#this was one idea i had for a double sided design

[sysig]

Warm and cozy (Patreon)

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty-Six

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, pregnancy, emetophobia warning, domestic fluff, birthdays + Christmas, some emotional instabillity.

Notes — I hope you guys love this one. It's so full of sweetness. A bit of frustration too, but mostly sweetness.

December 2023

The lights in the MTC's build bay always felt too bright. Amelia squinted up at them in annoyance, then turned her gaze back to the car.

Her car.

Not hers in any legal or possessive way — it belonged to the team, to the season, to the wind tunnel and CFD modellers.

But the final profile of the MCL38-AN was a shape that had lived in her brain before it ever existed in carbon fibre form. It had existed exclusively within spreadsheets and flow charts and headaches. Whiteboard scrawls at two in the morning. Phone calls to her dad. Arguments with aero. Hours of simulations. Hours of starting over.

And now it was real. Sitting right in front of her.

Orange and black, sleek and hungry, its chassis caught the overhead lights and glowing.

Amelia didn't move. She needed minute. She just stood beside the rear wing, arms crossed tight over her chest, soaking in the project that had consumed every spare hour of the past two years of her life.

She had half a muffin in her bag from breakfast four hours ago. She'd forgotten to eat it.

The name on the spec sheet was just technical: MCL38-AN. The suffix had started as a quiet claim — her way of signing something no one could take from her. Years ago, her father had passed off one of her ideas as his own. "AN" for Amelia Norris, scribbled on a draft after too much coffee, felt like insurance. But the department kept using it. Zak hadn't stopped them. And now it was printed on the official build list, black ink and daring her to believe it was really hers.

Her name. On a car.

"Staring at it won't make it disappear," came a voice from the other end of the garage.

Amelia didn't look over. "I'm aware," she replied flatly.

Anthony, one of the build engineers, chuckled and walked closer, wiping grease off his hands with a rag. "Just never seen you stand still this long before. Thought maybe you'd short-circuited."

"Internally," she replied. "I'm experiencing the Blue Screen of Emotion."

He laughed again. "Hell of a machine you designed."

She didn't correct him.

Instead, she stepped forward and laid one hand on the side-pod. The material was cold and smooth under her fingers. She could feel the vibration of the building, the faint hum of tools and voices and fluorescent life, echoing back through the structure.

"This was all in my head once," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "And now it's... this."

Anthony, thankfully, didn't say anything saccharine. Just gave a nod and let her stand there.

Amelia walked slowly around to the front of the car, fingers trailing against the bodywork. Her brain was already scanning for imperfections — minor details to flag, alignment to double-check, tolerances to run again. But beneath that, buried under years of ruthless professional calibration, was something quieter.

Pride.

Not loud or dramatic or showy. Just a quiet click of recognition.

This was good work. And it was hers.

"Can we run power systems later today?" She asked.

Anthony nodded. "Soon as Oscar finishes his lunch."

"Tell him I said no mayo on the telemetry."

"I don't even know what that means."

Amelia didn't clarify. She just smiled faintly to herself and stepped back, surveying the car one more time.

MCL38-AN.

Not bad for a girl who used to line up her Hot Wheels in exact weight-to-downforce order as a kid and got sent home from school for correcting her teacher's physics formulas.

She pulled out her phone, snapped a picture of the car, just for herself, then typed out a message to Lando.

iMessage — 14:33pm

Amelia (Wifey 4 lifey)

Almost ready for testing. I'm so proud it's making me nauseous.

A second later, another text.

Amelia (Wifey 4 lifey)

Or maybe that's just the pregnancy.

—

Amelia sat cross-legged across from Lando, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands despite the lingering warmth in the air. Lando was barefoot, legs stretched out, half a grin on his face as he finished the last bite of cake she'd awkwardly cut with a plastic knife.

They were on Max's boat, rocking gently in the Monaco harbour. They'd stolen it for the day.

"Bit late," he teased, licking frosting off his thumb. "Birthday was like... three weeks ago."

"You were busy," she said simply. "So was I. And also I needed time."

"Time?"

"To figure out what to give you." She said. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a small, square box; plain brown kraft paper, tied neatly with black ribbon. No card. Of course there was no card. She hated cards — never knew what to write in them.

Lando raised an eyebrow as he took it. "Not socks?"

"No."

He peeled the ribbon open and lifted the lid.

Inside was a tiny frame. Minimalist. Neutral. Inside it, a single page torn from a notebook — lined paper, slightly smudged pencil. On it: a series of racing lines drawn from memory. His best qualifying lap from Silverstone. Annotated in her handwriting with tiny notes. Brake here. Open throttle earlier. Turn-in felt cleaner than expected.

He stared at it for a long moment before speaking. "This is..."

"You told me you wanted to frame that lap. I had the data sheet, but I wanted to draw it from memory," she said, eyes on the water instead of him. "That way it's both yours and mine. More special."

Lando didn't speak. Not right away. Just set the frame down carefully and crawled across the cushions to kiss her — soft, deliberate. One hand cupped her jaw; the other rested over her heart like it was helping him breathe. When he pulled back, his eyes were suspiciously glassy. "I think that might be one of the best birthday presents I've ever received," he said. "And I love it."

She gave a tiny shrug. "Good. You're really hard to shop for. You buy everything you want as soon as you decide that you want it."

He laughed, pulling her into his chest.

The boat rocked gently, and the sun sank lower, and for once there was nothing they needed to do, nowhere they needed to be. Just a belated birthday, and a perfect lap, and the girl who knew every corner of it better than anyone ever would.

—

The ultrasound room was dim, lit mostly by the soft blue glow of the monitor and the faint flicker of winter sun bleeding through the frosted windowpanes. The air smelled faintly sterile, like clean cotton and antiseptic.

Amelia lay back on the table, her t-shirt folded up over her stomach, the thin paper drape rustling every time she shifted. One hand was clenched tightly in Lando's — not out of nerves, exactly, but out of that taut, quiet focus she always wore when she didn't have full control of a situation.

She eyed the plastic bottle in the technician's hand with thinly veiled suspicion.

"What is that?" She asked flatly.

"Just ultrasound gel," the technician said, chipper and entirely unprepared.

Amelia narrowed her eyes. "What are the ingredients?"

The woman faltered, eyes darting to Lando and then back to Amelia. "Um..."

Lando looked at his wife.

Amelia didn't look at him. "I just feel like if we're going to lather something all over my body, I should know whether it contains...you know, petrochemicals or carcinogens or hormone disruptors."

The technician blinked. "It's... mostly water-based," she said finally. "And glycerin. No dyes. No perfumes."

Amelia stared a second longer, then gave a short, diplomatic nod. "Fine."

Lando leaned over and whispered, "You sure?"

"Yes," she muttered.

The technician, clearly deciding she'd earned the right to proceed, gently pressed the probe to Amelia's stomach. She flinched, not from pain, but from the cold smear of the gel, and made a disgruntled little noise in the back of her throat.

Lando squeezed her hand once, smiling.

And then the screen flickered. A faint, grainy image bloomed into view, shadow and static and light, and the whole room seemed to still.

"Ah, a very easy one. There we are," the technician said softly, her voice shifting into something gentle. "One very small someone."

Amelia blinked at the monitor. "That blob is a baby?"

The tech chuckled. "That blob is your baby."

Lando's breath caught in his throat. He shifted closer to her side, eyes locked on the flickering movement onscreen — a heartbeat, tiny and fast and impossibly loud once the audio kicked in. It sounded like wings. Like something about to take off.

Amelia didn't speak for a long time. Just stared. Her mouth parted, eyes wide. She looked stunned, like her body had already figured it out, but her brain hadn't quite caught up.

"Is that..." she finally whispered. "That flicker, is that... the heartbeat?"

The technician nodded.

Amelia's mouth wobbled. Her fingers clenched tighter around Lando's. "It's going so... fast."

"Perfectly normal at this stage."

Lando, who had been quiet until now, suddenly straightened and leaned in closer, eyes glued to the screen. "Wait—how fast? Like, beats per minute?"

The technician glanced at the monitor, tapping a few keys. "Right now, it's about 170. A bit faster than an adult's, but that's exactly what we expect this early on."

Lando's eyes widened. "One seventy? That's incredible. Is that—like—normal?"

"Yeah, perfectly normal. It usually starts slower around five weeks and then speeds up."

Amelia's voice was quiet, but steady. "How many weeks are we exactly?"

"About seven weeks from the last menstrual period," the technician replied, smiling gently.

Lando glanced at Amelia, then back to the screen. "So... when's the due date? When can we expect... I mean, when—?"

The technician switched the screen to a small calendar. "Based on measurements, your due date should fall somewhere around August 14th."

Amelia exhaled slowly, eyes still on the grainy image of that tiny flickering heartbeat. "August 14th," she repeated. "Between Spa and Zandvoort, then."

Lando grinned and squeezed her hand. "That's... just over six months away. Feels proper real now."

Amelia's lips twitched in a tired smile. "Yeah, it's a bit overwhelming."

Lando's voice softened. "Overwhelming in a good way?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

He looked at her with such tenderness that it made her throat tighten.

She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Maybe," Lando said softly, "instead of letting this make us feel out of control, we need to learn how to trust that our little person is just... doing its own thing."

Amelia closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, the flickering heartbeat was still there — small but unmistakably alive. "Okay," she said quietly, "yeah. Okay."

The technician smiled again, dimming the monitor as she packed up. "You're doing wonderfully. We'll schedule your next scan in three to four weeks time, but for now, just try to enjoy this moment."

Lando squeezed Amelia's hand.

—

The Norris house was full of noise — crumpled wrapping paper on every surface, half-eaten mince pies on plates, Christmas music playing softly in the background, and the fire crackling with the kind of persistent warmth only a real log burner could offer.

Amelia sat on the arm of the couch, a mug of peppermint hot chocolate in her hands (the only thing that didn't make her nauseous that week), watching Lando and his siblings messily construct some kind of Christmas LEGO set on the floor.

It was chaos. The good kind. Lando was wearing a Santa hat and trying to boss everyone around. Cisca was curled up in the other armchair watching them fondly, and even Adam was getting involved, despite pretending he was "too old for LEGO" about twenty minutes earlier.

Amelia felt warm. Not just from the fire, or the hot chocolate. But that kind of rooted, grounded warmth she hadn't felt since childhood.

Lando glanced up at her from the rug. His cheeks were flushed, curls a little wild, still in pyjamas. He grinned that stupidly wide grin of his; the one she could never not return.

"Okay," he said suddenly, clapping his hands together. "We've got one last gift."

His siblings groaned dramatically. "You're just trying to win Christmas," Flo said, already suspicious.

"No," Lando said, glancing up at Amelia. "This one's from both of us."

He got up and walked to the tree, pulling out a small box, about the size of a mug, wrapped in deep green paper and a lopsided gold bow. He handed it to Flo, gesturing for her to open it.

She peeled it back, frowned... and then blinked.

Inside was a tiny McLaren onesie, size newborn, folded neatly next to a photo printout of the ultrasound. On the front of the onesie was a little stitched helmet — and underneath it, "Team Norris. Arriving August 2024."

There was a beat of silence.

Flo stared.

"Shut. Up."

Adam whipped around, eyes wide. "Oh my god."

"No way," Flo said, already scrambling up from the floor.

Cisca covered her mouth, eyes wide and glassy. "Are you—? Are you serious?"

Amelia nodded, quietly overwhelmed by the whole thing, but smiling anyway, caught in the centre of a hug from Lando's siblings as they collapsed into her, cheering and yelling and somehow knocking her mug over (Lando caught it just in time).

Flo kept staring at the ultrasound photo like it was a sacred relic. "I am going to be the best auntie."

Adam walked over to Lando and gave him a tight hug, a forehead kiss, and a pat on the back.

Cisca hugged Amelia gently, brushing her hair back. "I had a feeling," she whispered. "You've had that glow."

Amelia laughed. "The glow is just sweat from the constant nausea. But thanks."

Lando wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, chin on her shoulder, warm and soft and safe."Merry Christmas," he murmured.

She leaned her head back against his. "Merry Christmas."

—

January 2024

The new apartment smelled like fresh paint.

It was bigger, with big windows and tiled floors and way more space than their old place. But in that exact moment, it mostly looked like a war zone. A mess of cardboard, bubble wrap, and various limbs sticking out from behind furniture.

"Why does your wife own so many pairs of shoes?" Max asked, squinting as he pulled box after box labelled Amelia: Shoes from the back of the moving van.

"She likes having options, Max," Lando replied from inside the apartment. "You wouldn't get it."

"I've already seen three pairs of the same sneaker!"

"Sometimes she wants them to look newer, sometimes she wants them to look worn!"

Amelia stood frozen in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped tightly around a single lamp. Not because it was heavy, it was from IKEA, but because she'd very quickly reached her max input for the day.

People talking, laughing, doors slamming, someone (probably Charles) putting a Spotify playlist on the TV at full volume, Celeste asking where the boxes marked kitchen - fragile had gone (answer: behind the miscellaneous - Lando's gamer shit), and her mom trying to organise snacks that everyone had insisted they didn't need but everyone was happily eating.

It was chaos. Warm, well-meaning chaos. But chaos all the same.

"Breathe, baby," came Lando's voice, suddenly right behind her. His hand gently closed over hers, guiding the lamp to the floor. "Let go."

"I'm fine," she said quickly.

"You're vibrating."

"I'm self-regulating."

"You're about to pop like a champagne bottle on the podium."

She blinked at him. "Lando."

"It's fine," he whispered, kissing her cheek. "Go sit. I'll turn down Charles' shit music."

She nodded once and retreated to the kitchen, or, well, what would be the kitchen, once all the boxes weren't stacked like a cardboard skyline.

Her dad followed her a moment later, holding a garbage bag full of what looked like packing peanuts. "Need anything, sweetheart?"

Amelia, dazed, looked up at her dad. "A new brain."

"I meant, like, a juice box."

"Oh. Do we have any?"

"I'll ask your mom." He laughed and kissed the top of her head before disappearing to the balcony.

Celeste popped in with a stack of throw pillows and collapsed beside her. "Remind me never offer to help anyone move again."

Charles, sliding by with a box labeled guest bathroom, raised his hand. "You're all weak."

"You hired movers," Max called from the hallway.

"Because I am smart," Charles countered.

Eventually, they made enough of a dent in the chaos to pause; boxes stacked in corners, the couch unwrapped, the kitchen sort of navigable. Everyone collapsed onto furniture, floor cushions, or each other.

Lando dropped next to Amelia with a thud. "Jesus," he said. "I'm never standing up again."

Tracey passed around bottles of water.

And then, without thinking, because she was tired, overwhelmed, and slightly frantic, Amelia looked at the empty room across the hall and said aloud. "Oh, cool. I'll be able to start putting the nursery together."

The silence was instant.

Zak froze mid-sip. Tracey turned so fast she almost knocked over Celeste. Charles blinked once, then again. Celeste slowly tilted her head like a confused golden retriever.

Only Max continued scrolling on his phone. Lando looked suspiciously casual, but his eyes had gone wide.

"Sorry," Charles said slowly. "Did she just say nursery?"

"She did," said Tracey, standing like she was ready to break into dance or faint, unclear which.

Amelia, blank as ever, looked up. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry."

"You're pregnant?" Celeste screeched, immediately launching across the couch.

"About eight weeks," Amelia said matter-of-factly.

"Oh my gosh—"

Lando, grinning now, tugged Amelia into his side. "We were gonna wait a while. But she's obviously forgotten the whole secrecy part."

"Not forgot," Amelia said. "Just... didn't filter."

Tracey shrieked. Charles stood and clapped. Celeste immediately demanded to know every detail. Her dad was just staring at them, his jaw slightly ajar.

Max looked at Lando and deadpanned, "Told you she'd blurt it eventually."

"You knew?" Tracey barked.

"Of course I did." Max said.

Celeste swatted him. "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

Amelia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, buried in a couch cushion, legs tucked under her, chaos all around her, but warm. Safe.

Loved.

"I'm going to have to help you build nursery furniture, aren't I?" Charles asked.

"Yes," said Lando.

—

Amelia sat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter, wearing her comfort pyjamas and cupping a warm mug in both hands. Her mom was rifling through a drawer looking for teaspoons and her dad was standing far too close for someone who'd said "I'm not gonna hover."

"You're hovering," Amelia said without looking up.

"I'm not," Zak replied, absolutely hovering.

Tracey gave him a look as she passed. "Sit down, Zak."

Amelia smirked faintly.

Zak pulled a stool out beside her but didn't sit. He just sort of... rested one hand on the counter and stared at her in that way dads do. "You keeping anything down?" He asked.

"I'm eating a lot of toast," Amelia said. "And drinking ginger tea."

He looked vaguely panicked. "Should we be calling someone? We have dietitian's, or—?"

"Dad."

"What?"

"I'm pregnant. Nausea is normal."

Zak muttered something about "precautionary measures" and "just checking" and "your iron levels, you never know," and finally Tracey grabbed his sleeve and tugged him to the other side of the kitchen.

"Let her breathe," she said, soft but firm.

He sighed but relented, pouring himself a cup of tea and stealing a look at Amelia like he still couldn't believe it. Like some part of him was seeing her as a baby again in his arms; not a woman, not a race engineer, not someone capable of growing a human. Just his daughter.

"I'm going to be a granddad," he said eventually, more to himself than anyone else. He blinked a few times, then smiled like he'd just realised it wasn't a prank.

Amelia raised her eyebrows, lips twitching. "Has he only just realised that?"

Tracey chuckled. "Oh no, honey. He's already ordered some books on newborn safety."

Zak tried to look insulted. "One of us has to be prepared."

Tracey ignored him and turned her attention back to Amelia, warm eyes softening. "You know," she said gently, "that first night at dinner, when you got all worked up about Lando... I just knew."

"Knew what?"

"That this was going to be something magic," she said. "You had that look on your face. Not the 'I'm in love' one, not yet. But that one you get when you've found something you'd fight for. And I thought, ah. There it is."

Amelia blinked, caught off guard. Her mouth opened, then closed again, unsure how to respond.

Tracey smiled knowingly. "You've always been complicated. Precise. A little special in a systemised way. But with him? You were safe. Not smaller, not quieter; just... steadier."

Zak, finally sitting, looked from his wife to his daughter, then back again.

Tracey walked over and touched Amelia's hair, smoothing it back without thinking. The kind of motherly gesture that was muscle memory. "We're very proud of you," she said softly. "Not just for the baby. For the life you're building. For letting yourself build it."

Amelia didn't answer right away. Just looked down into her tea and let that sit in her chest like a warm ache. "Thanks," she said finally, quiet.

Tracey smiled. "Now come sit with us in the living room and let your dad lecture you about your fiber intake."

"Oh no."

"I made a PowerPoint," Zak added helpfully.

Amelia stared at him. "I—I eat enough fibre. I swear. I promise. Don't make me sit through one of your terribly constructed PowerPoints."

—

Five hours later, the apartment was finally quiet.

The kind of quiet that only came after the storm; post-laughter, post-chaos, post-Max dropping a full pizza box face-down on the kitchen floor and Charles chasing Celeste with bubble wrap around his head like a helmet.

Everyone was gone now.

Some boxes still weren't unpacked, the dining table was holding an array of loose screws and takeout containers, and there was one singular sock hanging off the new lighting fixture that neither of them remembered installing.

But it was quiet. And theirs.

Lando lay stretched across the couch in sweats and a hoodie, one leg propped up on a box labeled BED LINENS???. Amelia was curled on top of him like a blanket folded in half, her cheek resting against his chest, arms wrapped around his middle.

She was half-asleep, her body finally relaxing after hours of overstimulation and problem-solving and people asking where things were that she did not know. "Is it weird I don't feel like this is real yet?" She murmured.

Lando looked down at her. "The apartment?"

"All of it. The space. The nursery. The fact I told everyone because I accidentally emotionally short-circuited. I mean, who announces a pregnancy like that?"

"You," he said, brushing his fingers through her hair.

She huffed a breath that was half-laugh, half-groan. "My brain was tired. My mouth just... decided."

"Hey." He tugged gently on a loose strand of her hair until she looked up at him. "It was perfect. So you. I mean, Tracey looked like she was about to cry and throw you a baby shower in the same breath."

Amelia groaned and buried her face back into his hoodie. "She's going to buy so many pastel things. I'm not emotionally equipped for pastel."

Lando laughed. "We'll make a blacklist. No tulle. No gingham. No text that says 'Born to race' or anything cringe like that."

Amelia was quiet for a moment. "Do you think it's okay we're doing this now?"

He didn't ask what this meant. He knew.

The baby. The life. The shift. The permanence of it all.

"I think it's us," he said simply. "And I think whatever that ends up looking like is okay."

She let out a breath. "I don't know how to do any of it. Not even the parts people think I'm supposed to be good at. I couldn't find the dish towels today."

"That's what the box labels are for."

"And you?"

"I'm just here to kiss you when your brain melts and tell you you're brilliant anyway."

She finally looked up at him again. Her eyes were tired — not with sadness, just the fatigue of too much change all at once. But they were also soft. "You're annoying," she said.

"What, being emotionally intelligent and devastatingly handsome is annoying now?" He teased.

"You're a good human weighted blanket, so I won't argue with that."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "It's a privilege, honestly."

They lay there for a while, the hum of Monaco outside their windows, the buzz of city life just distant enough to feel like background music. Inside, it was soft. Warm. Familiar.

Eventually, Amelia whispered, "We really live here now."

Lando tightened his arms around her. "Yeah, we do."

"And we're gonna have a baby here."

"Mmhm."

"I have to start nesting. Like... soon."

"Tell me what you want built. I'll blackmail Charles and make him do it."

She laughed quietly against his chest, a sound full of exhaustion and affection.

Then, softer, almost to herself, "I think I'm happy."

Lando didn't say anything right away. He just turned his head and kissed her temple again, slow and sure, before whispering into her skin, "I know."

—

The morning had not been kind.

Amelia had thrown up twice before she even made it out of bed, once more in the sink when the smell of coffee drifted through the apartment. Her stomach had settled into that weird, hovering nausea, not quite sick, but never okay, and everything around her felt a little too much.

Too bright.

Too loud.

Too far from stillness.

The apartment was still full of half-unpacked boxes. One of them had exploded into a mess of packing peanuts by the bookshelf because Lando had tripped over it while trying to carry a lamp. That had made her laugh, for a moment. But now even that memory felt distant and staticky.

She hadn't eaten anything. Her body felt too heavy and too floaty at the same time.

So she wandered into the room off the living room and stood in the doorway, barefoot and still in one of Lando's shirts, staring at the swing.

The sensory swing hung from a reinforced hook in the ceiling, an enclosed hammock-style cocoon of soft dark grey fabric.

She hadn't used it yet.

But now... now she needed to be held by something.

Amelia walked over slowly, pulled the soft stretch of the fabric down, and climbed inside like she was folding herself into a shell. It wrapped around her shoulders, her hips, her knees. A full-body compression hug.

She let herself swing gently, letting the quiet motion do what words and plans and spreadsheets couldn't. The light filtered through the gauzy curtain. The outside world muffled. The only sound was her breathing.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Her muscles finally, finally relaxed.

And then, maybe because the relief was so sharp in contrast to how awful she'd felt all morning, or maybe because everything just hit all at once, Amelia cried.

Just soft tears slipping down the sides of her face into the swing's fabric as her body unclenched. She didn't even try to stop them. Didn't need to understand them. Her hands cradled the soft swell of her lower belly as she rocked gently in the cocoon, the comfort so complete it almost hurt.

The motion, the weightlessness, the compression; it was like someone had pressed a reset button on her nervous system.

"I love you very much," she whispered, hand on her stomach, words falling into the soft dark of the swing. "Even if you are already making me throw up five times a day." She gave a little wet laugh. Then sniffled. Then rocked some more.

Eventually, Lando peeked his head around the doorframe.

He didn't say anything. He saw her there, bundled up like a sleepy moth, puffy-eyed and peaceful, and his whole expression softened.

"You good, baby?" He asked gently.

She nodded, still sniffling, half-smiling. "It works."

He smiled back. "Good" He walked over and pressed a kiss to the fabric where her shoulder must've been, still swaying. "Want toast when you come out?"

"Only if it's with the nice jam. The apricot one we got from the market last weekend."

"Anything you want. We're celebrating the swings debut, after all."

"Dramatic." She said.

"I know," he grinned.

And then he left her to swing, warm, wrapped up, and for the first time all day — completely okay.

February 2024

Amelia woke to the smell of espresso and something sweet (cinnamon, maybe) and the distinct sound of someone failing, very quietly, not to clatter around in the kitchen.

She blinked, groggy, and rolled over to find Lando's side of the bed empty. A sliver of warm morning light streamed in through the curtains. The apartment smelled like flowers and coffee and... possibly burning toast.

By the time she made it out of bed, hair a mess, t-shirt halfway sliding off one shoulder, she found him standing in front of the kitchen island, proudly staring at a tray of slightly overdone croissants, a half-burnt omelet, and a mug that said engineers do it with precision.

He turned the second he heard her. "Don't say anything," he warned, waving a spatula at her. "This is a labour of love."

"I can see that," she said, amused. "How's the toast?"

"Charcoal adjacent."

She padded over and leaned into his side, arms looping gently around his middle. "Morning."

Lando pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Happy birthday, baby."

He guided her over to the table, where a small stack of wrapped gifts sat beside her laptop — one of them unmistakably from Oscar if the cartoon scribble on the tag was anything to go by. Another looked suspiciously like it had been wrapped by Max's girlfriend Celeste, given the glittery ribbon and note that just said DO NOT OPEN NEAR ZAK.

"Did you do all this this morning?" Amelia asked, eyeing the slightly lopsided croissants.

"Well," he said, handing her the mug, "I tried to sneak out of bed early. But then you curled up in the blankets and made that sleepy sound you make and I lost, like, twenty minutes just watching you sleep."

Amelia sipped the coffee. Ugh. Decaf. "Weirdo."

"Your weirdo."

They sat together, eating what they could salvage of the breakfast. Lando gave her a small, leather-bound notebook for scribbling car notes (with custom embossing: A. Norris, Race Strategist / Best Mummy Ever). She rolled her eyes, but she didn't stop smiling.

Later, while she was cleaning up plates, he appeared behind her with one last gift, this one small and velvet. Her breath hitched when he opened it. A pendant: a tiny silver disk with a barely-there engraving.

A heartbeat. The one they'd seen on the ultrasound.

"I wanted you to have something that was just... for you," he said quietly.

She touched the charm gently, thumb brushing the engraving. "I love it," she said, voice slightly wobbly.

He kissed her temple again, arms wrapping around her. "I love you."

The rest of the day was full of small joys; visits from friends, a video call with her mom, cupcakes delivered from a café Oscar insisted was life-changing. Max and Celeste swung by with a gift bag full of baby-safe skincare and a framed photo of the four of them.

At one point, her dad had messaged her.

Happy birthday, kiddo. Love you so much. See you soon.

To which Amelia replied.

Love you too.

That night, after the guests had left and the candles had flickered low, Amelia found herself curled up in her sensory swing by the window, legs folded up under her, pendant resting in the middle of her collarbones. Lando lay on the sofa nearby, watching her with quiet contentment.

"I think this was one of my best birthdays," she said softly.

He smiled. "Even with the burnt toast?"

She nodded. "Especially with the burnt toast." And then, after a pause, "Next year, we'll have someone else around to help us celebrate."

Lando's eyes softened. "Next year," he echoed.

—

WhatsApp Groupchat — 2024 F1 Grid

George R.

Welcome to the 2024 rookies!

Oh wait.

LOL.

Nevermind

Lando N.

Someone get this man a rookie asap

Charles L.

Bro we are all still here 💀

Alex A.

Just the same 20 people trying not to crash into each other

Esteban O.

Consistency is key 😂

Oscar P.

George is out here welcoming imaginary friends

Carlos S.

Rookie of the year is the Ferrari catering team

Lewis H.

I vote my physio as rookie of the year tbh

Yuki T.

I still feel like a rookie emotionally 😮‍💨

Fernando A.

I feel younger every season 😎

George R.

Ok ok I made one mistake

I was being polite

What if someone snuck in overnight. Like a stealth rookie

Pierre G.

Bro this isn't among us

Max V.

Let him live he tried ✋

Lando N.

He tried and failed. Spectacularly

George R.

Blocked. All of you. I'm blocking all of you.

—

The main presentation hall at the MTC was cold, the hush of anticipation a physical thing. Staff, engineers, drivers, media teams, and execs milled around in soft clumps, all eyes drawn to the shrouded figure on the platform. Silver satin draped across carbon fibre; sleek, taut, and humming with promise.

Amelia stood off to one side, arms crossed over her chest, one foot tucked behind the other like she was bracing herself against something invisible.

It was familiar, this room. She'd stood in it a dozen times. But this time was different.

This was her car.

She heard footsteps and didn't have to look to know it was Lando. He came to stand beside her, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, gaze fixed on the covered car like it might move if he blinked.

"It looks like a spaceship," he murmured.

"It's as complex as one," she said simply.

He grinned. "I'm gonna drive a spaceship."

"You're going to win in it."

Her dad walked out onto the stage, some carefully crafted speech on hand, but Amelia barely registered it. Her ears rang with something heavier; a low, surging pressure that sat in her chest and refused to settle.

She heard her name, heard Zak referencing her as lead technical design engineer on the project, and the soft ripple of polite applause. She didn't move. Didn't blink.

When the cover was pulled back and the MCL38-AN was finally exposed under the lights. Lean, mean, shimmering with graphite and papaya — the room went reverently silent.

It was beautiful. Sharp and elegant and mean in all the right places.

And hers.

Her hands trembled slightly where they were folded. Lando noticed. He reached down, laced his fingers through hers without saying anything. She didn't look at him, but she held on.

Oscar appeared at her other side, chewing a protein bar. "It looks fast," he said through his mouthful.

"It is fast," Amelia replied, deadpan.

He nodded. "Good. I hate slow cars. Bad for my numbers."

Lando snorted. "Your numbers are fine."

"I want more numbers."

Amelia ignored them both. Her eyes were fixed on the low spoiler, the curve of the side-pod, the subtle detailing near the rear suspension she'd fought tooth and nail to implement — backed up by three sleepless weeks of CFD simulations and one argument with the floor design team that she'd very nearly won with sheer stubbornness alone.

"Do you want to go look at it up close?" Lando asked, gentle.

Amelia shook her head. "Not yet."

He didn't press. Just stayed beside her as people filtered forward. Cameras clicked. Flashbulbs strobed. Somewhere, someone asked Oscar to smile more. Zak was already doing a walk-around with Sky Sports.

But Amelia stayed back, hand in Lando's, watching as her car, her beautiful, terrifying, finely-tuned monster, greeted the world for the first time.

Finally, Lando leaned in, voice low against her ear. "I'm so proud of you."

Her mouth twitched, just a little. "I know," she said.

Then, after a beat, "I'm proud of me too."

—

There were two weeks until they were due to fly out to Bahrain for testing.

The smell of carbon composite and metal dust still clung to the air. Most of the lights had been dimmed in the engineering wing of the McLaren Technology Centre, but not in Bay 2. Bay 2 was lit up like a crime scene — bright, clinical, unrelenting.

And Amelia was pacing.

"You changed the front wing flow guide without flagging it to me." Her voice was flat, but her tone cut sharp enough to peel paint. "It's not a minor tweak. It alters the pressure delta across the entire front third of the car."

Across the table, three senior aero engineers; experienced, respected, and visibly nervous, stood their ground, albeit quietly. One of them, Benji, cleared his throat.

"We didn't go behind your back," he said carefully. "It was discussed at the Friday meeting—"

"I wasn't at the Friday meeting," she snapped. "I was with Oscar for simulator calibration. You knew that."

"We had to lock a version in for pre-season aero scanning," said another engineer, trying to be the reasonable one. "You were behind schedule finalising the nose cone parameters—"

"I was behind schedule," Amelia repeated, eyebrows arching dangerously, "because I was rewriting your cooling duct schema so it wouldn't explode in Bahrain."

Silence.

Lando stood quietly just inside the doorway, arms crossed, watching. He wasn't saying anything — yet. But his eyes never left Amelia.

"You've added drag," she said after a beat. "I ran the updated airflow map through CFD myself after I saw the render. It introduces wake turbulence at high yaw, and we already struggle with straight-line pace. You've made us slower on the straights to gain — what? Four points of front downforce?"

"Four points could help balance in the high-speed corners," Benji offered.

