa whoa, calm down there, racer," you quickly stopped your boyfriend's wild train of questions, still with your smile plastered across the span of your face—your plan is a massive success.

"it was supposed to be next week," you confirmed, eyes still taking in chan's perplexed face while your brain etched the memory in its hall of fame, "but i miss my boyfriend too much to wait another week, so… i asked for bin and jisung's help to change my plane ticket!"

suddenly, everything that's been happening to chan in the past week just clicked—the time he caught changbin and han meddling with his laptop, the nervous chuckles, the way they become way to secretive with their phones, the phone calls, and those lines of goddamn emojis. it all finally makes sense.

"is that so?" chan shook his head despite the clear view of his dimpled smile, arms tightening around your waist, "so you three little naughty being has been cooking up plans behind my back, that's what you're saying?"

the sound of your sweet laugh fills chan with an overwhelming sense of warmth— you might spend the majority of your year apart from each other, but for chan, it's moment like this that makes all the dark nights of longing seem worth to be worth his patience.

after all, you're everthing chan ever wanted in his life.

"my my," clicking his tongue in faux disappointment, chan gently fixed the strands of hair falling over your eyes—ones ever so tender whenever you fixed your gaze on him, "what am i gonna do with you, hm? you naughty little baby?"

"not sure," you cheekily replied, lightly scrunching your nose the way chan usually does. you're just happy that you're finally in chan's arms again, to hell with any of the 'repercussions' chan might be building in his head for your little misdemeanor.

"but can you kiss me first?" you continued, trying your best to stay nonchalant despite the sudden spike of your heartbeat due to your own silly attempt at being witty and chan's surprised laugh, "i think i need my boyfriend's kiss so i could face my punishments later."

frankly, chan's head is still plagued with tons after tons of questions of your little successful stunt—he can't help it, you're someone he love and cares about after all,

but who is he to deny your sweet little plea?

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[smutmind]

Good Girl Lessons

StayC Isa x Male Reader

“You’ve fucked a lot, right?”

You look up. Isa stands in the kitchen doorway, one hand on the frame, hip cocked like she’s posing.

She’s wearing a cropped white tee—tight, no bra—and a pleated black skirt that barely covers her ass. Her hair’s down. Her lips glossed. And her thighs are bare, smooth, intentional.

You stare too long.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

She smiles, teeth catching her lower lip. “You’ve been with my sister for, what, eight years? That’s a lot of sex.”

You don’t respond. You just blink, slowly.

She steps in, barefoot, slow like a cat.

“I need help.”

“Isa, don’t.”

“I’m serious.” She shrugs, but her eyes don’t break from yours. “My boyfriend says I’m awkward. Too stiff. Too quiet. I want to fix it.”

You grip the edge of the counter. “That’s not my problem.”

She cocks her head. “You know what you’re doing. She always said so.”

You don’t need to ask who she is.

“Watch porn.”

“Fake,” she shoots back. “I want someone to teach me the real way.”

You scoff. “You think I’m gonna help you cheat?”

Her voice softens. “No. I want to learn. So I don’t have to.”

Then she takes another step.

Now the hem of her skirt’s swaying inches from your thigh. She leans in, fingers resting lightly on your chest.

“Tell me how to touch. How to move. What to say.”

You don’t touch her. Yet.

“You’re my wife’s little sister.”

“I’m twenty.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m desperate,” she breathes. “And you make it hard to pretend I’m not.”

Then she grabs your hand—carefully, nervously—and guides it beneath the skirt.

No panties.

Just her, warm and wet and already aching.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” she whispers. “Make me better.”

You rip your hand back. Step away. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re asking.”

Her voice drops. “Then show me.”

You stare at her. At her flushed chest. Her parted lips.

You move.

You grab her chin. Force her gaze to stay on yours.

“You serious?”

She nods. “Dead.”

“Take off the shirt.”

She does.

One pull. No hesitation.

Her breasts bounce free—small, perfect, nipples already hard. She doesn't cover herself. She stands there like she wants to be judged.

You nod to the table. “Turn around.”

She does.

Bends over it.

Hands flat. Ass out.

You step behind her, lift the skirt, and slide your hand down.

You touch her slowly. Talk her through it. Show her where the nerve endings live. Where heat pools. What circles make her knees shake.

She moans.

You keep going until her legs buckle.

Then you stop.

