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screampied · 2 months ago

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JUNO, YOU KNOW! k. nanami

☆ sum. last thing nanami would expect was to get struck by a “fatal” love curse during the very end of no nut november. you tease him even more by saying one of you is cute….but two though?

wc. 8.1k

warnings. fem! reader, husband! nanami, unprotected, sēx pollen, mentions of pregnancy, fluffy smut <3, handcuffs, brēeding, cunnīlingus, him finishing too quick, cowgirl, praise, soft dom! nanami, cērvix mentions, size kink, he's soooo whipped n in love w youuu, (bless his dad's genetics), boob obsessed nanami, aftercare, petnames.

an. my entry for @luv-lies's yummy nnn collab! ❤︎

november 29th, 2024. 6:09 P.M.

december was right around the corner - but oh, was nanami kento fuckin’ screwed.

“nanamin!” satoru—his colleague hollered, speedily rushing over to him. they’d just defeated an unarmed A-cursed spirit unlike any they’d ever seen before. it was quite strong, but it was nothing the pair couldn’t handle. satoru glances down, extending out his hand. nanami grunts, swiping a hand over his sweat-glossed forehead before sighing. he’s a bit roughed up but takes satoru’s cold palm with an irked grumble. “you alright? that was quite the hard hit.”

�� ‘m fine, gojo,” he grouses, readjusting his glasses. with a swift hand, he fixes his crooked tie. “just hah- underestimated the opponent. don’t fret.”

he wasn’t ‘just fine’ though. nanami felt his entire body starting to arise with scorching temperature within a matter of seconds. he’s boiling hot- and it felt like his heart was pounding straight out of his chest. perplexed, satoru furrows a snowy brow at his comrade once he notices his awkward body language.

“what do you need? tell me- maybe we can-”

nanami was clenching his chest with one hand, panting heavily before letting off a raspy huff.

“i need . . my wife.”

the car ride home was silent.

satoru offered to take him home, wondering just what really happened. nanami was as stubborn as a mule though, so he didn’t question it further. he’d rather not get scolded. his head rests against the tented window as he stares outside.

driving through the rutted bumpy roads of tokyo, nanami’s droopy eyes occasionally drifted away from the bright street lights that merely blinded his naked eye from gazing a bit too long.

as usual, the city was packed, dozens of cars zooming by with the flashy beaming store signs. in the background, some random song was playing. it was pop—and of course, satoru was loudly humming along to the catchy poppy melody.

the lyrics were quite . . vulgar though, but nanami still remained quiet, focusing his eyes on the streets.

skrrrrrrrt!

satoru’s breaks eventually come to a stop. it was about maybe a good ten-minute drive and he arrived at you and nanami’s cozy minka. the light was on so he assumed you were probably still up. placing the rusty shift in the park, the white-haired sorcerer turns to nanami with a cheeky grin.

“take it easy, alright? ‘m sure the curse will wear off at some point,” and nanami scoffs once his palm pats his shoulder. reaching for his seatbelt, the blond click it off before unlocking the door. “oh! and tell your wifey i said hi!”

“sure thing, gojo.” nanami stops himself from rolling his eyes, reaching near the backseat to retrieve his dusty suitcase. with a loud vroooom, satoru’s aqua-blue convertible takes off and nanami starts to make his way toward the door.

glancing down, he fishes for his keys in his pocket, grumbling under his breath.

god- he feels so damn hot. even hotter than when the attack occurred..

was this supposed to be normal?

all he knew was that he wanted, no- he needed you.

something in his body . . whatever it was, was direly aching for you.

the entire car ride, nanami’s mind was entirely flooded with thoughts of you, you, and only you.

whenever he had missions, he’d always think about you, sure. but this time- this time was far, far different.

he felt like he was gonna melt right away if he didn’t touch you, if he didn’t smell you-

“ken…to?” you murmur with a quirked brow, standing behind the tall sliding door. nanami stiffly stood at the doorway, keys still idly in hand with the most dumbfounded look.

oh- he was so kept in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize you had already slid the door open.

you looked so pretty though. nanami could feel his face softening once his eyes locked onto you.

it was pretty dark at night but like always, he could make out your gorgeous physique as clear as day. you were actually wearing one of his business shirts with what he hoped were panties underneath once he took a glance between your bare thighs.

his fawn eyes continue to trace down every exposing inch of your skin, and he snaps back into reality once he feels your palm cup his cheek.

“hi, baby. how was the mission?” you hum.

“not hah- that good,” he pants, and you furrow your brows once he steps inside, sliding the door closed and tossing his suitcase to the floor. it lands with a banging thud, and nanami pulls you into a hug.

a coy smile goes against your lips, wondering why he’s being more clingy than usual, but nanami rests his face right on top of your chest. letting off a smoky sigh, he roughly grumbles, gently rubbing a thumb against your hips. “mmf- i missed you, sweetheart.”

with a soft expression, you comb a few tangled fingers through his blond tresses. “i missed you more.”

“no- i really missed you,” he protests, and you can see a bit of a pout forming against his lips. nanami’s drowsy eyes trail down at the bit of skin that shows through his shirt. it was a bit loosely oversized, and you smelled just like him. his cologne was good on you. so good.

uh oh- he was starting to feel even more hot.

just resting against your chest had him hearing the repetitively unsteady beats of his heart through each of his sensitive pointed ears. “at the mission today . . i got struck by a curse.”

with a worrying look, your face shifts into a look of concern. “a- are you okay? what happened?”

“ ‘m fine,” he lets out a muffled huff of reassurance. nanami breathes against your skin, sweetly planting kisses against the cotton fabric that shields the entirety of your chest. “i feel really hot though.. everywhere- not just my head,” he speaks once the back of your hand lands on his forehead, checking for a temperature.

indeed, he felt hot.

sepia-colored irises flicker up toward you before he shivers. “when you . . touch me, honey- it makes me feel weak. hah- like i feel-”

“aroused?” you finish his sentence, your concerned look slowly disappearing.

oh.

thankfully, it wasn’t anything serious . . or was it?

nanami stares at you with a cute head nod being his answer as you press a kiss on his warm forehead. “so was it some type of love curse?”

nanami’s breath becomes deeper as he takes a minute to formulate words in his overstimulated brain. “m- maybe. all i know is that i just- i want you…i need you,” and he sighs deeply, eyes lowering. “you look beautiful tonight by the way.”

“it’s still november, baby,” you tease, knowing exactly where he was going with his gruff words. nanami had a feral hungry look in his eyes, and it looked like no other expression of his you’ve seen before.

he lets off a frustrated groan at your words, remembering the little ‘challenge’ you both agreed on once halloween ended.

ah- ‘no nut november’.

where men have to apparently abstain from masturbation and cumming—according to you, specially for the entire month of november.

not that nanami necessarily minded, he had a pretty good tolerance, actually.

but today, of all days?

he felt like he was about to break. being so close to your proximity had nanami’s head spinning.

his face - it’s overly flushed. a pretty tint of pink starts to slowly paint his face as he pouts at you.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen your husband like this—let alone pout. “we made a deal, remember?” you continue, caressing a thumb across his cheek. his chin was still resting on your chest and you could see the frown marinating against his features. “december first.”

“but-” he grunts, watching the smug grin spread across your glossed lips. nanami gets sheepish, tilting his head down. “sweetheart- i know that, but you’re bein’ pretty cruel right now, no?” and you glance down, feeling his lips collide against the skin that briefly exposes your tummy. “do you always wear my work shirts when i’m not home?”

“yeaaah,” you admit, letting off a tiny snicker. nanami feels your shoulders slacken once you release a single breath, and you stare straight into his eyes.

his eyes however, never left yours, not for a millisecond. as the gaze continued, you could see the beads of sweat starting to race down each side of his forehead.

oh-

maybe the curse was serious. getting an idea you decide to amp up your teasing just a bit. “do you wanna know what i was doing earlier while wearing your dress shirt?”

nanami places chaste kisses between the valley of your breasts. “uh huh. tell me, wifey.”