"At the expense of the entire overtaking window!" Amelia barked. "You want Lando and Oscar to defend for twenty laps in DRS zones with a car that drags like a parachute because you like the numbers it spits out on paper?"

Someone muttered something; too low to catch. Amelia's head snapped around like a hawk.

"Say it louder," she said. "You clearly thought it was clever enough the first time."

The engineer paled slightly. "I just said... maybe you're too attached to this design."

Lando stepped in before Amelia could respond.

"No, see, here's the thing," he said, tone deceptively easy. "You don't get to say that. Because her attachment? That's why this car is visibly better than last year's. She is the reason why we had the third-fastest chassis on average post-Zandvoort last year. Because she gives a shit. And if Amelia says it's wrong? Then it's wrong."

The room froze. One of the engineers swallowed hard.

Amelia, though, didn't say anything for a full five seconds. She just stood there, arms folded, staring down the table like she was willing the numbers to change.

Then, calmly, "You're reverting to the previous design."

"We can't. Not until—"

"I'll update the approval file myself," she continued. "I want the renders sent back through me. If you're going to make changes to a car with my name on it, you'll run it by me first. Not the group chat. Not Zak. Not the test team. Me."

Stillness.

Eventually, Benji nodded, his jaw tight. "Alright."

She left the bay without another word, her footfalls even, deliberate. Lando followed a few paces behind, catching up only once they hit the corridor.

"You didn't have to jump in," she muttered.

"I know," he said. "But I wanted to."

They reached the elevator. Amelia punched the call button too hard.

"They're not wrong," she said quietly, not looking at him. "I am too attached."

Lando nodded. "Yeah. And that's why you're the only one I trust with it."

—

The hum of the wind tunnel was a low, constant growl behind the soundproof glass. Screens lined the wall of the operations room, flooded with live data — airflow vectors, pressure maps, drag coefficients, temperatures.

Amelia sat perfectly still in the front row, staring at the monitor.

The numbers were wrong.

Not wildly, not catastrophically. Just... wrong enough.

Behind her, the aero lead, one of the few who hadn't been at the shouting match in the engineering bay days before, was going over test notes in a too-cheerful voice. "And that's run twelve with the revised front-wing guide and standard rear beam. A bit of turbulence in the crosswind scenario, but nothing unmanageable."

Amelia's fingers twitched against the armrest of her chair.

Zak stepped in beside her. "They've already locked the transport containers for Bahrain," he said in a low voice. "The old spec wouldn't make it through the scans in time."

"I know," Amelia said without looking at him.

"We'll revert before Melbourne," Zak added. "That's the plan."

"I know."

She said it again, like repetition might dull the edge.

Zak hesitated. "I get it. I do. But it's one race."

"It's the first race," Amelia said quietly. "It sets the baseline. The whole development curve starts from that data. Every upgrade, every refinement — it's all going to skew unless we compensate."

Zak didn't argue. He didn't need to. They both knew she was right.

But it didn't matter.

Because the parts were packed, the plane was leaving in 48 hours, and the wrong spec was going to touch asphalt in Bahrain.

She stood abruptly. The chair creaked as it slid back.

"Amelia," Zak said. "I know this is hard for you."

She turned, her voice clipped but steady. "It's not hard. It's inefficient."

And she left the room.

—

The lights were low. Her desk lamp cast a soft amber glow across a table full of design sheets and scribbled notes, crossed-out margins, red-circled flaws, annotations that no one else in the department could read but her.

Her iPad was open to the Bahrain track layout. She wasn't crying — not even close. But her jaw was clenched hard enough to ache. Her hands flexed, restless, unable to do anything.

She hated that feeling.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Go away," she said without looking.

It opened anyway.

Lando leaned in, holding two takeaway drinks. "I come bearing peace offering. Decaf vanilla chai for my beautiful, smart wife."

She didn't move.

"I know," he said gently. "It sucks."

"I'm not angry anymore," she said.

He gave her a look. "Don't lie to me, baby."

She finally looked up, and he crossed the room to set the drink beside her keyboard.

"I spent a year making it perfect," she murmured.

Lando touched her shoulder. "And it still will be."

Amelia looked back at her notes. "I hate being forced to let something go when I know I'm right," she said. "Just because I'm one person versus an entire team — and I know that it's not fair to expect them to just blindly trust everything I say, but it makes me so mad.'

"Okay," he whispered. "Time to go home, I think."

—

"Do you need six pairs of sunglasses?" Amelia asked, holding Lando's McLaren duffel open.

Lando didn't even look up from where he was rolling socks. "Yes."

"You only have two eyes."

"It's called fashion, baby."

She rolled her eyes and shoved the sunglasses back in, making sure the soft case separated the orange-tinted pair from the purple ones, because God forbid they get scratched.

Their bedroom looked like a tornado had touched down; open suitcases, half-folded clothes, a stack of electronics chargers that Amelia had labeled with colour-coded cable ties two seasons ago and still didn't trust Lando to keep organised.

Her own packing was... slower. More deliberate. She sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her own suitcase, a checklist open on her iPad and a faint, lingering wave of nausea rising every few minutes like a passive-aggressive tide.

"Are you sure you're okay to fly?" Lando asked for the third time that afternoon.

Amelia clicked her Apple Pencil against her teeth. "I'm pregnant, not ill."

"Still."

"I have packed ginger chews and compression socks."

He looked up. "You hate ginger chews."

"I also hate throwing up at 30,000 feet. Sometimes compromise is necessary."

He grinned. "That's very mature of you."

Amelia waved vaguely in the direction of the ensuite. "Can you grab the skincare bag? Not the one with my regular stuff — the one with the unscented moisturiser that doesn't make me gag."

"Yes, your highness."

She threw a sock at his head.

The packing process stalled every few minutes for various reasons: Amelia needed a snack; Lando forgot where he'd put his phone; Amelia remembered she hadn't downloaded the Bahrain telemetry files onto her personal iPad; Lando insisted on reorganising his racing gloves by colour.

Eventually, Amelia sat back with a soft groan, rubbing a hand over her belly. Not that there was much to feel yet, no bump, just the persistent hum of her body shifting quietly into something new.

She felt... heavy. But not in a bad way. Just full of lists, of responsibilities, of life. Literally.

"Hey," Lando said gently, crouching in front of her. "You okay?"

She nodded, slow. "Yeah. Just... tired. Everything feels like it takes twenty-percent more effort."

"You want to skip testing?"

Amelia narrowed her eyes. "Lando."

"I'm just saying—"

"No. Don't even suggest that. I need to be there for Oscar and I want to be there for the cars first proper run. I have to see how it holds up."

He smiled softly. "Just checking. That's my job now, remember? Worrying about you."

Amelia's expression softened. "I'm fine. I'm just slower than usual. I'll sit. I'll drink plenty of water."

Lando stood and offered her a hand, helping her up off the floor with the ease of long practice. They zipped the last suitcase together, and she stared at the organised chaos around them with a long, contemplative sigh.

"Think this baby is gonna like Bahrain?" She murmured.

He shrugged. "Hot. Loud. Feels like it's already genetically predisposed that baby is not going to have a good time."

She laughed, quietly, the sound curling in her throat.

They were flying out in the morning. Testing started two days after that. And in a few more weeks, the  2024 season would roar to life; full throttle, no mercy, no brakes.

But for now, there were just bags and chargers and familiar, cluttered rhythms. And them.

Just them.

For now.

[faeriichaii]

hii!!

i was wondering if you could write kili x gn!reader where the reader wants to braid kili’s hair and they have no idea what that means to dwarves and kili lets them braid his hair. later the other dwarves notice and tease kili about it cause he’s clearly in love with the reader.

thank you sm<33

Braiding Lessons ~ Kili x Reader

A/N: Omg Kili request!!! I love him and I am such a sucker for this plot!! so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do omg!! Also funfact but I almost deleted everything that I wrote during my roadtrip cause I was so unsatisfied with it ;-; Which is probably why it took me so long to actually publish it yikes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.0k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (Thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋAmrâlimé ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: You always knew dwarves had various beautiful braids, but how come Kili doesn't? So one night you decide to change that and help him out.

You tilted your head to the side, as you let your eyes skim over the various dwarves, whom you were accompanying on their journey. Being the only human, surrounded by one hobbit and several dwarves definitely let you notice a few differences about their culture to your own. For example, they could eat almost double their size almost as if they have two stomachs. They also tend to not care much about their appearance. Except of course their beards and hair in general. They take care of it almost as if their life depended on it. One detail that definitely stood out to you were the different braids that decorated each of them. You remember once staring at Fili, while he undid his small beard braids just to redo them.

“How come dwarves always have braids in their hair?” You once asked him. He smiled at you and continued weaving his fingers through his hair. “Braids are very important to us dwarves. Which is why we rarely let others touch our hair.”

Ever since that day you have noticed the intriguing designs and ways each of the dwarves intertwined their strands. Except for one. Kili was the only dwarf who seemed to be lacking any kind of braid and you have been wondering why that is. You also once asked Fili about it but he wouldn’t answer you. Maybe he doesn’t know how to braid? And he is too embarrassed to ask others for help? Observing Kili, who was laughing along his brother to some jokes, you quickly let that thought settle in your mind. He doesn’t know how to braid and you were determined to change that.

So later that afternoon you bribed Fili to change his night shift with yours (which cost you a few of your travel snacks), in order to spend some time with Kili. You wanted to teach him how to braid and due to the fact that it is quite a sensitive topic to dwarves you wanted to make sure that nobody else would notice the two of you. So as soon as the sun set and the snores of your companions filled your ears, you made your way to Kili. He was perched upon a log which was behind the campfire that slowly burned down. His hands were carefully crafting something delicate, which you didn’t quite see in the dark. “What are you working on?” You asked him, taking a seat beside him. His gaze swerved from the item between his fingers to you. A smile graced his lips.

“It’s a surprise.” He quickly put the item into a small pouch that was secured to his pants. “I thought Fili was supposed to be my night-watch-partner?” “He was but I wanted to switch with him.” A smirk formed on his lips, before he put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Well, in that case I will make sure that this will be the best night of your life.” Blushing at the double meaning behind his words, you tried to separate your body from his. Of course, not because you didn’t enjoy him being so close to you, but because you were in desperate need of some cold air to cool you down and sort through your thoughts.

“I just wanted to ask you if I could braid your hair.” A dumbfounded expression accompanied by a gentle blush fell over his face. “I know you probably were just embarrassed to ask any of the others for help when it comes to braiding your hair and knowing that you don’t know how to I just-“ His laugh interrupted your rambling. “You think I can’t braid my hair?” You nod. “(Y/N), that is one thing we dwarves get born with. No dwarf in this world knows how not to braid hair.” “But why do you never braid yours? Fili told me they were incredibly sacred and important in your culture.” A blush dusted his cheeks as he stared into the campfire.

“Simple. Nobody has asked to braid my hair before.” Your hand moved to his and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “But I just asked to braid your hair. So please, let me take care of you.” He smiled at you and moved one leg over the log so his whole body was facing yours. You let your fingers comb through his soft hair a few times, before taking a strand and dividing it into three sections. Weaving your fingers through the wafts, you made sure to be gentle while also ensuring that there won’t be any bumps or strands sticking out of your small braid. After you have reached the end of his hair, you took out one of your slim leather straps and tied it at the end. Your gaze wandered from the braid to Kilis eyes and you realized how close the two of you have been this whole time. “Thank you Amrâlimé. You have no idea how much this means to me.” You let your gaze wander to your hands in your lap while a shy smile graced your face. “Of course. I am glad you like it.” Kili put his finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. A bright smile framed his face. “Now it is your turn.”

The next morning the company as well as you quickly packed up their belongings to get back on their journey. While talking with Balin about some of the dwarvens history, you suddenly heard a gasp from behind you. “You never told me about this Kili!” Fili held up a braid between them both. “When did this happen?” “Last night while you-“ “What is going on back there?” Thorin asked, slowly approaching the princes. “Kili finally got his braid! Probably by someone he seems enamoured with.” Fili teases, while letting go of his brother’s hair. A blush dusted Kilis cheeks, as well as your own as the words settled in.

“Was about time they tied the knot.” Dwalin let out a boisterous laugh at Balins words. Tilting your head to the side, you moved your attention to Kili. “What does he mean by that?” “(Y/N) doesn’t even know? You didn’t even explain it?” Fili asked, flabbergasted at the newfound information. “I hadn’t had the time yet.” Kili turned towards you and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. “But I will explain it to you when the time is right.” His radiant smile was enough reassurance for you. You will wait, until he is ready to explain the meaning behind the dwarvish braiding custom.

[cursedcola]

ALRIGHT EVERYONE!

Nobody asked - but I broke down the construction of Epel’s cardigan from the sleepwear card as best I was able (aka. Me zooming in on him and staring very intensely).

This is the pattern idea I’ve come up with and a few grid charts. This is not finished, but what I’m going forward with to make his coat this month. My goal is to be done by the end of June.

So. Looking close at his sleeves - the closest resemblance we’ll get in the crochet world is the honeycomb stitch for the argyle diamonds. My plan is to break his sleeve into fourths. Three large panels of honey comb for the diamonds, and two smaller panels of a curved half-double-crochet to create dividers. The cardigan is clearly oversized on him, and even if it’s because of his smaller stature - I want to be SWAMPED in this thing. So the cuffs need to be CHUNKY. I’ll be going in with either a ribbed stitch, or a back stitch of double crochet. When the time comes I’ll test both to see which looks better.

Now - we’ve got the granny squares.

Looking at my little dude - we can see that they’re not just the front panel. They’re going on the back as well. Since I can’t see behind him, I’m going to take creative liberty and make one large panel of honeycomb stitch to be a central strip on the back. The front panels and side panels are going to be made of jumbo cranny squares.

For those of y’all who don’t crochet - the average granny square is about 25x25 stitches. Except oversized cardis use 8 of these bad boys per front panel. So since Epel has only four on each side, that means those squares gotta be JUMBO.

Zooming in - we see that the patterns are more embroidered. They’ve got texture. Since we’re crocheting, the best way to achieve this is to do pixel crochet for the squares and then go over the designs with a basic embroider stitch. This can be any of your choosing - I’ve yet to pick but will note what I want when the time comes.

There are THREE types of squares on Epel’s coat. I’m just calling them blossom, diamond, and apple. Since there are only three, it would have been difficult to make an entire back with them without having two of a kind touching or diagonal from each other (this is personal preference. I hate how this looks) which is why I’ve decided to go for that middle panel of honeycomb stitch.

The rest of the cardigan seems simple enough. The collar and trim is likely a simple ribbing, and those look like classic farmhouse wooden buttons if I’ve ever seen them.

EDIT (5/6/25): So. Complete change of plan for the sleeves now that I’ve gotten some sleep and thought on it. There’s a cable-knit stitch in the crochet world that closely resembles knit cables. Also lattice stitch or Tunisian crochet can be used for the diamond pattern. So if you want simple/beginner then do the honeycomb with a twisted hdc. If you want advanced then mix the cable-stitch with lattice.

Now - let’s talk materials.

I’m going with acrylic for this. Would it be absolutely divine as wool or a nice, dense alpaca blend? Definitely. I bet that’s what Epel has since his family runs a farm.

I am broke so I’ll be going in with a medium - weight acrylic, hook size 6, and all the granny squares will be done with basic hdc. Although acrylic is a bit itchy - id any of y’all choose to do this? Soak that finished product in a fabric softener solution. It’s a few dollars and your project will lose that scratchy texture. Just don’t let it hang out in the bath too long or the fibers will loosen more than you’d like.

^^^^ This is my general eyeball for how I’ll be constructing this piece. There aren’t any measurements since I’ve get to get my yarn and do a gauge…also, I’m not too sure how oversized I want this. I want to be swamped but not weighed down so hmm…

-

I don’t know how many of y’all like to crochet or do fibre arts - but I fell in love with this coat the moment I saw it and knew it had to be mine. I’m the impatient sort, and already ordered my supplies despite telling myself to wait. Pixel crochet does take a hot minute, so I’m hoping for June but the finished product will likely be more around late-july or august. Just in time for fall and market living where I live!

I could go quicker - but uh, I work as a bridal tailor and Run my own small shop off this app. I spend most of my day sewing lol. It’s been a hot minute since I made something for me, but dang it Epel made it look so cute. I just have to.

No one’s asking, but I’ll be updating. I’m literally so excited and my package of supplies can’t get here quick enough

[hayatheauthor]

Have u done a post on anatomy of swordfight? Or like weapons in general. I have a lot of different weapons planned out: bow, different types of swords, daggers, shields, spears, etc. I can't find a single proper guide explaining how to write fight scenes for these that make sense.

The Anatomy of Writing a Sword Fight

Thank you for the ask! I really love your ideas/reqs and will be making at least 2 more blogs as a reply to this ask (that will cover bows etc). For now I've gone with swordfights.

This guide dives into the technical aspects of sword fighting—from the types of swords and injuries to the medical realities of treating these wounds.

My long-form posts are usually filled with long detailed paras but this time I wanted to focus more on the 'facts' and had a lot of things to cover so I stuck to concise pointers for each area. That being said, feel free to ask follow-up questions if needed!

Understanding the Blades

Firstly, here's a quick breakdown on the types of swords and their impact on injuries

Longswords Longswords are double-edged, straight blades often used with two hands. They cause deep slashes capable of severing muscles and tendons, and thrusts that can puncture organs or arteries. Heavy blows can also break bones.

Rapiers Rapiers are thin, pointed blades designed for thrusting. They cause precise punctures targeting vital organs or arteries. Less effective for slashing but deadly in skilled hands.

Katanas Katanas are curved, single-edged blades optimized for slicing. Their shape allows for those gory slashes that can amputate limbs or expose bones. Thrusts can also be fatal.

Sabers A saber is a curved blade with one sharp edge, typically used on horseback. These blades are designed for slashing, often causing wide, shallow wounds.

Short Swords and Daggers Smaller blades that are used for close combat can sometimes fall under the sword umbrella based on their shape and length. A Jambiya for example is categorised as a 'short sword'. These work for deep puncture wounds in tight quarters. Can sever arteries or puncture the heart or lungs.

In short, the design influences the wounds. Remember: 

Straight blades are versatile, causing both slashes and thrusts.

Curved blades focus on slicing, leaving gaping wounds.

Thin blades like rapiers target precision strikes to critical areas.

Types of Sword Injuries

As mentioned above I'm trying to cut to the chase with this blog so for each injury type, I've covered what I think are the key points. These are the appearance, severity, blood loss caused by this type of wound, and pain levels. I think these four basically cover everything a writer needs to know when picking their poison. 

Slash Wounds

Appearance: Long, open cuts with jagged or clean edges depending on the blade.

Severity: Superficial slashes may damage only the skin and fat layers, but deeper cuts sever muscles, tendons, and even arteries.

Blood Loss: Significant, especially if major arteries like the femoral (thigh) or brachial (arm) are cut.

Pain: Immediate burning or stinging, with sharp increases if nerves are involved.

Thrust Wounds

Appearance: Small entry wounds but potentially deep and catastrophic internal damage.

Severity: Can puncture vital organs such as the heart, lungs, liver, or intestines.

Blood Loss: Often internal, leading to hidden dangers like haemorrhaging or collapsed lungs.

Pain: Stabbing pains that radiate outward, especially if organs are pierced.

Blunt Force Injuries

Appearance: Bruising, swelling, or fractures from strikes with the flat side or hilt.

Severity: Can lead to broken bones, ruptured vessels, or concussions.

Blood Loss: Minimal unless skin is broken.

Pain: Deep aches or sharp, localized pain from fractures.

Assessing the Severity of Wounds

When assessing the severity of a wound, there are a few important things to keep in mind. To make it easier, I've put together a quick checklist to help you out.

Location: Wounds to the head, neck, or chest are often life-threatening. Injuries to limbs are less fatal but can lead to significant blood loss.

Depth: Shallow cuts are often cosmetic but painful. Deep wounds risk severing arteries, damaging organs, or causing fractures.

Angle: Oblique cuts may glance off bones or armor. Direct thrusts to unprotected areas are far more dangerous.

What Happens When Each Area is Wounded

It's kind of a given that each area of the body is different and would thus cause different reactions when pierced. While many writers stick to the 'blood dripping from the mouth, hand desperately clutching the wound' look, I think it's a good idea to consider the medicinal side of your injuries.

Are there arteries in this area? Vital organs? Muscle and tissue? Here's a quick breakdown of those questions (no I haven’t mentioned every area or organ of the body):  

Limbs

Forearms and Upper Arms: Severing the brachial artery results in rapid blood loss. Cuts to tendons disable grip strength or arm movement.

Thighs: The femoral artery is a critical target. Damage here leads to exsanguination within minutes if untreated.

Calves and Feet: While less life-threatening, injuries here severely limit mobility and can cause nerve damage leading to paralysis.

Abdomen

Liver: Heavy bleeding due to its vascularity. Potentially fatal without intervention.

Stomach: Leakage of acidic contents causes severe internal infections.

Intestines: Punctures lead to sepsis from spilled waste material.

Kidneys: Severe back pain and rapid blood loss from renal artery damage.

Chest

Lungs: Punctures cause pneumothorax (collapsed lung), leading to difficulty breathing and chest pain.

Heart: Even small cuts are often fatal due to rapid blood loss and cardiac tamponade (fluid pressure around the heart).

Ribs: Fractures can puncture lungs or other organs.

Neck

Jugular Vein or Carotid Artery: Severing either leads to death in under two minutes from blood loss.

Trachea: Obstruction causes immediate respiratory distress.

Spinal Cord: Severance leads to paralysis or death.

Back

Spinal Cord: Injuries vary from numbness to total paralysis depending on the location.

Kidneys: Vulnerable to back stabs; severe bleeding and pain radiating to the abdomen.

Face/Head

Cheeks: Slashes leave disfiguring scars but are rarely fatal.

Eyes: Punctures result in blindness and intense pain.

Skull: Blunt force may cause concussions or fractures; penetrating wounds can be fatal if they reach the brain.

Treating Sword Fight Injuries

In the chaos of a sword fight, providing immediate care can mean the difference between life and death. The first priority is to stop the bleeding. For deep cuts or arterial wounds, use a clean cloth or pressure bandage to compress the injury. If the bleeding doesn’t subside, especially in limb injuries, apply a tourniquet above the wound, ensuring it’s tight enough to restrict blood flow without causing further damage. 

Once bleeding is controlled, stabilize the victim. Immobilize fractures with makeshift splints, and in cases of suspected spinal injuries, avoid moving the victim unnecessarily to prevent exacerbating the damage. Finally, cleaning the wound is critical to minimize infection risks. Remove debris carefully and irrigate the wound with clean water if possible. Though battlefield medicine is rudimentary, these steps provide a fighting chance for survival.

Also, one thing people forget to go over is temperature. Keeping the victim warm is essential, as blood loss can lead to hypovolemic shock, which compromises the body’s ability to circulate oxygen. 

Historical vs. Modern Treatment

The approach to sword fight injuries varies dramatically between historical and modern contexts. While I can’t completely break down the differences, here’s (what I hope) is a quick overview that will aid in your research. 

Historically, treating wounds was rudimentary at best. Herbal poultices were applied to reduce inflammation, and cauterization—burning the wound to seal it—was a common but agonizing method to prevent bleeding and infection. Stitching techniques were crude, and the lack of sterilization meant infections like sepsis or gangrene were often fatal. 

Fret not, modern medicine offers a more hopeful prognosis. Sterile wound care, antibiotics, and surgical interventions allow for precise repairs to severed arteries, muscles, or organs. Advanced imaging technology can assess internal injuries, while blood transfusions and IV fluids combat shock effectively. 

This just underscores how important it is for writers to consider what timeline their story is set in. Sorry but your medieval prince won’t just have a full recovery after suffering a brutal gash, especially not if his only source of medicine was love interest’s xyz solution. Infections are a very real issue. In fact, most deaths during that time were due to infection. Do your research.

The Psychological Aftermath

The aftermath of surviving a sword fight extends far beyond physical wounds, leaving lasting emotional and psychological scars. Many survivors experience trauma or PTSD, manifesting as flashbacks to the battle, vivid nightmares, or an overwhelming sense of anxiety, especially in situations that trigger memories of the fight. I would absolutely love to see people incorporate this in their writing! If your modern OCs can get flashbacks and nightmares after a single gun altercation what makes you think the medieval ones won’t experience something similar? 

Survivor’s guilt is another common burden, particularly if the character witnessed comrades die or was forced to make life-and-death decisions during combat. These emotional struggles can deeply shape their personality, making them more cautious, resentful, or even vengeful. Villain arc here we come! 

One thing to remember; physical limitations compound the psychological toll. Permanent injuries like chronic pain, reduced mobility, or disfigurement can remind a character daily of their ordeal, influencing how they interact with others and navigate the world.

As a writer it’s important to take recovery into account. Exploring these aspects adds depth to the character’s recovery arc, making their journey more relatable and human. 

Remember folks; a sword fight isn’t just a moment of action—it’s a fight as brutal and dangerous as any knife or gun altercation you can think of (if not worse). 

Crafting the Fight Scene

To end this blog, here are my (and various Google articles’) two cents on what you should be focusing on/keeping in mind during a swordfight. 

Writing a compelling sword fight requires balancing technical accuracy with emotional resonance. Pacing is key: alternate between rapid exchanges of blows and brief pauses to allow tension to build. These pauses provide an opportunity to describe a character’s thoughts, pain, or strategic planning. 

Sensory details bring the scene to life—capture the sharp clash of steel, the metallic tang of blood in the air, the searing pain of a wound, and the slickness of a sweat-soaked grip on a sword hilt.

Focus on the characters themselves to make the scene more engaging. Highlight their emotions, such as fear, determination, or desperation, alongside the physical toll of the fight. Show how fatigue sets in, how their breathing becomes labored, and how every swing of the blade drains their strength. 

Injuries should be portrayed realistically; instead of dismissing wounds as minor setbacks, use them to heighten tension. A cut to the leg might slow a character’s movements, while a stab to the shoulder could make wielding their weapon excruciating. 

Balancing these elements ensures your fight scenes are not only thrilling but also grounded in a visceral reality.

Resources for Writers

Books:

"The Book of the Sword" by Richard Francis Burton

"Medieval Swordsmanship" by John Clements

Videos:

YouTube channels like "Skallagrim" and "Scholagladiatoria" for sword reviews and techniques.They’re very helpful for all sorts of weapons actually so OP I think you should consider stalking their channels you’d find a TON of info (I get most of mine from them lol). 

Articles:

I don’t have any precise ones but to boost your research consider medical journals on trauma and wound care. Oh and historical accounts of duels and battles.

[f1cflcfic]

Won't Say I'm In Love (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) - part viii

pairing: lando norris x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n); past carlos alcaraz x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

series: part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | ...

May 1, 2025

[Excerpt Vogue Interview]

There’s only a handful of tennis superstars that have managed to leave a mark on popular culture. In fact, perhaps it’s only Serena Williams who’s ever really succeeded in doing so. But for a brief time in the early ‘00s, the world was obsessed with Anna Kournikova – a tennis prodigy, who infamously got more attention for her looks than her talent.

Y/N L/N says she understands why I suggest there’s some similarities between her and Kournikova. “But you could ask any female tennis player and they’d all be able to relate to the misogyny. Because we all have those experiences, though perhaps not always to the same degree.”

Just like Kournikova, L/N has found herself on the more extreme end of media scrutiny, in part due to her relationships. Or well, “just the one, really,” she clarifies. For about a year and a half, the entire world watched as two generational talents were taking tennis by storm – side by side. Until all of a sudden, they weren’t anymore. Now, Carlos Alcaraz is a blacklisted topic, nothing but a closed chapter in her life – and playing doubles is “not a priority”, whether mixed or not. 

When I ask if she’d consider playing with her close friend Coco Gauff, she laughs. “Coco already has a doubles partner with whom she’s had some great results. I wouldn’t want to put that pressure on our friendship.”

Instead, L/N has had to rise from the ashes of a failed relationship and failed campaign to retain her #1 status in singles. “My goal for this year is to just continue to improve myself. Physically I’m definitely in the best shape I’ve ever been. Now it’s just about the mindset and taking it point by point.”

There’s a lot of people who believe in her, including those at the helm of Dior. The luxury fashion brand recently announced L/N as the new face of their latest campaign. “As exciting as it was, I was also really scared. I really believe in this partnership, but I wasn’t sure what the response would be. I found myself worrying that people might not take me seriously. Then I realised it’s absolutely stupid to spend time or energy thinking about that.”

Indeed, it’s a choice she makes every day when she applies the first layer of mascara. Or when she decides what tennis outfit to wear out onto the court. “It’s just the constant quest for validation and recognition. And because professional sports are so masculinized, there’s a part of me that wants to not wear mascara or wear a cute outfit – just to prove that I’m great regardless of beauty standards. I don’t deserve to win more, or have more success, or sponsorships just because I chose to dress up. But then at the same time, I want to embrace the cute outfits and the make-up, because I also want to prove that you can be feminine and girly, and slay at fashion and tennis at the same time.”

When asked if she’ll incorporate special designs for special tournaments, aside from when rules dictate it so, she smiles. “I think Serena [Williams] did such a great job at showing how fashion and performance overlap. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Another person who’s done so successfully, is none other than L/N’s good friend and Formula One driver Lando Norris.  “Maybe I’ll have to ask him for some suggestions, though I’m sure Dior would have some ideas – if we were to do that.”

They don’t often talk about work, but share their struggles with one another from time to time. “Racing and tennis are obviously very different sports, but there’s also a lot of overlap. The weird dynamic of sometimes having your closest teammate or friend also pose the biggest threat. Having a calendar of competitions dictate your life. We had to share our calendars just to make it easier to see when we could hang out. But when we do – I’d imagine it’s like any other friendship. You just talk about life and try to experience it together, one moment at a time.”

Not that they have very many moments. Most weeks of the year, L/N spends traveling from one tournament to the next. “I really should be better at packing than I am, all things considering. My hotel rooms always look like a bomb just exploded. Plus the travel is brutal. Especially when you then lose a tournament and it feels like you did it all for nothing.”

It has L/N circling back to the topic of her sponsorship deal and the enormous amount of money that’s needed to sustain a career at the top level. “I’m so grateful to be in this position. I can skip some tournaments, I can afford to do that – to give myself a break. I can have a coach, and an agent, and a manager, and a physical therapist. I can pay them to be with me all year round. I can fly us all from one tournament to the next. I get my equipment custom made by my sponsors. That’s very different from when you have to go through qualifiers, just hoping you’ll make at least enough money to cover the expenses of your trip.”

So she tries to give back when she can. She plays charity matches, advocates for equal pay, and screentime. Just recently, it was announced she’ll be participating in one of Rafael Nadal’s Academy programmes. “I think that’s the best way to leave your mark. To make this sport more exciting and more accessible for the next generation. Because everyone should have the opportunity to fall in love with tennis.”

One thing is for sure, the world has certainly fallen in love with her.

May 2-4, 2025

[Excerpt F1 News]

It's the second sprint race of the year. First one, maybe not the best result for you, Lando. What are you hoping for this time around?

"I'm always hoping to get the most out of myself, but I'm still also not feeling fully comfortable in the car. Which sucks, I really just want to give the team what they deserve, which is a podium every single race - whether a full race or a sprint stint. But I also want to be realistic. So we'll see."

This race is also coinciding with another major sporting event. A few weeks ago, you and Carlos were quite vocal about missing out on the Masters. You both predicted a McIlroy win - how do you feel about predicting a Madrid Open win?

"That's easy - Y/N L/N of course."

She was just playing her own sort of qualifying tournament today.

"Not qualifying - semi-final. What's the score then?"

"Just finished, L/N is through to the final."

"Alright, nice! Well, let's see if I can do the same then."

May 5-10, 2025

[Excerpt: Live commentary Eurosport TennisTV]

"Bad news coming from the locker room, as Y/N L/N is forced to retire after a very unfortunate moment on the clay. Just 4 games into the first set, the player seemed to misstep and promptly fell down as she grabbed her left leg. A medical timeout however wasn’t enough, which also casts a huge shadow over the rest of the clay season for the current #2. A win here in Rome would have seen her pass by competitor Iga Swiatek. And if it's bad enough to withdraw, it could mean she is also going to have to withdraw from other tournaments - just to give herself enough time to recover from whatever injury she is dealing with. Could even affect her bid for the Roland Garros Grand Slam title."