“Please,” she breathes. “Don’t tease me.”

“This is lesson one,” you growl in her ear. “Earn the rest.”

She turns, chest rising fast, lips kiss-wet, legs trembling.

“I want to earn it.”

You step back, leave her standing there ruined.

But proud.

----- 12midnight inside your room -----

The door creaked open around midnight, slow and deliberate, like she knew you were awake—waiting for her.

She wore nothing but a crop top and thigh-high socks. No shorts. No shame. She stepped in quietly, closed the door, and locked it behind her.

You sat up in bed. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

She smirked. “Then teach me a lesson.”

You tried to stand. She was already at the edge of the bed, climbing into your lap like she belonged there. Warm thighs sliding over yours, her hands on your shoulders, mouth just inches from yours.

“You said I’d have to earn it,” she whispered, eyes wide, voice sweet. “So let me.”

You grabbed her hips to stop her grind. Her breath hitched.

“I’m not your fucking toy, Isa.”

“No,” she said, slow and steady. “You’re my teacher.”

She kissed you. Open mouth. Tongue first. Nothing soft. You groaned into her mouth and flipped her onto the bed in one motion.

She gasped, legs wide, moaning before you even touched her. Her thighs were soaked. Her panties? Long gone.

“You want to be fucked?” you growled. “You want to know what it feels like when it’s real?”

She nodded fast. “Yes. Ruin me.”

You didn’t hold back.

You spread her wide and slid inside her with a low growl.

She screamed.

Not cute. Not coy. Just raw, cracked, and filthy.

“Oh my god— yes—yes—fuck—”

You slammed into her again and again. The bed hit the wall. Her nails clawed at your back. Her voice broke with every thrust.

“*Harder—please—*I can’t—*so full—fuck me harder—”

You grabbed her throat, just enough to hear her whimper.

“You take it like this for your cute boyfriend?”

She shook her head, lips parted. “Only for you.”

You flipped her over. Fucked her face-down, her ass high, her cries muffled in the pillow. You didn’t stop until she begged you to.

And even then—only slower.

Not softer.

She came twice. Then a third when you said her name in her ear, low and filthy.

When you finished—deep, grunting, breathless—she was limp and glowing, sweat-drenched and grinning.

Her voice was soft but sharp. “Don’t leave.”

You glanced over your shoulder.

She was sitting up now, hair wild, breasts flushed, body glowing. Her eyes locked on yours with something between hunger and pride.

“I want to take care of you,” she said, voice barely a breath.

“You already did.”

She shook her head. “No. That was me being ruined. Now I want to show you I listened.”

She crawled to the edge of the bed, still shaky, her knees sinking into the mattress. She knelt and looked up at you—naked, filthy, perfect.

“Teach me how to clean you up,” she whispered.

You didn’t move.

So she reached for you—slow, reverent.

Her fingers wrapped around your cock, still sensitive, still thick from everything you’d poured into her. She licked her lips, eyes wide like she was studying every reaction.

Then she leaned forward.

You groaned when her mouth wrapped around you, warm and wet and careful. She wasn’t trying to make you come. Not this time.

She was tasting what you left in her.

Taking it back. Owning it.

She moaned softly, tongue dragging, eyes fluttering like she could feel it in her spine. Your hand tangled in her hair. Not pulling—just holding.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “You’re gonna break me.”

She popped off slowly, spit stringing between her lips and you.

Then she kissed your hip. Your thigh. Sat back on her heels with a sweet little smile.

“Did I do it right?” she asked, voice all innocence again.

You stared at her—ruined, devoted, glowing with pride.

“You’re dangerous,” you whispered.

She smirked, licking the corner of her mouth.

“I’m yours.”

[ssweeterthanfiction]

thinking of !corrupted-capitol reader rn and how suffering psychological torture and pain the capitol put her through would also result in her losing her memories,

not all of them, just the ones of Finnick.

and when she, peeta, and johanna get saved, when Finnick sees her, he thinks that she wasn’t harmed, but once he talks to her he realizes that his sweet girl, his love, his everything has absolutely NO memory of him or their relationship.

he tries so desperately to get her memory back by showing her little trinkets he had tucked away safely but when nothing works…he nearly loses hope.

that is until she gets fully cleared to fully move into d13. that’s when he realizes that she becomes more attached to him day by day.

she follows him around, sits with him during breakfast and dinner and spends her free time with him.