“i . . might’ve been playin’ with myself,” you sweetly speak, and he could hear the tease lacing underneath your sentence.

the more you spoke about what you were doing, nanami was starting to feel even hotter-

and the pure image of you touching yourself with his button-front shirt on, engulfed in nothing but his musky cologne made him groan. it was clear you weren’t wearing panties. he couldn’t help but peek, and sure enough—you were going commando.

nanami keeps his lovingly longing gaze and slowly, he raises his head from between your chest, raising a brow as if silently saying, ‘continue.’

with a cheeky smile, you wrap your arms around his torso. “i couldn’t make myself finish though. my fingers aren’t as long as yours. so, i ended up falling asleep and i had a dream. about . . us.”

“i see,” nanami huskily utters, sinking his head into your left shoulder. you just smelled so so sweet — sweeter ever, and you could see nanami trying to restrain himself. clearing his throat, nanami invades an entire side of your neck with wet, loving kisses. “what was the dream, princess?”

now it was your turn for your heart to start racing.

it was quick, beating at such high beats per minute. with an impish expression, you cup his chin and make him face you.

tenderly rubbing a thumb over his lips, you finish what your cute, lewd admission. “i…uh- dreamt about you retiring as a sorcerer. or you have a safer job that makes you less stressed. we finally . . settled down, and we um . . ended up having kids.”

“kids, huh,” he whispers, dragging a hand through his blond strands. you could feel his feverish heat radiate against your skin and you were surrounded by his balmy warmth.

he wasn’t exaggerating—nanami was truly, truly burning up. the buds on his tongue sizzle each time he takes a fateful second to swallow, salivating the more his eyes focus on you. nanami ponders for a moment silently, and before you know it, he’s picking you up.

you let off a cute surprised gasp, hurling your arms around his neck before watching him sigh. “ah- don’t get shy, my sweet. keep going.”

nanami continues to walk with you in his arms, going up the creaking, wooden stairs and you run a few fingers down your exposed nape.

“we . . had about maybe two or three. you even started growing facial hair too,” and nanami’s grip on your hips softens. he raises a blond brow before trodding inside the quiet bedroom. “you’d make a good dad though, ken,” you purr, running a finger down his amber-dotted tie. “could you imagine though? one of me is cute, but two though?”

“honey-” he cuts off, lying you flat back against the mattress.

with a split-second glimpse underneath the oversized formal shirt you wore—indeed, you weren’t wearing any panties. he had to check just one more time.

nanami starts to pant heavily, watching as you playfully lift your leg, throwing it over his shoulder. “is that- is that what you want? to settle down?”

“only if . . you want to.” you murmur in a soft tone, deeply getting lost in his golden-hour gaze.

nanami’s eyes were bright, shining with nothing but love and adoration for you - always.

if you squinted just enough, you could see his pupils forming into cute-shaped hearts.

grabbing his hand, you place it on your tummy, sliding it underneath the buttoned shirt.

“i want… you,” he huffs, his voice turning from tender to raspy within seconds. nanami leans in and presses his lips against yours. his dimples happily curve forward once you immediately return the gesture, cupping his face with both hands.

right away, nanami moans against your lips as his hot tongue blissfully shoves itself inside your mouth. minty peppermint — it’s exactly what he tasted like, and his cool breath running against your tongue only made him taste sweeter.

nanami couldn’t help but roll his hips against you with his sweaty forehead softly pressed on top of yours.

each popping smack of hungry lips got louder, and he heard the faint clanks of his belt shuffling. you slid a hand down, reaching for the middle part of his pants. you’ve shared many kisses with nanami, but this one seemed different..

a current of chills ran down your spine as he deepened the passionate kiss as the callused tips of nanami’s fingers unbuttoned his shirt.

speaking of his shirt though—he just couldn’t get over how much his shirt was just prettily glued against your skin.

“god- this month’s been torture, sweetheart,” he’d breathe between nearly suffocating kisses.

nanami’s lungs were full, and he’d sometimes even forget to breathe. such full lungs of his were heaving in and out continuously, desperate for any sort of puffs.

they had to find air, they just had to..

but nanami didn’t care about breathing, not when he had his lips ardently locked against yours.

“couldn’t- stop- thinkin’- ‘bout- you-” he grunted in a hoarse tone, sweetly sucking against your lolled tongue. its mushy warmth invites him to continue, and you briefly open your lashes to stare straight into a very needy nanami’s eyes. “hah- you were all i thought about at work today.”

“mhm, breathe, kento,” you whisper, feeling your lips swell the minute he pulls away.

a web of gluey saliva leaves from both sets of puffed lips and he breathes like you said. with a looooong inhale, nanami then exhales before grunting. you simper, tugging on the hem of his beige boxers. “maybe i can . . help with that curse?”

and you did.

in more ways than one, really.

to be brief, nanami kento was a feral man-

he felt himself turning into a brand new man the second his tongue graciously rolls itself flat against the flatness of your pretty twitching clit.

a sharp gasp winds straight out of your lungs as you’re sat with your legs obtusely spread to a wide degree.

with your hands burying themselves underneath your plushy tits as he devoured you—you couldn’t help but toy with yourself for a bit. moaning, a thumb trails its way down against one of your puckered nipples that poke through the fleecy blue dress shirt.

“k- kentooo.” you’d hum out a whimper, a hand finding its way near the top of his head.

he’s slow… badly wanting to savor your sweet taste on his tongue while eating you out like the starved, starved man that he was.

wisping a bundle of fingers through his blond locks, you continue to cup one of your tits with one hand. long, thirsty sluuuurps exited from nanami’s lips as you watched his head frantically shake from side to side.

your tummy was already seizing, and the heel of your ankle started to guide its way down his back. wet, sloshing noises ricocheted against nanami’s lips as his eyes periodically averted back towards you.

he’s giving you the ‘i wanna marry you again’ stare, no doubt. even with his mouth stuffed, nanami kento’s never felt more in love—

maybe this love curse . . pollen, whatever it was was a secret blessing in disguise.

the panicky, racing beats of nanami’s heart never slowed, and a hand of his then grips your thigh. tenderly, you feel the tip of his tongue dipping its way in ‘n out — wetly lathering his pink twitching muscle with your sweet slickness.

your eyes remain on him the entire time, getting forevermore lost in his crave-like gaze. “shh- talk later, princess. promise.” he whispers against your cunt, delving his tongue in swerving, wide circles.

those wide circles eventually curve their way into hearts, though. a whine sobs its way from the back of your throat as the grip on his hair tightens.

you felt the scaly, hot of his tongue create the perfect heart . . even spelling out the simple eight letters of ‘i love you.’

your legs couldn’t hold still, they just couldn’t- and you could feel the skittish smile forming against his lips, tickling against your pussy.

you were drooling from your entrance, right from the puffy slavering slit down. you’re flooded, soddened with such amounts of dewy dewdrops that form into strings, and in a way though, it was pretty.

nanami was just struck in awe at how much you were just profusely leaking. like the gentleman nanami was though, he lapped it right up. his rose-swollen lips cupped everywhere, smothering the crevices of your sheeny thighs with his many, many kisses.

“r- riiiight there, ‘ken,” you’d mewl out a desperate plea, slowly dragging his head against your cunt. it’s moving around in a hypnotizing circle, but if it was anything that was leaving you in a mere trance of a state, it was his tongue.

nanami explores through every puffy wet corner, sloppily slotting his tongue in between your pudgy folds. he grunts against your throbbing heat, feeling the weight of his impatient boner prodding beneath his cotton-made boxers. “mngh- gonna cum. ‘m gonna cum, kento.”