"Yeah, her coach also did not look very happy. In fact, Clijsters had seemed a bit concerned in her opening match as well. If this is indeed a continuation of the injury we saw in Madrid, it means something is wrong with her recovery process, or she's pushing too hard. And if that's the case, that compromises your training and preparation schedule for the actual Grand Slams. Especially when it comes to clay, which is so particular in how it handles speed and force."

"Well, we will surely let you know once we hear more about this development. For now, it means that Ons Jabeur moves on as default winner to face Elena Rybakina in the next round."

A/N: sorry for the delay, i had a really bad migraine and a work emergency, but it's here now!

next part is available here

♥ likes, comments, reblogs and asks are always very much appreciated - i love chatting and hearing your thoughts! ♥

taglist (open): @linnygirl09 @julesbog @midnight-and-books @sarx164 @obxstiles @freyathehuntress @vhkdncu2ei8997 @berrnuu @lightdragonrayne @glow-ish @batsratswrites @blushmimi @colmathgames2 @esw1012

[kyunghwannie]

𝐆𝐀𝐌3 𝐁𝐎1

Myoui Mina x Male Reader

➤ Word count: 22012

➤ Tags: Slightly Public Sex, Rough Face Fucking, Pussy eating, Collarbone and Navel worship, Creampie (Pussy), Anal Creampie, Doggy and Prone bone position (lots of), Outercourse (No Clothes version), Cum drinking, Excessive Squirting, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Switch!Mina

➤ Description: Gaming was one of her favourite hobbies. Despite having her own customised gaming PC for herself, there are times when she goes to new PC bang with one of TWICE's manager as security. Today was no different. Untill, she sees that the floor wasn't empty as she expected or booked when she found out she had a rather intriguing side mate. What happens when two gamers meet? Is it only games they will play or something else..?

The world knew Myoui Mina as TWICE’s elegant, enigmatic penguin—her delicate beauty, poised demeanor, and mesmerizing performances were enough to captivate millions. Some adored her for her stunning visuals, others for the quiet warmth she carried beneath her reserved nature. But beyond the stage, away from flashing cameras and roaring crowds, Mina had passions that felt far more personal. One of them was gaming.

In one of JYPE’s behind-the-scenes videos, fans had seen her immersed in Minecraft, effortlessly navigating the blocky landscapes with the same grace she carried on stage. What they didn’t see, however, was her excitement for a fresh, untouched server or the satisfaction of crafting a perfect world with nothing but time and creativity. It was in those moments—clicking away at her custom gaming PC—that Myoui Mina wasn’t an idol. She was just another gamer.

Still, even with a high-end setup at home, there was something irresistibly nostalgic about a PC bang—the dim neon lights, the faint scent of coffee and energy drinks, the quiet hum of countless machines running at once. It was a different kind of thrill, one she indulged in when she could. Of course, being Myoui Mina of TWICE meant she couldn’t simply walk in unnoticed. So, when a new PC bang opened up, she decided to check it out—this time, with an extra sense of security.

The low rumble of the van’s engine filled the space, the steady rhythm almost lulling her into a light daze. Mina leaned against the window, her fingers lazily tracing the cool glass as droplets of rain began to form outside. She exhaled softly. "The weather is gloomy, huh? Arasso..." Across from her, the manager chuckled while keeping his eyes on the road. "You always say that, Mina. You don’t like rainy days?"

Mina tilted her head, watching the darkening sky. "Ani, I don’t hate them… just makes everything feel slow." The manager nodded, maneuvering the van through the quiet streets. "Well, good thing we’re going somewhere fun then. This PC bang’s new, and it’s got a private section. No worries about fans suddenly recognizing you."

Mina pulled at the sleeves of her cropped jacket, letting the soft fabric bunch slightly at her wrists. Dressed in a black tank top, a greyish-silver cropped jacket, and matching sweatpants, she felt comfortably casual—an outfit that matched the laid-back anticipation bubbling beneath her usual calm.

"Mm. That’s good," she murmured, her jet-black hair falling effortlessly over her shoulders as she turned her gaze back to the window. The city lights flickered through the glass, and somewhere between the neon glow and the soft patter of rain, a small smile tugged at her lips.

A new place. A new game. She had no idea that tonight, she wasn’t the only one logging in.

The rain had settled into a light drizzle by the time the van slowed to a stop. The street outside was quiet, save for the occasional car passing by, headlights reflecting off the damp pavement. Mina glanced up at the building before her—a sleek, modern design with soft neon accents lining the entrance, giving it an almost futuristic feel.

"We're here," the manager announced, shifting the van into park before turning to face her. "They’ve already prepared everything for you upstairs. No one else will be on that floor, so you can relax."

Mina nodded, pushing open the door with practiced ease. The cool night air greeted her skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the van. She adjusted the fit of her greyish-silver cropped jacket, making sure it sat comfortably over her black tank top, then ran a hand through her jet-black hair, smoothing it down as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

The PC bang’s entrance glowed invitingly, a stark contrast to the gloomy weather. Through the glass doors, she could already see the lower floor—rows of high-end gaming setups illuminated by RGB lights, a few scattered gamers lost in their own worlds, fingers flying across keyboards, their faces bathed in the soft glow of their screens. The air inside carried a familiar mix of freshly brewed coffee, faint traces of snacks, and the subtle hum of machinery—a comforting blend, one she associated with hours of uninterrupted gaming.

The manager led the way, pushing open the door as a polite receptionist behind the counter gave a respectful nod. "Welcome, Miss Myoui. Your floor has been fully reserved as per request. Please, follow me."

Mina offered a small, appreciative smile before following the staff member toward the back of the room. As she walked, her sharp eyes took in the details—the modern leather seating along the walls, the discreet soundproofing panels, the warm yet vibrant lighting that made the space feel lively without being overwhelming.

A short hallway led to a private elevator, its sleek black doors sliding open with a gentle chime. Mina stepped inside, her reflection briefly staring back at her in the polished metal walls before the doors closed, and the ascent to the VIP floor began.

When the doors slid open again, Mina immediately understood why this place was different. Unlike the energetic, communal feel of the lower floor, the VIP section exuded tranquility. The lighting was softer here, casting a warm, golden glow that contrasted beautifully with the cool neon accents embedded into the walls. The air was perfectly temperature-controlled, and the faint hum of the high-performance gaming PCs blended seamlessly into the peaceful ambiance.

She stepped out, her sneakers making no sound against the plush carpeting. The space was designed for comfort and luxury without losing the essence of a true gaming haven. Large, ergonomic chairs lined the high-end setups, each desk spaced just far enough apart to ensure privacy. There were even cozy lounge areas, complete with bean bags and small coffee tables, ideal for short breaks between matches.

Mina ran her fingers lightly along the edge of a nearby desk, noting the quality of the materials. "They really went all out, huh?" she mused, her voice barely above a whisper.

The manager chuckled beside her. "TWICE’s name holds weight. When I told them who was coming, they made sure everything was top-tier." Mina sighed, dropping into one of the sleek gaming chairs, letting the memory foam cushion mold to her shape. "Feels nice."

The staff member who had escorted them earlier stepped forward. "If you need anything—food, drinks, or assistance with the equipment—please don’t hesitate to press the service button. We’ll be on standby downstairs."

Mina simply nodded, already glancing toward the monitor in front of her. The moment she settled into place, a familiar excitement bubbled beneath her usual composed exterior. She reached for the sleek mechanical keyboard, pressing a key to bring the screen to life. The monitor flickered, loading the homepage of a well-known gaming platform.

The world around her seemed to fade into the background. Here, she wasn’t Mina of TWICE—she wasn’t the poised performer with millions of eyes watching her every move. Here, she was just a gamer, ready to lose herself in a world of pixels and possibilities. What she didn’t know was that tonight, she wasn’t alone.

The rain had let up slightly by the time I arrived at the PC bang, the neon glow of the entrance reflecting off the damp pavement. I stepped inside, brushing a few stray droplets from my hoodie as the warm air of the establishment wrapped around me. The familiar scent of coffee, electronics, and a hint of instant ramen filled my senses—it was the kind of place where time disappeared, where hours melted away in the glow of monitors and the rapid clicks of mechanical keyboards.

I had been looking forward to this. A new PC bang, freshly opened, promising top-tier setups, a cozy atmosphere, and a VIP section that guaranteed privacy—exactly what I needed. I wasn’t a professional gamer or anything, but I enjoyed my fair share of gaming marathons. Having a dedicated, quiet space to lose myself in a session without distractions? Perfect.

Approaching the counter, I gave a polite nod to the young woman at reception. She was typing something on her screen, her eyes flitting back and forth between multiple windows. I could see a faint crease forming between her brows, an almost imperceptible tension in her shoulders.

"Hey," I greeted, leaning slightly against the counter. "I have a VIP reservation. Booked it a while back."

Her fingers stopped mid-type. She blinked once. Twice. Then, a look of realization—followed immediately by sheer panic—washed over her face. "Oh no…" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

I raised an eyebrow. "That’s not a great reaction."

She straightened quickly, forcing a tight-lipped smile that did absolutely nothing to hide her obvious distress. "Uhm, sir, could you give me just a moment?" She clicked rapidly through her system, her fingers moving almost frantically. "I… I see your booking, but there’s, uh, a situation."

I folded my arms, tilting my head. "A situation?"

She swallowed, clearly debating something internally before sighing in defeat. "I won’t lie to you. We accidentally double-booked the VIP floor today… and the other guest has already arrived."

I exhaled sharply through my nose, not in anger, but in mild exasperation. "Let me guess, they’re someone important?" She hesitated. "I… can’t disclose their name."

That was enough of an answer in itself. If she had no issue telling me about their existence but couldn’t say who they were, that meant they were high-profile. A celebrity? A streamer? Someone with influence?

I wasn’t one to make a scene over a mistake, but I also wasn’t about to just walk away. I had booked this spot well in advance for a reason. Besides, if I left now, I’d just end up back home, staring at the same old setup in my room.

"Alright," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "How about this—you take me to them, and I’ll talk to them myself?" The receptionist’s eyes widened slightly. "You… want to talk to them?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. If they’re cool with sharing, maybe we can just game together. I don’t bite." She chewed her lip, considering, before nodding. "Okay… But just so you know, they might say no."

"Then at least I tried." With that, she gestured for me to follow, leading me past the general gaming floor and toward the private elevator at the back.

As the elevator doors slid open, I immediately noticed the shift in atmosphere. The VIP floor was completely different from the main area below. The lighting was warmer, more intimate, without sacrificing the sleek, high-tech feel of a gamer’s paradise. Each station had top-of-the-line PCs, ergonomic chairs, even small lounge spaces with bean bags and plush seating for breaks between sessions. The air was quieter, almost tranquil, save for the gentle hum of high-performance machines waiting to be used.

And sitting near the far end, lost in the glow of a monitor, was someone I immediately recognized.

Myoui Mina.

I nearly stopped in my tracks. "You have got to be kidding me."

Of all the people in Seoul, of all the possible VIP guests, it just had to be her. TWICE’s elegant, quiet, insanely talented penguin. A world-renowned performer known for her grace, her stunning visuals, and, of course, her love for gaming.

The receptionist hesitated beside me, likely wondering if I was about to freak out or back out. Instead, I let out a small breath and collected myself.

"Alright," I muttered. "Let’s do this."

The receptionist approached cautiously, clearing her throat as she stopped beside Mina’s station. "Miss Myoui?"

Mina, who had been adjusting her in-game settings, turned her head slightly. Her jet-black hair fell effortlessly over one shoulder, her expression neutral but observant as she took in the sudden interruption.

"Hmm?" Her voice was soft, but firm.

The receptionist glanced at me nervously before speaking. "There’s, um… been a bit of a mix-up. This gentleman here also had a VIP booking for today, made long before we confirmed yours. We, uh… We were hoping you might be open to discussing a possible solution."

Mina’s gaze flickered to me, her deep brown eyes studying me with quiet curiosity. For a second, I wondered if she thought I was just another fan, someone who had engineered this situation on purpose just to meet her. I wasn’t. I had no idea she’d even be here tonight.

I took a step forward, offering a small, casual shrug. "Hey. I know this is sudden, and I don’t want to make things complicated for you. If you’d rather have the floor to yourself, I’ll step back. But—" I tilted my head, a smirk playing at my lips. "—if you don’t mind some company, maybe we can just game together for a bit? No pressure."

Mina didn’t respond right away. Instead, she simply… looked at me. Really looked at me. Not like an idol sizing up a fan. Not like someone wary of an intruder in her space. Just… a gamer assessing another gamer.

After a moment, she turned fully toward me, her fingers idly tapping against her desk. Her outfit—a black tank top, cropped greyish-silver jacket, and matching sweatpants—gave her an effortlessly laid-back but striking look. The lighting above cast a soft glow against her flawless complexion, making her already ethereal presence even more surreal.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"What do you play?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

Her lips twitched, almost amused. "What games do you play?"

I huffed a small laugh, stuffing my hands in my pockets. "A bit of everything. FPS, RPGs, MOBAs, you name it."

Mina’s brows lifted slightly. "Minecraft?"

I grinned. "Oh, you have no idea how many late nights I’ve spent in that game."

She hummed, clearly considering something. Then, to my surprise, she motioned toward the empty gaming station beside her. "Sit. Let’s see how good you actually are."

The receptionist visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping as she let out a quiet sigh of relief. I smirked slightly before pulling out the chair beside Mina’s, settling in. As the screen flickered to life before me, I couldn’t help but think— This was already shaping up to be an interesting night.

I shrugged off my jacket and hooked it onto a nearby corner, rolling my shoulders a bit. The room was warm enough, and I didn’t need the extra layer.

Beneath it, I wore a fitted black t-shirt—not tight enough to scream ‘look at me,’ but snug enough to emphasize the lean, athletic build I had naturally maintained. Not a hulking gym monster, not some lanky string bean—just a balance. Functional muscle. Firm, but not excessive. Matched with black sweatpants, the whole look ended up as an unintentional all-black outfit. Not on purpose, just… happened.

Pulling my blu-ray glasses from my pocket, I slid them on. I didn’t actually need them, not for any prescription reason, but they helped with screen fatigue—and, let’s be real, they looked good.

That’s when I felt it. Not just a glance. A stare. Not a quick flicker of the eyes. A full, toe-to-head scan. And I didn’t even need to look directly to know who it was. I kept my focus on logging in, fingers moving over the keyboard smoothly, but my peripheral vision didn’t miss a thing.

Mina was staring at me.

Not a simple ‘oh, new person’ look. No, this was something else. Something longer. Something assessing, maybe admiring. Her gaze moved slowly, taking me in, analyzing.

Her eyes trailed from my shoulders, down my arms, my torso, the way my shirt fit just right—and when I shifted slightly, pretending not to notice, she snapped back up. Her expression was neutral… except for one thing. The faintest upturn of her lips. An almost-smirk. Maybe

Still, I acted as if I didn’t catch her. Last thing I wanted was to make her feel awkward about it, especially since this was the first time we were meeting.

Instead, I settled into my chair, adjusting the armrests slightly before pulling my keyboard closer. I logged into my account, fingers flying across the keys out of habit. My profile popped up on the screen, along with my usual game list. A mix of FPS, strategy, and a few unexpected titles.

I could feel her eyes still lingering, even if briefly. "Alright," I said casually, finally glancing at her. "What’s the plan? Are we jumping into a lobby, or are you going to make me prove myself first?"

Mina leaned back slightly in her chair, her lips pressing together in mock contemplation. "Hmm… tempting." Her voice was smooth, quiet yet deliberate. It had that same graceful quality as when she performed—but here, in a private setting, there was a relaxed ease to it.

She turned her gaze back to the screen, her fingers tapping lightly on her mouse. "Let’s warm up first. See if you can keep up."

I smirked. "Oh, you’re underestimating me already?"

Mina’s lips twitched again. "Not at all. Just… gauging expectations." There it was again. That small, subtle challenge hidden beneath her composed demeanor.

I cracked my knuckles. "Alright, Myoui. Let’s see what you’ve got." And with that, we entered the game.

As we set up the world, I heard something unexpected—Mina giggling.

I turned my head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

She barely suppressed another laugh, pointing at the screen. "Your Minecraft name." I followed her finger to the game lobby where my username was displayed in all its majestic, raw-power glory.

"BlockDaddy."

I crossed my arms, feigning offense. "Excuse me, that name has class. It commands respect. It radiates authority." Mina tilted her head, her voice dripping with amusement. "It sounds like it radiates… something, alright." I smirked. "And what about yours, huh? Why are you judging me when your MC name is literally ‘PenguinEmpress’?"

Her fingers paused on her keyboard before she turned to me, looking almost caught. "It’s a respectable name."

"Oh yeah? Empress of what? Waddling?"

She scoffed playfully, giving my shoulder a light nudge before returning her attention to the world creation screen. "Let’s just get started."

As we went through the settings—choosing a biome, tweaking a few gameplay aspects—Mina suddenly spoke up, her tone a little different this time. "You’re… really calm."

I glanced at her. "That a bad thing?"

She shook her head. "No, it’s just… most people—most guys—act differently around me. But you don’t seem fazed at all."

Ah. So that’s what this was about.. I leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms slightly before responding. "Don���t get me wrong, Mina. I’ve been a fat-ass ONCE since 2015. TWICE has been my group since your debut, and I adored you—still do. As an idol and as a person. Everything I saw from my phone, concerts, your live stages... You’re amazing."

Her fingers stilled on her mouse for just a second, as if she wasn’t expecting that honesty.

I continued, my voice steady. "But that doesn’t mean I see you as some antique to be put on display and gawked at. That’d be weird. You’re a person first."

She blinked, looking at me with something between surprise and appreciation.

I exhaled, shaking my head with a chuckle. "And honestly? My mom would smack the hell out of me if she ever heard I gawked at girls." Mina perked up at that, clicking to enter the world seed. "Why is that?"

I smiled at the memory. "She taught me three things growing up. One—when a woman says ‘no,’ it’s law. No debates, no arguments, no excuses."

Mina’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but she nodded.

"Two—if you love someone, show it in actions, not just words. Anyone can say they care, but proving it? That’s different."

She swallowed slightly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing her keyboard’s edge.

I finished, my tone softer now. "And three—never make someone you care about question their worth. If you do, you don’t deserve to breathe the same air as them."

For a moment, there was only the quiet hum of the PCs and the distant murmur of the reception desk. Mina didn’t speak immediately. But I saw it. That slight shift in her expression. The way her grip on her mouse softened. The small, nearly imperceptible intake of breath. Something about my words struck her. And though she didn’t say it outright, I could tell—something inside her clicked. Like an automatic ‘Feel safe around him’ button had been pressed.

As soon as we spawned into the world, Mina’s soft giggle echoed beside me. I swear, my heart nearly skipped a beat.

I turned to look at her, but her gaze was locked onto my in-game character. "What?" I asked, half-curious, half-bracing myself for whatever she found amusing.

She pointed at my Minecraft skin, her lips curling into another giggle. "Your name is BlockDaddy, but… your skin is a duck?"

I glanced at the screen, my custom-made pixelated duck standing proudly on the grassy block. "Hey, this is not just any duck. This is a high-quality, hand-crafted, uniquely designed duck skin."

Mina grinned, leaning slightly closer. "It’s adorable. I expected something… tougher. Like a knight or a warrior." I crossed my arms, smirking. "And what, a duck can’t be a warrior? This is Duck of War. You underestimate my power."

Mina laughed, shaking her head before focusing back on the game. "Alright, Duck of War, here’s the plan. We’re speedrunning to find an Ancient City." I whistled. "Going straight for the deep dark, huh? Bold."

"Of course." She shrugged as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "But first, we need to survive. That means breaking trees, crafting tools, gearing up, and getting food." I mused, "Sounds like a plan, PenguinEmpress."

We started off punching trees, the most classic Minecraft move. Mina worked efficiently, gathering logs and crafting a workbench, while I—well, I got distracted. "Hey, look at that bee."

Mina turned just in time to see me accidentally punch it. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!" she shrieked, eyes wide as the angry swarm descended upon me.

I ran in circles, desperately trying to escape while she laughed uncontrollably. "This is a disaster! I didn’t mean to!" "Actions have consequences!" she teased between laughs, watching as my character took rapid poison damage. "I regret nothing." I said dramatically before collapsing from bee stings.

A few minutes later, when we finally got back on track, I decided to test my luck again. "Hey, you ever seen a creeper up close?" Mina’s tone turned suspicious. "Why do I feel like I’m about to regret answering this?"

"Come here, let me show you something." She cautiously followed as I led her to a cave opening. I pointed ahead where a creeper stood completely still. "Now, if you stand just the right distance away—"

I took a step forward—BOOM. The explosion sent us both flying backward. Mina let out a loud, startled "YA!" before dissolving into laughter. "What was the plan there?!" I groaned, respawning at our original spawn point. "I don’t know. I thought maybe it would just stare at me menacingly." She said, "BlockDaddy, your survival skills are questionable."

We continued gathering resources, finally crafting iron tools and armor. At one point, I turned to see Mina standing perfectly still, looking at a cow.

I tilted my head. "Uh… you good?"

She sighed dramatically. "I don’t want to kill it."

I chuckled. "We need food, Mina."

She groaned, reluctantly pulling out her sword. "I’m sorry, Mr. Moo…"

The cow made one final “Moo.” Then silence.

Mina sighed. "I’m never doing that again."

I patted her virtual shoulder. "I’ll handle the hunting. You just… continue being an Empress of Peace."

She gave a small, grateful smile. An hour passed in what felt like minutes. Between accidental mob encounters, mistimed jumps, me getting lost multiple times, and Mina laughing at every dumb mistake I made, the experience was just pure fun. And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to enjoy Mina’s presence a little too much. And maybe she is too.

As I focused on gathering materials, my gaze subtly drifted to my side, observing Mina through my peripheral vision. God… she was beautiful. Not just in the way celebrities are, not in the way someone is labeled "pretty" by default. No—Mina was ethereal. It was as if the deities had taken their time, sculpting every delicate detail of her in her mother’s womb with divine precision. Her flawless jet-black hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her elegant face. The soft glow from the monitor illuminated her porcelain skin, her lips slightly parted as she focused on the game. Her long lashes fluttered when she blinked, and even that felt captivating. It wasn’t fair. How could someone look so effortlessly breathtaking just sitting there, clicking away at a keyboard?

I blinked, shaking myself out of my trance—only to realize she had caught me. Mina smirked, her eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. "You’ve been staring for a while, BlockDaddy."

Busted. I let out a small chuckle, my fingers still tapping away on my keyboard. "Ah… sorry about that." Mina tilted her head slightly, her smirk deepening. "For what?"

I exhaled, deciding there was no point in dancing around it. "For staring. But to be fair…" I glanced at her briefly before turning back to the game. "It’s hard not to when you look… well, the way you do."

Silence.. I wasn’t sure if she was caught off guard or if she was processing my words, so I continued. "You’re just… ethereal. That’s the only way I can describe it."

From the corner of my eye, I saw her blush beautifully. The pink hue dusting her cheeks was faint, but under the soft lighting, it was impossible to miss. Mina was used to compliments. As an idol, she probably heard them thousands of times from fans, interviewers, and industry professionals. But something about my words—the rawness, the honesty, the lack of flirtatious pretense—seemed to catch her off guard.

She twirled a strand of her hair, looking down at her keyboard for a moment before letting out a soft breath.Then, with a bashful smile, she said something that nearly made my brain short-circuit. "You’re really lovely looking too, you know."

I blinked. "Huh?" She chuckled at my reaction before giving me a curious look. "I’m serious. You’ve got this… effortless charm. And, well…" she paused, "Why aren’t you a model? If not an idol, at least?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, exhaling. "Low confidence back then, I guess." I shrugged. "Now? Who knows. Maybe it’s too late. Maybe not." Mina studied me, her eyes holding something I couldn’t quite place—admiration, intrigue, something else?

I smirked, breaking the moment. "Why? You interested in my past? You trying to dig deep, PenguinEmpress?" She immediately blushed, her brows furrowing as she turned back to the game. "Shut up." Before I could react, her character punched mine straight into a pool of lava. I let out a loud gasp. "Mina! Murder! This is a crime!"

She burst into laughter, covering her mouth with one hand as I watched my blocky self burn to a crisp. Luckily, I had been smart enough to store my loot in a chest nearby, so all I lost was a stone pickaxe and a stone sword.

Still, I made sure to let out an exaggerated sigh. "This is what I get for speaking facts, huh?" Mina, still giggling, shrugged. "You were getting too smug. Had to humble you."

I chuckled, shaking my head as I respawned. "Noted. Praise Mina, but don’t get cocky about it." She flashed me a playful grin. "Exactly."

And just like that, the game continued. But something in the air had shifted. Maybe it was the teasing. Maybe it was the lingering warmth of our conversation. Or maybe, just maybe—Mina was starting to see me in a different light.

As we continued gathering resources, crafting gear, and making progress toward our goal, I couldn’t help but notice something. Every single time Mina turned toward my in-game character—even if it was just for a split second—her lips would curl into a small, airy giggle. At first, I didn’t think much of it. Maybe she was just in a good mood. Maybe she found something funny in the game. But then it happened again. And again.

I turned my camera to glance at her blocky character. "Alright, what’s so funny?"

Mina covered her mouth, trying to suppress yet another giggle. "Nothing."

I raised a brow. "Uh-huh. Sure. You’ve been giggling for the past fifteen minutes. I doubt it’s ‘nothing.’"

She shifted in her chair, still smiling as she broke some trees for wood. "It’s just…" she trailed off before stealing another glance at me. "Your name tag."

I blinked. My name tag? I pressed F5 to swap my camera view, tilting my head at the blocky text floating above my character’s head: "BlockDaddy." Ah. Right. I smirked. "What? You judging my name now?"

Mina shook her head, her fingers still tapping at her keyboard as she crafted some planks. "I mean… it's just so…" She paused, clearly trying to find the right words. "Powerful? Elegant? Raw and full of class?" I supplied dramatically. She outright laughed at that. "Sure, if that’s what you want to call it."

I leaned back in my chair. "Okay, Miss ‘PenguinEmpress.’ You’re laughing at me when your username is literally something out of an aristocratic fairytale?" Mina huffed, crossing her arms. "It suits me!"

"And ‘BlockDaddy’ suits me." She rolled her eyes but kept smiling. "It’s just funny seeing it float above your head all the time."

I hummed. "So you’ve been looking at me a lot then?" Silence. Mina’s fingers momentarily froze on her keyboard before she quickly turned her focus back to the game. "Shut up." I grinned, feeling a small sense of victory. "I’m just saying. You keep looking, you keep giggling…"

"I’m not looking, I’m just… noticing." I snorted. "Right. You ‘notice’ a lot, huh?" She groaned, lightly smacking my arm before returning to the game. "You’re impossible."

I chuckled, but deep down, I felt something warm settle in my chest. The way Mina was comfortable enough to joke around like this, the way her laughter seemed unfiltered and real—it felt nice.

Between our gameplay, Mina suddenly asked, "So, what do you do?" I glanced at her character still mining, then back at my screen as I casually started organizing my inventory. "Nothing too exciting," I said. "My name’s L/N Y/N, born August 9, 1995." There was a pause. Then, Mina let out a small "Oh." I arched a brow. "What?" She turned to me with a teasing glint in her eyes. "That means you’re my Oppa."

I blinked. Oh, right. She was born on March 24, 1997, which meant I was older—same ‘95 liner like her Nayeon-unnie.

I let out a small chuckle. "Guess that makes sense, huh?" Mina giggled. "Mmm, Y/N-oppa. Has a nice ring to it."

I swallowed. Damn, the way she said that was dangerous. "Anyway, I own a café chain," I continued, steering the conversation forward. "And I have some side gigs in multiple things. That’s about it."

Mina hummed in interest. "Café chain, huh? That sounds nice. I’d love to visit one day." I said softly, "You’re welcome anytime. Drinks are on me."

She smiled before suddenly asking, "Do you have a significant other?" My fingers momentarily stilled on my keyboard. "Nope."

A second of silence passed. And then—so faint I almost didn’t catch it— "Good."

My brows furrowed. "Hm? What was that?" Mina’s shoulders stiffened slightly before she brushed it off. "Nothing. Just talking to myself." I didn’t push further. Instead, I simply let her steer the conversation away. "What’s your ideal type, Oppa?" she asked playfully. I chuckled. "That’s a tough one."

Mina waited expectantly as I thought for a moment before saying, "Someone who can warm my heart in a way that washes all my worries and stress away." She blinked. "That’s… actually really unique." I shrugged. "I guess I just prefer the kind of love that feels like home." Mina’s lips parted slightly, as if taken aback by the depth of my answer. But then, she smirked. "And what about body type?"

My breath hitched slightly at the sudden change in topic. "Body type?" She nodded, amusement dancing in her gaze. "C’mon, Oppa. Spill. Do you like something soft and cute? Or are you more into toned and sexy?"

My face warmed. "Mina—" "Boobs?" she teased. "Mina." "Ass?" "Mina." She giggled. "What? It’s a simple question." I groaned, rubbing my face. "Why are you doing this to me?" She leaned closer. "Because I’m curious." I exhaled sharply before reluctantly mumbling, "Collarbone and navel."

Mina blinked once. Then twice. I risked a glance at her and—oh my god, she looked so surprised. "Collarbone and navel?" she repeated, as if processing my words. I nodded slowly. "Yeah. It’s just… I don’t know. Something about them is really attractive to me."

Mina remained silent for a moment before laughing softly. "Huh. I thought you’d pick something sappy like eyes or lips." I smirked. "Nah, those are too common." "Or maybe something hot like boobs or ass," she added playfully. I choked on air. "Mina, please—"

She giggled again, but then… something flickered in her gaze. Something knowing. I furrowed my brows, confused by her reaction. "What?" Mina shook her head, an amused yet slightly flustered smile playing on her lips. "Nothing. Just… it’s funny how you chose something unique." She turned back to the screen, her character moving forward again—but not before I caught the way her fingers subtly grazed her own collarbone. …Wait. Oh... Oh......Mina was really popular for her collarbones and navel in terms of visuals. My eyes widened slightly in realization. And from the way she suddenly looked so flustered—she definitely knew it too.

Time passed like mayflies, fleeting and unnoticeable. One moment, we were deep in the Minecraft caves, and the next… we were in Pacify. Why? No clue. It just happened. Maybe boredom? Maybe curiosity? Maybe a stupid collective decision to suffer? Either way—it was chaotic. The eerie music had barely begun before Mina tensed beside me, her hands gripping her mouse a little tighter.

"Why did we decide on this again?" she asked, her voice already laced with regret. I scoffed, adjusting my headset. "Don’t ask me, you clicked it too."

And then it began. We were in a dimly lit haunted house, our job being to pacify a demon girl (because apparently, we’re just built different like that). The wooden floors creaked with every step, and distant whispers sent shivers down my spine. Mina stuck close to me, her character practically glued to mine. "Oppa, don't leave me."

I almost choked on air. I heard it. I KNOW I heard it. But I couldn’t react to it—because at that moment, the demon girl flew straight at us. Mina let out a shrieking scream, her character whipping around and sprinting away like her life depended on it. I? I froze. Absolutely. Froze. And then I screamed. "NOPE. NOPE. NOPE—" I turned so fast that my mouse practically flew off the desk, my character crashing into furniture like a headless chicken. Mina was already laughing and panicking at the same time. "WHY IS SHE SO FAST?! WHY IS SHE SO FAST?!"

" I don’t know, Mina! Why did we even PLAY THIS?!" We somehow managed to escape into a random-ass room, slamming the door shut behind us. Silence. Both of us were breathing heavily, eyes locked on the screen. Then, in the quietest voice, Mina spoke. "I hate this game." I nodded, still recovering. "Same." And yet—we didn’t stop playing. From Pacify to Phasmophobia. Then from Phasmophobia to Devour. Then somehow, Outlast Trials. And I swear, for absolutely no reason at all, we ended up on Five Nights at Freddy’s like we had some death wish.

At this point, I wasn't even scared anymore—just exhausted from the constant tension and jumpscares. Mina, on the other hand, was still reacting to every unexpected sound, letting out soft squeals or startled gasps that were way too adorable for our current horror-filled setting. "Okay, okay, I'm done!" Mina huffed, pushing herself away from the desk dramatically. "No more horror games. My heart can’t handle it."

I sighed in relief, finally shutting my laptop. "Thank God. I think I lost five years of my life today." Mina giggled, stretching her arms above her head. "But it was fun, wasn’t it?" i smirked. "Depends. Are we measuring fun in ‘I had a great time’ or ‘I almost pissed myself multiple times’?"