he notices that she also gets a little flustered and flushed around him. he notices how her pretty face goes pink whenever he’s around.

and then it clicks

she has a crush on him

so despite everything, even after the torture and pain, after losing her memories and herself, her love for Finnick returns.

edit: omg tysm for all the love on this you guys 💞 if you want more stuff like this, check out the rest of my blog! or look through my masterlist here

edit 2: once again, tysm for all the love on this <3 i now officially have the prologue of the fic inspired by this up! check it out here! -> Glimpse of Us

[zorostitties]

i read many fics in which luffy is shy around his s/o or struggles to confess. and i mean, yeah, adorable, i see that many people like the idea of luffy being a cute ball of sunshine.

BUT the idea i like more is that IF luffy would ever develop feelings for anyone, he’d be boringly direct about it.

no big moment where he realizes he likes them. he kind of always knew and he kind of didn’t care. no blushing, no stuttering or anything. he wouldn’t even act that different around the person he likes, showing just very very subtle hints that just someone who knows him intimately would pick on.

until some random day someone would ask him about it - most likely usopp - to tease him or make a joke and luffy would just send him the no braincells look - with his mouth probably full of meat - and be like yeah, i like them.

usopp would gag. the whole crew would gag.

because luffy just confessed his feelings without giving two shits about it. no one even knew he could look at someone like that.

and he’s so casual about it because - well, his s/o likes him back. he kind of always knew. it’s always been kind of obvious. so why worry about it?

[weeeeeekly]

frankenstein’s monster – lee isa x afab!reader

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

info ➜ part one because i want the first part out for valentine’s day but i still have more to write. based off lisa frakenstein & marry shelley’s frankenstein horror novel, movies, & the countless adaptations, so graphic descriptions of killing & gore. zombie!isa, assigned female at birth (afab) reader, halloween enthusiast!reader. this fic is very self-indulgent & gay. we're pretending that homophobia doesn't exist. probably contains minor errors.

wc: 3.1k

WARNINGS !!! this is a safe for work (SFW) fic, but my blog is not safe for work (NSFW) so please no minors (mdni).

author’s note !!! happy valentine’s day!!! where are all my gay girls that love stayc & horror. i just saw lisa frankenstein on friday & i just saw it again, so please bear with me for getting a new obsession. it’s what mary shelley would want. i love weird girl romance!!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were driving toward your new home. An old farmhouse your aunt owned for what felt like forever. You had been tasked with house and pet sitting as your aunt was out of the country for a wedding. You always loved visiting her house as it gave you a break from the busy-ish life of living near a city, but not directly in the heart. And she was your favorite aunt in the entire world, so it was no brainer when you agreed. At least you would have something to do for Hallo-weekend.

The last time you were here was the summer before you started college and a few summers have passed since then. The vegetation was still as flush and lively as you last remembered, and the long stretch of dirt road covered by rows of oak trees was your favorite. It looked prettier during the daytime, but the drive from your apartment to your aunt’s house was a few hours since it was in the country.

There was a pesky rouge eyelash that was on your lens that was bothering you as drove. It wasn’t the brightest idea, but this was a private road in the middle of nowhere so there wouldn’t be any people walking. You kept your eyes in the road as you used your free hand that wasn’t on the wheel to take off your glasses to clean them.

Your path was lit by your car’s high beam lights, and you took a second to focus your eyes and attention to cleaning your glasses. The second you looked back up, a fuzzy silhouette of some kind of… animal scared you as you did a hard break in an effort to not hit it. Your heart beat furiously in your chest as the thing ran away and you put your glasses back on. It was too dark to see it properly as it fled off into the rest of the forest.

Probably one of the deer your aunt complained about eating her rose plants.

You ignored your heart slowly settling back to normal pace as you went back to your journey. You allowed yourself to sit in silence for the remainder of the drive since it would only be a few more minutes until you reached your destination. You could go without music for a little bit.

The aging farmhouse was a comforting sight to behold, a dusty rose wooden house with white accents, long sprawling lush, green grass, acres of mismatched fences from quick repairs overtime, and a matching barn behind the house that held the other animals. The nearest neighbor is a quick five-minute drive away or one could take the shortcut through the supposedly haunted cemetery that was hidden behind the town center where the old town used to be.