“do it for me,” he soundlessly says, vertically smearing a fat thumb down your slimy pussy.

your entrance was soaked-

tearing away with drooling droplets of slick. every time. he was so enticed that he had to take a minute to just stare at your cunt—admiring how wet his pretty, perfect girl was - just for him.

nanami was entranced once he moved his face closer. the tip of his button nose then literally starts to drag itself down your sobbing slit and he moans, taking in your natural scent. “hah- c’mon, sweetheart. give it t’ me,” and he brings his ring finger right up against your core.

it’s a lanky finger that starts to bedaub against your cunt, feeling you writhe at the sensitive contact.

you whine, feeling his ring finger rub its way against your heat before poking your tongue against your cheek to silence yourself.

as you watch, his digit gets covered with your mess almost immediately, and you shudder at the cold band of his ring toying with your salivating folds. “pretty please-” and oh- he’s begging.

a blond brow of nanami’s quivers as his lips attach back to your cunt. sticky, glistening strings of arousal rills straight down his forward-pointed chin as he continues to rub the back of his wedding ring against your pulsating clit.

it’s icy cold.. you felt him keep up the pace as the material of the band smears itself around in circles before feeling a coil in your tummy tightening.

the pressure makes you see stars for a hot second—and you’re met with a bundle of nerves trying to introduce itself to the lower depths of your stomach. “ ‘m cumming!” you’d blurt in a staggering wail.

the crashing wave of endorphins made you exhale a cute sigh as your legs started to get more and more numb.

you felt like you were floating on every single cloud, including cloud nine - especially cloud nine.

nanami’s tongue still slid its way in between the slot your sappy folds, feeling the cute twitches of your throbbing clit against his bumpy tastebuds as you start to spasm. “fuh- fuck! ‘ken ‘m sensitive, baby.” and your words turn into a mere hush once your body started to limp its way onto the sheets.

your thighs locked around his neck, and you still had his hair in a firm grasp, digging your fingers deep into his roots and scalp.

with widened doe-eyes, you glance back down toward your husband who’s merrily licking you clean without a single care in the world.

if the beats of your heart was a car, you’d be speeding.

it’s beating so fast out of your chest that you can barely keep up. your legs felt like mush as your neck finally gave up, collapsing back against your pillow.

“mmh- should’ve just stayed . . hah- stayed home today,” he grumbles, giving every glossed part of your exposed cunt individual kisses. nanami starts at your pretty clitoral hood, sprightly nibbling at the tender fold of skin. you whine, yanking his head forward before nanami pats your pussy. “could’ve been playin’ with her a- all day.”

“you’re here now.” you speak out of breath, pulling his head back up. once you do so, nanami looks at you with the most pussy drunk expression.

his lips were all plump and red, lashes merely sticking together, and glossed sleek streams of slick racing down his chin. nanami leans into your touch, sitting up before leaning in to kiss you.

again- his tongue sloppily carved a wet trail through your mouth, and you moan once you feel the tint of his boner press up against your bare cunt.

he’s so hard, you wondered if it was painful. you swallowed each grunt of his in your mouth, feeling his body hungrily rock against yours.

a few ash tresses stick against his forehead as his lips violently crash onto yours—creating an impactful collision.

as dancing tongues swiftly twisted and spiraled around each other in sync, you hear a bit of shuffling again.

nanami's reaching into his boxers, grunting against your lips once he feels the anchoring weight of his heavy cock lie flat against his palm. “m- mhm, sweetheart.” he throatily groans, feeling your hand slip inside of his boxers too.

you feel a lightning-shaped vein shoot down his skin and he grunts. nanami was as sensitive as ever, and with your hands softly tracing circles over his bulky triceps, he knew he was in trouble.

deep, deep trouble..

“it’s okay, ‘ken,” you whisper, letting off a sharp inhale once his fiery hot tip smears its way on your cunt.

it’s almost flat out rude at first—with the way it smacks against your folds, creating a wet splash that lands right on his bulbous crown.

from the stout tip that’s round at all thick corners, nanami’s leaking.

milky, pearls of whiteness dribble from the fleshy sides of his fat cock and he grunts once he feels your shaky legs caging him in again.

god- you looked so pretty like this..

just laid back, wearing nothing but his business shirt. all the buttons were unbuttoned so now—it was just you, breasts cutely sprung out and all.

gently grabbing his face once more, you mumble against his flushed temple. “inside, it’s okay. go inside,” and your sweet words were like a chant.

he’s slow-

carefully aligning his maroon tip between your syrupy slit, feeling it clumsily slip out every few thrusts.

you even reached between your legs with a single hand, spreading your pussy open right before his eyes. “don’t be… shy, she doesn’t bite, kento.”

“hhh.. woman- you’re gonna be the death of me,” nanami gulps, openly staring at the slippery heat stick between your legs.

he didn’t know which action had him feeling hotter. your filthy words, you, or the way you spread yourself open for him with just two, cute fingers.

two twinned digits pried your lower lips apart, and he grunts once the swollen head of his cock snugly pops its way past your gummy barrier.

“hngh,” nanami sucks his teeth, pressing his forehead against yours. his palm rests on your tummy before he gives you a tender glance. “is this . . alright?”

chewing on your lip, you moan out a, “y- yeah.” before touching the back of his hand.

nanami’s face softens before he eases himself further inside, squeezing past that cute ring of your entrance that’s just always oh-so tight!

nanami was as round as a teddy bear. a few years into your loving marriage you noticed how he started growing a soft bear-type body, especially with the winter rolling around.

not that you minded, he was the perfect subject for cuddling. in this case, though, he was perfect for gradually placing his weight on you—to which you always ended up loved.

with his dress shirt all wrinkled and unkempt thanks to you, nanami sheathed his face inside of your neck. “g- goddd, ‘s like when i’m inside i feel even hotter.”

the love curse ran through all nanami’s veins, including invading near his bloodstream and every jabbing axon that continued to pulse through his achingly, hot skin.

eventually through . . after a very long three minutes, his gravelly pants started to turn more and more raspy.

browned eyes of nanami’s turn tender at your gaze once you grab both sides of his face, rubbing circles around his hollow cheeks with the soft tips of your thumbs. “don’t hide, look at me.”

“heh- yes ma’am.” he gruffly whispers, tilting his cheek, leaning into your touch.

nanami was on top of you, glued to you entirely as if both bodies were made of pasty adhesive. with your ankle running down his back, it took everything within him to not moan.

every part — every single part of his body felt insanely sensitive to your touch.

nanami would occasionally bite his lip, finding his eyes rolling upward or even letting off a ‘phewww’ just from being a few inches inside of your intoxicating cunt.

as his cock’s driving its way inside at a slow pace, you watch nanami’s blond brows twist into a furrowing curve.

he’s sucking in every breath that tries to escape from him, groaning at each inch that sloppily disappears between your puffed folds. without even taking a glance—nanami could feel how wet you were, and not only were you preparing to milk him dry, but you were also drowning every girthy inch of his cock with all slick amounts of your pretty mess.

he didn’t have to look down because he could just feel – feel your compellingly, vulgar squelches, feel each slosh that sobs between your cunt folds, feel each pulsating throb that would convulse against your clit.

you’re just so damn pretty though..

staring back at him as he’s trying to make his way inside, nanami ends up getting lost in your gummy orifice that’s desperately clinging onto him as if its life depended on it. it’s almost cute..

“f- fuuck.” you’d whine, tugging at his ruffed-up cerulean collar. peering your eyes a bit, you see a bit of faded lipstick marks that were from you earlier this morning.

you smile to yourself, knowing nanami would always proudly show off those marks to any woman who dared look in his direction.

within a few inches deep, nanami’s creating an unforgettable gap that stretches your cunt fully open. he keeps his hooded eyes on you, pressing a few encouraging pecks near your plump, kiss-bitten lips.

he’s never felt so hot..

nanami snaps his hips into you once- just once, and he lets off the prettiest moan.

it sounds more like a whine—it pitches a bit higher than usual and he falls face flat into your chest.

you get sheepish, wrapping your arms around him before feeling him grunting between your breasts. “honey, i think i just . . came.”

“oh,” you breathe, and sure enough, you felt a lukewarm batch of cum starting to pool its way inside of you. your legs remained snaked around his waist and you could feel nanami’s ashamed pout stretch against your chest. you pat his head, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “it’s . . okay, ‘ken.” and he’s kissing all between the slope that runs down your soft tits—his comfort place.

you hum, lifting his head and watching him grumpily pout with loose blond strands running down his eyes. “i can always take the lead if you’re too sensitive.”

“please..”