She laughed at that, shaking her head. "Both?" I chuckled and stood up, stretching my stiff limbs. "Alright, let’s detox from all this terror. Dessert?" Her eyes lit up immediately. "Yes, please!" And so, with our horror-fueled game marathon behind us, we found ourselves sitting by the dining table, a plate of desserts between us. Sweet relief. Literally.

I took a sip of my drink, letting the cool liquid soothe my throat. Mina did the same, the soft clinking of utensils and cups filling the air. "So," I started, leaning back comfortably. "Tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know." Mina tapped her chin in thought, then smiled. "How about TWICE’s latest album?" I nodded, interested. "The 13th Mini Album?" She grinned. "‘With YOU-th.’ Yeah. It’s really special to us."

I could hear the genuine warmth in her voice, the way she spoke about her group with so much love and appreciation. Mina then started sharing little behind-the-scenes stories—how the concept was created, how much effort they poured into the album, how the members supported each other through it all. I listened intently, admiring the passion in her voice. Then, a memory surfaced.

"By the way," I said suddenly. "You looked gorgeous during the pre-chorus in red." Mina blinked, taken aback. "Huh?" I shrugged, taking another sip of my drink. "I mean it. You looked stunning. The way the lighting hit you, the expressions you had—it was all just… breathtaking."

Silence. Then, Mina slowly lowered her spoon, her lips slightly parted as if caught off guard. I raised an eyebrow. "What?" She shook her head, smiling softly. "You’re… really something, you know that?" I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"

She chuckled. "Most people would say something flirty or try to be slick about it. But you—" She gestured toward me. "You just say things so honestly. It’s refreshing." I scratched my cheek, feeling a little self-conscious. "I don’t know… I guess I just prefer sincerity over beating around the bush."

She stared at me for a moment before smiling. "I like that about you." A small warmth spread through my chest at her words, but before I could say anything, Mina sighed contently, resting her chin on her hand. "Today was such a lovely getaway," she murmured. "With all the promotions, shows, and schedules, things can get overwhelming sometimes."

I nodded, understanding. "I can imagine. TWICE’s workload must be insane." She smiled, twirling her spoon in her fingers. "It is, but I’m grateful. My members and I—no matter how tough things get, we pull through together. They’re my family."

I smiled. "That’s beautiful." She sighed again, but this time, it was different. A bit… softer. And then, in the quietest voice, she spoke. "But sometimes… times like this can be healing too." I looked at her, my chest tightening at the sincerity in her tone. But what she said next? It made my heart stop. "I think I want to thank fate that I met you today."

I froze. Did she just— Mina, realizing what she had just admitted, suddenly looked away, her fingers lightly gripping the edge of the table as if grounding herself. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. The air between us shifted—not awkward, but… charged. I took a breath, forcing myself to stay composed. "That means a lot, Mina." She peeked at me from beneath her lashes, a small smile forming. "It’s true." And just like that, the moment settled into something… beautifully unspoken. No rush. No expectations. Just two people, sharing a moment in time.

The soft hum of the approaching van signaled the end of our time together. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but I could see visible reluctance on Mina’s face as she glanced toward the headlights illuminating the night down outside the café of the PC bang. Her fingers fidgeted lightly against the table, her lips pressed together as if holding something back.

I tilted my head, concerned. "Something wrong?" Mina hesitated, then sighed softly. "I… don’t want to leave yet." I blinked. "Huh?" She bit her lip, her gaze dropping for a second before looking at me again. "I don’t want to go away from you just yet…"

I felt my heart skip a beat. Did she just—? I stared at her, completely stunned. This was Myoui Mina—one of the most elegant and composed people I had ever met. And yet, she was sitting here, openly admitting that she wasn’t ready to part ways with me. Was she… getting attached to my presence?

Mina let out a small chuckle, probably noticing my dumbfounded reaction. "Sorry, that must've sounded a bit strange." I shook my head, still processing. "No, it’s just…" I rubbed the back of my neck. "Didn’t expect that." She smiled softly. "Neither did I."

But before I could say anything more, the van honked twice—a gentle reminder from the driver that her time was up. Mina sighed once more, but this time with resignation. "Work calls," she murmured, pushing herself up from her seat. I stood up as well, instinctively guiding her toward the staircase. "Come on, I’ll walk you down." She nodded, and together, we descended the stairs, the warmth of our time together still lingering in the air between us.

As we reached the ground floor and stepped into the quiet lobby, I pressed the elevator button. The doors slid open with a soft chime, and we stepped inside, the small space amplifying the closeness between us. Neither of us spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged, heavy with something unspoken. The elevator reached the ground floor, and as we walked toward the exit where the van waited, Mina suddenly stopped.

I turned to her, curious. "Mina?"

She held out her hand. "Give me your phone."

I hesitated for a second before handing it over. With a few quick taps, she typed something in and handed it back. I glanced down. 미나🐧– Personal. My brain short-circuited. Oh shit. Someone give me the ‘Luckiest ONCE’ title right now.

Before I could even process my newfound blessing, Mina did something that completely wrecked me. She took a step closer—so close I could feel the faint warmth radiating from her. And then— A kiss. Not a peck. Not a quick smooch. A full-on lip lock.

My mind blanked as her soft, plumpy lips pressed into mine, moving gently but firmly, sucking slightly on my lower lip. She tasted like something sweet—bubblegum? Strawberry? I didn’t know, and honestly, I didn’t care. For five whole seconds, we were locked in that moment. Five seconds of warmth. Of softness. Of something dangerously intoxicating. Then, she slowly pulled away, her cheeks a faint shade of pink, but her lips curled into a small, knowing smile. Was that… desire in her eyes? Or something more? I couldn’t think—I was still too shocked.

Mina let out a soft, almost teasing chuckle at my dumbstruck expression. "Be free tomorrow." I blinked. "Huh?" Her fingers lightly grazed mine as she stepped back toward the van. "We’re going to meet here again. Just the two of us. I have something planned."

I nodded mindlessly, still too dazed to do anything else. She gave me one last smile before stepping into the van, the door sliding shut behind her. As the vehicle pulled away, I remained rooted in place, the lingering warmth of her lips still burning against mine. Holy. Shit.

Late Night – My Bed

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I replayed everything. Mina’s reluctance to leave. Her words—"I don’t want to go away yet." The way she typed her personal number into my phone like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then—the kiss. Holy. Shit.

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling deeply. That wasn’t just a peck. That was a five-second, full-on lip-lock. Sucking on my lower lip. Mina—Myoui Mina—kissed me. And the look in her eyes after? Something was there. Something deeper than just a spur-of-the-moment thing. My lips still tingled, phantom traces of her lingering warmth refusing to fade.

I turned on my side, staring at my phone on the nightstand. My heartbeat refused to settle. What was this? A one-time thing? A casual moment? Or… something more? I didn’t have an answer. But Mina did. Because the next morning, as the sun filtered through my blinds, my phone buzzed with a message.

Mina: Be free at 4 p.m. Come to the same place.

I sat up instantly, rubbing my eyes to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Nope. It was real. Mina wanted to see me again. Alone. And whatever she had planned—I was in.

Later That Day – PC Bang (4 P.M.)

I made sure to clear my schedule early. If Mina Myoui was setting up another meeting, no way in hell I was missing it. I swapped out yesterday’s outfit for something slightly different—white t-shirt, white pants, and a black leather jacket. Call it chic, call it flashy, I didn’t care. But it was swavy.

As I walked into the PC bang, the first floor was packed. College students, office workers, and hardcore gamers filled the space, their focus glued to screens, the clicking of mechanical keyboards filling the air. But I wasn’t here for the crowd. I headed straight upstairs to the VIP floor from yesterday. And then— There she was. Standing alone, waiting. And holy. Fucking. Hell. Mina was… lethal.

Her outfit was effortlessly stylish, dangerously captivating. A fitted navy blue short-sleeve top hugged her figure just right, with a subtle logo detail on the chest. A high-waisted, diagonally striped skirt in navy blue and brown flowed down to her ankles, elegant yet modern. White platform shoes added a bit of height, making her already graceful presence even more striking. A designer shoulder bag in bold navy blue and white stripes rested casually on her arm. And the killer touch? White cat-eye sunglasses perched delicately on her nose, exuding pure confidence.

But it wasn’t just the outfit. It was the way she wore it. Her long, straight black hair cascaded naturally down her back, shifting slightly as she moved, catching the dim PC bang lighting in a way that made her look effortlessly elegant.

She turned her head at my arrival, lowering her sunglasses slightly to glance at me. And then— A small, knowing smile curved her lips.

"You’re early," she said, voice smooth, teasing. I smirked, stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets. "You told me to be here at four. I don’t keep a beautiful woman waiting."

She chuckled, taking a step closer. "Good answer." Goddamn. I was in trouble. Mina’s eyes traced over me in a way that sent a subtle but undeniable heat creeping up my neck. "I like this look on you," she murmured, arms crossed, lips curving in a way that made my heart stutter. I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. "You saying that makes me feel like I actually have style." She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her dark eyes. "You do. Though, I think it’s more about how you carry yourself."

I huffed out a laugh, feeling the warmth of her words settle in my chest. "Well, in that case—" I let my gaze sweep over her, taking in the effortlessly sophisticated yet lethal aura she exuded. "You’re pulling off this whole ‘stunning and untouchable’ thing too well." Mina raised a brow, lips twitching. "Untouchable?" I smirked. "You’ve got that air about you. Like someone people admire from a distance but are too scared to approach." Mina held my gaze for a long second, then softly exhaled. "But you’re not scared." I shook my head. "Not even a little."

That earned me a small, pleased smile before she gestured towards a plush, leather couch in a cozy corner of the VIP floor. "Sit," she instructed gently. I was confused but did as she asked, leaning back comfortably. Mina remained standing, looking down at me with something unreadable in her gaze. I tilted my head, catching her eyes. "How was your day?"

She smiled softly. "It was good. Nothing too exciting. Just a casual chat at JYPE with the girls about our upcoming promotions." I nodded, but something in her demeanor shifted. A quiet moment passed before she spoke again, this time slower, more measured. "About yesterday…" I stiffened slightly, my fingers subtly curling into my palms.

Mina exhaled, her voice careful yet steady. "I kissed you on impulse." My breath hitched, but I stayed silent, letting her continue. "But… I couldn’t sleep at all last night." She hesitated, fingers gripping the strap of her shoulder bag. "Thinking about you. Thinking about what we are—if we’re anything at all."

A lump formed in my throat. Mina, the reserved, quiet, and poised woman, was unraveling just a little in front of me literally. And then— "I like you." The words were soft, vulnerable, yet unshakable in their truth. She swallowed, looking away briefly before meeting my gaze again. "I don’t know if it’s love. Maybe it’s too fast. But…" she exhaled, searching my face, "I don’t want to ignore it. I want to see where this goes." My heart pounded as she carefully chose her next words. "Can we see each other? Just us. Not public. No dating rumors. Just… us."

I let the weight of her words settle between us before answering, "Mina." My voice was steady, measured. "Dating someone like you, it’s not just about us. It’s the company, the fans, the media. I know how much is at stake for you."

She nodded, waiting. I inhaled, my tone turning softer. "But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the same way." Mina’s lips parted slightly, her fingers twitching against her bag. "I admire you, not just as an idol but as Mina—the person." I leaned forward slightly, my voice gentle but firmly assuring and understanding. "So if this is something we both want, we’ll figure it out. Together."

Something flickered in her eyes. The same intensity from yesterday. Then— She took a step closer. Another. And before I could process it, she leaned down, catching my lips in a kiss once again. But this time— This wasn’t impulsive. This wasn’t a fleeting, stolen moment. This was a seal—a silent agreement, an unspoken promise. Mina kissed me with certainty and intent. And the way she wasn’t stopping told me one thing—This wasn’t ending with just a kiss.

The second Mina’s lips met mine again, something shifted between us—like a silent switch had been flipped. Her kiss started slow, almost tentative, but the way her fingers curled into the fabric of my jacket told a different story. She was holding back, but not for long. I pulled her closer by the waist, my hands sliding over the soft curve of her hips, savoring the way the silky fabric of her skirt bunched under my grip. She let out a quiet little gasp against my lips, and fuck, that sound went straight to my cock. But Mina wasn’t content with just kissing. Her fingers slipped beneath my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders with a quiet urgency before her hands slid up my chest, nails lightly scraping through the thin fabric of my white shirt.

"Mina—" I barely got her name out before she nipped at my bottom lip, her teeth dragging just enough to make me groan. "Hmm?" She hummed against my mouth, all feigned innocence, but the way her thigh brushed against my growing erection betrayed her. I smirked, gripping her waist tighter as I leaned in, my voice dropping to a low murmur. "You’re acting all shy, but your hands are already wandering." Her cheeks flushed pink, but her fingers didn’t stop—trailing down my stomach, teasingly slow, until they hooked into the waistband of my pants.

"Maybe I just like how you react," she whispered, her breath warm against my lips before she captured them again, this time with more heat. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, and I groaned, my hands finally giving in and sliding lower, palming the plush curve of her ass through that damn skirt. She let out a sharp little inhale, arching into my touch, her hips rocking forward just slightly—just enough—to let me feel her own growing need.

"Mmph—fuck, Mina," I growled, breaking the kiss to trail my lips down her jaw, my teeth grazing the delicate skin of her neck. "You gonna let me touch you properly, or are you just gonna tease me all night?" She shuddered, her fingers tightening in my hair before she pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, her gaze dark with want. "Who said," she breathed, shifting just enough to grind herself against my thigh, "that I was done teasing?"

And then—god help me—her hand slid down, her fingers pressing against the obvious bulge straining against my pants. "Hahh~... You’re already so hard for me," she murmured, biting her lip as she squeezed lightly, her thumb rubbing slow circles over the tip through the fabric. I swore under my breath, my grip on her hips tightening as I pulled her even closer, my lips crashing back into hers—hungrier this time, filthier, my tongue tangling with hers as my hands finally gave in to temptation and slipped beneath that stupidly elegant skirt.

The second my fingers brushed against the lace of her panties, she moaned into my mouth, her thighs trembling. "Mnngh~... Y/N—" I grinned against her lips, my fingers tracing the damp fabric teasingly. "Look at you," I whispered, "acting all demure when you’re this fucking wet already." Her breath hitched, her hips rolling against my hand as if she couldn’t help it.

The moment my fingers brushed against the damp lace of her panties, Mina—let out a breathy little moan that sent a jolt of heat straight to my cock. Her hips rolled instinctively against my hand, seeking more friction, but I teased, circling just barely where she wanted me most. "Mmph~... Y/N," she whined, her nails digging into my shoulders as she tried to chase my touch.

I chuckled , my lips trailing down her neck, sucking a mark into the delicate skin just below her ear. "So demanding for someone who was just playing innocent," I murmured, nipping at her pulse point. She shuddered, her voice dropping to a whisper—filthy with intent. "I never said I was innocent."

Before I could retaliate, her hand squeezed me through my pants, her fingers tracing the obscene outline of my cock with unhurried precision. "Ah~... You really are bigger than I imagined," she mused, her thumb pressing against the head, making me grit my teeth. "Were you hiding this from me?" I groaned, my hips bucking involuntarily into her touch. "Didn’t know you were this obsessed with checking." Mina laughed—soft, melodic, but wicked. "Obsessed? Maybe." She leaned in, her lips grazing my ear as she whispered, "Or maybe I just like knowing I can make you this hard without even trying." I tightened my grip on her thigh, my fingers slipping just barely beneath the soaked lace. "You’re not trying?" I challenged, dragging my fingertips upward, tracing her slit through the fabric. "Then why are you dripping, Mina?"

She hitched a sharp breath, her back arching, thighs trembling—but she didn’t stop palming me through my pants, her fingers stroking in time with my own teasing touches. "Hahh~... Because you—mmf—you make it impossible not to," she admitted, her voice shaky but bold. I smirked, dragging my lips back to hers, kissing her deeply as I finally slipped a finger beneath her panties, pressing flat against her clit. "Fuck," I growled against her mouth as she clenched around nothing, her hips grinding down desperately. "Mmmngh~... More," she demanded, her breath hot and uneven. I obliged, circling slowly, relishing the way her breath hitched, the way her nails scratched down my chest through my shirt. Then—she squeezed me again, her thumb flicking over the head of my cock through the fabric, and I hissed, my fingers faltering for a second. "Shit—Mina—" She pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, her dark eyes glazed with lust. "You like that?" she murmured, her grip tightening just so.

I groaned, my forehead dropping against hers as my fingers finally dipped lower, pressing just inside her entrance, teasing the tight, wet heat. "Fuck, you’re drenched," I muttered, my voice rough. Her lips curved into a smug little smile as she stroked me again, her touch maddeningly slow. "And you’re throbbing," she countered, biting her lip. "Guess we’re both a little desperate, huh?" I didn’t answer—couldn’t, not when she was rubbing circles into my cock while my fingers teased her dripping cunt, both of us caught in a filthy, agonizing game of who would break first.

Mina's fingers traced lazy circles around the swollen head of my cock through my pants as she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. "You know what I keep thinking about?" Her voice had dropped to that breathy whisper that made my stomach flip. "How quiet you're trying to be right now... while just one floor below us, dozens of people are gaming completely unaware."

I swallowed hard, my fingers twitching against her lace-clad heat. "Fuck, Mina—" "Sharon," she corrected with a wicked little grin, applying just enough pressure to make me throb. "When I'm like this... call me Sharon." Her free hand slid up my chest, nails scraping lightly. "And I want to hear exactly what dirty thoughts are making you blush so hard right now." The way she said it—that mix of innocent curiosity and knowing sin—had my pulse racing. "I'm thinking..." I managed, my voice rough as my thumb found her clit through soaked fabric, "...about how bad you want me to fuck you right here where anyone could walk in." She let out a soft, shuddering moan, her hips jerking against my hand. "Mmm~... Keep talking."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" I growled, catching her earlobe between my teeth. "My quiet, elegant Mina... turned into a desperate little mess in some VIP booth." My fingers pressed deeper, just barely breaching her entrance. "You'd bite your lip to stay quiet while I stretch you open, wouldn't you?" Her breath hitched, her grip on me tightening. "Ah! Y-Y/N—"

"Or maybe," I continued, dragging my tongue along her jaw, "you wouldn't stay quiet. Maybe you'd want them to hear. Want them to know their precious idol is getting ruined right above their heads." Mina—no, Sharon—whimpered, her entire body trembling as her polished facade cracked. "Hahh~... Fuck, you're evil," she gasped, grinding down harder on my fingers. "What if I said yes? What if I want you to make me louder?" The challenge in her voice sent heat roaring through me. "Then I'd ask," I murmured, sucking a bruise into her collarbone, "if you'd rather ride me slow until you're crying... or if you want me to bend you over that console and pound you until the whole building hears how wet you are." She moaned, high and needy, her nails digging into my thighs. "Mmmf~... Both," she panted, her usual poise shattered. "I want—ah!—I want you to wreck me both ways." Her hand finally slipped beneath my waistband, her fingers wrapping around my bare cock with a greedy little squeeze. "Starting with this monster filling me up right now."

My fingers trembled slightly as they found the hem of Mina's navy blue top, the silk-like material whispering against her skin as I began lifting it. She raised her arms obediently, but the way her breath hitched betrayed her calm facade. The VIP room's dim lighting caught the subtle flush spreading across her chest as the fabric slid away, revealing that matching navy blue bra - delicate lace cupping her modest, perfect breasts. "God, look at you," I murmured, my thumbs tracing the underside of her bra. "These fucking perfect little handfuls..."

Mina's breath stuttered when I flicked open the front clasp with one hand, the bra falling away to reveal those deep pink nipples already pebbled tight. "Y/N—" I didn't let her finish. My mouth closed over her left nipple with a hungry groan, tongue swirling around the stiff peak while my palm cradled its twin. The way she arched, fingers scrambling at my shoulders, only made me suck harder.

"Ah! Ngh~... S-so sensitive—" Her back bowed beautifully as I switched sides, teeth grazing her right nipple just enough to make her thighs clamp around my waist. "Haahh~! W-wait, your mouth is—mmf!" I pulled back just enough to admire my work - her perfect little tits glistening, nipples swollen from attention. "You've got no idea how crazy you drive me," I confessed, trailing kisses down her sternum. "Big tits? Don't need 'em when yours are this fucking perfect to suck on."

Her embarrassed squeak when I licked a stripe down her belly was downright sinful. My hands spanned her waist as I worshipped that iconic Myoui navel, tongue dipping into the shallow dip before scraping teeth along its edges. Mina whined, her fingers tugging at my hair. "W-why are you—ah!—so obsessed with my stomach?" I nipped at her hipbone, grinning when she jolted. "Because it's yours," I murmured against her skin. "Because every damn fanboy watches your fancams just to see this tiny strip of skin when you lift your top." My tongue lapped at the quivering muscles. "But right now? Only I get to taste it."

Her breathing turned ragged as I worked my way back up, pausing to lavish attention on those collarbones that drove ONCEs wild. The way her pulse fluttered under my lips as I sucked a dark mark just above her bra line made my cock throb. "Mina..." I kissed the hollow of her throat. "You know what kills me?" She shook her head, eyes half-lidded. "That reserved, elegant image," I growled, palming her breasts again. "When underneath?" My thumb flicked her nipple. "You're this responsive. This needy."

Her mewl turned into a gasp when I suddenly lifted her, pressing her back against the plush VIP booth wall. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist, the damp heat between her thighs pressing against my abdomen. "W-wait—" I silenced her with a deep kiss, letting her taste herself on my lips. "Still worried about people downstairs?" I murmured against her mouth. Her pupils blew wide, that switch flipping again. "Make me forget about them," she challenged, nails scoring down my back. So I did.

Mina’s back arched beautifully as I guided her down onto the plush VIP couch, her skirt riding up her thighs as I settled between them. The booth’s dim lighting caught every nervous flutter of her stomach, every shaky breath that made her small, perfect tits rise and fall. I dragged my palms up the smooth skin of her inner thighs, savoring the way they trembled under my touch.

“Look at this…” I murmured, hooking my fingers into the waistband of her soaked panties—navy blue, just like the rest of her outfit. “Ruin your pretty little matching set already?” She whined, her hips lifting instinctively as I peeled the lace down her legs, revealing her glistening cunt—deep pink, just like her nipples, swollen and desperate. Her hands flew to her face, fingers spreading just enough for me to see her dark, lust-blown eyes. “Y-Y/N… please—” I chuckled, leaning forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh, teeth grazing just enough to make her jerk. “Please what, baby? Use your words.”

Her legs twitched as my breath ghosted over her exposed pussy, her scent sweet and heady. “Please don’t tease—” “But teasing you is so fun,” I purred, dragging my tongue in one slow, flat stripe from her entrance all the way up to her clit. Mina yelped, her back bowing off the couch as her hands fisted in the cushions. “F-fuck! Oh my god—!”

I grinned against her, licking into her again, savoring the way her hips stuttered up against my mouth. She was dripping, her tight little hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. “Mina…” I groaned, pulling back just enough to watch her glisten. “You’re so fucking tight—did you really never let anyone else touch you?” Her face burned crimson, her thighs clamping around my head as if trying to hide. “N-no… just—ah!—just my own fingers… and…” She bit her lip, voice dropping to a whisper. “…t-toys…”

The admission sent a possessive thrill through me. “Fuck,” I growled, spreading her open with my thumbs. “So this pretty little pussy’s been waiting for me?” Her responding moan was half-embarrassed, half-aroused—music to my fucking ears. I didn’t give her time to reply. My mouth crashed back onto her, tongue spearing inside without warning, fucking into her tight heat as she screamed, her hands flying to my hair. “HHHNNN—!” She tasted divine—sweet, musky, all Mina—and the way her walls pulsed around my tongue had my cock aching. I curled my fingers under her thighs, holding her open as I devoured her, alternating between deep, messy thrusts of my tongue and slow, torturous circles around her clit. Her hips rocked desperately against my mouth, her thighs shaking. “Y/N—hahh~!—I-I can’t—!”

I pulled back just enough to smirk up at her. “Can’t what?” I teased, blowing lightly on her soaked folds. “Can’t take it? Or can’t stop?” Mina whimpered, her chest heaving. “B-both…” That broke me. With a groan, I slid two fingers into her hard, crooking them just right against that spongy spot inside her. “Fuck, you grip me like you were made for it,” I groaned, fucking them in and out in slow, deliberate strokes while my tongue went back to her clit. Her back arched violently, a broken sob tearing from her throat. “NHHGAH—!” I could feel her getting closer, her cunt fluttering around my fingers, but I wasn’t done yet. Not even close. “Nuh-uh,” I murmured, slowing my movements to a torturous crawl. “Not yet.” Mina whined, her hips chasing my retreating touch. “W-why?!” I kissed her inner thigh, leaving a trail of bites down to her knee before meeting her gaze. “Because I want to hear you beg for it.” Her eyes darkened—Sharon was back.

The moment my fingers curled deeper inside her, Mina snapped. "Ah-ah~ Enough." Her hands fisted in my hair and yanked me up with surprising strength—her kiss crashing against mine, hot and demanding as she licked the taste of herself from my lips. I barely processed the dizzying shift before she shoved me back onto the couch, climbing over me in one fluid motion. "Mina—?"

"Sharon," she corrected, her voice dropping into that sinful register as she straddled my thighs, her soaked cunt pressing against my abs through her ruined panties. "When I'm like this..." Her nails dragged down my chest, popping open the buttons of my shirt. "...you don't get to decide when I come."

I opened my mouth to retort, but she silenced me with another bruising kiss, her hips grinding down in slow, teasing circles. My cock throbbed against her, straining painfully against my pants. "Mmhn~... Someone's eager," she murmured against my lips, her fingers making quick work. Her touch lingered over the prominent bulge, squeezing lightly— testing. "Fuck, I knew you were big, but... this?" The way her breath hitched sent a rush of heat straight to my already aching dick. Mina slid off the couch onto her knees between my legs, her fingers hooking into the waistband of my white pants. She tugged them down agonizingly slow, her lips parting when my grey boxers came into view—stretched obscenely around my girth, the tip leaking a wet spot through the fabric. "Jesus Christ," she breathed, tracing the outline with one fingertip. "How are you even real?"

I hissed when she pressed a kiss right over the tip, her tongue darting out to lick the damp patch. "Mina—fuck—" "Shhh..." She peeled the boxers down, and my cock sprang free, slapping against her chin with an audible thwap. Mina gasped, her eyes widening as she took in the full sight—thick, veiny, and flushed red at the tip, pre-cum beading along the slit. Her fingers wrapped around the base, barely meeting in the middle, and squeezed. Her touch was tentative at first—stroking lightly, exploring the weight of me in her palm—but the longer she touched, the bolder she got. Her tongue darted out to lick a stripe from base to tip, her eyes fluttering shut at the taste. "Mmmf~... Salty," she murmured, lips wrapping around the head in a teasing suck. My hips jerked instinctively, and she laughed—the vibration shooting straight to my balls.

"No, no, no," she chided, pressing me back into the couch with one hand on my hip. "You don't get to fuck my face. Not yet." I groaned, my fists clenching in the couch cushions as she took me deeper, her lips stretching obscenely around my girth. She hummed, her tongue swirling along the underside as she bobbed slowly, her free hand cupping my balls. "F-fuck, Mina—your mouth feels—hnngh—" She pulled off with a pop, her lips glistening. "Mmhn~... Big and vocal," she teased, her thumb rubbing circles over my slit. "How many girls have gotten to taste this?" "None like you," I managed, my voice rough. Her smirk was downright wicked as she leaned back in, this time taking me deeper, her nose brushing my pelvis. "Good answer."

Mina’s plush lips stretched obscenely around the swollen head of my cock, her pink tongue pressing flat against the underside as she swirled it in slow, teasing rotations. A string of saliva connected her bottom lip to my shaft as she pulled back slightly, her dark eyes flickering up to meet mine—mischief swimming in those normally demure depths. “Mmmf~... So thick,” she murmured, the vibrations making my abs clench. Her slender fingers wrapped tighter around the base, squeezing just enough to make me groan. “You’re really all mine?”

I tangled my hand in her silky black hair, guiding her back down. “Every fucking inch.” She moaned—actually moaned—as she took me deeper this time, her throat fluttering around the intrusion. Her nose pressed into my pelvis, her lashes fluttering shut as she adjusted, her free hand gripping my thigh for balance. “F-fuck, Mina—” I hissed, my hips twitching upward instinctively. She gagged slightly but didn’t pull back, her throat clenching around me in a way that nearly made me see stars. When she finally came up for air, her lips were swollen, her chin glistening with spit. “T-teach me,” she panted, her voice wrecked already. “I want… mmh… I want to take it all.”

I groaned, tightening my grip in her hair. “You sure?” She nodded eagerly, her fingers trailing down to cradle my balls. “I’ve practiced,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing. “D-do you think… I just let myself stay inexperienced all this time?” That stunned me. Mina—shy, elegant Mina—had trained herself for this? Before I could process that mental image, she was sinking down again, this time tilting her head to let my cock slide past her tongue and straight into her tight throat. Her gag reflex kicked in immediately, her body jerking, but she forced herself to relax, her throat muscles fluttering around me in a way that made my toes curl.

“Holy shit,” I rasped, watching her tears bead at the corners of her eyes. She pulled off with a wet pop, coughing slightly before grinning up at me—feral and proud. “T-told you,” she gasped, rubbing her throat. “I have… hahh… toys.” I blinked. “Toys.” She licked her lips, her fingers trailing along my length. “Silicone ones. Big ones.” Her eyes darkened. “But none of them… mmf… tasted like you.” That did it. With a moan, I fisted her hair hard and yanked her forward, my cock sliding back into her throat in one brutal thrust. Mina choked, her nails digging into my thighs, but she didn’t fight me—no, her eyes rolled back, her throat convulsing as she let me fuck into it.

“That’s it,” I gritted out, setting a ruthless pace. “Take it. All of it.” Her nose buried into my pelvis with every thrust, her spit dripping down my balls as she struggled to breathe between strokes. The sounds—gagging, wet slurps, choked whimpers—were downright filthy. I could feel my orgasm building, my balls tightening, but I wasn’t done yet. “Look at me,” I ordered, slowing just enough to let her gasp for air. Her teary eyes met mine, her lips bruised, her mascara smudged—ruined. “You like this?” I hissed, thrusting shallowly against her tongue.

She moaned around me, nodding desperately. “Then beg for my cum.” Her fingers dug into my thighs as she pulled off just enough to speak. “P-please,” she whimpered, her voice hoarse. “I—hahh—I want it… down my throat.” I lost control. My hips snapped forward, my cock pumping deep as I came in hot, thick spurts straight into her esophagus. Mina’s throat worked around me, her lips sealed tight as she swallowed every drop, her eyes watering but never looking away. When I finally pulled out, she gasped, spit and cum dripping from her lips as she panted. “F-fuck,” she rasped, licking her lips clean. “Bigger… than my toys…” I dragged her up into a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, tasting myself on her tongue. “And all yours,” I said with a smile.

Mina’s breath was still ragged from swallowing me down, her lips swollen and glossy with spit. But as soon as I pulled her onto the couch beside me, her hands immediately began wandering—sliding up my chest, tweaking a nipple, nails scraping down my abs. I caught her wrist just as her fingers teased the base of my oversensitive cock. “Oh no, princess,” I murmured, flipping us so she was pinned beneath me. “You don’t get to be greedy yet.” She whined, bucking her hips up, but I held her down firmly, my lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. “Y/N—hahh—this isn’t fair—” I groaned against her skin, sucking a bruise into the delicate slope of her breast. “No penetration. Just hands. Mouths. Teasing.” My teeth grazed her nipple, and she shrieked, back arching. “And you’re not coming once tonight…” I switched to her other breast, tonguing the stiff peak until her thighs clamped around my waist. “...you’re coming over and over.”

I started slow—agonizingly slow. Trapping one pert bud between my thumb and forefinger, I rolled it just shy of pain before sealing my lips over it, sucking hard enough to make her squirm. Mina’s fingers tangled in my hair, her hips rolling helplessly against nothing as I lavished attention on her perfect little tits. “Ah! Ngh~... T-the other one—please—” I smirked, flicking the neglected nipple with my tongue. “Beg prettier.” She sobbed, her back bowing off the couch. “S-suck my other nipple!”