You never understood why your aunt, parents, and everyone else feared the cemetery. It was just sad how rundown it was and just allowing the memories of everyone laid to rest there to be forgotten. It was quite peaceful to just sit there in the morning during the summer, especially when you were trying to avoid doing chores or forced family time.

You had a favorite grave. It was a very elaborate headstone with a cement face model of the girl buried. The headstone was ancient, so some of the stone was hard to read all you could make out for the name was the letters A, S, and I spaced out to spell a longer name that you couldn’t do a proper stone rubbing, died in 1837, and unmarried. You rolled your eyes the first time you read that since it was the only other piece of information on the headstone and felt disrespectful to reduce her to just her marital status, but it was the 1800s, so you just had to accept history.

You made sure to always be respectful when visiting the cemetery, you would never want to disrupt the peace. You usually just sit on a sprawled-out towel blanket and read aloud a book to the girl. You know that she couldn’t hear you because she was… you know, dead, but it just felt right to do so.

You couldn’t go visit her since it was too late in the night and looked like it was about to storm anyway. You just quickly unpacked the car for the overnight and duffel bag for your weekend stay. The night was loud from the annoying ass cicadas. You just wanted to hurry inside to save your eardrums.

The house was imposing at night with the lights off, but the second you turned the light switch on, it just looked like the 80s threw up on the décor. All the furniture was new when your aunt was born 37 years ago and stayed untouched with a few additions like the smart tv in the living room/kitchen.

The weight of driving for so long was beginning to take its toll on you, so you were struggling to stay awake as you laid on the couch after your hot shower some random video about movie monsters.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When you wake up a few hours later, it’s storming outside. The sky was light gray, but it was pouring down. You let out a sigh as you stretch and fix yourself a quick breakfast. Thankfully, by the time you’re done eating – the rain stopped. You take the opportunity to do chores for your aunt’s animals in the barn and visit the cemetery before the rain starts up again.

You borrow your aunt’s rain boots and make sure to wear old clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty, leftovers from previous visits. The shortcut was muddy, but nothing that wasn’t difficult to walk over. The forest looks extra beautiful after rain with the trees looking shiny with dewdrops, the light mist of fog, and the sunlight peeking through the clouds. And it smelled like the candle-ized version after it rains.

The grassy, unkempt area was the same as ever as you reach your favorite spot. Her grave was damp from the rain, but still looked clean despite you not visiting for years. You smile as you greet her.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m finally back. I hope you’ve been well. Sorry for not visiting for a while I was busy with school.”

You brush off some stray twigs on the statue and frown as you fix the heart locket you tied around the head years ago when you first discovered the area. It was kind of sad and kind of weird that 13-year-old you decided that you would be the sole groundskeeper. The positive aspect was that you were getting outside and receiving vitamin D.

A raindrop falls from the sky and makes it look like the statue is crying, “Oh, I wish I knew you, but you don’t have to cry about it.”

You let out another sigh as the rain starts to pick up again, so you decide it’s best to head back to your aunt’s place. You walk down the shortcut without looking back due to your time crunch to beat what’s looking like a nasty storm.

The clouds slowly grow a dark gray like the charcoal you use for stone rubbing or your facemasks. You were due for one since this semester has been hard on your sleep schedule and acne was appearing again. Which was extremely annoying since you just got your skin to be clear and a consistent skincare routine since your classes the semester before were easy.

Well, you can’t change the past you from not making your schedule under the assumption that you would be okay with a 9 AM class if you liked the content.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

After settling into the guest room that was unofficially your room, you lay on the bed with your noise cancelling headphones as your face mask dries. The storm was getting louder by the second and you just wanted to get some sleep. You had just done your everything shower, so you were content in your oversized sleep shirt and satin sheets you brought from home. You were definitely going to have good dreams.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep either during the podcast episode about internet drama or the video about your favorite horror video game’s lore. The window shows the beautiful yellow-orange morning in contrast to the disaster of torn up grass, tree branches everywhere, and your aunt’s goats having a fucking buffet.

Wait. Your aunt’s goats eating on plants. The goats that are supposed to be locked in their pin inside the barn.

You scramble out of bed while putting on your glasses and rain jacket. You struggle trying to round up the loose goats and give up as they’re just as stubborn as ignoring you as you are trying to bring them to the barn.

At least they were eating so that was a morning chore you wouldn’t have to do.