♡ ♡ ♡

nanami looks up at you with a timid expression, his hands restrained at each side of the bed. gulping deeply, he watches as your slick-glossed cunt just barely floats over his creamy white tip. from the coral-colored sides, it’s a blushing pink…itching for you to be inside again.

just a single inch or the mere feeling of you swiping your entrance back ‘n forth against the peeling hood of cock makes him groan. “handcuffs, honey? this is quite…eh- kinky, no?” nanami raises an ash brow with a weary smile, soft, dusky eyes never leaving yours.

in fact—each time you run your hands down the open slit of his shirt that exposes his blond growing chest hair, he shudders.

just a few fingertips of yours alluringly ghosting down his skin was enough to make him melt. through semi-blurred peripherals, he spots a bright color that sticks against his wrists. “they’re . . pink,” he chuckles, “and fuzzy.”

“it came in the mail yesterday,” you coo at his observation, inching your face closer and starting to kiss down his neck. nanami inhales before sighing in rapture, positioning his head to the side so you could have a better angle and it’s unintentionally sexy. “it’s not too tight…is it?”

“it’s fine,” nanami shakes his head, preparing to take another deep breath once the opening of your pussy starts to sloppily split its way ajar.

you’re sinking on his shaft and he lets out a husky grumble—bulky muscles flexing through his biceps as his arms stretched across both sides of the leather headboard. “mmgh- atta girl. like that- like . . that.” and his voice seductively lowers an octave at every inch.

it was almost hypnotic at how much you were soaking him. truly, you were already soaked but now that your cunt was accepting his vast tip that was descending its way further inside of you, nanami wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last.

profusely, your pretty pussy was drowning him. nanami’s muscles continued to bulge through his shirt as he slouched back against the mattress, watching your hips starting to moderately pick up.

“s- sooo big.” you moan, the stretch wholly expanding through your walls. sometimes—you don’t think you’d ever get used to nanami’s size, let alone his thick, parting stretch.

clicking his tongue, nanami takes every second he can just to stare and openly admire your body.

effortless, you were just effortless with every moment you did.

every twirl, every toss and dip of your hips had him hungry for only more – more of you.

as your pace maintained its rocky rhythm, his eyes found themselves trailing further down, pausing between the crack of your pried-open legs.

seconds pass and they’re now leisurely making their way up your chest, pausing right between your plush rounded mounds.

you still had his business shirts as you rode him, and your tits freely sprung as your hips started to grind quicker. as your hips pathetically stuttered, so did the wooden legs of the bed. “hng- puttin’ me in handcuffs just so i can’t touch my hah- pretty wife, hm?”

nanami tries to joke, but you could already see him breaking a sweat once his cock explores deeper inside of your cunt – zigzagging a bumpy pattern all through your inside.

it’s making sure every part of you from the inside memorizes his hits, sloppy thrusts and all, and fuck- were you about to collapse right then and there.

the sides of nanami’s forehead were already heavily covered in perspiring sweat. with lush tears dribbling down every crevice and corner, nanami starts to huff.

“but baby, you always touch me,” you lively tease, tossing both arms over his tense, pent-up shoulders.

the bed lowly creaks every second, constantly dipping from all the constant movements and pounds that jolt against the rickety aged boxspring.

its constant croaky groans sounded almost painful—and the quicker your hips swerved around and bounced, the louder it cried in the background from both jerking bodies.

nanami pouts, shaking his head and you make him nod by cupping his chin. “yeah, you do.” you then surprise a part of his neck with wet, balmy kisses.

nanami gruffly grunts, desperately wishing his hands were roaming down every part of your body. tending to every part, allowing his fingers to explore every part.

he’d caress circles around your ass—guiding his callused, rough fingers up up up before they eventually reach near your waistline.

with a clingy grip, he’d start to rock your hips faster into him, making sure he pumps all nth inches deep inside until you’re babbling out incoherent cacophonies of his name and how you’re just so full..

but you noticed—nanami’s eyes were only focused on only one thing. your soft, perked breasts that bounced at the exact second your body did.

at each powerful hop and slam of your hips, they playfully jiggled, flopping against your chest. they were nearly smushed right in his face, and oh- he could feel his mouth shamefully watering at just imagining them being in his mouth.

“closer, sweetheart,” he grunts, tilting his head down since he couldn’t exactly use his hands.

you were riding him at such godly speed, swerving your hips at such frantic intervals while wetly clamping down on his cock.

nanami always filled you to the brim with all of him, poking right through your slickly dripping orifices with every bouncy thrust.

once more, it makes his head spin, but all he’s focused on is your chest that was staring straight back at him. “f- fuuuck, ‘m still h.. hot. i think- i think suckin’ on them will help me cool off, sweetheart.”

saucily cooing, you lick a stripe down his neck as your hips accelerated. as you continued to speak, your voice started to get a bit bumpy from the unsteady movement of your jouncing ass.

“oh- is that what you wanted all this time, ‘ken? to suck on these?” and he watches as you lean back, cupping your tits with the smuggest smile plastered on your lips.

your hands sneak down between your unbuttoned shirt before you silently mewl, giving them a nice good squeeze. “imagine jus’ how plumper they’d be after i have your baby, kento.”

“h.. honey- you’re lucky ‘m handcuffed.” bronze eyes trace down your skin, stopping at your perked nipples.

they were oh-so-perfect.. and as you’re straddled over his lap, nanami couldn’t help but let his mind wander just a bit. he couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander near the very lewd lobe of his brain.

the mental image of you baring his child . .

his wife, you.

nanami grunts at the thought, wordlessly gasping in multiple honed breaths at the fierce clashes of sharp skin.

your hips were disgustingly brutal, and with the way your thighs clung onto him, you were nearly akin to a magnet – forevermore sticking against nanami, never wanting to let go.

“c’mooon,” the blond playfully whines in a gruff voice, his cock stiffening inside of you. “don’t hah- make me beg, sweet girl.”

“you make me beg,” you chaff, slowing your hips down just a bit. nanami grunts at your catty truth, feeling the weight of you gradually hover before you roughly buck right into him.

using all of your core, his leaking tip smears its way against your clit in an almost pretty heart shape and you stutter out a moan.

your syllables of each broken moan were a bit choppy as you were shooting blanks, arching your back against him. even as you’re still riding him, putting all pounds of movement from your body into your sprawled knees, you kept touching yourself.

seeing you guide your hands all over your body in such a sensual way, made nanami kiss his teeth.

in envy though - those should’ve been his hands..

“allll. the. time.” you finish your sentence in a spirited whisper, whispering against the twitching left side of his ear.

each thrust becomes increasingly sloppy with your grip getting more slick ‘n wet — glossed which such sticky amounts of your tangled juices.

each squashing slop! that squelches from between the arc your legs get louder, causing your thighs to nearly clamp together from the tender stimulation.

cupping your tits again, you bring them up to nanami’s face. “go ‘head.”

“woman.. you’re evil,” nanami muffles, getting a face full of your breasts. you hold onto them tight, watching as nanami brings his face closer until he’s shoved right between them. a sweet crooning groan slithers from his lips as his tongue fervently curls its way down toward your nipple.

sloppily, you feel him casually swirling greedy circles around your pulsating gland before switching to the other one.

nanami’s lashes close as you’re still rocking your hips forward, nearly riding him into utter ‘n erotic oblivion..

at this point—you thought the bed was about to break, devastatingly snapping into two due to how good you were putting your hips to use.

“mmpf- so pretty. all mine, m- mine,” he rasps between wet slurps, his wrists still trapped in pretty pink handcuffs. the woolly fur tickles against his skin as his tongue continues to rove shapes around your nipples. “need to get these girls plump… quickly.”

your tits remained grasped in your hands as you’re moaning from nanami’s tongue, and you now start to rut into him at a much more hurried pace.

nanami hungrily drives his cock all through your core, creating a near race-track path that smothers invisible kisses all against your g-spot.

every inch, he’s fat- and his even lengthier girth nearly makes your brain short-circuit for a minute. every wild jam of your hips feels like its last, and nanami’s already drooling.

treacly, sweet saliva pours from the corners of his lips as he’s sucking on each of your tits, muffled gargled moans and whines vibrating against your tepid flesh..

your body had adapted to a more steady rhythm, but you could feel his dick eagerly twitch inside of you every few rushed seconds.

a bit of drool ends up running down his mouth, landing on his polka-dotted tie, creating a gray dampening spot. it’s cute, and you rub a thumb over his thin lips, watching his tawny, soft eyes flutter back open.

it’s the look of love- and nanami could feel himself heating up more once your gaze meets his again.

for a moment, he had completely forgotten about the dumb curse because he was too busy lost in your gaze.

but his temperature started to increase. you let off a bundle of whiny mewls once you feel him nip the top row of his teeth against your nipple.