Once her chest was a mess of bite marks and glistening spit, I slid down her body, pressing my bare cock against her inner thigh. The moment I started rocking against her, her breath caught—she could feel every thick inch dragging along her sensitive skin. “Hahh~... You—mmf!—you’re rubbing on me—” I whispered my tip catching on the soaked lace still tangled around her thighs. “Feel how hard you make me?” I ground harder, my pre-cum smearing her skin. “Imagine how tight you’d feel around me.” Her cunt pulsed, her slick coating my shaft as I fucked the crease of her thigh. I finally yanked her ruined panties aside (which somehow halfly on again) , my fingers sliding through her dripping folds—but not inside. Instead, I circled her clit in slow, maddening presses, my mouth latching onto her neck. “F-fuck! D-don’t stop—ah!” I didn’t. I edged her mercilessly, backing off every time her thighs started trembling. After the third time denying her, she snapped—her hand flying down to rub frantic circles over her clit. I caught her wrist hard. “Did I say you could touch?” Her eyes welled with frustrated tears. “Please—I’m so close—” I kissed her roughly before murmuring, “Then ask.”

Mina broke. “P-PLEASE LET ME COME!” I rewarded her by pinching her nipple hard while my thumb pressed down on her clit—just once. That was all it took. Her orgasm wrecked her—back arching, thighs clamping around my hand, her cunt pulsing as she sobbed through the waves. I kept my touch feather-light, dragging out every last spasm until she was a trembling, oversensitive mess beneath me. I pulled her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her sweaty forehead as she gasped for air. “Hahh~... Evil,” she mumbled, nuzzling into my chest. I chuckled coy. “And this is only preview”

The moment her orgasm faded into oversensitivity, Mina pushed me flat against the couch with surprising strength, her eyes glittering with mischief. "My turn," she purred, straddling my thighs while her nails trailed down my flushed chest. That damn ruined panties long discarded somewhere on the VIP room floor. "Mina—" I started, but she pressed a finger to my lips. "Shhh," she murmured, leaning down to lick a stripe up my neck. "I've watched you ruin me all night." Her teeth scraped my earlobe. "Now it's your turn to beg." Her lips found that spot just below my ear - the one that made my hips jerk uncontrollably. She sucked hard enough to bruise before trailing lower, her tongue swirling around my collarbone while her fingers pinched my nipples to stiff peaks. "F-fuck!" I hissed, my cock twitching against her thigh. "When did you—ah!—learn this?" Mina giggled - that fucking angelic sound contrasting with how her teeth sank into my pectoral. "I told you," she breathed against my skin, "I practiced."

Her hands slid down my torso, nails scraping lightly through the sweat-slicked trails between my abs. When she reached the V-line leading to my hips, she pressed her thumbs into the sensitive dips - hard. "These drove me crazy during last day when your t-shirt clung to," she confessed, licking a hot stripe along the defined muscle. "Every time it snugged you, i just imagined biting it ." She proved her point by sinking her teeth into the tender skin just above my hipbone. My back arched off the couch, cock throbbing painfully. Mina slid lower, kissing down my trembling thighs while deliberately avoiding where I needed her most. Her fingers traced the swollen veins of my cock without touching the head, her breath hot against my balls. "You're dripping," she observed, swiping her thumb through the bead of pre-cum. When she brought it to her lips, sucking it clean with a sinful pop, I nearly came from the sight alone. "F-fucking hell—" She smirked, kissing the inside of my knee. "Too much?" My throaty groan turned into a strangled moan as she suddenly licked a fat stripe from base to tip - then pulled away completely.

Mina's hand finally wrapped around me, stroking just slowly enough to drive me insane. Every time my hips bucked, she'd stop completely, blowing cool air across the wet head. "Mina... please—" "Please what?" She squeezed the base hard, preventing my release. I choked out: "Let me come." Her brown eyes darkened as she leaned close, her untouched lips brushing mine. "Not yet." When her thumb swiped over the frenulum in tight circles, I saw white - but she stopped again, leaving me trembling on the edge. After the fourth edged denial, tears pricked my eyes. Mina took pity - finally sealing her lips around the head while her fingers worked my length. The second I pulsed dangerously, she pulled off with a wet gasp, jerking me brutally until thick ropes of cum striped her chest and throat. "Hahh~... So much," she giggled, swiping a finger through the mess before sucking it clean. I could only groan, utterly wrecked.

The moment my release finished painting Mina’s chest, she collapsed forward against me, her sweat-slicked skin sticking to mine as her breath came in ragged, satisfied puffs against my neck. But even in her post-orgasmic haze, her fingers itched for control—trailing down my sternum, nails scraping lightly through the mess of cum on her own stomach before bringing her glistening fingertips to her lips. “Mmhn~... Salty,” she murmured, licking them clean with a slow drag of her tongue that made my spent cock twitch against her thigh. I chuckled breathlessly, brushing her damp bangs from her forehead. “You’re insatiable.” Mina’s answering grin was all Sharon—wicked and knowing—as she pushed herself up, straddling my hips with deliberate grace. The dim VIP room lights caught every elegant line of her ballerina frame: the delicate slope of her shoulders, the subtle ridges of her ribcage, the way her toned stomach quivered as she moved. “And you,” she purred, leaning down to nip at my jaw, “haven’t worshipped me nearly enough.”

My hands spanned her waist as I sat up, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. “Every inch of you is perfect,” I muttered against her skin, my thumbs brushing the undersides of her small, perfect breasts. Mina’s breath hitched as my lips closed around her left nipple, sucking just hard enough to make her thighs clamp around my hips. Her back arched beautifully, pressing more of herself into my mouth with a broken sigh. “Y-Y/N—hahh—t-that’s—” I pulled back, blowing cool air over the wet peak and watching it stiffen further. “That’s what, baby?”

Her fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my mouth back to her chest with a frustrated growl. “Don’t stop.” I obeyed—sucking, licking, biting—until her moans turned high and reedy. My hands slid down the elegant curve of her spine, tracing every dip and ridge of her ballerina-toned back before gripping her ass hard enough to make her yelp. “Fuck,” she panted, grinding down against my stomach. The heat of her soaked cunt scorched my skin even through the remnants of her skirt. “Your mouth—mmf—should be illegal.” I smirked against her breast, flicking the stiff peak with my tongue. “Says the woman riding me like a fucking bench.” Mina huffed, but the way her hips stuttered betrayed her. She was dripping, her arousal coating my abs in sticky streaks. When I squeezed her ass again, she gasped, her nails biting into my shoulders. “S-stop teasing,” she whined, her voice cracking. “Make me.”

Her eyes darkened. With startling strength, Mina shoved me flat against the couch and climbed me like I was hers to conquer. Her hands braced against my chest as she positioned herself above my cock, the swollen head brushing her slick entrance. “Look at me,” she demanded, her voice low and rough. I did. Her usually pristine ponytail was half-undone, dark strands sticking to her flushed cheeks. Her lips were kiss-swollen, her mascara smudged from earlier tears. She looked ruined—and furious about how much she loved it. “Mina—” I was stopped. “Sharon,” she corrected sharply, rolling her hips to smear my pre-cum against her clit. “When I’m like this—when I’m fucking you—you call me Sharon.” I groaned, my hands flying to her waist. “Then fuck me, Sharon.” She smirked—and sank down in one brutal bounce.

“HHHNN—!” Mina’s head tossed back, her spine bowing as she took me balls-deep on the first try. Her walls clenched viscously around me, her thighs trembling from the stretch. “F-fuuck—so big—” I saw stars, my grip on her hips turning bruising. “G-god—you’re fucking tight—” She didn’t wait for me to adjust—didn’t care about the burn. With a snarl, she rocked up, lifting herself until just the tip remained inside before slamming back down. “Ah! AH! Y/N—f-fuck—!” Her rhythm was erratic, desperate, her cunt gripping me like a vice with every bounce. I let her use me—let her chase her pleasure on my cock like she’d been starving for it. Because she had. “Mmngh~... Knew you’d—hahh—f-feel this good,” she panted, her nails raking down my chest. “The last night—ah!—with just my fingers—”

The mental image of Mina—pristine, perfect Mina—fucking herself raw in TWICE's dorm bathroom thinking of me? My hips snapped up to meet her next drop, burying myself to the hilt. Mina screeched, her thighs clamping around me as her walls pulsed. “N-not yet,” she begged, slapping my chest weakly. “W-want more—” I flipped us without warning, pinning her beneath me on the couch.

Mina's back arched off the couch like a bowstring when I bottomed out inside her, her breath catching in a silent scream as her fingers scrambled for purchase against my sweat-slicked shoulders. I felt it—the way her tight little cunt fluttered around me, struggling to adjust to the sheer girth splitting her open. "S-shit—hahh—Y/N, wait—" Her nails dug crescent moons into my skin as she clenched around me, her thighs trembling violently against my hips. "I-I can feel you—fuck—in my stomach—" And god, she wasn't kidding. The way her velvety walls clung to me, the way her cervix kissed the tip of my cock with every shallow grind—fuck, I could see the subtle bulge in her lower abdomen where I stretched her to the limit. I groaned, dropping my forehead against hers as I forced myself to stay still. "Breathe, baby," I muttered, brushing her damp bangs from her eyes. "Just breathe through it."... Mina whined, her hips twitching involuntarily—whether to pull away or pull me deeper, even she didn't seem to know. Then—"...Move," she gasped, her voice wrecked. I hesitated. "You sure?" Her legs locked around my waist like a vice, her eyes burning into mine. "I said," she gritted out, "move."

I pulled out slowly, watching with rapt fascination as her swollen pussy clung to me, trying desperately to keep me inside. The second only the tip remained, I slammed back in—hard. Mina shrieked, her back bowing off the couch as her fingers flew to her mouth, biting down on her own knuckles to muffle the noise."F-fuck—fuck—!" she sobbed around her fingers, her walls convulsing around me. "I-It's—ah!—t-too much—!" I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not when her cunt was dripping around me, not when her thighs were shaking with every brutal thrust, not when her tits bounced with every snap of my hips—small, perfect, glistening with sweat. "You take me so fucking good," I rumbled, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as I pounded into her. "Look at you—fuck—made for this cock." Mina's eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as her orgasm crested—Then crashed over her like a fucking tsunami.

"Y-Y/N—I-I'M—!" Her warning came half a second before her cunt clamped down on me like a vice, her thighs jerking wildly as her hips stuttered against mine. Then— Splash. A hot gush of liquid soaked my pelvis, the couch cushions, everything as Mina squirted for the first time in her life—her scream piercing the air as her body locked up in mind-shattering ecstasy. "HHHNNNGGH—!" Her back arched impossibly high, her fingers clawing at my arms as wave after wave of her release drenched us both. And god, the feel of it—her convulsing walls milking me, the heat of her soaking my thighs, the way her eyes glazed over with sheer, unfiltered pleasure— Fuck. I was gone.

My hips stuttered erratically as my climax tore through me—deeper, harder than anything I'd ever felt. Thick ropes of cum pumped into her trembling cunt, filling her to the brim until it overflowed, spilling hot and sticky between our joined bodies. Mina whimpered weakly when she felt it, her oversensitive walls fluttering around my still-pulsing cock. "Nngh~... S-so full..." I collapsed atop her, my spent body shaking as I struggled to catch my breath. Beneath me, Mina was a mess—hair plastered to her face, mascara smeared, her ruined pussy still clenching weakly around me as if trying to keep every last drop inside.

"Holy shit," I rasped, pressing a sloppy kiss to her parted lips. Mina giggled—actually fucking giggled—her voice hoarse and ruined. "T-told you..." she mumbled, nuzzling into my neck. "N-none of my toys... mmf... f-felt like that." It took us a solid ten minutes to untangle ourselves—partly because neither of us could move, partly because Mina whined every time I tried to pull out, her thighs locking around me like a boa constrictor. When I finally managed to lift myself off her, the sight that greeted me was downright obscene: Her pussy was swollen, her inner thighs glistening with a mix of cum and her own slick. Her lower stomach was slightly rounded—still stretched from how deep I'd been. Her nipples were bruised from my mouth, her collarbone littered with love bites. And the smug little smile on her face? Priceless.

The moment Mina's delicate fingers pressed against her swollen lower lips, parting herself just enough for me to see— "Look," she murmured, voice still wrecked from screaming, "how much you filled me." A thick ribbon of my cum dripped obscenely from her twitching entrance, pooling on the ruined VIP couch beneath us. My throat closed at the sight—at the sound—of her finger scooping up a generous amount, bringing it to those pristine, idol-perfect lips. "Mmf~..." She sucked her finger clean with a slow drag of her tongue, her dark eyes locking onto mine. "Salty... warm..." Fuck. I was blushing—actually fucking blushing—like some virgin teenager watching his first porn. This was Mina. Myoui Mina. TWICE's elegant ice princess, the ballet-trained visual who made fans swoon with just a tilt of her head. And here she was, slurping my cum off her fingers like it was fucking dessert.

"Y-you—" I rasped, my spent cock twitching against my thigh. "—are insane." Mina just giggled, stretching languidly beneath me like a satisfied cat, her legs still spread wide, her glistening cunt on full display. "Mmmhn~... You like it," she purred, her toes brushing up my calf. "Seeing your Mina be a slut just for you~..." Her hip rolled, another gush of cum seeping out with the movement—a filthy, audible squelch that made my gut clench. "Yeah?" I managed, dragging my thumb through the mess on her inner thigh. "Then why's your face redder than a fucking tomato?" That wiped the smirk right off her face. Her hands flew to her cheeks, her eyes widening in horror. "I-I am not—!" "Uh-huh," I chuckled, leaning down to lick a stripe up her trembling stomach, savoring the mix of salt and her. "Keep telling yourself that, Sharon." Mina squeaked, her back arching when my tongue dipped into her navel. "Y-Y/N—ah!—s-stop teasing—!" I grinned "Make me."

Mina huffed, pushing at my shoulders until I reluctantly let her sit up. Her movements were shaky, her thighs sticky with sweat and cum, but that didn't stop her from leaning over the edge of the couch—ass up—to rummage through her discarded purse. Even ruined, even messy—her ass was art. Petite but perfectly rounded, the kind that looked innocent in cute shorts but sinful naked, with just enough jiggle to make my mouth water. And those dimples at the base of her spine? Fuck me. "Ah! Found it~" Mina's triumphant murmur snapped me out of my haze. She turned back to me, holding up a small bottle of clear lube with a devilish grin. "Stole it from Chaeyoung's bag last day." I blinked. "...Why?" Her grin turned sheepish. "...I may have... planned this." Oh..Oh..... My cock throbbed.

Mina crawled into my lap with purpose, her damp skin sliding against mine as she pressed the bottle into my palm. "I trust you," she whispered, her teeth nibbling my earlobe. "But go slow... It's my... first time." Fuck. My grip on the lube tightened. "Mina," I muttered, cupping her cheek. "We don't have to—"

"I want to," she interrupted, her voice firm. Then, softer: "...With you." That did it. I kissed her—deep—before nudging her onto her stomach, my palm rubbing soothing circles over the curve of her ass. "Breathe," I reminded her, popping the cap on the lube. "And relax." The second the first slick finger circled her tight rim, Mina whimpered, her face burying into the couch cushions. "Hahh~... C-cold..." "Shhh," I soothed, pressing a kiss to the small of her back as I eased the tip inside. "That's it... good girl..." Mina's breath hitched, her toes curling when I slid in to the first knuckle. "O-oh—fuck—"

I worked her agonizingly slow—one finger, then two, crooking them just enough to make her jolt. "Ngh! W-wait—ah!—right there—!" Her back arched, her hips pushing back against my hand as her walls fluttered around my fingers. "Y-Y/N—I—mmf!" "I know," I groaned, watching her ass clench around my thrusting fingers. "Fuck, look at you... taking me so well..." Mina whined, her hand flying between her legs—rubbing her soaked clit in frantic circles as I stretched her. "Hahh~... M-more—please—!" I added a third finger. Her scream was priceless.

Mina's back arched like a strung bow when my third finger sank knuckle-deep into her tight heat, her breath hitching in a way that made my cock throb against her thigh. "Ngh~... Y-Y/N—" Her fingers clawed at the couch cushions, her ass pushing back against my hand like she couldn't decide whether to flee or beg for more. I shushed her gently, my free hand rubbing soothing circles over the dimples at the base of her spine. "Relax, baby," I murmured, pressing a kiss to the curve of her hip. "Just breathe for me." Mina whined, her thighs trembling as I scissored my fingers slowly, the lube-slick squelches obscenely loud in the quiet VIP room. "F-fuck—it's—ah!—so much—"

"But you're taking it so well," I praised, curling my fingers just so— "HHH—!" Her entire body jolted, her cunt gushing against my wrist as her rim fluttered around my digits. "Y-YOU—MMF!—CHEATER—!" I chuckled, nuzzling the sweat-damp skin of her lower back. "Just prepping you, princess." Mina twisted beneath me, her dark eyes blazing with something between outrage and lust as she glared over her shoulder.

"You—hahh—bastard," she panted, her cheeks flushed. "I felt that—mmf—everywhere." I grinned, giving her ass a light smack that made her yelp. "Good." Her answering growl was downright feral as she shoved me onto my back, climbing over me with predatory grace. "My turn," she purred, her fingers trailing down my chest before wrapping around my aching cock. "Look at you... throbbing just from fingering me..." Her grip was perfect—tight enough to sting, her thumb swiping over the leaking tip with maddening precision.

"M-Mina—" "Sharon," she corrected sharply, her hips grinding against my thigh as she stroked me. "Say it." I groaned, my hands flying to her waist. "Sharon—fuck—" She leaned down, her lips brushing my ear. "You really think you're ready for this ass?" Her teeth nipped my lobe. "For my tight little virgin hole?" My hips bucked uncontrollably, my cock pulsing in her fist. Mina laughed—that bright, idol-perfect laugh that made ONCEs swoon—before shoving me back down. "Didn't think so," she teased, reaching for the lube again.

The second my cockhead brushed her puckered rim, Mina froze, her breath coming in shallow pants. "Hahh~... O-okay," she whispered, her fingers digging into my thighs. "Now." I groaned, my grip on her hips tightening as I pushed in—slow—watching with rapt fascination as her body stretched to accommodate me. "F-fuck—fuck—" Mina tossed her head back, her nails scoring my skin as her rim clenched viscously around the intrusion. "S-so big—ah!—hnngh~..."

God damn. The heat—the pressure—it was suffocating, her walls fluttering around me like a live thing. "Mina—fuck—breathe," I gritted out, my knuckles white from restraint. She nodded frantically, her chest heaving as she forced herself to relax—inch by agonizing inch—until I was sheathed to the hilt. "Hahh~... O-oh my god," she whimpered, her thighs quaking. "I-I can feel you—mmf!—everywhere—" I groaned, my forehead dropping against her shoulder. "You—fuck—you feel unreal."

Mina rolled her hips experimentally, her gasp punching from her lungs when my cock dragged against her walls. "AH! Y-Y/N—wait—!" I stilled immediately, my hands rubbing soothing circles over her trembling back. "Too much?" She shook her head, her fingers tangling in my hair as she panted against my neck. "N-no... J-just... different..." Different. Fuck. I kissed her—deep—before gripping her hips firmly. "Tell me," I murmured against her lips. "Tell me when you're ready." Mina nodded, her eyes fluttering shut as she adjusted—her inner muscles clenching and unclenching around me in a way that made my vision white out. Then—"Move," she whispered. I obeyed.

Mina yelped when I flipped her onto her hands and knees, her ass high in the air as I mounted her from behind. "Hahh~... S-so deep—!" Her voice broke as I pounded into her with slow, purposeful thrusts, the squelch of lube and skin echoing in the quiet room. God. The view—her slender slim frame bowed beneath me, her spine curving elegantly as her ass rippled with every impact—it was obscene.

My Mina... taking my cock like a good girl..." Mina moaned, her fingers clawing at the couch as her head tossed back. "Y-Y/N—ah!—harder—!" I snarled, my hips snapping forward with brutal force—"HHHNNGH—!" Her scream was piercing, her walls clenching vice-like around me as her body convulsed in pleasure.

The sharp slap of flesh against flesh reverberated through the VIP room as I snapped my hips forward, burying every thick inch of myself into Mina’s clenching heat. Her answering cry was muffled into the couch cushions, her fingers twisting desperately into the fabric as her back arched—every muscle in her petite frame taut like a bowstring. "F-fuck! Y-Y/N—AH!—t-too deep—!"

I said, my grip on her hips ironclad. "You begged for this," I reminded her, pulling out agonizingly slow before slamming back in, the wet squelch of lube and tight muscle obscenely loud. "You wanted me to ruin this tight little ass, didn’t you, Sharon?" Mina’s choked sob twisted into something filthy, her walls pulsing around me as she ground back against my relentless thrusts. "Y-yes—ngh!—god, yes—!"

Her voice shattered when my palm cracked down on her right ass cheek, the sharp smack sending ripples through her perfect skin. Her body jolted, her cunt gushing against my thigh where she was pressed into the couch. "MORE!" she screamed, her nails tearing at the leather beneath her. Who knew Myoui Mina—TWICE’s poised, elegant visual—could be this much of a whore when wrecked on cock?

Just as Mina’s thighs started to quake, her breaths coming in shattered gasps, I stopped—my cock twitching inside her but not moving an inch. "W-what—Y/N!" she screeched, her head whipping back to glare at me with murder in her eyes. I smirked, dragging my thumb down the sweat-slick dip of her spine. "Too easy," I murmured, leaning down to bite the curve of her shoulder. "You don’t get to come yet."

Mina whined, her hips jerking back uselessly—but before she could protest further, my finger was pressing against her dripping cunt, circling her swollen clit with just enough pressure to make her sob. "Ah! AH! N-no—!" Her back arched, her toes curling against the couch as pleasure racked her body—but I denied her again, pulling my hand away the second her thighs started to shake. "BASTARD!" she howled, her voice raw with frustration. I chuckled darkly, my cock throbbing inside her as I watched her squirm. "Patience, princess."

Then—without warning—I sank two fingers knuckle-deep into her sopping cunt, curling them just right against that spongy spot inside her. Mina screeched, her entire body locking up as her ass clamped down on my cock like a vice. "AGGHHH—!!" "Fuck," I groaned, my vision blurring at the edges from the pressure—the heat—of being sandwiched between her dual walls. "You’re strangling me, baby."

Mina couldn’t answer—too busy gasping like a drowning woman, her face flushed, her lips parted in a silent scream. So I moved. Slowly at first—dragging my fingers in and out of her cunt in time with the shallow rolls of my hips—letting her feel every inch of me in both holes. Then—harder. Fast—pistoning into her ass while my fingers hammered her G-spot with ruthless precision. Mina broke. "AH! AH! F-FUCK! I—HNNGH!—I CAN’T—!" Her thighs trembled, her cunt gushing around my fingers as her ass milked my cock with desperate pulses. But I wasn’t done. "Look at you," I rasped, my voice rough with strain as I chased my own pleasure inside her. "My Mina—fucking impaled on me—both ways—"

Mina whimpered, her nails scoring the couch as her entire body convulsed—her orgasm ripping through her with brutal force. But I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not when her walls were fluttering around me like a dying thing, not when her screams had turned hoarse and broken, not when her cunt was dripping down my wrist—"Y-Y/N! P-PLEASE—I CAN’T—MMF!—TOO MUCH—!" I gritted my teeth, my thrusts turning erratic as my own climax crested— The moment Mina's body locked up beneath me, her muscles seizing like a live wire, I knew she was done for.

Her back arched violently, her shoulder blades jutting sharply as her cunt flooded around my fingers—hot, relentless pulses of fluid soaking my hand, the couch, everything. "HHHNNNGGH—!!" Her scream pierced my eardrums, raw and shattered, her fingers clawing at the leather cushions like she was trying to escape the pleasure wracking her body. But I didn't let her.

My fingers curled, pressing ruthlessly against her G-spot as my cock pounded into her ass with brutal, animalistic thrusts—each snap of my hips forcing another gush from her overstimulated cunt. "AGH! AH! N-NO—!" Mina screeched, her voice breaking as her thighs trembled uncontrollably. "T-TOO MUCH—PLEASE—!" But fuck—I was gone. The way her ass clenched around me—desperate, rippling—like it was milking me for everything I had— "F-FUCK!" My vision whited out as my fingers dug deeper, my cock bottoming out inside her with a wet slap—And then— SPLASH. Mina squirted again—harder this time—a torrent of liquid gushing out in three violent spurts, drenching my thighs, the couch, everything within reach.

Her body jolted like she'd been electrocuted, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as her back arched off the couch completely—her ass clamping down vice-like around my cock as her orgasm ripped through her like a tidal wave. "HHHNNNGGH—!!!" She was convulsing—actually convulsing—her toes curling, her nails scoring the leather beneath her, her eyes rolling back as her body shook like a leaf in the wind.

And I—I lost it. My hips stuttered, my cock pulsing deep inside her as my own climax slammed into me with blinding force—But before I could spill—Mina collapsed forward, her body going limp against the couch as her breaths came in shaky, broken gasps. Fuck. She was wrecked. "Mina?" I rasped, my voice hoarse from strain. No answer—just the weak twitch of her fingers against the ruined leather.

I pulled out slowly, my cock dripping with a mix of lube and her as Mina whimpered at the loss. Her ass gaped slightly—red, used, stretched—her rim fluttering weakly as if begging for me to fill her again. Her cunt wasn’t better—puffy, swollen, soaking—her thighs shiny with a mix of squirt and cum. I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I dragged my fingers through the mess, collecting a glob of her release before bringing it to my lips. Salty. Sweet. Addicting.

Mina stirred weakly, her dark eyes fluttering open as she watched me suck my fingers clean. "P-pervert," she whispered, her voice raw from screaming. I grinned, leaning down to kiss her trembling lips. "Your pervert." She huffed—but the way her fingers twisted into my hair said otherwise.

Mina's fingers trailed lazily through the mess on her stomach, her chest still rising and falling in uneven bursts as she tried to catch her breath. The VIP room smelled like sex and sweat, the leather couch beneath us ruined beyond repair—not that either of us cared. "Fuck," she muttered, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I think you broke me." I chuckled, pressing a kiss to her damp shoulder. "You asked for it."

She turned her head just enough to glare at me, her dark eyes still glazed with pleasure. "I asked for you to fuck me, not rearrange my insides." I couldn't help but laugh, my fingers tracing idle patterns over her hip. "Same difference." Mina huffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it—just exhaustion and something dangerously close to affection. Her fingers, still sticky, poked at my chest.

"You're lucky I like you," she murmured, her smirk lazy but eyes softer now. "Or I'd have to report you to JYP for sexual harassment." She punctuated the threat by dragging her nail down my sternum, leaving a faint pink trail against my sweat-damp skin. I caught her wrist, pressing her palm flat against my chest where she could feel my heartbeat—still rabbiting from the aftershocks. "You'd miss me too much," I countered, grinning when she tried (and failed) to suppress a shiver as my thumb circled her pulse point.

"Tch. Arrogant," she muttered, but the way her legs tangled with mine betrayed her. One of her feet slid up my calf, her toes curling against my skin like a cat kneading for comfort. "...Maybe a little."

Her free hand traced the bite marks she’d left on my shoulder earlier, her touch feather-light. "Next time," she began, her voice dropping to that throaty register that never failed to make my stomach clench, "I'm riding your face until you choke on me. Payback for… all this." She gestured vaguely at the wreckage of the couch, her own ruined thighs, the lube bottle still rolling near the edge.

Mina snorted, but her fingers tightened in my hair, holding me in I barked out a laugh, pulling her closer until her nose bumped my collarbone. "Promises, promises, Sharon." place as she tilted her head up. Her kiss was slow—sticky with leftover strawberry gloss and something saltier—and when she pulled back, her smirk was pure sin. "Just wait."

Mina’s fingers trailed down my chest, her nails scraping lightly over my abs before wrapping around my half-hard cock with a knowing squeeze. "Y/N," she purred, her voice still wrecked from screaming, "I need you to fuck me again."

I groaned, my hips jerking into her grip instinctively. "Christ, Mina—give me a second to recover." She tsked, her thumb swiping over the head of my cock, smearing the pre-cum beading there. "Tzuyu’s new producer boy friend fucks her like this all the time," she murmured, leaning down to lick a stripe up my shaft. "Prone bone. Deep. Says it hits everything inside her."

My fingers twisted in her hair, tugging just enough to make her moan around me. "You’re jealous?" Mina giggled, the vibration thrumming through my cock as she took me deeper, her tongue flattening against the vein underneath. "Mmmhn~... Maybe," she admitted, pulling off with a filthy pop. "But mostly I just want to feel you ruin me like that." Her lips wrapped around me again, sucking with lethal precision, her free hand cupping my balls and rolling them gently. "Fuck—Mina—" She pulled off, her lips glossy with spit, her eyes dark. "I want your cum in my ass this time," she whispered, her fingers pumping me slowly. "All of it. Dripping out of me when we’re done." fuck. I was hard again in seconds.

Mina ushered me up from the couch with a push, her hands roaming over my chest as she backed toward the cushions. "On my stomach, right?" she murmured, her voice laced with something giddy. I nodded, my cock throbbing as she turned, presenting herself to me—ass still slightly reddened from my earlier pounding, her back a smooth, unbroken line of pale skin.

"Fuck," I breathed, my hands gripping her hips. "You’re beautiful." Mina glanced over her shoulder, her smirk wicked. "I know," she teased, arching her back just enough to make her cheeks part slightly. "Now ruin me." I groaned, my cock leaking as I positioned myself behind her, the tip pressing against her flushed rim. "Relax," I murmured, my thumb rubbing circles into her hip.

Mina huffed, her fingers clenching in the couch cushions. "Just fuck me alrea—AH!" Her shriek pierced the air as I sank into her tight heat, her walls clenching viciously around me. "HOLY—!" Her back arched, her nails scoring the leather beneath her. "F-FUCK! DEEPER—!" I obeyed, my hips slamming forward until I was buried to the hilt, my groin pressed flush against her ass. "Fuck," I growled, my vision blurring at the pressure. "You’re still so tight—" Mina whined, her thighs trembling as she pushed back against me. "MOVE—PLEASE—!"

I pulled out slowly, watching with rapt fascination as her rim clung to me, stretched and shiny with lube. Then—slammed back in. Mina screeched, her body jolting forward with the force of it, her face burying into the couch. "AH! AH! Y-Y/N—FUCK—!" Prone bone was different—deeper—the angle letting me pound into her with brutal precision, each thrust grinding my cock against every nerve inside her. "T-TOO MUCH—!" Mina sobbed, her fingers clawing at the cushions. "I-I FEEL YOU—EVERYWHERE—!"

I groaned, my hands digging into her hips as I chased my own pleasure, my thrusts turning erratic. "Fuck—Mina—you’re squeezing me so good—" Her ass clenched around me, her walls fluttering desperately as her orgasm crept up on her. "I-I’M—HNNGH!—"

I leaned over her, my chest pressing into her back as I pounded into her harder, my lips brushing her ear. "Come for me, princess," I growled. "Let me feel it." Mina screamed, her body locking up as her orgasm ripped through her—her cunt gushing beneath her, her ass milking me viciously. "F-FUCK!" I snarled, my hips stuttering as my own climax crept up on me— The violent slap of skin on skin echoed through the VIP room as I pounded into Mina’s ass with reckless abandon, the force of my thrusts making the entire leather couch bounce and creak beneath us. Every snap of my hips drove my cock deeper into her tight heat, the angle of prone bone letting me reach places inside her that had her screeching within seconds.

"G-GOD—!" Mina wailed, her face buried into the couch cushions as her fingers clawed desperately at the leather. "F-FUCK—Y/N—IT’S—AH!—TOO DEEP—!" Her ass clenched around me like a vice, her slick walls fluttering wildly as I bottomed out inside her with each brutal thrust. "You asked for this," I growled, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips hard enough to bruise. "You wanted me to ruin you like this, didn’t you, princess?" Mina nodded furiously, her voice breaking into a sob as I angled my hips just right—

"HHHNNGH—!!" Her back arched violently, her toes curling against the couch as a second orgasm ripped through her—her cunt gushing beneath her, her ass milking my cock with desperate pulses. "Y-YES! FUCK! JUST LIKE THAT!" she screamed, her thighs trembling wildly. "D-DON’T STOP—PLEASE—!" I groaned, my vision whiting out at the feeling of her walls crushing me as I chased my own release, my thrusts turning frantic.