The front door to the barn was smashed in and most of the animals inside escaped to the free roam the farm. God, the tornado that rolled in last night was shaping up to be a fucking nightmare, at least that’s what the news channel the old radio in the barn was able to pick up was telling you.

“A local farmer said, and I quote, ‘There was a green lightning bolt that scared off all my chickens.’ Experts are unable to confirm if this is a possibility at this time –”

“Green lightning would be something.” You say as you shove hay into bins for the goats’ dinner in hopes that they’ll wander back into the barn. You wonder how you’ll break to your aunt in text since the time difference was 14 hours. You hope she had insurance.

One of the chickens runs past you, scaring you and causes you to drop the shovel you were holding. Your head flicks into the direction of what sounds like a human-like groan. You can make out some kind of figure in the shadow of the corner of the barn.

“Ah shit.” You sprint out of the barn as whatever the fuck chases after you. You would close the barndoor shut but of course the goddamn tornado had to put a tree through it. The staggered stomps behind you clue you in that thing after you is injured which works in your favor since your adrenaline made you a track star right now.

Taking the shortcut to the cemetery in an attempt to lose your creepy follower, you avoid branches and rocks in your way, so you don’t trip and die like the people in your favorite cheesy horror movies do. You’re better than that. If you’re going out, you’ll be the one to do it and some rando.

When you reach your alleged safety spot, you hop over a hole in the ground as you hear a thump and a delayed groan.

“Serves you right!” Peering down into the hole, your eyes widen as your jaw drops, the sight that greets you is what looks like a girl around your age except her skin is a ghastly gray, dressed in an outdated dress, and covered in dirt.

You continue to stare in shock as the girl tries to stand up but fails to. You watch in horror as it slowly dawns on you that the girl’s left hand is completely missing. Like the-bone-is-showing-and-no-way-it-just-happened-kind-of-missing. Your eyes slowly move to the headstone and your blood turns cold as you realize that the open grave is the one you frequent to. The model statue, the same one that shockingly resembles the girl, is ruined from a lightning strike.

“Are you, like, okay?”

The girl stops struggling for a second to blankly stare at you.

“Okay, so I’ll take that as a ‘no’. Anyway… is that you?” You point to the model statue as the girl lets out a grunt in response and to your shock and surprise, a slow repeated motion of nodding.

“Holy shit. I’m not sure how this is even possible. You’re supposed to be dead and buried.”

The dead girl goes back to trying to climb up the 6-foot hole. You contemplate how you were going to help her out – if you should just hold her only hand and hope her arm doesn’t pop out or if you could throw a rope down and hope for the best. Your thoughts cease as the girl stands on the same level as you.

“How did you get out?”

The girl ignores you as she starts hobbling towards you with her only hand extending towards you. Her cold, dead hand holds your left hand as she leans her head down. You let out a nervous laugh as you slowly move your hand back.

“We just met face to face, so it’s a little too early for that. I don’t know your name. What’s your name?”

The girl moved her hand toward her choker-covered neck and as you step closer you realize that her neck has been sliced through.

“Oh, that’s not good, but it’s okay that you can’t talk.” You look towards the headstone, “Since only 3 letters are readable maybe we can make a nickname out of that? Asi? Isa? I like Isa.”

Newly nicknamed Isa moves her mouth in what looks like an attempt to smile which you take as a beaming acceptance.

“Okay! Nice to meet you, Isa. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

If you had told your 13-year-old self that you would be helping a corpse into your aunt’s guest shower after she came back to life from a lightning strike, they would have asked what scary movie you stole that from.

After showing Isa the controls to work the shower, you laid out two towels on the bathroom counter and cleaned the mud tracks she left behind. The whole situation was pretty hilarious, at least you had someone your age to hang out with for Halloween in a town mainly occupied by retirees or new families with small children.

You’re interrupted scrubbing out a particularly stubborn patch of mud out of the staircase carpet when the doorbell rings. Your head whips towards the front door as the shower shuts off. Heading over to the door to greet the mystery guest, you put on a grin and open the door.

The face that greets you is one of your aunt’s neighbors that you remember liking, but not enough to remember their name. Your grin becomes genuine as the older lady kindly greets you and goes into a spiel of how she remembers you used to be this tall! You just nod at her story time as the shower turns on again.

“Oh, do you have someone over?”

“Yeah, just a friend.” You pray to every higher power up above to not let Isa walk over to you and the noise by the door. You don’t know how you were going to explain this away.