“s- so cute,” he purrs lowly, feeling your knobbly thighs get closer and closer to giving out. just a few more thrusts and you’d probably be done for.

“mmp-” he pops out your left nipple with his swollen wet lips, glancing at you. nanami looked like he’d just run a marathon with blond strands glossing strips across his forehead. grunting, he starts to pant like a greyhound, sliding a tongue over his lips. “you’re close, honey?”

“m- mhm!” you’d reply, your voice turning raw at each straining moan that leaves from your poor chords.

his cock was massaging everywhere, it didn’t miss a single spot. it’s tip was widely turgid, angrily crimson-red, and leaking from all veiny sides while narrowly delving into you raw.

nanami’s kneading through your guts, tending to each gummy part of your entrance to make you whimper out his name. from every deep, vigorous pump that profoundly batters inside of your pussy, your eyes cross.

you’re dumbfounded—dumb in general too from the way he facilely located every sensitive spot with just the stubby tip of his shaft.

including your pretty cervix - nanami made sure his cock smacked its way there a few times.

the deep pressure pounding inside of you, greeting every single spot inside of your pussy never failed to make your knees quickly buckle.

“f- fuck, fuck there ‘ken, theretherethereee,” you start to babble, the bumps of his tip making your jaw goofily hang. “ ‘m cum- ‘m gonna cummm.”

“haah- together, sweetheart. can you . . finish with me?” nanami murmurs in a throaty voice, kissing your neck.

he tried to lift his head but got slightly pulled back from the fuzzy handcuffs.

he’s molding your insides fully with his cock, squinting a bit at the crescent-shaped moon that hides behind the violent bed curtain.

that view was nice but the view currently in front of him, riding him.. ‘curing’ him from whatever curse this was was far a better sight.

you.

with a whine preparing to squeal from your throat, you give him a nod.

nanami tilts his head, tsking impishly with his smacking lips despite how he was just as sensitive as you. “ah- you know how i feel about head nods, princess. i wanna hear those pretty words.”

“y.. yes ken, ‘kentoooo,” you moan, gasping once you feel two things at once. your stomach tightly seizing and your sloppy cunt restricting around his meaty, stocky length.

it’s so good, soso good that you softly bite into nanami’s shoulder. he hums, groaning right with you before you continue. “ ‘m cummin. ‘m fuckin’ cumming, kento.”

“i know.. i know, c’mere, girl,” he whispers, his face softening once your eyes immediately lock with him. “my sweet… girl.” his pitch lowers, and you decrease the distance between the two of you.

once again, your lips meet nanami’s but this time, it’s far more aggressive and less passionate.

it’s only one word and it’s – sloppy.

your body’s weakly rolling against him, losing its rhythm as the two of you end up finishing together, competing with each other’s inevitable high.

it all felt like a slow … rush.

as you were both drinking each other’s never-ending moans and grunts, the puddled, gooey mess began.

at the same time though, your legs ended up finally collapsing as your swollen, plump lips attacked against his - harshly.

nanami’s lips were almost competing with yours, mashing against your lips with the occasional rows teeth of teeth clash clash clashing away.

it’s loud, sloppy, messy..

the peppermint taste that still lingers in his mouth travels against your buds and you moan. nanami groans, spraying a geyser of bittersweet strips of hot cum inside of you as both tongues continue to explore each other’s mouths.

it’s a straight shot—it travels deep, introducing your womb with a fresh amount of cum as you end up letting go at the same time.

both sets of hearts fluttered as you pressed against his chest, racing frantic beats per minute as you melted the dozenth kiss he presented to your lips.

it’s hot- nanami’s rawly plunging into you as you whine against his lips, barely feeling your hips rutting into him anymore.

you’re just straddling him now – yet he’s still plugging you full with such massive inches of cock, with the addition of his creamy, gloopy seed that drizzles a sloppy white ring around his base.

your fingers wisp down his undercut, as he continues to quietly ravage your walls. it was a slick, slimy knot that buries itself deep inside of your pussy.

you’re moaning, slowly breaking away from his mouth that had strings of saliva clinging near the bottom of his glossed lip. panting heavily, you crane your head, taking a quick peek down at your ass.

it’s a mess, and as his carmine-colored tip slips out of you, it lightly smacks against his tummy.

ribbons of cum paint near the very undersides of your thighs, pouring out between your syrupy slit in such a slow yet filthy manner. time nearly stood still, and nanami went silent, staring at the gooey wads ‘n wads buttery cum that oozes out of your pretty, fluttering cunt.

“are you okay?” nanami sighs, feeling you reach for the handcuff key that rests near the rosy nightstand. you remove them, and he twirls his wrists in a circle before looking at you with kind eyes.

“ ‘m okay.” you reassure him, cupping his face and kissing the right side of his cheek.

nanami’s exhausted—especially after how good you just rode him.

your dripping cunt hovers against his happy trail and sheeny clenched abs as he lazily lies back, finally grabbing your hips. “good . . good,” and with a huff, he sheepishly smiles. “i guess i . . hah- failed no nut november, huh.”

“eh- there’s always next year,” you bring a chaste, sweet kiss to his quivering, pouty lips.

♡ ♡ ♡

surrounded by nothing but bodies of water featuring sods of glittery clear bubbles, you now found yourself lying against nanami’s broad chest. burly, swole arms envelope around your body as the two of you were in the ivory, spacious bathtub. as the water ran against your skin, soothing your aching muscles—you let off a sigh once he finished washing you off.

“i think it wore off,” his warm voice tickles against your skin. nanami kisses down your nape, reaching near the side of the tub where a bowl of fresh muscat grapes lies. tearing a few off the vine, he brings them toward your lips. “the curse . . pollen, whatever it was.”

“mmpf- did it?” you eat from his hand, feeling his wet palm softly rub against your chin. the smell of rich jasmine hits your nostrils as you let off a satisfied hum at the sugary sweet flavor. nanami’s body held you close, feeling your damp body lightly plop against his chest. you feel a bit of his chest hair land against your skin before you swallow. “do you still feel hot?”

nanami pops another grape into your mouth, then into his. “no, sweetheart. i’m fine now, thanks to you,” and you feel his left arm hook around your waist. the blond reclines back against the tub’s icy marble-made wall before sighing. “how do you feel, though? any cramps or body aches i should be aware of?”

with a content suspire drifting away from your parted lips, you move a bit in the calm, lukewarm water — closer toward the back of his chest.

“i’m okay, kento. althooough,” and you give him a playful nudge. “my legs still feel sore.”

“forgive me, honey,” nanami rests his chin against your shoulder. there was a bit of jest in his tone, and you could hear him trying not to snicker.

again, always the gentleman though.

“i’ll give you a massage once we get out of the tub, my treat.” and you let off a sigh, feeling him creep a few fingers up your thigh.

“hmm, okay,” you comply with a sight sigh, sneaking a kiss near the edge of his lips. nanami blinks thrice, his face flushing a bit before you cup his face with wet hands.

“i was serious you know. about . . what i said earlier. us settling down and–,” and nanami deeply stares into your eyes as you speak.

you rub a wet thumb against his sharp cheekbone before continuing, abruptly cutting your cute rambling short, ending with a sincere, “i love you, kento.”

tilting his head against your palm, leaning into your embrace, nanami brings you toward him before kissing the crown of your head. “and i love you more,” and as you felt butterflies party in the lower pits of your stomach, nanami brings your hand up to his lips.

gently, he aligns his mouth perfectly near your fourth digit before giving you another kiss, this time—on your ring finger. “mrs. nanami.”

but oh- he wasn’t done..

as you’re feeling a wave of tenderness overwhelm your heart, nanami leans a bit down before kissing the center part of your tummy that drips with teary droplets.

his wetly compressed lips give it a quick peck and ‘mwah’ before keeping his head lowered. “i love her too.” you raise a brow, glancing as nanami’s chin hovers over the bubbles of water.