Mina twisted beneath me, her nails scoring down my forearms as she glared over her shoulder, her dark eyes glazed with pleasure and challenge. "Harder," she demanded, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I know you can fuck me better than Tzuyu’s producer."

My hips snapped forward with brutal force, making her yelp as her body jolted forward. "That what you want?" I growled, my fingers gripping her hair and yanking her head back. "You want me to own this ass more than anyone ever has?" Mina moaned, her lips parting in a broken gasp. "YES—FUCK—YES!"

Her words were fuel—pure, unfiltered lust—and I used them, pounding into her with renewed ferocity, the couch squeaking obscenely beneath us. "TELL ME," I snarled, my cock throbbing as her walls clenched vice-like around me. "Tell me whose ass this is." Mina whimpered, her entire body quaking as I drilled into her relentlessly. "YOURS—AH!—IT’S YOURS—!" "Damn right," I growled, my thrusts turning erratic as my release crept up on me.

I buried myself deep inside her with one final thrust, my front pressed flush against her back as my cock pulsed violently, filling her ass with thick, heavy ropes of cum. "F-FUCK!" Mina screeched, her body locking up as her walls fluttered wildly around me. "I-I FEEL IT—AH!—SO HOT—!" I groaned, my hips jerking spasmodically as I spilled everything inside her, my fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave marks.

When I finally pulled out—slowly, agonizingly—Mina whimpered, her rim gaping slightly, a thick stream of my cum dripping obscenely from her used hole. "Look at that," I murmured, dragging my finger through the mess before pushing it back inside her, making her jolt. "My cum deep in your ass." Mina shivered, her eyes fluttering shut as she collapsed onto the couch, completely wrecked. "Worth it," she breathed, her smirk sluggish but smug.

Mina shivered as she slowly pushed herself up on trembling arms, her back still glistening with sweat. With a slow, deliberate motion, she turned her head to glance over her shoulder—and then, with a devilish smirk, she spread her ass cheeks apart with both hands.

"Oops~," she giggled, her voice still breathy and wrecked, but laced with that angelic lilt that made my spent cock twitch against my thigh. "Someone really filled me up, didn’t they?"

Fuck.

A thick stream of cum spilled out of her, dripping down her inner thighs in glossy rivulets, the sheer volume of it making my stomach tighten with possessive pride.

"Look at that," I murmured, reaching out to drag my fingers through the mess, collecting a glob of my own release before smearing it back over her reddened rim. "You’re dripping."

Mina moaned, her hips twitching as my fingers pressed just inside her, teasing her loosened hole. "Mmmh~... Someone got carried away," she teased, her dark eyes glittering with mischief.

I chuckled, leaning down to kiss the base of her spine, my tongue lapping up a stray drop of cum. "You begged for it."

She huffed, but the way her thighs squeezed together betrayed her. "I did," she admitted, her voice dropping to a filthy whisper. "And I’d do it again."

Mina shifted, rolling onto her side with a soft whine, her legs still trembling slightly. "Y/N~," she pouted, her fingers tracing idle patterns over her own stomach. "You made a mess."

I grinned, crawling over her and pinning her beneath me, my cock—already stirring again—pressing against her thigh. "You loved it."

She giggled, her nails scraping lightly down my chest. "Maybe~," she admitted, before her expression turned wicked. "But now you have to clean me up."

Fuck.

I didn’t hesitate.

My tongue dragged up the inside of her thigh, collecting every drop of cum that had dripped down her skin, the salt and bitterness of my own release mingling with the sweetness of her sweat.

Mina gasped, her back arching as my lips closed around her clit, sucking gently. "AH! Y-Y/N—not fair—!"

I pulled back just enough to grin up at her. "You said clean you up."

She groaned, her fingers tangling in my hair as she pulled me back down. "Cheater."

By the time I was done, Mina was panting again, her thighs clamped around my head as she trembled through another small climax.

"F-fuck," she breathed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "You’re insatiable."

I licked my lips, crawling back up her body to kiss her deeply, letting her taste herself on my tongue. "And you," I murmured against her lips, "are perfect."

Mina smiled, her fingers tracing my jaw. "Next time," she whispered, her voice dark with promise, "I’m riding your face until you choke."

Fuck.

I groaned, my cock throbbing against her hip. "Deal."

Mina’s fingers tapped lazily against her phone screen, the click of the camera shutter echoing in the quiet of the VIP room as she lifted her arm to snap a shameless selfie—both of us still gloriously naked, sprawled across the ruined couch, my cum dripping obscenely down her inner thigh as she smirked at the lens.

"Smile, oppa~," she teased, her free hand patting my cheek before zooming in just enough to capture the mess between her legs.

I blinked, still catching my breath, my eyebrows furrowing in adorable confusion. "Uh. Why?"

Mina giggled, her thumb hovering over the send button—Chaeyoung’s contact already pulled up. "Because," she chirped, her voice sing-song, "our little Chaengie has been bragging nonstop about her crush lately—mocking me for being single." She pouted, but her eyes glittered with pure mischief. "Now she’ll see who actually has the better man~."

My jaw dropped. "You’re not seriously—"

Sent.

The whoosh of the message flying into cyberspace was deafening.

"Oops?" Mina bat her lashes, tossing her phone aside before snuggling into my chest with a satisfied sigh. "Too late~."

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face—but I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me when her phone buzzed seconds later with Chaeyoung’s all-caps response:

"WHAT THE FUCK MY EYES??????"

Mina just cackled, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. "Worth it."

Soft silence blanketed the room. The hum of computers and muffled gaming downstairs felt like background noise in a world that now only existed between Mina and me.

The air was still heavy with heat. Clothes had long been forgotten in a whirlwind of kisses and tangled limbs. The once pristine couch now felt like a soft cradle to something unexpected, something beautifully intense.

I sat at the edge now, slowly pulling my shirt back on, but my eyes wandered back to her.

Mina lay under a thin blanket (from where, i dont know), her long black hair tousled and falling over her shoulder, cheeks flushed, lips still swollen from our kisses. She was watching me with that sleepy, satisfied gaze, like a cat basking in warmth.

"You should come with a warning label, you know," she murmured, voice husky but playful.

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What would it say?"

She stretched slowly, wincing slightly before laughing. "Caution: dangerously well-endowed. May cause sore thighs and addictive kissing tendencies."

I blinked. Then I laughed, nearly choking on my own breath. "Mina!"

She gave me a lazy grin, her eyes full of mischief. "Hey, I’m just stating facts. My whole body aches, but in a good way. A very good way."

I stood up, walking over to her side with a faint shake of my head. "You're unbelievable."

"So are you." She gently reached for my hand. "But unless you want to explain to the staff why we’re both half-naked up here, I think we should get dressed."

I gave a breathy chuckle. "Fair point."

Reaching for her clothes first, I began the quiet task of helping her dress again. It wasn’t awkward—it felt intimate, like I was tending to something fragile, something sacred.

I picked up her undergarments first, glancing her way.

"Mind if I…?" I asked softly.

Mina gave a faint nod, her cheeks a soft shade of pink now.

I crouched slightly, helping her into the lacy set she had folded earlier in her bag. My hands were gentle, reverent, careful not to linger too long out of respect—even if part of me ached to. Mina watched me with calm eyes, the corner of her lips twitching.

"You’re so focused," she teased quietly. "Is this how you are with everything?"

I chuckled. "Only when it’s someone important."

A flush rose on her cheeks again as she leaned back to let me zip up her skirt, then helped guide her arms through the sleeves of her fitted navy top.

Once she was dressed, she rose to her feet, smoothing out the wrinkles on her skirt and glancing in the mirror.

"I don’t think I can walk in a straight line just yet," she muttered under her breath.

I laughed quietly, grabbing my jacket as I pulled on my pants. "You’re really not going to let me live this down, huh?"

Mina walked toward me, adjusting the strap of her shoulder bag. "Absolutely not. I plan to remind you regularly. And maybe…" she leaned in, whispering near my ear, "make sure there’s a next time too."

I swallowed hard, fighting a grin. "You’re dangerous."

She kissed the side of my jaw. "You like dangerous."

I shook my head, helping her adjust her sunglasses before brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're my kind of dangerous."

And just like that, we were once again clothed, composed—but the air around us felt different. Charged. Changed.

We weren’t just two people in a hidden lounge anymore. We were something else now.

Still tangled on the couch, Mina leaned into my chest, her fingers drawing slow, lazy circles across my shirt as her breath evened out. My jacket had been tossed over us like some weak excuse for a blanket, and her white platform shoes lay forgotten near the PC tower.

Just when I thought the mood was winding down into a peaceful lull…

Ping.

My phone buzzed somewhere nearby. I instinctively reached over to check it—only to freeze when I saw the screen.

[Chaeyoung 🐯: “WHAT THE HELL #2 ???”]

Attached? Another photo. A selfie. Of us. Just taken.

Bare shoulders. Tangled hair. Mina's smirk. Me looking absolutely dazed and ruined, cheek resting against hers. There was a visible blanket covering some of us, but not enough.

"Mina!" I practically yelped, eyes wide, holding the phone up. "Why the hell did you send this to Chaeyoung?! Are you trying to give her a heart attack?!"

Mina just giggled softly against me, looking way too proud of herself.

"Relax, Oppa," she said smoothly, pulling my arm back around her waist. "It’s just a tease. She’s the least likely to spill something serious—and besides..." she tilted her head, brushing her lips against my cheek, "I wanted someone to know I had a very good night."

"You call that 'a good night'?" I groaned, flopping back dramatically. "She’s going to blackmail me for this until I’m in a grave. You know she will. I’m going to be called ‘chaotic couple content’ in TWICE’s group chat for the rest of my life."

Mina laughed again, that beautiful, breathy laugh that made all my irritation melt like butter on a summer day.

"Then you better live a long life, babe. We’ve got more chaos coming."

I groaned into my palms. "You’re evil."

"And yet…" she gently lifted my hand, kissing my knuckles with a smirk, "you still adore me."

She wasn’t wrong.

There was a beat of silence where I let myself just look at her—long straight hair, lips swollen from our kisses, her eyes shining with that strange mix of peace, danger, and fondness. And in that moment, tangled with her and half dressed, the world didn’t feel so overwhelming.

Mina tilted her head after a few seconds, breaking the silence.

"So, wanna go to your café?"

I blinked. "Right now?"

She nodded, her hand slipping into mine. "Mm-hmm. I want coffee. I want something sweet. I want…" she hesitated, then leaned closer, whispering, "to sit next to you in a place that’s all yours. Ours."

I didn’t even have to think. "I’ll close it down for us. Private reservation. You, me, and an entire café’s worth of desserts."

Her smile grew, and it wasn’t flirty this time—it was soft. Pure. Like she had something fragile in her chest and only I was allowed to see it.

And then she dropped the final bomb with casual ease, brushing her hair back and standing up, fixing her skirt like nothing life-altering just happened.

"Let’s go, boyfriend."

I sat there dumbfounded.

Did she just—?

Did she just label me?

“Boyfriend?” I muttered under my breath, heart rate skyrocketing.

She turned back with a wink. "Don’t make me say it twice."

I scrambled up, jacket in hand, trying to hide the stupid grin tugging at my lips.

Mina Myoui had just called me her boyfriend.

God help me, I’d follow her out that door and into the apocalypse.

(A/N: She is too pretty. I can't help it)

[possesseddesiress]

Between us (English Version)

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Between us (English version)

Iker and Yuki were very close, good friends. They had grown up together, being friends from a very early age, even though each one belonged to a different culture, they had gotten along well from the first minute they met. And from there, they did everything together, they never left each other's side.

Even though time would go by and they would change; by the time they reached adolescence, Iker started working out until he got a big and defined body, he was very muscular and a big hit with the girls.

On the other hand, Yuki remained small, thin, a bit effeminate, discovered a passion for fashion and identified as gay.

But despite those differences, they remained friends. They graduated, and chose the same university, Iker started studying engineering while Yuki majored in fashion, then they managed to rent an apartment in one of the dorms to be together.

Iker sometimes asked Yuki for help to dress better and surprise girls, Yuki to gain more muscle. Always helping each other.

That afternoon, they were both in a museum, it was their “afternoon together”, an occasion they set aside once a week to meet and spend time together away from everyday life and school.

— It's an interesting exhibition, isn't it? – Yuki murmured as they moved through the area of ancient cultures. Some sculptures, remains of ruins, contraptions.

— Yes, there are interesting things – Iker advanced next to him, between them there was a difference of at least 30 cm in height. Iker was almost two meters tall while Yuki was only 1.65 cm tall. And nothing to say about the difference between their musculatures or even their styles of dress, the Mexican wore more sporty styles while the Asian loved bright colors and more daring styles.

They ended up arriving at a remote area of the museum, still unfinished. Apparently there was no one watching, so Iker pushed aside a pair of curtains towards an exhibit in progress.

— I don't think we should do that – the smaller and more timid Yuki muttered.

— Come on, it's something new. Aren't you excited?

Yuki was silent for a while until she finally let out a sigh, nodding.

— Ok... Let's go.

They crossed the threshold before the bigger one dropped the cloth, the room was dimly lit, there were some pots, instruments and remains of rocks, nothing interesting or new. Until Iker seemed to notice something.

— Look at that – the brunet smiled as he saw something in the center of the room. It was some kind of mirror, its frame was made of stone, it looked quite old.

Although that wasn't the only thing special about it, it was also a kind of double mirror, but it was translucent in a very faint way. You could see your reflection and at the same time, barely see the other side.

The guys, excited by this discovery, stood in front of the mirror, each on one side. They looked at it curiously before they began to move in circles, examining.

— Wow... Where do you think it's from?

— No idea, but it looks ancient, probably one of the first cultures – Iker murmured.

— Is that so? How smart you are for studying engineering – Yuki joked with him.

— Excuse me, Mr. designer, maybe this is too much for your brain.

The guys began to joke with each other, though in a way the tone of the jokes began to rise.

—Surely you couldn't stand a day in my shoes – Yuki sentenced while looking at him with a mocking smile.

— Rather you couldn't be in mine, your manicure would be ruined by taking one of my weights.

— And your clumsy hands would ruin my designs.

— You wouldn't even know how to flirt with a girl.

— And you'd be scared to mess with another man.

Unnoticed, the mirror seemed to become charged with a very dim light.

— Surely you couldn't be in my body.

Iker whispered with narrowed eyes.

— You wouldn't last a week in mine.

Unnoticed by the boys. An energy shot out from under the mirror towards both of their feet. After that, they both walked out of the room as if nothing had happened.

And the rest of the day went on as normal, they went back to their room, had dinner, chatted for a while until they went to sleep.

In the night was when the “strange” happened. The same energy came out of their bodies and intertwined with each other, their energies were sucked and deposited into each other's body until they faded away.

The next morning, the first to wake up was Yuki. He felt strange from the first moment he opened his eyes, heavier? Had he eaten too much last night? He sat up in bed, sleepy and not seeing around him properly; he rubbed his face.

And then he felt it. He opened his eyes like plates noticing his huge brown hands, he looked around noticing that he was in Iker's room and not his own, it was filled with some sports and car posters, his weights on the floor and even the scent was totally his.

— Uh, uh... What is this?

He mumbled looking down at his pecs, weighing them, swallowing saliva. He felt huge, heavy, even silly.

Nothing compared to his old body, he was so thin and small, and overnight he went from being like this to this.

— This is wrong, this is wrong...

As he was thinking about it, he heard a familiar scream. He immediately got up to go to his room, where he saw his old body tangled in the sheets with a confused expression.

— What did you do, Yuki!? – he heard his former body say in an Asian accent. Just the way he used to talk.

He watched how he touched his body, his slender arms, her soft face, even how he took his tresses to observe them absorbed.

— Iker? – He said in her new deep voice.

— Who else would it be, silly!!!?

It was strange to see Yuki's body act like that, he was always reserved, quiet, didn't shout about almost anything. But now, it was clearly someone else who had command of his body.

The new Yuki stood up, examining himself from head to toe with a hint of disgust in his expression.

— Dude, my muscles are gone! – He could only see his thin outline. Palpating his chest to find something flat, he also touched his hips, noticing that there was the most amount of muscle there as well as on his thighs – Why does your body look like a girl's!!!?

— Shut up! Respect, I look like a Gorilla!

The New Mexican muttered.

He observed himself again in front of his friend this time, stroking his arms. He even sniffed slightly.

— Damn... Not bad.

He murmured smiling.

— Hey! Don't just take over my body like that!

— Don't you like it? Because your new body seems to say otherwise.

And indeed, it did. The new Yuki had an issue down there “down below”, he immediately covered himself with his hand, his face flushed.

— It's not my fault, it's your body!

—Well, that's weird. I don't feel like I'm lusting after some girl or something straight like that.

A smug smile appeared on her face as she stared at him.

— Get out of here!

Iker punched his former body in the arm, Yuki just let out a couple of laughs as he left the room. He returned to the room which corresponded to his body, still not believing that the two had swapped.

He had always felt comfortable being small, effeminate, very happy in his body.

But now... he felt different. Masculine, powerful, imposing. He peeked into his friend's closet, his clothes were spandex, sweatpants, compression shirts, some plaid shirts, all a far cry from his typical tops or stylish t-shirts.

He took one of the compression shirts to put it on, and strangely discovered a taste he experienced for the first time: how tight it felt.

He brought his hands back to his pecs, enjoying how wide and big they felt, he was playing with them when Iker walked in.

— Stop playing with them, they're not balls.

—They look like it.

Yuki paid attention to his old body, noticing the clothes he was wearing.

—Wow...

— Don't say anything.

The old Iker muttered a bit annoyed, now he was wearing quite “stylish” clothes, a white shirt made of what seemed to be silk, a neat pair of pants and a golden chain.

Not at all similar to what he would wear being himself, so he felt like a sort of “Barbie Girl”: with curls, nice clothes, smooth skin and perfume. He didn't even know how he ended up getting dressed up like that, it was like going into automatic mode.

— What now? – He muttered moodily.

— What do you mean, what now? – Yuki raised her eyebrow.

— Yeah. Are we going to go to our classes, lock ourselves in until we figure out how to solve this?

The opposite one was thoughtful, then he swallowed saliva as he remembered something.

— No, no... I can't skip today.

— What? Why?

— I have a very important presentation today, me lleva la chingada – he said in a perfect Mexican accent. Which stunned both of them. The silence was awkward until Yuki spoke again – It's about my dressmaking subject, I have to present my final project.

— The dress you've been working on for weeks?

— Yes, yes. It's my final project, it's 100% of the grade.

The now huge boy sat up in bed, overwhelmed. The remaining one came over to try to comfort him.

— Then I'll go in your place.

— You don't know anything about dresses, the only thing you know is how to take them off – he muttered overwhelmed.

— Hey, don't overdo it. I'm not as dumb as you think. Besides, if this happened – Iker pointed to his clothes – Don't you think I can manage to present your project?

They looked at each other for a while, to which the now dark-haired man let out a resigned sigh.

— All right, I'll trust you.

They both ended up leaving the apartment. Yuki heading to the engineering department while Iker to the design department, making a promise to try to be as similar to their new bodies as possible. Iker didn't want to see his body acting feminine, nor did Yuki want to see hers acting like a guy with no brain cells.

Iker advanced through the corridors, still getting used to feeling small, he felt that his gait had even changed, as if he now “floated”, before he felt that his steps echoed everywhere because of his musculature, but now, he was as agile as a feather.

He was turning the corner towards the living room, he had about 15 minutes to spare to get there. When he ran into a guy.

— Hi, Yuki – a muscular guy seemed to stop him in his tracks.

— Hi, Adam – it was hard for him not to be surprised when he recognized the boy's name.

— How are you? You didn't call me last night – the opposite gently closed the distance while staring at him with a flirtatious smile.

— I was... busy – he whispered as he watched him approach, but he seemed to be petrified. He wanted to move but couldn't, he just watched him getting closer and closer.

— It's a pity... – Iker felt a series of things seeing that boy flirting with him exactly as he used to do with girls – I really missed your company – he murmured, starting to caress his curls.

And when he least expected it. He kissed him.

For a second he felt disgusted to feel another man kissing him, but the more the seconds passed, it felt so natural...

He kissed him at a slow start, but he wanted more, he wanted more, he needed more. Iker turned up the intensity of the kisses, almost occupying his tongue as he held the guy against himself.

— Wow, someone looks excited. What's wrong? You look different today.

— Nothing – he mumbled with a silly grin on his face – I guess it's a new day.

They chatted for a while, kissed some more and he even liked the feeling when Adam grabbed him by the waist to hold on to him.

He ended up going into Yuki's classroom, and finally presented his project. It was as if his knowledge in engineering had been replaced by knowledge in fashion, tailoring, dressmaking, he knew exactly what fabric his friend had used, the type of closure, embossing, the falls. He had even achieved a perfect grade in that exhibition.

On the other hand, Yuki was anxiously sitting in his classroom, until a couple of Iker's friends arrived.

— What's up, bro? – the typical stereotypical brainless jock approached him, surrounded by at least 3 other guys just like him.

Yuki was silent for a microsecond before a strange outburst came from him.

— Bro! How are you?

He stood up, bumped fists with the guy and even his pectorals with each other. He never thought he would do anything so... Masculine.

And he even did it with the other three, as if it was something natural in him. He talked to them, and a series of sports knowledge, Iker's conquests, and more topics outside of him, came naturally out of his mouth, in addition to an extremely masculine personality where most of the vocabulary was based on: “Bro”.

— And today you will see Monica?

His mind immediately went into action, apparently Iker had forgotten to mention that he had a date today.

— Yep, bro – he nodded – We'll go for a coffee in an hour.

He was nervous inside himself, what would he do when he was with her? Would he feel attraction? Would he flirt with her? What if they ended up entangled in...?

No, no. He tried not to think about it. His class moved quickly. He had always been bad at math, but now he seemed to have mastered the subject from top to bottom, even complex physics topics, he knew it all.

His subject was over, and apparently the appointment he had pending was five minutes away.

— Good luck, bro! Monica certainly is a good catch, she has good “attributes” – the guys laughed to each other to leave the room and leave him alone.

Yuki felt overwhelmed, but he knew that this was something important for Iker, so he was forced to go. He ended up arriving at the cafe and saw the girl waiting for him: red-haired, slim, she was quite cute.

The boy didn't feel... anything, though. He admired her beauty, no doubt, but he didn't feel attracted.

He sat in the chair across from her and they both began to talk.

For hours.

Strangely, Yuki felt a great friendship with the girl, as if the chemistry between them flowed naturally.

— You're so funny, Iker! I thought you'd be an airhead like all your friends.

— Well, that's me, I guess – he smiled slightly. His heart was beating fast, what if she was already trying to kiss him? He wasn't feeling any heterosexual “urges” in Iker's body. That was worrying him, he had felt an automatic mode with his friends, with his subjects and knowledge? So why wasn't it happening now?

— I'm glad you're like that. But... I think we've been getting along really well and I don't want to ruin that, would you rather we stayed friends? – the girl smiled softly. And that was quite a relief for him. Yuki nodded.

— I'd love to.

They chatted for a while more until they said goodbye. Yuki thought about going back home but he felt anxious, like he will need something to be well, so he thought about going to the gym. He knew where Iker went to work out, so he immediately set off.

And again on autopilot he began to exercise, loving the way he felt his muscles pumping, how they swelled and became big as they flexed. How much he could carry!

Even how stinky his body was starting to get, how the sweat soaked into his clothes to make them damp and clingy. He felt ecstatic, lost in all those sensations.

He was powerful, big, huge, his pecs were so fat and thick! What could he say about his arms, they were fantastic without a doubt!

He smiled egocentrically, seeing himself through the reflection. There was hardly anyone in the gym, so he fearlessly lifted his armpit to start sniffing it, losing himself in his senses.

— Pff... How stinky... – he muttered. He stuck out his tongue, starting to lick himself, enjoying both the aroma and the taste of his sweat. He caressed his pectorals, he knew that partly all that acting was wrong, that was the body of Iker, his best friend.

But geez... He wasn't blind. He knew what a great catch Iker was even if he wasn't gay. But he wouldn't say it out loud in front of him, much less that he'd had more than one dream involving him.

And now he had him all to himself.

He continued with that exploration session until he was finally bored. He picked up his things and left in the direction of the apartment.

Where Iker had a “curious” moment as well. His rest of the day had been relaxed, taking classes, talking with Yuki's friends.

He discovered how interesting he now found fashion, pop music and things that although he didn't dislike, he didn't find so relevant either.

He even took a few “cute” pictures throughout the day, he was liking the feeling of being this small.

Even how other men saw him, besides the clear fact that he had made out with Adam even walking out of class.

He felt an urge that seemed born. He'd seen a few girls, even Yuki's friends, several of them he found pretty and desirable in more ways than one when he was himself, but now. He didn't pay even the slightest attention to the areas he used to look at when it came to a girl.

On the contrary, now he did that with guys: he noticed their pecs, their big muscles, their biceps. He had seen a pretty muscular guy in shorts and a tank top and almost went crazy right there.

When he got home, he found the apartment completely alone, although he didn't really care, he went into his new room right away to check his closet.

And started trying on clothes. He admired Yuki's style, some of his outfits looked cute, but he had never thought of wearing something like that.

But now he was wearing each one of his outfits, trying different tops, sweaters, tight pants, he even ventured to try Yuki's underwear, some of them were really revealing...

But he liked the silhouette what his body was adopting now, how her hips or her buttocks looked. The more he went through his closet and drawers, he ended up finding something: a toy.

It looked elongated, somewhat thick. He had never occupied something like that, if another kind of toys a little more in line with his sexuality, since he had never thought of putting something “in there”.

But now he felt an urge, too strong to ignore, it was like that urge to exercise that he had being him.

He lay back on the bed, carefully settled the toy against his entrance and gently let it go. He let out a sigh and a confused gasp at the sensation it gave; he thought it would hurt.

But it seemed like Yuki already had experience with it when he noticed how he managed to enter without any problems.

Iker almost screamed at the top of his lungs when he finally found that sensitive spot, he almost seemed to see stars. He immediately began to pound the area like crazy, pulling the tool in and out, he was anxiously moving against the bed, sweating and with a flushed face.

It was all chaos, he lost complete track of his surroundings, and that's why he didn't even notice that Yuki had come home.

Yuki was about to say hello out loud when he heard noises coming from her room, he didn't even take the moment to listen anymore, he knew exactly what was going on.

His heart pounding with excitement as he took step after step towards the open door of his room, he peeked his head out. And then he saw him:

His body moving against the sheets, tangled at his feet and no clothes on him, his hands wrapped around his manhood, the toy skewered. His white skin filled with beads of sweat, the scent alone that permeated the entire room...

It was like activating something inside him.

— Y-Yuki! – Iker opened his eyes in fright when he felt the hands of his opponent against his body and felt him on top of him.

— Shhh...

— I-it's n-it's not what it looks like, I-I...

— Save it.

Yuki muttered gravely, he grabbed his former body's hips to feel his skin, which made Iker let out a mute gasp.

— W-wait. W-what w-what are you w-what are you doing?

The former Mexican closed his eyes as he enjoyed the sensation of the huge brown hands resting on him.

— I told you... I don't feel anything straight in this body.

And with that, he stamped his now lips with his old ones, enjoying the unbridled sensation of kissing and touching between the two.

He got rid as best he could of everything that was in his way so that they were skin against skin. He kept kissing him, feeling Iker's nervous hands work their way down his pecs, which he played with like a fool, pressing the reliefs.

Yuki grabbed the toy to pull it out all at once, which caused a yelp from Iker.

— W-what do you plan to do?

—Shhh... Let yourself go.

He mused until he skewered his manhood into him all at once, this caused Iker to roll his eyes with a goofy grin, almost as if his brain cells were melting. It was a racket, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, the gasps and grunts, the grinding of wood, the slender legs of Yuki's original body wrapped around Iker's thick hips.

— Ah!

— Tell me Iker.

— W-what?

— Tell me Iker, Yuki.

The Mexican hesitated a moment to answer, though his brain was fucked at that point.

— Yes, Iker! Yes!

The two of them stayed like that for almost the whole night, until they woke up hugging each other.

They didn't even think about how to solve that "problem", they both felt comfortable as they were, there was no need to go back to being who they were.

Iker settled completely into being Yuki. He became an even better designer, hung out with his friends, enjoyed his new career and all the opportunities in it.

Yuki also became completely comfortable with being Iker. He loved exercise, sports, spending time with his new friends, even if they were a bit “dorky” from what he was used to.

And even better, he enjoyed his new boyfriend. Now everything was as it should be, just between them.

———

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages.

See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

———

[feelbokkie]

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 30

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of childhood trauma and abandoment

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: ♡PENED

W♡RD C♡UNT: 7,260 (i am so sorry)

SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 2

A/N: i am so very sorry for the delay. hopefully the wait was worth it

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

��feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

"You know it's supposed to be in the 100s today, right?" Changbin sighs as he flops down onto the couch in front of you. "You're actually going to die from overheating if you go out like that."

You set the iced coffee you're drinking back onto the table and resume scanning the test shots you took of him earlier. Chan sits behind the two of you as the hair stylist finishes fixing his hair. Music plays through someone's phone as everyone else around you cleans up their mess.

The room you're in is one of the spare rooms used specifically to hold the group's concert outfits and whatever they're required to wear for individual schedules. In moments like this, the room doubles as a dressing room when someone has a schedule that requires them to be ready before they leave the hotel.

You woke up late, having missed your first two alarms so that you could join Chan and Changbin for breakfast. By the time you finished getting ready, you had to meet them in the room to take test shots and make sure their overall appearance matched the overall theme of the shoot. Not wanting to delay the day any more than you already did, you were planning on grabbing a piece of fruit from the hotel's complimentary breakfast on your way out only to be met with a muffin and iced coffee when you walked into the makeshift dressing room.

"It's cold right now. I'll take my jacket off later when it starts to warm up." You let out a low sigh before setting your camera aside and resuming your breakfast.

According to your weather app, it's supposed to be the hottest day of the week. You're skeptical given how cold and gloomy it is currently. It almost looks like it might rain any second now. Even if it does get hot later, you're hoping it after you've finished working for the day. You may be able to survive the heat but your camera most likely won't.

"Yeah, but you're wearing all black. That's going to attract heat. You're wearing an oven."

The oven in question is a zip-up hoodie two sizes too big draped over a black tee shirt that's closer to your actual size but still a bit looser around your frame. To top off your monochrome outfit, you're wearing baggy cargo pants and the hat Changbin bought for you. It's a stark contrast from his outfit, a slightly oversized tee shirt with a random faded beach designed with the sleeves and sides cut off into a muscle shirt paired with a pair of baggy ripped blue jeans. You almost want to tell him to bring a jacket just in case.

It's overkill, you'll agree with that. But it hides your figure well while you're out in public. It worked well during the airport trip out of Seattle. Not a single photo of you appeared online and there were even whispers of you being fired from the staff when fans couldn't find you. Having the kids call you 'hyung' helped sell the allusion as well.

“You know you don’t have to do all that anymore, right? They moved on,”

Just as suddenly an earthquake can destroy the foundation of someone’s home, your scandal with Hyunjin did its best to wreak yours. The subsequent and frequent aftershocks made it feel like another one was coming to reduce the rubble to dust. And while a “big one” did come the seismic plates shifted elsewhere leaving a more devastating catastrophe. A new scandal, one much more riveting than an alleged relationship between an idol and their staff member, had captured everyone’s attention.

Someone from a junior group who had just barely gotten out of their rookie period had gotten a girl pregnant.

A bigger quake, one with far more casualties, took the interest of the netizens that circled over you like vultures and they flew off to feed on a more appetizing meal. Leaving you lying in the rubble and staring at the sky as you waited for another aftershock.

“Noona,” Changbin calls softly as he waves a hand in front of your face.

You clear your throat and set the muffin back down. “It’s hyung today, remember?”

A smile slowly creeps onto Changbin's face as he glances over you. “You don’t look like a hyung.”

“Oh?” You clap your hands together to get rid of the remaining crumbs before reaching back to hide any pieces of your hair from sticking out. You fully zip up the hoodie and fluff it out. You pull the brim of the bucket hat down to cover most of your face. “How about now?”

Changbin pauses for a moment before reaching his hand out to brush off a bit of muffin your chin. The sudden touch catches you by surprise. Another pause as he thinks for a second, his hand still on your face. Finally, he pulls his hand away and leans back in his seat. “Too pretty,”

“You do realize what industry you work in, right? Men can be and are pretty.” You say almost too quickly. The room suddenly feels hotter than you know it's been the entire morning. You clear your throat and pick up your iced coffee, pausing for a moment as you bring it to your mouth. You take a quick sip and look off to the side at nothing before adding, “Go look in that mirror over there.”