“You must be busy! I’ll leave you two alone so you can go back to your Halloween movies and such.”

You quickly wave her off and shut the door, wishing her a happy Halloween. You get a slight fright when you turn around and Isa is standing right behind you still looking a ghastly gray in contrast to the hot pink towel combo you left behind but now clean from all the dirt and bugs.

“Oh my god, you scared me! Let’s go back upstairs to get you some clothes.” You help Isa back up the stairs making sure to have her lean on your shoulder to help her balance. You go as slow as she needs to be safe which you don’t mind doing. It’s not like you were in a hurry since your schedule was to do light chores in the barn, waste your life away watching movies, and then maybe going to the grocery store to be candy for Halloween tonight. Which reminds you…

“I should dress you up as a zombie for Halloween which is the truth but not to make anyone want to chase us down with pitchforks and fire.”

Isa grunts as you reach the top stair and go around the corner to your room with some of the clothes you’ve left over the years.

“Sorry for the mess.” You make sure to help her step over your duffel bag by the door and the scattered mess of your makeup by the floor length mirror. You wanted to do an intricate makeup look for Halloween to get use of makeup you’ve had a for a while and to get your money’s worth. You still weren’t sure what you were going to dress up as maybe an iconic horror movie icon or something from your childhood and do fun, glitzy makeup or a basic supernatural creature.

You could just tear up some old clothes for Isa and add some fake blood to her costume. It had been fate that she came back from the dead on Halloween Eve.

You guide Isa to sit on the edge of your bed and open your walk-in closet, "For right now, I'll give you some pjs to wear while I make your zombie costume."

You offer a pair of pjs you wouldn't mind missing and give her space to change. Once she's done you can't help but stare in awe of how cute she looks. Isa almost looks like she could have been born in the same time as you which just shows how much of a timeless beauty she is.

You get a bright idea as you open your backpack, "Do you want to try 21st-century candy?"

masterlist | next

[pupyuj]

some isa thoughts?

my baby finally!!!!! isa is so precious to meeee ya'll dont even KNOW 🥺🥺

hmmmm yk so far a lot of things i've seen that are written about isa (and what i mean by "a lot of things" is like.. two bcs nobody writes abt the stayc girls dkhdfkks </3) depicts her as like a hard dom but me personally im a sub-leaning switch isa enthusiast 🤭🤭 and im talking like 90% sub and 10% dom, girlie is not rlly into that dom/top lifestyle 😭 she likes sitting and looking pretty for you that's all!!!!

as for the things she likes, she's pretty vanilla?? isa's a love maker for sureee :(( she just wants to hold you close while she's taking everything you're giving her :( and she loveslovesloves hearing you say "i love you" while doing it, or just praises n cute nicknames in general 🥺🥺 i think calling her a "bitch" or a "slut" would turn her off or upset her sjdhfjdkf cuz sex is such an intimate act for her, isa doesn't like hearing all those bad things from her angel girlfriend's mouth !!

but she's not at all 'boring' i promise!! isa definitely leans more toward the soft kinks side 👀👀

she definitely likes throatfucking or maybe i'm projecting :(( like kneeling down in front of you while you're gagging her with your fingers :(( her getting wet at the way you held her jaw open with ur one hand while the other is shoved down her throat,,, AND WHEN I SAY SHE LIKES SEEING YOU FUCK YOURSELF WITH YOUR FINGERS THAT ARE COVERED WITH HER SPIT... but maybe you're punishing her (for no reason other than bcs you find it fun ofc, isa could never do anything wrong!!) and you're telling her that she can't touch you until she figures out what she did wrong and say sorry :(( but poor baby has no fucking clue you're joking so she's crying, pouting and begging for you to fuck her instead of yourself, bcs she knows it's instant forgiveness the moment your fingers are knuckle deep inside her </3

i also feel like she really is just very traditional? like no toys whatsoever, just your fingers and your mouth is enough <33

she a cat fr tho cuz why is she always on ur lap??! there could be more than enough space on the couch but nope, isa truly believes that her only seat is ur lap <33 and ofc that leads to you opening up her legs and fucking her while you're watching a movie and she's whimpering and shaking trying to hold back her moans bcs you wanna know what's going on in the film </3

ngl i kinda ran out ideas halfway through so this is a bit bland compared to my other stuff 😣 im sorry isa my baby i'll do better next time 👀