“her?” you lift a brow as he whispers multiple ‘i love you’s’ against your stomach as if he was already talking to something – or someone..

“yes, her,” nanami repeats, giving your tummy one more kiss before sitting back up, rubbing his palm over the center of your belly.

looking up at you, he notices your confused expression and smiles to himself. “oh, just a little hunch,” and you gasp once nanami picks you up softy, carrying you out the wet tub, the both of you soaking wet.

“now, how about that massage? i’m quite good with my hands, especially when it comes to my woman.”

#★vegasbaby.#nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #female reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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littlelamy · 3 months ago

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with rafe

a/n: SPOILER for S4; rafe x pogue!reader; if you haven’t seen s4 yet and don’t want spoilers please do not read it !!! i wanted to post it tomorrow but i love it so much so I’m posting today!

proposal with rafe

The sun casts a golden glow across the water as Barry’s boat floats in the middle of the water while a determined rafe zooms on his jetski to shore. He swings a leg off the jet ski, wading through the shallow waves as he makes his way to where you’re sitting under a tree, your gaze meeting his. There’s something different in his eyes—a softness, maybe even a hint of vulnerability, and you feel your pulse quicken as he reaches for your hand, his grip warm and gentle.

“Come sit with me,” he murmurs, his voice low but steady, leading you to a spot beneath the shade. His expression is so uncharacteristically tender, it leaves you feeling both anxious and curious. He takes a deep breath, as if summoning the courage for something important.

“Before I... before I take off, I wanted to say something,” he says, his eyes searching yours, his tone holding a weight that makes your heart race. Confused but drawn in, you nod, watching as he sinks down on one knee before you, reaching into his pocket to pull out a beautiful diamond ring. The delicate silver band catches the light, and you see his hand tremble slightly as he holds it out, a touch of vulnerability showing through.

“It was my mom’s,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a softness that you rarely hear. "Been in the family forever, so I know that's some Kook bullshit, but I..." His gaze holds yours, a gentle warmth shining through. “I just wanted to you to have it, before I...I left, so you know that we're real.”

Your heart swells, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his eyes and the gesture that feels so intimate, so unexpected. You nod, a smile breaking across your face, and the weight of his love wraps around you as he slides the ring onto your finger with a tenderness that takes your breath away.

Your heart still pumping fast at his words as warmth spreads through you as he steps forward and sweeps you into his arms, holding you close as his lips find yours. His kiss is deep and passionate, filled with longing and the intensity he’s been holding back. He groans softly, pressing you closer, and you feel the weight of his emotions as you loop your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. He pulls you deeper into the kiss, as if it’s his way of saying everything he can’t put into words.

He pulls away smiling at your now heavy finger, his thumb brushing over your hand before he reaches into his pocket again and pulls out his keys. He holds them out to you, his fingers brushing yours as he places them into your palm.

“I want you…” he starts, his voice husky with feeling, “…I want you to quit your job, and I want…I want you to move in with me.” He pulls you in again with a even more passionate (if it’s even possible) kiss that makes your knees buckle. "Now we got that sorted," Rafe says laughing with the biggest smile as he pulls away from the kiss.

“I’ll be back in a few weeks, all right? Here. Stay at my…..Stay at our place.” He presses the keys into your hand with a firm but gentle insistence. As he pulls back his hands, he rests his forehead against yours, smiling, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you,” he says softly, pressing a final kiss to your forehead, then lips before stepping away. He pauses, looking back at you one last time, his eyes holding a promise, a warmth that leaves you feeling like the luckiest person in the world as he steps back onto his jet ski.

As he starts up the engine and disappears across the water, you’re left with the keys, the ring, and the weight of his words—feeling the love and commitment he’s offering, and the life he wants to build with you.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @wniektty

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ipushhimback · 16 days ago

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we were drunk it happens - part 3

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

pairing: lando norris x verstappen!reader warnings: pregnancy, jos verstappen words: 1.5 k

summary: Y/N find out she is pregnant. she doesn’t want to tell Lando as she was scared of his reaction.

taglist: @martygraciesversion381 / @l-vroom4 / @comicalivy / @sid-is-gr8

Fuck. That was the only thought in her head as she stared at the pregnancy test in front of her. She was on birth control. How the hell was she pregnant now.

This couldn’t be happening. She was only 22 years old. Definitely not ready to be a mom! And a single mom? No way she could do that. Oh my god. How should she tell Lando.

She took her phone and clicked on her brother’s contact. She really needed advice right now and who was better for that than her brother. He would probably be a bit upset but Y/N couldn’t really think of anyone else who could help her right now. After only one rang, Max answered.

“Hey, little one. What’s up? Everything alright?”, he asked.

“No, Max. Nothing is alright! Please. Can you come here? I need you.” Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes and her voice broke.

“Of course. Are you hurt? Did something bad happen?” Over the phone, she heard how Max grabbed his keys as told Kelly he would have to leave. A second later she heard a door close.

“I am not hurt. No. Please just hurry.” She sank down against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall and just hung up. Max would be there soon. And then everything was going to be okay.

The doorbell rang and Y/N got up slowly to open it. When she did, her brother immediately went to hug her as he saw her wet cheeks.

“Hey. What happened. Did someone hurt you? Are you sick?”, Max asked as he leaned back a bit to look her in the eyes. “You know you can tell me everything, right?”

Y/N just held up the pregnancy test. There was no chance it was wrong. The word pregnant was clearly written across the little display in the white stick.

“That’s… yours? I assume?”, Max asked carefully.

“Of course it is mine! Why else would I stand in my fucking house and cry like someone died?! I don’t know what to do, Max. He will kill me if he finds out.” Well aware that she would make Max’ shirt completely wet, she buried her face in his grey shirt.

“Who will kill you? Who even is the father? Oh my god. It’s Lando, isn’t it. No way.” Max looked concerned, but now Y/N could also see he was a bit disappointed, even though he would never show it.

He was too much of a supportive brother. He would never show his disappointment, nor would he upset her on purpose.

“It’s ok. Everything is going to be alright. I promise. Do you want to tell him, already?”

Y/N shook her head furiously.

“No. He… he can’t know. We said no feelings. He really can’t know. Not yet.” Her brother just nodded while looking thoughtful.

“Do you… do you wanna keep it?” He looked worried as if he was scared that he might have said the wrong thing.

Y/N nodded. She thought about an abortion, but she simply couldn’t. It was her baby. And more importantly, it was her and Lando’s baby.

“I do. It is mine.” She placed her hand on her still flat belly.

“Ok. I just want you to know that Kelly and I will support you. No matter how you decide to raise it in the end. And hey, maybe your baby will be friends with ours in the end. They won’t have a huge age gap.” The Formula 1 driver laughed a bit.

“You are not disappointed?”, Y/N asked. She honestly would have thought that Max would be a bit mad, but here he was, being the most understanding person.

“Maybe a little. No… that’s not right. I am just a little scared. You are my little sister. And… I am not really disappointed just worried about you. But you know I will always support you, no matter what happens.” Max smiled at her which made Y/N a little happier.

“I am going to have a baby”, she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

***

For over a week, Y/N had been feeling nauseous. The pregnancy made her tired, dizzy and she couldn’t keep any food down. Still, she told Max that she will attend the next grand prix. Monza. She was happy, because she slowly started to like F1 again. When she was younger, Monza had been her favorite grand prix and the atmosphere when the Ferraris were on the podium…

Like Seb had been saying. Everybody’s a Ferrari fan. Even if they’re not they are Ferrari fans.

Even though Y/N was looking forward to watching the race, she couldn’t help but feel nauseous as fuck. She threw up her whole breakfast earlier and now she just felt weak.