After a moment of silence, you flip up the brim of your hat so you can see again as you continue drinking. You sit there quietly as Changbin stares at you. The tips of his ears are alarmingly red and the blush on his cheeks is a bit darker than you remember seeing earlier. The corners of his mouth twitch as he tries, and fails, to contain the smile that is quickly taking over his face. “W-well, t-t-that’s not…not what I—“

“Do I look okay?” Chan asks as he walks up behind you, oblivious to the conversation the two of you are having.

You shift your attention to Chan and give him a once-over. He fixes a rogue strand of hair, moving it off of his forehead and into the waterfall of curls leading to the end of his small mullet. He's wearing a faded tight-fitting ringer tee with baggy blue jeans hanging off his waist, just the smallest sliver of his midriff poking through the gap between his shirt and pants. But the second he raises his arms, you know his shirt is going to expose more. "Are you comfortable wearing that?"

"Yes," He nods with a sort of derpy smile.

“Then you look good. Let me take some test shots of you before we go. Go by the window, please.”

“Okay,” Chan says eagerly in a small, almost child-like, voice as he walks over to the large window. The room is far enough away from the ground floor to worry about the windows being open and fans peeking through.

You take a few quick pictures, only using the light from the window to mimic the conditions you're about to work in. After a few solo shots of Chan, you call Changbin over to stand next to him so that you can make sure they look good together. After a few more shots, you go to the gallery and check the images, making sure you don't have to send either one of them back to the makeup chair. Both Chan and Changbin walk over to you and try to look too. Chan stands across from you, looking at the pictures of himself upside down. Changbin comes up behind you, looking at the camera from over your shoulder. The room is suddenly hot again.

"We're good," You quickly shut off your camera and head back to the table to pack everything away again. "Let's go,"

***

You should have known better to trust the weather app. You should have listened to Changbin, not that he was correct either. Not entirely anyway.

It's not in the hundreds, but the high nineties might as well be. The breeze that occasionally blows through is more like the air that comes out from the exhaust of a car than the expected cool and refreshing summer breeze.

You sent Chan and Changbin off to go take selfies for inclusions while you sit off in the shade of a tree fanning your camera with your bucket hat at a nearby park. It overheated while you were taking a duo picture of Chan and Changbin at the beach. Annoyingly, it shut off right before you could take a picture of Changbin chasing Chan holding a stick with a bit of seaweed hanging off of it. Or rather, you hit the shutter, and then it shut off. Hopefully, if there was ever a moment for luck or god or whatever to be on your side, the picture got captured before the camera shut off.

"Is it working now, noona?" Changbin plops himself beside you on the grass.

You let out an annoyed sigh at Changbin refusing to help with your cover by calling you 'hyung.' It's one of the main issues of the day with him. At first, when you took pictures of them while you were out in the street or in other parts of the city, it was fine because most people were still in their homes. But as the day drags on, there are more opportunities for them to get spotted, only adding to your stress.

"Did you finish taking those selcas I asked for, Changbin-ssi?" You ignore his question while you try turning your camera on again.

"Yes,"

"Did you send them to me?"

"Yes,"

"Alright," Once the camera turns on, you turn it off again and get up from the grass. "Let's go find Chan and shoot somewhere else."

You grab your jacket from the grass, quickly shaking it off and checking each part of it. While you're busy making sure your jacket is free from grass stains, Changbin wastes no time grabbing your camera and camera bag. "About that...how about we go somewhere indoors for a while. We can cool down and not worry about your camera. There's an arcade near here that's pretty much empty and it looks nice inside."

"Did you go off wandering by yourself when were supposed to be working?" Now clean, you tie your jacket around your waist as you look up at Changbin. Strands of his hair from his curtain bangs are now sticking to his forehead. Before you do anything, you're going to have to let the makeup artist fix him up again. Luckily for you, they promised they would stay nearby just in case.

"I was working," You go to reach to take your things from Changbin just for him to sling them over his shoulder. "I just happened to find the arcade while I was walking. It's pretty cool in there too."

You try to take your things again but Changbin takes a half step back. Frustrated, you scratch the back of your head with one hand and rest the other one on your hip. "We have to get permission to take pictures in there. Did you even ask?"

A blank expression flashes across Changbin's face as he thinks for a moment.

"That's what I thought," You mutter to yourself.

"There you two are!" Chan calls from behind you. Both you and Changbin turn around to find the leader jogging towards you with a small plastic bag hanging from his arm and three cups in his hands.

"Did both of you go on side quests?" You scoff in disbelief, an amused smile creeping on your face.

"I was walking back and I saw a fruit stand...Sorry, the pineapple got me." Chan gives you a shy smile before handing you a pink drink. "It's strawberry lemonade. Fruit is good for you when it's hot like this."

Defeated, you take the strawberry lemonade and walk over to the picnic tables in the corner of the park. Chan and Changbin follow behind you, animatedly talking about something you can't hear. You shove your hat back on your head as you sit down on the bench. You're more exposed now and there's no way someone isn't going to recognize the loud pair.

"What were you two talking about?" Chan asks when he reaches the table. He places the bag and the last cup in his hand on the table. Changbin has the other one, a pale yellow drink.

"Changbin wants to go shoot inside of an empty arcade." You sigh as you finally manage to get your things back from Changbin as he sets them on the table.

Chan's eyes light up with a slight twinkle. You can almost picture a tail wagging behind him excitedly as he stops going through the plastic bag. "Really?"

"Yeah but noona says we can't go."

"Hyung," both you and Chan correct him.

"And I didn't say no. I said that we have to get permission from the owner. They'll probably say no." You add.

"Should we go ask? It'll be cooler at least. And we won't have to worry about other people." Chan pulls out three fruit cups from the bag and leaves two of them in the middle of the table. He wastes no time opening the last one and immediately goes for a piece of pineapple.

"That's what I said!" Changbin shouts excitedly as he grabs Chan's shoulder and shakes it, nearly making the older man drop the grape he was trying to eat.

You shoot Changbin a quick glare before rolling your eyes and fishing your phone out of your bag to check the time. You let out a quiet sigh when you see that you have about an hour and a half left of the allotted time for the pictures. If you didn't have to deal with your camera overheating, you wouldn't have wasted so much valuable time. "It'll probably be easier to go to the arcade. I was hoping we could head up to the Hollywood sign and take some pictures, the view is supposed to be beautiful."

"I like the view from here," Changbin says suddenly. His voice soft and small, almost as if he didn't mean to voice his thoughts.

"Hmm," You glance over at Changbin. His eyes are focused yet soft as he stares at you, a small hint of admiration in them. You put your elbow on the table and rest your chin in the palm of your hand as you look back at where you were earlier. Just across the sidewalk, you can see the ebb and flow of the ocean hitting the sand. You almost avoided going altogether, but something about the way Chan and Changbin screamed 'beach day.' It would have been a waste otherwise. "Yeah, the view is pretty nice."

"The ocean always looks beautiful," Chan speaks behind his hand through a mouth full of fruit. "You two should eat though, I think the sugar is starting to attract bees."

You hum quietly as you continue to watch the water, almost like you're lost in a trace. Something about the beach is calming, even if you're not physically on it. Just staring is enough to slowly pull your worries away. Your free hand wanders to the middle of the table, reaching for the fruit cup.

You yank your hand back quickly as something brushes against you and there's a sudden stinging sensation at the tip of your fingers. You sit straight up and look at your hand, flipping it around while trying to find a sign of injury. Three fine lines appear on your forehead when you don't even find a scrape on your skin. You look back up at the cup, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Ba-dum

Your face softens with your mouth hanging slightly ajar when you find Changbin also examining his hand in confusion. Despite the California heat cooking you alive, a chill runs down your spine eliciting goose bumps to spread across your arms and legs as Changbin's head snaps up. His sparkling eyes locked on yours with an expression that only mirrors your own.

"What just happening?" Chan asks confused as he looks between the two of you.

"Nothing..." You reply as you shake your head, bringing you back to reality. "I have to call your makeup artist so she can do some touch-ups before we go. Eat your snacks, I'll be back."

You can't get up any faster as you nearly trip getting up from the bench. Your heart does inexplicable somersaults in your chest as you walk away from the table.

What the hell was that?

***

"Chan, I guarantee if you stick your tongue out cheekily and wink with the tip of your straw or top of your slushie showing, Stay will absolutely lose their minds." You call from the floor of the arcade.

"Like this?" Chan asks as he perfectly replicates what you tell him to do.

"Exactly!" You cheer as he snaps the picture on his phone before taking a bite of fruit.

After your call with the makeup artist, you managed to find the arcade Changbin was talking about and talked with the owner. Or rather, the owner's son who didn't care what you did. You could have told him that you were robbing the place and he would willingly give you the key to the register and go back to scrolling on his phone.

You took a few pictures of Chan and Changbin playing various games for the next hour. You did your best in the dimly lit arcade and the flash of your camera. You should be able to edit the pictures later, but it's probably going to take hours to do so.

After you finished working, you sent Chan and Changbin to take a few more selfies while you parked yourself in the corner to eat your fruit cup and check the pictures. Your time is up with them but Changbin is engrossed in a claw machine in the back of the arcade. With no rush for the rest of the day, you decided to just sit in the air-conditioned room while you finally ate your snack. At some point, Chan disappeared and reappeared with slushies for the three of you and played some games while he waited for Changbin.

"Ah, my tongue is blue..." Chan notes as he checks the picture on his phone.

"It'll be fine. Just send it to me." You brush off.

Nobody's set foot in the arcade the entire time you've been there, fortunately. You're not sure if it's because of the obviously outdated games like Dance, Dance Revolution and Donkey Kong or the music that makes you feel like you walked into a different decade. Either way, you're thankful for the break.

"We're going to be here forever..." Chan groans as he sits down next to you.

"He really wants one of those toys, I guess." You shrug. Changbin's eyes immediately locked onto the claw machine the second he saw it earlier. Every time you weren't taking a picture, his attention would drift back to it. Eventually, you took a picture of him playing it and he hasn't left yet.

"Yeah, but it might be cheaper to just buy whatever plush he's trying to get at this point." Chan leans his head against the wall and takes another sip from his slushie.

"Yeah, you're probably right. It'll probably end up being the most expensive thing he buys during this leg of the tour."

Chan hums in agreement looking out in front of him. After a moment in silence, Chan pulls his phone out of his back pocket and responds to a message on his phone. From the corner of your eye, you can see a long text thread.

"Noona, do you want to come to dinner with us tonight?" Chan asks as he sets his phone down in his lap.

"Dinner?" You shift your attention to Chan. It's still too early in the day to think about dinner.

"Seungmin hasn't shut up about kimchi jjigae for about a week and Hyunjin found a place in Koreatown that's supposed to be really good. It's a hole-in-the-wall sort of place too."

"I would love to but I have a lot of things to get done tonight. A few comebacks are happening next week and I haven't done my reviews for them yet." You lie. You're ahead of album and come back reviews that you're done for the entire month of June barring any surprise drops.

"Take it from one of the biggest workaholics in the music industry--maybe even in the whole world--but you don't have to work every minute of every day."

You shove another piece of fruit in your mouth. "I'm not working right now."

"Technically you are." Chan chuckles.

"Eating fruit is my job?" You joke.

"That's a dream job. I wish I knew that was a possibility."

"Maybe in your second life."

"I'm being serious though. Not about the fruit thing. About the working thing. You're going to burn yourself out."

You set your now empty cup down in the space between you. "Didn't I overhear you and Changbin talking about meeting up with Jisung later tonight to work on some music?"

"That's different. We actually take breaks. We just are going to have a quick meeting, we're not going to record or anything like that tonight."

"I take breaks."

"That is the biggest lie I've ever heard come out of anyone's mouth. You're worse than Seungmin." Chan scoffs, his head lazily turning towards you.

You keep your eyes forward, staring at the title screen for Galaga. Even if the restaurant is not popular--even if the attention is no longer on you, you can't go out with the group. If anyone spots you out with them, it'll cause more trouble than it's worth. If you sit even in the same vicinity as Hyunjin and someone spots you, the chaos will start again. Even if you sit as far away from Hyunjin as possible, people will say that you're just doing it for appearances to throw off the media. You can't win either way. Unless you refuse to play altogether.

"Look, it's fine. It's better if we keep a clear...boundary between me you the eight of you. That way there aren't any more misunderstandings and you guys don't have to deal with the added stress."

"Yeah but..." The thought dies in Chan's throat. He knows you're right. The scandal with Hyunjin wasn't just inconvenient for the two of you, it affected the entire group. Fans had been attacking the other members online either getting mad at them for not mentioning the "relationship" earlier or begging them to be single. A huge mess all around.

"Okay, we can leave now." Changbin walks up suddenly. His hands shoved into his front pockets.

"Out of money?" Chan teases when he doesn't see a small stuffed animal anywhere on Changbin's person.

You laugh to yourself while you get up and pick up your bag and trash from the floor. You toss the cup in a nearby trash can and adjust your bag on your strap.

Changbin shakes his head as he pulls his hand out of his pocket. He stretches a fist out in front of him before opening his hand. Palm facing down, something small falls from his hand. It only falls for a second before it's suspended in the air, being held by a small loop still connected to Changbin's hand. The object moves around a bit, swinging back and forth before you notice it's a small stuffed cat drinking a coffee keychain.

"You spent all your time over there and that's what you got?" Chan laughs as he pulls himself off the ground. "You could have gotten that at a dollar store for less than what you paid."

Changbin shrugs nonchalantly as pulls the cat charm back into his fist. He moves his fist more towards you and, with his palm facing up this time, opens his hand again to reveal the cat.

"All that for a keychain?" You ask in disbelief. You've been waiting for him for at least 20 minutes.

"Yeah, but it's not really my style. You can have it." He sticks his hand out more towards you as he tries to offer it to you.

You stare at it for a moment. It's rather cute the way the black cat is holding a cup of iced coffee. "Shouldn't you give it to the resident cat enthusiast?"

"No," Changbin takes your free hand and places the plush in the palm of your hand before making you close your fingers around it. "But it reminded me of you so I think you should have it."

Ba-dum

You press save on your laptop before letting out a large yawn and stretching your arms over your head. After a few seconds, you lower your arms, pulling your shirt back down with one hand and rubbing the back of your neck with the other. You tap your phone screen after fixing your shirt to check the time.

3:09 AM

“Shit…” You mutter under your breath.

You didn’t plan on staying up this late. When you got back to the hotel you immediately got to work importing the pictures you took today. Because of the damage to your laptop, everything takes longer than it should. So, while you waited, you took a small nap, which ended up being longer than you intended. You woke up close to dinner time so you went and grabbed food from a nearby restaurant and ate while you worked.

Editing the pictures also took a little longer than you thought it would. The gentle breeze caused stray hairs to fly around. And you had to do a lot of color correction for the arcade pictures. You also had to reformat the images that Chan and Changbin sent you to save you time later. You were so locked in, you weren't aware how long you were actually working. Luckily, you don't have to be at the venue until the afternoon. So can sleep in a little if your body will allow it.

While your laptop, held together by duct tape and prayers, saves your work you go and take a shower to get ready for bed. You’re busy wrapping your hair in a towel when you walk over to check if it’s done. The huffing and puff of your computer overheating from doing a basic function makes the room hot. You turn the air conditioning on and walk back into the bathroom to do your face routine. Just as you finish, so does your computer.

3:25 AM

You shut your laptop off and double-check that your camera batteries are charging. Once you’re satisfied, you grab a Ziplock bag from the pack on the TV stand and your room key before leaving.

The stillness of the hotel hallway is eerie. It's almost like you stepped into a space where time doesn't exist. It's different from the hallway of an apartment building where you can hear signs of life no matter the time of the day. Hotels, on the other hand, feel almost haunted by everyone who ever stepped foot in them.

You walk to the end of the hall towards the ice machine. As you get closer, the humming of the machine fills the void of quietness. Nearby is the elevator. You don't have to worry about anyone coming up. The entire floor is blocked out for the tour and for added security, the only people who can access the floor are those with the code. Amid the scandal and learning about how there's at least one person working for The Seoul Star: Supernova who is tasked with following the members to catch them in a scandal, your one sense of relief is knowing that they can't come up to the floor.

You fill up your Ziplock bag of ice and make your way back to your room. You hum quietly to yourself as you try to figure out what time you should wake up tomorrow and whether or not you should head over to So-Fi Stadium early to get some footage of fan interactions. You went and got some pictures of the fans camping out back in Seattle but you heard how insane the lines were for the merch presale yesterday. It's expected to be just as insane tomorrow...well, later today.

"Ah,"

You're attention is brought back to the present when you bump into something--no someone--causing you to stumble a bit. You don't fall, your collision wasn't that hard, but their hand rests on your upper arm to prevent you from falling further.

"Sorry, noona. I didn't think anyone was out here." Changbin says quietly. He releases his grip around your arm once he senses that you're stable.

"It's fine, I should have been paying attention." You brush off awkwardly. If you thought you were going to run into anyone, you would have gone out without the towel on top of your head. If it wasn't for the fact that the hallway is cold and your hair is still wet, you'd pull it off right now to save yourself from further embarrassment.

You look back up at Changbin only to be met someone almost unrecognizable. His face is pale and a little clammy. His hair is sticking up in all different directions and looks like it might stay that way. His eyes are darting around looking for...something. His body is so tense that he's shaking. Genuine concern feels your body. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah, no I'm good." He breathes, his voice shaky.

"So good that you're just wandering the hallway at three-thirty in the morning?"

Changbin presses his lips into a fine line as he tries to come up with a half-decent answer. He looks everywhere else but you. "What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

You hold up the bag of ice in front of his eyes so he can see it clearly. "I was working too long so I need to ice my wrist before bed."

"You wouldn't need to ice your wrist if you came with me to the gym more often to strengthen your wrist."

"I know you didn't come out here to lecture me about rehabilitating my wrist." You lower the bag again and tap Changbin's arm, forcing him to look at you. "What's really going on?"

More silence sits between the two of you. The only thing filling in the quiet is Changbin's slow, shaky breathing. A dull pain in your chest appears as you continue to watch him.

“I know I don't exactly give off a comforting vibe," You pause for a second, choosing your words carefully. "but you can talk to me if you want. Completely off the record.”

Changbin laughs to himself quietly. "Last week you were going on about how you don't need to be taken care of or people to care about you and yet, here you are."

You ignore his remark, hardly reacting to it at all. He's right, you don't need to be taken care of or burden other people with your issues. But taking care of others is your nature.

Changbin shifts from foot to foot while he studies your face, almost like he's trying to read your brain and find some sort of ulterior motive behind your words. After looking for a moment and unable to find anything, his eyes soften.

"I...I couldn't sleep," He says simply, his voice tight and crackling.

"Oh?" You reply simply, urging him to keep going.

"It-It's nothing," Changbin says quickly. He leans back against the wall next to him and slides down into a crouch. He lowers his head between his knees and runs his hands through his hair. "I'm just being stupid."

Your body is faster than your brain as you move to sit next to him. By the time your brain catches up to your body, you're unsure of what to do next. Too many seconds are passing between the two of you.

"I don't think you're being stupid. Sleep isn't always easy. I can't even imagine the amount of anxiety coursing through your body the night before you perform in one of the largest venues in the world." You bump shoulders with Changbin, trying to cheer him up.

"It's not that," He lifts his head and leans it against the wall. "I...I have these really intense...dreams? Nightmares? I don't get them often but when I do...it’s just not a good feeling."

“What do you do when you get those dreams?”

“I just go to one of the members. But I'm pretty sure everyone is asleep right now. Even Chan hyung."

"And you talk about your dreams with them?"

"No," His eyes are focused in front of him as his hand absentmindedly plays with the plush carpet between the two of you. His hand accidentally brushes against yours for a moment, causing him to freeze for a moment before he continues. "But we would just talk about whatever. Or watch TV...listen to music...play video games."

You bring your knees to your chest and rest your wrist in a way that allows you to place the ice pack on it comfortably while you hum to yourself in response. "When my niece and nephews had trouble sleeping or had a nightmare I would tell them stories until they fell asleep again. Sometimes I would just hum too if I was too tired."

"You're an aunt?" Changbin's head snaps in your direction. You pick a spot on the floor and focus while the gears turn in Changbin's head.

"That's what you heard in that entire sentence?" You scoff in disbelief.

"I heard about the story part but you're so quiet about your personal life, it's shocking to hear you give up information like that willingly. I didn't even know you had an older sister until her live streams came out. You never talk about your home."

"Seoul is my home." You correct almost defensively. You pause for a moment, collecting your composure as an uneasy feeling brews in the pit of your stomach. “I know what you’re trying to say but that…place never felt like home.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up. You don’t have to explain everything if it’s that uncomfortable. I was just curious about the noona lore.”

“Noona lore?” You laugh, a genuine one that fills your chest with warmth.

“Like I said, you don’t talk a lot outside of work things. It almost seems unfair that you know so much about us and we know hardly anything about you. But I understand if it’s hard to talk about. Your sister is a bit…”

“She’s a bitch. You can say it, I won’t be offended.” You finally look over at Changbin, who stares at you with an amused look on his face. His lips are slightly parted with one corner curved into a smirk and eyes wide as saucers. “She’s 42 and somehow I’m more mature than her.”

“42?”

“Hm,” You hum in response. You ponder for a moment if you should even be telling him this. Weighing your options, you let out a sigh before starting again. “My mom had me late. My sister was turning 13 when she had me. I had an older brother too. He had just turned 18.”

Changbin’s face drops immediately in the middle of your explanation. “Had?”

“He’s not dead or anything!” You say quickly. “It’s slightly more complicated than that.”

You’re not exactly sure why—maybe it’s the ambiance of the hallway or your lack of sleep catching up with you—but you consider telling Changbin everything. How your siblings are actually your half-siblings. How their father was long gone off somewhere far away from the shit storm that is your mother. Eventually, she met your father and fell head over heels in love with him. At some point, he stopped loving her and her solution to get him to stay was to trap him with a baby. A baby he definitely did not want. He did try though, according to your sister. He stayed with her for your sake and all was well. But soon after you were born he was certain that parenthood, and a relationship with your mother, was not the path he didn't want to go down. From then on, your mother shifted the blame onto you. Your brother, freshly 18 decided to not go to university like he was originally planning and stayed to take care of you and your sister as your mother grew more neglectful and out of control. When you were old enough to start going to school and your mother was stable enough to actually care for her children, your brother decided to go back to school and earn a degree so he could get a proper job and help out more. Maybe even adopt you once he was a bit more financially stable. Like a switch had flipped, your mother went insane going on about how he was abandoning like both of your fathers. She kicked him out and threatened to call the police if he came back or if he talked to you or your sister. He tried after that. He’d still take you to and from school. Gave your sister lunch money and made sure you had something to take with you for lunch. And when your mother found out, she kept her word and called the police claiming that there was an abduction attempt. He didn’t get arrested but he knew that she would keep calling until he actually was behind bars. So for his sake, and yours, he stayed away.

But you spare him the sob story. Nothing good comes from reminiscing this late at night. And you’ve already gotten emotional in front of Changbin more times than you’re comfortable with in the last couple of months. Besides, it’ll give him another reason to pity you and that’s the last thing you want. So instead, you face forward and tell him a half-truth.

“We just lost contact over the years.”

Changbin nods, understanding that you're not willing to go further. More silence fills the hallway. A soft thud comes from one of the rooms. You're almost certain one of the other members, probably Jeongin, rolled off their bed.

Sensing the uneasiness radiating off of Changbin, you hold your good arm out, palm facing up, for him to take. He hesitates only for a moment before taking your hand. You're not sure why, if it's the heat of his hand or general exhaustion quickly taking over, but you feel hot. Like someone on the hotel staff just turned up the heater for the whole building. A new sound, a loud rhythmic thumping, rings in your ears as the two of you sit there, holding hands and saying nothing.

"What stories would you tell your niece and nephews?" Changbin asks suddenly.

"I would mostly just repeat the fairytales I would hear in school. My eldest nephew was born when I was 5. The other two were born when I was 9 and 10." You think for a moment trying to recall those fond memories with your niece and nephews. You quietly chuckle to yourself when you remember a botched version of Jack and the Beanstalk that you once told them. "I might have taken some creative liberties though."

"Tell me one?" He asks softly. His voice is small and laced with sleep.

"You want me to tell you a children's bedtime story?" You smirk lazily as you turn your attention back to the younger man.

"You can tell me any story you want to. Or you can just talk about whatever. You can even recap the day if you want." His voice hushed, a whisper of tenderness in the almost intimate moment. "I honestly don't care what you talk about. Your voice is so calming, I can just listen to it all day. It's...it's almost like listening to my favorite song."

Ba-dum

You think for a moment, your brain suddenly devoid of every story you've ever heard. So you make one up. It's more nonsensical jumbled-up words than anything. You're almost certain you blending in some actual children's stories and creating a convoluted story loosely based on Wonseok and Frankie about two members of a trio that hated each other and ended up falling in love. At some point, around the time the two main characters start to fall in love, Changbin's head lands on your shoulder. He was slowly slumping over as you were talking earlier so you weren't as surprised at the sudden contact. You would have thought he fell asleep if it wasn't for the familiar drumming of his fingers along the back of your hand.

As you finish the story, silence hangs over the hallway like a comforting blanket. The thumping noise, now louder, is still present. But so is Changbin's calm, even breaths. Part of you worries about how uncomfortable this position must be for him. Another part of you worries about how you're going to wake him up. If anyone walks out of their room and sees the two of you in the hallway sleeping hand in hand, there'll be rumors spreading through staff and the members like wildfire.

You're slowly nodding off yourself in the tranquil silence. Your eyes are shut and your head is resting on top of Changbin's.

"Noona?" Changbin asks suddenly.

"Hm?" Is all you're able to manage in your sleep-ridden state.

The drumming on your hand stops mid tap and for a second you're convinced he's just talking in his sleep. His breathing is still even and quiet, not showing any sign of stirring.

You push the ice pack off of your bad wrist and decide to let yourself rest for a few more minutes before waking up Changbin and sending him off to his room.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Ba-dum

Your eyes shoot open and the pounding in your ears gets louder and faster. Your mouth is impossibly dry as you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You can't remember how to breathe.

“…What?” You ask after a minute. You look down at Changbin, who hasn't moved an inch from his position, in disbelief as you replay what you just heard in your head.

I think I'm falling in love with you.

Maybe you fell asleep without realizing it? Maybe you're dreaming? Maybe you're losing your mind?

Still, you can't bring yourself to look away from the sleeping man on your shoulder. The man who spent the first few months of you two knowing each other hating you. Who completely shut you out and made working with him difficult. The man who frustrates you to no end for reasons you can't begin to understand. Who has been slower to warm up to you than an oven during dinner prep.

Changbin slowly lifts his head off your shoulder and looks up at you, his eyes conveying a vulnerability that you've never seen in him before. He brushes a stray lock of damp hair from your face and tucks it into the towel on your head, his touch lingering as he drags his finger back down your face. Your breath hitches in your throat the longer he stares at you.

“I’m falling in love with you."

Ba-dum

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[weirdkpopgirl]

Depressed | Dream Reaction #15 (hyung line)

Reaction: when their gf is falls into depression

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions of reader being depressed, dark thoughts, self-harm, insecurities, all the fun stuff. please do not read if any of these topics trigger you.

Word Count: ~3k

Author's Note: it has been so long since i last posted a reaction for 7dream 😭. honestly i've been running out of ideas for them, so that's why. and i know i've written things with similar topics to this one, but i wanted to write something specifically for depression. the reason for this being that i was struggling a lot recently, but i am doing better now. still, my hope is that i can offer some comfort to those of you who might be experiencing this or something similar. thank you for reading ^ ^

here is the maknae-line version if you'd like to read it!

~ ~ ~

mark 

The faint lights of the city cast fleeting shadows across Mark’s face as his head rested against the window of his manager’s car. His fingers idly scrolled through Instagram to make the time pass a little faster. Absentmindedly, he moved to his message section to look through his friends’ notes. He stopped when he came across yours—  which had “Lonely” by Jonghyun and Taeyeon playing.

Mark frowned, as he listened to the chorus part of the song you had chosen. It gnawed at him, realizing this wasn’t the first time you had picked a gloomy track recently. Over the past few weeks, your song choices had felt like little cries for help, subtle yet piercing. 

Unable to brush it off this time, Mark asked his manager to drop him off at your place instead. His manager shot him a skeptical glance through the rearview mirror. But when he realized through Mark’s concerned expression that this was serious, he allowed Mark to type in your address into the GPS. Your place wasn’t far from their current route anyway.

The car soon pulled up in front of your apartment building. Mark thanked his manager before stepping out, pulling his hood over his head and slipping on a mask to ward off the cold and any unwanted attention. In the three months you and Mark had been together, your secret relationship had managed to stay under the radar—  unnoticed by any news outlets. 

Mark let himself in, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalled how touched he’d been when you told him the passcode was his birthday. The serene darkness of your apartment greeted him as he pushed the door open and removed his shoes at the entryway. His eyes were immediately drawn to the only visible light from the left side as he turned down the hallway. A soft glow emanated from your bedroom, urging his feet to move instinctively in that direction.

He approached cautiously, peeking inside to find you lying atop your double bed, the navy blue comforter from your childhood spread beneath you. Your purple earbuds were in, and your eyes were fixed on the ceiling with a faraway emptiness in your expression. The absence of the light he was so used to seeing in you twisted his heart.

“(Y/n),” he called out. However, you didn’t notice his presence until he stepped closer to your bedside.

Surprised, you blinked and turned your head toward him. Removing one earbud, you simply looked at him with something deeper than exhaustion.

Mark sat on the edge of your bed. “Are you listening to your sad playlist again?”

You silently handed him your phone, the Spotify screen confirming his suspicions. 92 songs, 6 hours’ worth of Korean music designed to pull you deeper into your somber mood. 

After removing your second earbud and placing it in its charging case, you move to sit up. But Mark gently stopped you, resting a hand on your shoulder before lowering himself onto the bed to lie beside you. Once you were settled in his arms he asked, “Are you okay?”

Half of him expected you to lie and say you were fine. His mind was already running with responses to persuade you to be honest about what you were feeling to him.

The defensive wall that usually kept you guarded wasn’t there tonight. You simply didn’t have the energy to be the strong person you wanted Mark to see.

“No… I’m not,” you whispered, your voice trembling as Mark noticed the tears beginning to well in your eyes.

In a moment of slight panic, he gently cupped the right side of your face, catching the tears before they could fall. “Hey, hey, I’m here. It’s alright. You don’t have to explain right now.”

That was all it took before you buried your face in his chest, his hoodie muffling the quiet sobs that escaped you.

Mark had so much he wanted to say right now. He wanted to reassure you that he’d be there when you were ready to talk, that you didn’t have to push him away when you were hurting, and that you weren’t alone in the storm you felt trapped in.

But for the time being, he held you closer, his hand rubbing small, soothing circles on your back. He could feel your grip on his shirt tighten, a silent plea for comfort. Words could wait.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

renjun 

During a ten-minute break called by their choreographer, Renjun pulled out his phone, hoping to see a message from you. Daily texts have become a comforting routine in your relationship. While Renjun didn’t always show it, your little check-ins added more warmth to his life, especially on the colder days. However, your messages have become less frequent lately.

Sitting on the sofa, he started at the most recent text you had sent when he was practicing with the guys. It was brief, a little too brief, considering how cheerful your messages used to be.

| Hope your day is going well. Don’t skip dinner after practice, okay?

No pet names, no emoticons. Not that you used them all the time, but Renjun still noticed the lack of them. Your texts themselves weren't what set off his alarm bells, it was the subtle changes in you. Similar to you, he was also observant and had picked up on your quieter demeanor, the weaker tone in words, and the way your laughter didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore.

Renjun knew you struggled with depression in the past, but you had assured him you were better now. He believed you then, but now… he sensed something had shifted.

A heavy sigh left him as he brushed his hair back with a shaky hand. He wasn’t in the best mental place himself, though he had made significant progress this month, thanks to the support from you and his members. Still, your recent distance was weighing on him, and he knew that he had to confront you about it tonight.

He showed up at your doorstep an hour and a half later, catching you off guard by your boyfriend’s sudden appearance.

“Renjun? I thought you had practice late tonight.”

Hesitating to answer immediately, his eyes locked onto yours for a long moment. Finally, he spoke softly. “Can we talk?”