Because the last thing she wanted now was being alone, she had decided to go to the Ferrari garage where Charles’ girlfriend Alex already was. They have become quite good friends over the last weeks so Y/N enjoyed being around her. Together they were now staring at the tv in front of them. Observing the different cars and occasionally swearing when they were annoyed or too caught up in the moment.

At some point Y/N excused herself to head to the bathroom, needing to puke again. When she returned, Alex looked at her a bit worried.

“You look shitty today”, she said bluntly.

“Wow. Thank you. I didn’t see that already in the mirror or so…”

“No… I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N. More in an ‘are you okay’ way. Because seriously, you look like you’re about to faint. And I don’t want to explain that to Max later.” Alex looked at her, definitely worried.

“No. I am alright. It just happens sometimes.” Y/N suppressed the urge to throw up again and took a deep breath. “Let’s focus on the race, ok?”

Alex nodded hesitantly.

Y/N really wanted to tell Alex that she was pregnant, but she simply didn’t know how. Furthermore she wanted to tell all her friends she made over the last weeks together. Alex, Lily, Carmen, Rebecca. And of course, her childhood best friend.

A bit later, the race was finished. Charles came in P1, much to Alex’ joy, Max in P2 and Lando in P3. Everything was perfect, until it wasn’t.

She just went outside to head to the Red Bull garage but just as she came near, she heard a sharp voice.

“P2? And you are proud of yourself? Wipe that damn smile from your face, Max. You started from pole; you should have won easily. Didn’t I raise you better?”

Y/N froze outside and couldn’t move anymore. What was her dad doing here? Max didn’t know about it, did he?

Suddenly she felt like she might really faint. Black spots were dancing in front of her eyes, and she couldn’t breathe anymore. She hasn’t seen her dad in at least three years. And honestly, she was glad about it. She didn’t want him in her life anymore.

Y/N knew that Max didn’t have as much of a problem with Jos as she did, but he still didn’t exactly like it when his dad was complaining about him being P2 in a race. She knew he would beat himself up for it, as it would make him believe he was terrible at what he does.

“Y/N? Are you ok?”, she heard a voice say. Lando.

“Uhm. Yes. Everything’s alright.”

Lando eyed her.

“You don’t look like you’re alright… You’re pale and you look like you just saw a ghost. Did something happen? Are you not feeling well?”, he asked.

“No. Seriously everything’s alright.” But in that moment Max walked around the corner, and Jos was just behind him.

“Oh. Y/N. Nice to see you again after you’ve been ignoring my calls for what now… three years? And still living in your brother’s shadow I see.” Jos laughed and Y/N felt like she wanted to die.

She felt tears welling up in her eyes and her chest tightened. The nausea was back as well, and she hated it. Why couldn’t she just live in a normal family?

“Are you alright, Y/N?”, Max asked from where he was standing. His sister just nodded before turning around and walking to Max’ driver’s room.

“Great, dad. Well, done.”, she heard Max say to their dad behind her. But she just started crying. Damn pregnancy hormones.

A little later when she sat on a small couch in the room, she heard a knock on the door. Max.

“Can I come in please?”, he asked while he was already opening the door. “I didn’t know he would be here, I promise, I would have told you. I wouldn’t want to hurt you or even the baby.”

But exactly then, Y/N saw Lando in front of the wooden door. He looked at her with wide eyes the shock evident in his eyes.

“A baby?”

A/N: sorry it took me so long to write this part but i was so tired thanks to school i didn’t have the energy to write a lot. also updates to the next fics and what i am writing etc is on my pinned post / intro post

#f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x female reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x y/n #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n

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frenchkisstheabyss · 2 months ago

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♡ｖｅｒｙｂａｄｔｈｉｎｇｓ♡

♡ Pairing: mafia!wooyoung x chubby!fem!stripper!reader, other members mentioned

♡ Genre: smut

♡ Summary: When your best friend ropes you into working a bachelor party with her on your day off you're positive you know exactly what to expect. A bunch of gross drunk guys trying to put their hands on you. Instead you stumble into the exact opposite situation, finding yourself drawn to one man in particular who has you doing something you never thought you would.

♡ Word Count: 4.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: woo offers you money for sex and you take it, tattooed woo, drinking, partying, this man really likes licking you, low-key body worship, teasing, pentrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, tit sucking, manhandling, multiple orgasms, orgasm control, a lil dom woo if you squint, a lil pain play, pet names (good girl, pretty, beautiful, cutie, baby), and that's about it babes.

♡ A/N: What can I say? I love Wooyoung. I love mafia boys. I love thicc strippers. Mix all that with a lengthy Megan thee Stallion playlist and this is where I ended up. As always, I hope my chubby hot girls out there enjoy this. Love yeeew ♡

This was supposed to be your night off. You should be bed rotting in your pajamas while you shovel snacks into your mouth and binge your favorite K-drama. Instead you’re half naked in the penthouse suite of some posh high rise straddling the lap of a pretty dark haired boy who just knocked back a shot of tequila and is seconds away from licking the salt from your cleavage.

You let out a giggle at how his tongue tickles as it drags along your skin. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your sparkly pink acrylics swirling in the silky strands as you tilt his head back to let him bite down on the lime wedged between your plush lips. He grins from ear to ear, arms looping around your waist to bring you closer. Your lips are dangerously close to touching. If his cock straining against his pants didn’t give away how badly he’d love for that to happen, that lust filled glimmer in his eyes would.

When he sucks the juice from the lime you pluck it from his mouth, delicately licking the last drop from his bottom lip. He lets out a groan too low for anyone else to hear over the music that fills the penthouse but you hear it. You feel it.

“So, what’s your name again, sugar?” you ask, tugging at his hair a little harder. His eyes nearly roll back at how satisfying the pain is.

“Wooyoung, sugar. What’s yours?” he whispers, sliding his hands down to cup your ass. You’re wearing a thong, leaving almost nothing between the warmth of his palms and the smooth skin of your ass. He gives it a gentle squeeze and you let out an airy moan that falls on his tongue as sweet as candy.

“Mmmm” you hum, grinding down on his clothed cock just enough to make it twitch, “Be a good boy tonight and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Your best friend Anya flicks at one of the silver star charms decorating your hair as she walks by hand in hand with an equally pretty boy you’re sure you heard someone call “Yeosang” earlier.

“She’s not being a tease is she?” she jokes.

You roll your eyes, playfully swatting her hand away, “I’m not a tease.”

Wooyoung only shrugs, “She is a tease but that’s okay. I like it.” He squeezes your ass harder and a little squeak escapes you.

“Hey! I said you had to be good” you scold, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

He releases his hold on you, fingertips petting the small of your back, “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”

“You swear?” you pout, enjoying how easily he’s gotten wrapped around your finger.

Wooyoung raises a pinky and hooks it around yours, “Pinky swear.”

For a fleeting moment you catch yourself falling for his charms. It’s difficult not to when he’s this hot. In fact, every man in this room is drop dead gorgeous. When Anya first asked you to work this bachelor party with her you were dreading it. Bachelor parties are usually filled with drunk, messy men who can barely string a sentence together let alone be charming.

It’s always good money but you weren’t in the mood to be gawked at by a bunch of asshole frat boys or handsy businessmen so you had every intention of telling her no. You much preferred your bed to a second of that but after all the times she’s had your back you couldn’t bring yourself not to do her this favor so you threw on your cutest lingerie, strapped on your stilettos, and got your cute ass over here.

Much to your surprise and relief this is nothing like other bachelor parties you’ve worked. Of course they wanna see you naked. They wanna touch you, watch you dance for them. That’s the same with every man. But this group is so generous, so sweet, so willing to tend to the two of you that you’ve almost forgotten that you were working.

“Could you be a sweetheart and grab me a drink?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, “My throat’s a little dry and someone drank my last shot of tequila.” That someone being him.

Wooyoung laughs, lifting you off of him and placing you carefully at his side, “Of course. Anything for you. What do you want?”

As Wooyoung rises from the couch you swing your feet up and he catches you by the ankles, slowly massaging your legs. You shrug, nibbling at your lip while his hands slip closer to your pillowy thighs, “Surprise me.”