The vulnerability in his tone instantly made you concerned, and you stepped back to let him inside. 

“Yeah, of course. Are you okay?” you asked, shutting the door behind him as he swapped his shoes for the slippers you kept for him. “Did something happen at practice? Did you get another sasaeng call?”

A rush of mixed emotions swept through Renjun—grateful that you instinctively cared about him, yet saddened that you seemed to prioritize his well-being over your own.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just… worried about you,” he said slowly.

You froze for a moment, then attempted to smile. “What? Jun, there’s no reason to worry about me. I’m–” 

“Please, don’t lie and tell me you’re fine,” he interrupted gently, but firmly. “Not when you’ve been acting differently and avoiding real conversations with me. I know the signs, (Y/n)—  you can’t hide from me.”

The way he called you out made you pause, and your built-up resistance began to dissipate. Renjun knew just how self-aware you were.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you sighed, gesturing for him to sit down. 

Nodding, he followed you into the living room, where the two of you sat on your couch, your knees lightly touching.

Looking into his pretty, earnest eyes, you parted your lips to speak. “The truth is, I haven’t been doing that great. There’s some family stuff that’s been stressing me out lately.”

Renjun listened intently as you finally opened up about your struggles over the past few weeks. When you finished, he reached out for your hand, his eyes brimming with emotion as he fought to hold back tears.

“Love, why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“Because you don’t need this right now,” you explained quietly, your shoulders starting to tremble. “You’re already dealing with so much, Jun. I didn’t want to bring you down even more.”

Renjun gently cupped your hand in both of his, his thumb softly brushing over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of concern and tenderness.

“(Y/n),” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I want to be there for you, just like you’ve been for me. You don’t have to carry this alone. I care about you more than anything, and whatever you're going through, we face it together. You don’t have to protect me from your pain. I’m here to share it, all of it.”

His sweet words stirred something deep within you, a warmth that brought tears to your eyes. You blinked them back, swallowing the emotion.

“I love you,” you whispered, making him smile.

He squeezed your hand reassuringly. “I love you too. Please, don’t hide from me. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

For the first time in a while, you smiled back genuinely. He leaned in, kissing you tenderly before resting his forehead against yours. Despite the monsters you and Renjun faced individually, they didn’t seem as scary when you had each other.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

jeno

He was so excited when you visited him at the company building. After being apart for so long due to touring, Jeno realized just how much he missed you– texts and video calls just weren’t cutting it for him. 

As soon as he saw his manager let you into the recording studio, he wrapped up his session quickly and efficiently. Though he was a bit drained from the day, his energy instantly shot up at the sight of you. And when he saw the takeout food from his favorite restaurant in your hand, it was the perfect bonus.

Jeno led you to an empty conference room so you could eat together in private. He was so hungry that he practically devoured the food once it was taken out of the bag. 

“You’re amazing, babe,” he said with a mouthful of rice. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A faint smile spread across your lips as you placed a napkin in front of him. “I think you’d do just fine, Jeno-ssi.”

Your reply made Jeno pause for a moment, his chopsticks hovering mid-air. That’s when he noticed the food was arranged entirely on his side of the table.

“Why aren’t you eating?” He glanced up to ask, knowing you liked this type of food too.

Nonchalantly, you shrugged. “I’m not that hungry.”

Jeno’s brow furrowed, concern beginning to take root. As he thought about it, he realized there were subtle things he had overlooked earlier. You were dressed entirely in black—while it wasn’t unusual for you to wear the color, you typically paired it with something lighter, like white or blue. Your skin seemed a touch paler than usual, and there was a noticeable weariness in your eyes that he hadn’t seen before.

“Have you eaten at all today?” he then asked, his eyes searching yours.

You shrank slightly in the chair, biting your lip because you knew that lying wouldn’t work on him.

Avoiding his gaze, you crossed your arms and murmured, “It’s fine, Jeno. I feel full just watching you eat.” 

“(Y/n)...”

Jeno studied you carefully, searching for the right thing to say. He wasn’t the best at this—  comforting others with words, But he couldn’t just sit here, not when it was clear something was bothering you.

“You remind me of Jaemin sometimes,” he said, after collecting his thoughts. 

Confusion crossed your expression. “Jaemin?”

Jeno nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You know how he’s always taking care of us? Making sure we’re not skipping meals and scolding us when we get sick? But he also skips meals sometimes and catches a cold. He hides that side of him because he doesn’t want to burden us.”

You tilted your head slightly, Jeno’s words sinking in as you frowned. Now that you thought about his best friend from that perspective, your boyfriend was right.

“You do that too,” Jeno continued, leaning forward in his seat. “You care so much about everyone else, but you neglect yourself at the same time. And I know you’re trying to protect me. But (Y/n), you don’t have to.”

He noticed your lower lip tremble as your gaze fell to your lap, a clear sign his words had struck a chord.

“You are so precious, just like Jaemin is to us. So please, don’t feel like you have to hurt alone. I want to know how you’re feeling, babe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

The first tear slid down her cheek, followed by another, until her shoulders were shaking with silent sobs.

“I’m… I’m just so tired,” you finally admitted, wiping a tear with the back of your palm. “I thought I could handle everything on my own. But…I can’t, Jeno.”

His heart broke at the sight, but he didn’t hesitate for this. He pulled your chair closer to him so he could hug you. Your tears soaked into his shirt as you clung to him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered into your hair. “Cry as much as you need to, I’m here. I won’t leave.”

The weight you’ve been carrying finally gave way, as you cried into his embrace. Jeno held you securely, his chin resting atop your head. He didn’t have all the answers, but one thing was certain—  he wasn’t going to let you face this pain alone. You would face it together, no matter how long it took.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

haechan 

He had been watching you all throughout dinner with the Dreamies. Sure, you were the most introverted in the group. But usually, you loosened up a bit now that you were closer to his members. While you weren’t as loud or blunt as he was, you’d still drop a quick-witted remark occasionally, and engage in a conversation with Chenle or Jisung. Yet tonight, you had been unusually quiet. Your contributions were limited to small smiles at the occasional joke, placing a piece of meat in his bowl, and offering vague answers to any questions directed your way.

On the drive home, he broke the silence at the third red light. “Okay, what’s up?”

Your eyes shifted from the passenger window to him. He was still staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel firmly.

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused by his sudden question.

That’s when he turned his head to meet your gaze with a knowing look. “Come on, (Y/n). You were quiet during dinner, and you’re still quiet now.”

“I’m just a quiet person, Hyuck. You know me,” you replied with a shrug, your tone light as if trying to brush off the topic.

The light turned green, and Haechan pressed the gas pedal, smoothly moving the car forward. “You’re right— I do know you,” he sighed, pulling into a random parking spot on the side of the street.

You looked at him incredulously. “Donghyuck, what are you–”

Before you could finish questioning why he’d pulled over, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face you fully.

“Please talk to me, baby,” he said softly, his tone almost pleading. “I know something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

You let out a laugh, the kind that came instinctively in moments like this as if deflecting the weight of the situation. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I–I’m just tired, Hyuck. That’s all,” you said, reaching out to take his hand in yours.

But his concern didn’t waver. His brows furrowed, his thumb gently stroking your knuckles. “You’re never this quiet unless…” he began, his words trailing off as if hesitant to voice his fears.

“I’m fine, really,” you insisted, the faintest edge of frustration creeping into your tone. “Can you just take me home now?”

When you tried to pull your hand away, he tightened his grip, tugging it gently back.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” 

“Stop pushing me away,” he said. You could see him searching your eyes for the honesty you were hanging onto desperately like a rope.

Your heart stuttered at his stern words, and you couldn’t meet his eyes for a moment. The weight of his unflinching gaze pressed down on you in a way that made it impossible to keep your walls intact.

A defeated sigh escaped you. “Fine, I…I’m not okay. I just didn’t want to worry you.”

Haechan’s lips curved into a small smile. “Hate to break it to you, (Y/n), but as your boyfriend, worrying about you kind of comes with the job. No matter the circumstances.”

The lighthearted tone, paired with the sincerity in his words, made something inside you crack. Before you could stop them, tears began slipping down your cheeks. Haechan noticed immediately, his hand moving to gently lift your chin so your eyes met his.

“I’m sorry… I’ve just been letting my thoughts get to the best of me, and I can’t seem to shut them off,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “It’s stupid, everyone goes through this. That’s why–”

“Stop,” he interjected softly but firmly, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Don’t downplay how you’re feeling. It’s not stupid, and you’re not supposed to just push through it alone. Not when you have me.”

His words carried a weight that made your chest tighten, a reminder that his care was unwavering.

“I know you’re overwhelmed,” he continued, his voice gentle, “but you don’t have to have it all figured out right now. You just have to let me in. Let me help you carry it, baby. That’s what I’m here for.”

The love in his eyes was undeniable, and it struck a chord deep within you. He wasn’t asking for an explanation, a solution, or even for you to fix yourself— just for you to let him be there.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[overdressedcarp]

Honestly, I love how the plotlines with Tingyun and Wonweek in 2.7 retroactively help explain why the consecration of the Harmony affected Aventurine the way it did in 2.1.

"The consecration has weird side effects as a result of the power of the Harmony" was honestly a fine explanation in and of itself, but it's cool to get a bit more detail about why Aventurine had those encounters with his "past" and "future" selves. The memoria-induced fracturing/dissociation that Sunday describes when talking about himself and Fugue is extremely similar to what we see with Aventurine in 2.1, both in the tangible effects and the factors that make it possible.

Both Wonweek and the convocation of Tingyuns are identified as the result of a special try-not-to-laugh candy that elicits uncontrollable laughter from those who consume it. (Penaconian consumables infused with specific emotions are something the story has leaned into since our excursion with Sparkle-as-Sampo in 2.0, so it doesn't surprise me at all that a product like this would exist.)

Notably, the candy doesn't have the fracturing side effect on everyone: it works as expected for March and the Trailblazer, and presumably most of the other Dreamchasers who participate in the challenge. Sunday identifies two specific factors that caused the atypical effects for him and Fugue: vulnerable/sensitive mental state, and a fragile sense of self.

Tingyun/Fugue fractured into dozens of memory fragments -- including a younger self embodying her childhood innocence and early memories on the Xianzhou, in much the same vein as Kakavasha for Aventurine.

Sunday, meanwhile, describes Wonweek as "another possibility of me": one that embodies traits he dislikes about himself, similar to the manifestation of Aventurine's "future." Wonweek and Future Aventurine are both externalizations of negative self-talk, giving Sunday and Aventurine a sounding board to express (and push back against) their own internalized self-loathing.

It's also interesting to me that Sunday identifies tuning as the solution for such fractures, adding credence to the idea that the Harmony's consecration (which itself appears to be a form of tuning), could disrupt a fragile psyche in much the same way Sunday can use his abilities to bring someone's mind back into alignment.

To be fair, I don't necessarily think Sunday anticipated this particular side effect of the consecration on Aventurine's mind. The events of Double Indemnity highlight the extent to which Sunday misjudged him by Aventurine's own design, falling for the facade that Aventurine fed him.

Aventurine is resilient... but he is also brittle, as evidenced by Acheron's voice line about him:

This lack of a strong inner self is something that Aventurine tries desperately to distract others from seeing, through the shallow and showy outer layers he presents to the world. But Sunday describes tuning as something that actively prevents people from being able to hide their inner self (very fitting for the Harmony, an Aeon that fundamentally blurs the boundaries between the Self and the Other).

To me, this adds another layer of significance to the presence of Kakavasha and Future Aventurine: they're there because Aventurine can't hide from them while under the Harmony's influence. He's so used to lying to himself about his true intentions that his childhood innocence and his nihilism have to physically manifest in front of him in order to be heard.

Tl;dr Aventurine's experiences under the effect of the Harmony in 2.1 make even more sense in hindsight, and I love the retroactive layers that 2.7 gives to his story arc.

[lanabuckybarnes]

HI ❤️ I LOVE your latest work on beast Ari can u pretty please make some more that’s was amazing and I only gotta taste and ready for more i’m addicted I love how u write ❤️

| Savouring Your Taste |

18+ MINORS DNI

Ari visits you, like he often does but this time he wishes for something different — a taste.

✧Pairing✧ Beast!Ari Levinson x Princess!Reader

✧Warnings✧ Dom!Ari, Mentions of Alcohol Consumption, Kinda Desperate Ari (can you blame him), Size Difference, Body Hair Kink (is it a thing? No? It is now), Petnames: [Little Queen, Angel, Pretty Girl, Good Girl],Oral (F), Hair Pulling, Fingering, Maybe a teeny bit Sacrilegious, Cum Eating, Mention of Breeding Kink, Alluding to further activities - Any more please let me know

✧Word Count✧ 1k

✧ Author Note✧ Thank you so much for your support on my Ari work, I love him so much and it fills me with so much happiness to see how much you guys love him too. Thank you for requesting this I had a lot of fun writing it — it even gave me a few ideas :))

He knocks lightly on your door with a pointed claw, the soft tap tap letting you know exactly who’s there. It fills you with excitement at just the thought of what tonight will entail. You move gracefully to the large double doors, swinging open the heavy wood.

Ari stands in all his glory, white shirt unbuttoned most of the way revealing his wide, hairy body, his thighs wrapped in dark pants. He knew what he was doing, the hair that littered his body never ceased to rile you up; during your time with him trapped in his cottage he came to find out just how much you really loved it. Now he does this every time he visits. A dark jacket brings the whole outfit together.

Ari tilts his head at your ogling, a teasing glint in his eyes, “little queen, can I come in?” He rasps, his voice tainted with deep primal need and all he’d seen was you standing there. If people were to see what the beast became infront of such a small little thing, he wouldn’t be the most feared creature of the kingdom, he’d be a laughing stock. He ducks as he steps in, mindful of the short height of your doors. They don’t make them for 7ft beasts in mind.

“You’re early” you announce, turning your attention to the wine jug and chalice.

He doesn’t respond as he shrugs his jacket off and lays it over the high back chair, his deep blue eyes studying your room as though it were his first time being there.

He watches as you turn to him, raising an intricately designed cup in his direction, his hand engulfs it and he takes a sip - the expensive kind, fit for his little Queen.

He lets his eyes fall to your tiny body, in comparison to his at least. Your nightgown rests just below the swell of your ass, the cup that looks more like a shot glass in his hand is almost too big for you. You shuffle over to the other side of the room, swaying your hips a little as you move to your final resting spot, the bottom of your large bed.

Your eyes are locked, lust radiates from your bodies changing the temperature of the room. He moves first, the chalice forgotten on your heavy drawers in favour of resting on his knees in front of you.

Ari takes his time, a large hand wrapping around your calf as his full lips taste your silky skin. It’s unusual, he was never one for taking it slow - the beast part of his brain taking over more often than not resulting in your legs spread wide and his thick length splitting you open mercilessly.

The difference between them setting off fireworks in your brain.

“Ari” you whisper breathlessly, a hand combing through his straw like locks.

“Quiet little queen” sharp canines nipped at the skin of your inner thigh, his tongue poking out to lick the wound sympathetically.

“Let me savour you.”

And savour you he did. Your father always told you never to play with your food but Ari clearly had never been taught the same lesson. Both paw-like hands gripped at your hips over your night slip, bringing you closer to the edge of the bed - your leg seeking refuge over his broad shoulder in order to not fall.

Your idea to forgo panties this evening had paid off. Ari’s nose bumped your mound, atoms above your tingling nerves, his hot breath fanned over your folds.

“Smell good, like fruit.” Ari growled before he sent your body into shock with a fat lick over your pussy, his tongue gathering your slick into his mouth. He smacks his lips over dramatically at your taste, savouring its tang on his tastebuds.

“Why didn’t I taste this before little Queen?” He asks rhetorically and dives in again, from your tiny pucker over your hole before flicking your clit to finish. He savours it all, devouring your pussy. You don’t think there were any words to describe the way he treated your cunt other than devour.

You lost your ability to control your volume at his first lick despite trying your hardest, your sharp pornographic moans shaking the walls but you didn’t care, couldn’t care.

Thick fingers teased your entrance, claws retracted for your pleasure, he wasted no time in plunging deep into your hole, scissoring you open.

“Haah Ari” one look at Ari had you almost coming undone, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull to protect your sanity, your fingers tightening in his auburn locks.

“You like this? Like me licking your pussy? Taste so good, knew these little folds were hiding something from me.”

“Fuck…” you screamed his name in prayer, your gods forgotten about in favour of the one servicing you, a god kneeling between your legs and making you experience heaven, it was no wonder why his name was all you could think of.

“Little Queen is squeezing me, you gonna cum on my fingers? This little pearl is begging for my tongue.”

Ari’s lips sealed around your clit, his hot pink tongue flicking relentlessly. Your brain buzzed with release, your hips rolling up into him, riding his beard like it was your last life line.

“Please Ari” you begged, pushing him closer to your heat with the hand in your hair.

“Cum angel, let me drink up those juices, gimme more” he slurred, pulling his fingers from you and replacing them with his tongue while his thumb rubbed over your puffy clit.

With a final broken shriek your body went stiff, eyes blotting with black and white dots as wave after wave of raw pleasure raked through you. Ari didn’t stop until you were a writhing mess, your thighs clenching the side of his head shaking harshly.

Basking in the afterglow you failed to notice him move until he hovered above you, beard and lips still glistening with your release as he stared down at you wide eyed - animalistic.

His fingers fiddle with his belt, the clanks reaching your ears making you look up. He undoes the button of his fly and zip before pushing them past his thick thighs. His huge cock slaps against his hairy stomach.

“I want you to cum like that again pretty girl, think you can do that?”

Your body shook with overstimulation but your brain preened at the thought, your back arching into him.

“Yes, please Ari.”

“Good girl, gonna breed you so good.”

Wonder what happened in the cottage? :)

I DO NOT give permission to have my work copied, translated or reposted. If you see my work anywhere else except on this page I have not given consent for it to be used.

Comments, Asks, Reblogs & Likes are always appreciated. They let me know that you are enjoying what you read and give me motivation to write more

Thanks for reading~

[hooksbooks]

This is the first of two books I bound for @renegadeguild's Tiny Books Bang.

The story is (don't) take this the wrong way by @delimeful and was typeset by @little-cat-press for the Tiny Books Bang. It's a mermaid AU of Sanders Sides (Web Series), which I had never actually heard of before. But when I saw that it was a merperson AU, this idea popped into my head and I knew I had to try it, especially after I read the story and really enjoyed it.

The inspiration is medieval girdle books, which are books whose covering material (typically leather) extended past the book to a knot that was both used as a handle when reading the book and could be tucked into the girdle when the book was not in use, thus the name.

Where my book is much smaller (it's a sextodecimo, about 2.25" by 2.75") it isn't designed to tuck into a belt/girdle, but rather is attached to a bracelet and dangles from the wrist when not in use.

When I think of mermaids, some things that come to mind are fish, treasure, and tridents, and I wanted to incorporate all three in the design. The book is covered in blue bookcloth, and then covered again in crocheted netting that was meant to bring to mind fishnets. I crocheted the netting from cotton-poly sewing thread doubled up. I incorporated a trident into the filet crochet, which is repeated on both the front and back covers. I blocked it on a piece of blotting...board? paper? It's soft and thick and meant to absorb moisture and came with my book press that started life as a flower press.

I then sewed the netting to the bookcloth covering the boards with teeny tiny stitches. It probably took twice as long to crochet the netting as it did to the rest of the binding combined, but I really like how it turned out.

The bracelet I picked to attach the netting to is gold-colored to invoke the idea of sunken treasure. Rather than attaching the netting from one end to the other, I folded both ends to the middle and attached it like that so when you have the book open it lays more nicely.

The design of the endpapers looks like looped thread, and also reminds me of netting. I secured the bookmark to the bottom of the text block and let it hang from the top, which works better when the book is hanging from the wrist and doesn't get caught in the netting. I also sewed a little starfish charm to the end of the bookmark.

Technical details:

Sewn-on endpapers

Rounded but not backed

No headbands (I think I intended to, but forgot and then decided it didn't matter enough to try to pull the cover back off)

Things I liked about this bind:

I really like the girdle-book-on-a-bracelet design, it came out almost exactly how I had envisioned it.

Things I'd like to change/improve for next time:

I wasn't 100% pleased with how trimming went on these. It wasn't terrible, but I probably need to come up with a different solution than just a utility knife and a straight edge.

Crocheting the netting really did take so long. I'm not even done with the netting that's going on my copy yet, which is why all the pics are from the typesetter's copy. Probably would not want to do netting for anything larger than this one was.

Overall feels: Loved it! I enjoyed the story, the design came out pretty much exactly how I envisioned it, overall I'm well pleased.

[legumeofknowledge]

Nifty is Eve in disguise

This theory adds onto to a few other popular ones, that being Eve is Alastor's dealmaker under the guise of Lilith, and Eve is the cryptic "Roo." What I propose alongside that, is that she's hiding in plain sight among the hotel guests, and that disguise is Nifty.

Spoilers up to the season 1 finale below:

Evidence:

When you think about her in conjunction with the show's established themes it falls into place: Adam, the s1 antagonist is a misogynist who wanted Lilith's obedience. Eve will foil Lilith; while she's all about hating subservience and breaking chains, Nifty is a parody of the stereotypical 50s housewife, 'likes being forced' and spends her time cooking, cleaning, and obsessing over men. Eve was created from Adam's rib to ensure his next wife would lack the autonomy to rebel. Designed to be the epitome of Adam's submissive ideal, it makes sense Eve would choose a 50s housewife as her disguise, they resonate with her.

The old logo is her face / her and Lucifer's placement on the prime cover.

She collects little pieces of men because that's what she was made from / is enamoured with Pentious in particular because he's a snake. "never leave me again" <- double meaning alert. / "HATED THAT SONG" because she was never offered forgiveness so easily. Not even Charlie catching her in the trust fall is foreshadowing; unlike Lilith who had Lucifer, no one came to her side when she committed the original sin.

The all-female exorcists were made by Adam to serve him. Their masks have horns like Lilith and a missing eye like a cyclops. They're hybrid clones of the two wives that left him. Eve is the only character in the intro whose eyes we haven't seen.

Every large ensemble show has a mole arc and she's the only one with no established goals. It's always the one-note gag characters you should look out for.

There's no confirmation if Nifty made a deal with Alastor. I think Eve is the one who's got him 'on a leash' though he thinks it's Lilith. He lets Nifty follow him around and she plays up the fangirl persona to keep a close eye on him.

It's the perfect refuge in audacity disguise. Acting innocent in hell in suspect. Being an unhinged stalker raises no questions. Alastor himself says he has no idea what tf her deal is.

I made this theory a few days ago but I was delighted to see more evidence in the final episode. See this?

It's elaborate foreshadowing disguised as a gag. She's not just doing this for the funsies she is MAD mad. Vengeance!

Conclusion:

Whether this means she's the big bad or unlikely ally, I can't say. If it's the former, her goal is to be redeemed with the other guests and enter heaven so she can get revenge on everyone else. S1 leans heavily into heaven vs hell so it would make sense for the final antag to be a 3rd party wildcard who wants to burn both sides to the ground for failing her. Heaven casted her out, hell unintentionally doomed her to an eternity of suffering with the fruit of knowledge, then left her.

Nifty be Shifty.

[helluvapoison]

First Date Time At LuLu World

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Lucifer smoothed any creases from his ivory suit and checked his hair four times in the nearby reflection. He wasn’t nervous! He just… needed tonight to go well. It’s the first date he’s had in years— or it might technically be his first date in history? Everything happened so fast with Lilith! He can’t remember if he ever properly asked her on a date. They did end up getting married though, so it worked out… until it didn’t. Fuck, there’s a lot of pressure on this now

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• Steeling his nerves in place before he lost them, he allowed his knuckles to tap “the shave and a hair cut” on your door

• His smile (and ego) tripled in size when you opened it not a moment after. For the sake of his restless mind he let himself picture you waiting in anticipation on the other side, dreaming you might be just as excited as he was helped him a bit

• Lucifer twisted his cane in one hand and offered you his other, “Are you ready for the best night of your life?”

• “Hm, that’s a big expectation,” You reply playfully, bypassing his hand and hugging onto his arm, “Are you sure a theme park will live up to all that?”

• He scoffs and rolls his eyes but inwardly he’s hyper aware of the new proximity you’ve granted him, “LuLu World is not just any theme park! It’s my theme park. I designed and built it with my two hands!”

• “And maybe a tablespoon of magic?”

• “A teaspoon, at most.” He winks

• Your laughter was delightful, a sign that the night was starting off perfect. He just hoped it would end the same way

• LuLu World was big and chaotic, sending every sense you had buzzing with adrenaline and you hadn’t even done anything yet!

• Lucifer’s stuck for a solid minute just reveling in your awe. You like it! He made this and you already like it!

• He drags out of your stupor by pulling you to the teacups. He has one hand on his hat to keep it from flying while the other attempts to help you spin the wheel

• After Devil’s Drop (a terrifying 500ft plunge) you begged to go into the Haunted Dollhouse. Lucifer of course indulged you but couldn’t hide his boredom. Nothing here would scare him. He doubled over in laughter when a real ghost made you jump though

• The two of you rotated turns picking and choosing what to do next after that

• Giga coasters with butterfly loops, swings that went backwards, bumper cars, a massive carousel with actual unicorn horns— LuLu World had it all!

• Lucifer was bouncing in place, excitedly watching you bite into an infamous LuLu World caramel apple when he noticed how dark it had gotten

• He’d long forgotten his plan to make everything perfect and the schedule he was supposed to keep you on

• “H-Hey let’s go on the ferris wheel! Like right now!”

• You hardly have a moment to swallow the crunchy treat, asking with a full mouth, “Right now?”

• “Right now!” He repeats seriously with a tight smile

• The line would be ridiculously long, everyone likely had the same idea he had. But he had it first! He was the king and the owner, shamelessly walking past the line of sinners and straight to the front

• He flashes the operator a warning glare when they try to tell you to throw away your carmel apple

• (To his dismay you take a final, ridiculously large bite and toss it anyways, not wanting to start a fuss)

• “Hey this is a date right?” You asked while the two of you waited for the ride to officially start, sitting in a slow rotation while the empty carts filled up below

• Lucifer jolts, “Of course it’s a date! Why-why would you not think it is? Is it no lt date-y enough—“

• “I was just checking! Wanted to make sure it’s ok to do this,” You reply quickly and slip your hand under his own, lacing your fingers together with his

• Can panic and relief hit him simultaneously? He felt his nerves vibrating, deciding whether to spike or settle down

• You clearly see him internally struggling and attempt to break the silence casually, “I still can’t believe you made all this. It’s really impressive. I’m having a lot of fun with you. But I always do.”

• His brows jump, crimson eyes sparkling with delight at that, “You do?”

• “Of course I do! We could be surrounded by nothing but rocks and you’d find a way to make it entertaining.” You say with a laugh

• Joining in your mirth, he chuckles and squeezes your hand slightly

• A thunderous boom echoes in the air and makes you jump

• “Right on time!” Lucifer’s grin widens

• Colors pop and flower in the night sky with loud cracks! Some form shapes or spell short words

• Lucifer’s so immersed by the firework show he forgot he wanted to see your reaction to them. When his eyes flit to you he sees you’re ignoring them, gaze completely fixed on him in total adoration

• Your spare hand steals his cheek and guides his face closer with ease. Just as a firework explodes in the near distance, his lips meet yours

• Lucifer shares the sentiment with a giggle when you part, “Fireworks.”

• You laugh before kissing him again

• Safe to say his first date was a massive success

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ big sad so i quickly wrote smthn to cheer me up, i hope everyone enjoys

[yellowjacketsfashion]

While there are lots of options as to where you can buy a replica of the Yellowjackets Letterman Jacket, they’re not always easily attainable. Last year for halloween I made my own letterman and I figured others could find my process helpful. (The supplies I used were things I already had or were accessible to me but there are other ways to create the same thing. If you have different materials that also work feel free to make suggestions or use them in your process).

HOW TO MAKE A YELLOWJACKETS LETTERMAN JACKET:

Supplies:

• Gold/Navy Letterman jacket

• Printer

• White Printer paper

• Gold Felt

•Chalk

• Heat ‘n Bond

• Embroidery floss in the colors White, Black, Gold and Gray (I ended up needing two packs of white).

• Embroidery needle

• White (or light colored) tissue paper

• White fabric (I used cotton)

• Embroidery hoop

• (Optional) White and Black thread

• Glue stick

Step 1: Aquire your jacket.

You can do a lot of different things for the plain base jacket. I bought mine off Amazon but if wanted too you could probably sew one or buy one second hand etc. The only specification is that it’s Gold and Navy. It is important to do this first because everything else builds off of this step.

Step 2: Print out designs.

Use the photos I provided below and paste them into a word document. From there you can size them up or down to reach the size that you like for printing. The “Yellowjackets” logo is for the back of the jacket so when I did it I kind of split the photo in half and put it on two different pages. In the end it turned out to be just shy of 13 inches length wise. The round patch goes on the front and mine was 4.25 inches in diameter.

Depending on the size of your jacket your patches can be bigger or smaller, but once your happy with the sizing you can then move onto the next step.

Step 3: Gather supplies.

The gold felt is to be used to create the back patch. Because of the size of mine I was able to get a little 50 cent sheet of it (I was able to place the logo at an angle to fit it) but because the patch sizes will be different it’s important to bring your print out of the logo when shopping to make sure you have enough. Most craft / fabric stores should have this in stock. It’s also a good idea to bring your letterman jacket with you to try to color match the shades of gold/yellow as best as possible.

The embroidery hoop, floss, white fabric, and thread are for the front patch as I hand embroidered mine but in theory you could use an embroidery machine or printable fabric sheets to create your patch. If you use these other methods you’ll need different supplies and different instructions that I can’t give.

The Heat ‘n Bond is to iron the patches onto your jacket so they stick (though I’ve had to re iron my back patch because the fibers of the wool make it hard to stick to). It will essentially act as double sided tape.

Step 4: Creating & attaching the back patch

• Cut out a piece of Heat n’ Bond that covers the area where your logo will go.

(i am using colored paper in the example pictures. Yellow represents the felt. White represents the heat and Bond).

• Once you have the right sized piece of Heat n’ Bond, iron it onto the back of your piece of Gold felt (make sure to follow the instructions on the Heat n’ bond packaging).

•Use your printed template of the logo and cut out the words on the felt. You can cut out the logo on paper first and trace it or attach the paper to the felt and just cut them both at the same time. (I moved the dot on the J down so that it’s still attached just to make it easier but you can do whatever you want).

• Put on your Letterman and use the chalk to mark where on the back you want the patch to go. For this step it can be helpful to have someone else assist you (though it’s possible to do it yourself).

• Take off the jacket and lay it flat to align the patch up with your chalk markings. Once it is where you want it you can Iron it onto the back of the jacket (according to the instructions on the Heat n’ Bond).

You now have a finished back patch!

Step 5: Creating the front patch.

• Trace the design of the front patch onto tissue paper (I would suggest a dark pen or sharpie so you can see it really well). If you have trouble seeing the design underneath it can be helpful to hold it to a window pane when it’s sunny or another light source. The photo of the logo I included has a white border around the black words but the patch in the show doesn’t have it so I just ignored it. From there you glue the traced tissue paper onto the fabric.

• Cut out a piece of white fabric big enough for your embroidery hoop and glue the tissue paper sketch onto the fabric.

• Put the fabric/tissue paper into the Embroidery hoop.

• Thread the needle and start embroidering the design. I found it good to use different techniques on different areas of the patch (long white stitches on the wings versus short ones on the background etc. I also thought it was helpful to embroider in color groupings (so like white all at once or yellow all at once etc. so you don’t have to switch out the floss that much). Save the white outer circle and black outline for last though to help clean everything up. The white and black sewing thread can be used to outline smaller details or neaten up some of the floss.

• Once the patch is done cut out a piece of Heat n’ Bond that covers the back of the patch.

• Put on your jacket and mark with chalk where you want to put the patch. In the show it’s placed by the second from the top button. (See Jackie reference photo at the top of the post).

• Iron on the Heat n’ Bond to the back of the patch (following packet instructions).

• Iron the Patch to the jacket based on your chalk markings.

• You have completed the front patch!

Above are some photo examples of my jacket (please ignore my messy hair in the left picture, being in the snow got it ruffled up).

Sorry for the long post but I think I got everything covered. I hope you guys found this helpful but if you have any questions about the jacket, my process, or anything else feel free to ask!