“Surprise you…” he nods, his fingers sinking into your thighs, “Okay. I can do that.” He leans forward, kissing the inside of your knees before he wanders off to get you a drink.

Lying back on the couch you catch an inverted view of Anya chatting up Yeosang and finding any excuse to feel his muscles through his shirt. After a bit another man slips in beside her. You’re able to eavesdrop close enough to hear her say his name. Jongho. You’re sure he’s the youngest of the group. He’s quiet, difficult to read, but such a cutie.

Speaking of cuties, you wonder how the man of the night is doing. Hongjoong—that’s the one name you absolutely had to remember—he’s the one getting married in a few days and you must admit his fiance’s one lucky girl. He was kind when the two of you arrived, offering you drinks and making sure you settled in fine, but he’s acted so innocent all night.

You’re sure he still hasn’t moved from that spot in the corner where he’s been sitting nursing the same drink all night. Every few minutes he checks his phone. You’re sure it’s to text his fiance. Some girls might be offended by that but you can’t bring yourself to care. You find it quite sweet actually and you get paid either way.

“Aaah…” you gasp at the sensation of something cool kissing your skin. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you look up to find Wooyoung standing over you balancing an ice cold glass of something on your belly.

He giggles at the shock on your face, sliding it up your body to watch how your back arches in response. “For you, pretty girl.”

Carefully you take the glass, admiring the electric blue syrup swirling around inside of it. You raise it to your lips, sipping at the sweet liquid. Wooyoung kneels down beside you, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind your ear as you drink. He studies your side profile in silent fascination, admiring all of the finer details of your face. It’s a cliche thought, he knows this, but he can’t help wondering how such a delicately beautiful creature ended up in a line of work like this. Then again, with a face like this and a body like that, why wouldn’t you make men pay to be in your presence?

“How’s it taste?” he asks, only barely breaking himself from his trance.

His voice is low and dripping with need. His breath skims your neck like a trail of kisses and you catch yourself wishing that it were. Your pulse races, the tingling between your thighs growing too intense to ignore. You turning a guy on at work? It happens everyday. A guy turning you on? That’s never happened before, not during a single night on the job, but there’s a first time for everything isn’t there?

“You tell me,” you say, offering him a sip. As you do so your hand trembles enough for some of the alcohol to spill over the brim and onto your fingers.

Wooyoung locks eyes with you, deep pools of brown pulling you into his gaze. Setting the glass down on the floor, he takes you by the wrist, gently stroking it as he presses your fingers to his lips. His tongue darts out, twirling around each and every finger to lick them clean. You never could’ve predicted that something like this would get you wet but here you are. That tingling between your thighs? It’s unbearable now. You squeeze them together, bringing your attention to how wet he’s managed to get you. You hate it and love it all at once.

“You taste delicious” he grins, kissing your inner wrist.

It makes you shiver and you pull your hand back, fighting to get a hold on yourself, “I thought we were talking about the drink, not me.”

Wooyoung shrugs, running his fingers down your side, “I don’t know, were we?”

You should stop him but lust has you locked in place, letting his hand venture below your waist without a word of protest on your part. He squeezes the plush of your thigh, tucking a thumb between them so that it hovers a mere inch away from the wet fabric clinging to your warmth. In this moment everyone else in the room fades away. Even the music seems as if it’s traveled miles to reach your ears. You can only focus on each other. The way your breath hitches the closer he gets to stroking your clit through the lace. The way his eyes seem to twinkle as he watches you grow more and more needy for him as the seconds pass. His thumb’s so close you can almost feel it. Something in you tells you to shift your body down on the couch a little bit, close the distance and give yourself that relief you want so badly.

“You didn’t pay for that” you snap, shooing his hand away, “That’s not on the menu, babe.”

Without missing a beat Wooyoung retrieves his phone from his back pocket, swiping on the screen a few times before handing it over to you. It’s a CashApp screen and the keyboard’s already up for you to type your name into the search bar.

“Can I request something off the menu then?”

You shoot upright on the couch, shocked by what you see on the screen. “You’re joking” you laugh, motioning to hand his phone back.

Wooyoung stops you before you can, his expression more serious than you’ve seen it all night. “I want you.”

“You can’t afford me.”

“Try me…”

You wait for him to give it up but he doesn’t waver, not in the slightest. You huff, finding your account and tapping in an amount triple your fee for dancing. “There. You happy?”

Wooyoung happily takes his phone back, hitting a single button before presenting you with the screen. “As long as you are.”

“Holy shit” you gasp, eyes glued to the screen. He actually did it. He sent you the money. Truth be told if he kept up all the teasing you probably would’ve slept with him before the night was over anyway but the fact that he was willing to pay for it? That’s a twist you didn’t see coming.

“You…you’re crazy” you giggle, cupping that wonderfully defined face of his, “Fucking insane.”

Wooyoung doesn’t seem offended by that in the least. In fact, he takes it as a compliment. “But you like it…” he grins as he stands back up, sweeping your drink up with one hand and extending the other to you, “Don’t you?”

You stare at him defiantly, refusing to respond. Not that you need to. The answer’s written all over your face in that faint smile you couldn’t chase away if you tried. A smile that lingers there as he takes you by the hand, guiding you down the nearby hallway and into the master bedroom of the penthouse.

The rest of the penthouse is gorgeous, the sort of place you only see in design magazines, and the master bedroom’s no different. It’s dimly lit with soft white light emitting from a sleek Swedish lamp in the corner. The pristine white walls are adorned with intricate paintings, all originals. All of the furniture’s designer, most notably the king size bed positioned across the room opposite ceiling to floor windows that overlook the city. You’re up much too high for anyone to see you but it feels like you can see the whole world from here.

Wooyoung quickly takes notice of how charmed you are by the view. “You can check it out if you want,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, “I’m not in a rush.” He can’t hold back his amusement at how giddy you are rushing over to the window to take in the sights. You’re quite possibly the cutest thing ever.

“Whose place is this anyway?” you ask, unable to peel yourself away from the twinkling lights of the city below. Usually you steer clear of personal questions—it’s better that way—but something about Wooyoung makes you comfortable enough to ask.

Chugging the rest of your drink, he lays back on the bed, glaring up at the spiraling design on the ceiling. “You remember the tall one? Kinda goofy?”

You run down a mental list of the boys at the party and narrow it down to two. “Which one?”

Wooyoung nearly chokes laughing, “Which one? Oh my god.”

“What?” you pout, truly not meaning any harm, “There’s two of them.”

“Mingi, the one with the deep voice. This is his place. He moved in, I don’t know, a month ago. Nice isn’t it?”

“Do you all live like this?” There you go again, asking questions you know you shouldn’t.

Wooyoung turns to look at you, his reflection immediately capturing your attention. “For the most part, yeah.”

You spin around to face him, on the verge of melting under the heat of his gaze, “Are you a drug dealer or something, Woo?”

He lets that question linger in the air, gesturing for you to come to him. “Come here, beautiful. You’re too far away.”

You skip over to the bed, your body jiggling so deliciously that he’s tempted to send you back over to the window just to see you come back again. Hopping onto the bed, you throw one leg across his waist, straddling his lap. “Better?”

He cups your cheek, bringing you in so that you’re face to face, his lips skimming yours once more. “Better.”

“You didn’t answer my question” you whisper, rocking your hips against a bulge that’s even harder for you than before.

Wooyoung loops an arm around your waist, keeping you flush against him, “If I answer your question will you tell me your name?”

“Mmhmm” you whine at the friction between you.

The fabric of your panties is flimsy enough that you can feel the texture of his pants—the pressure of his cock straining against them. It makes your mind go fuzzy. Wooyoung knows this because you’re doing the same to him.

“I’m a very bad man who does very bad things but not that. Not anymore” he confesses, flipping you onto your back in one effortless motion.

Any attempt you could’ve made to respond is silenced when his lips finally crash into yours. You teased him for hours, taking every opportunity to almost kiss him knowing from the start how badly he wanted you. Now that he can finally have you—satisfy the hunger that’s been building inside all night—he’s ravenous, holding nothing back.

“Your turn” he whispers between your lips, flipping you onto your back in one fluid motion, not once breaking the kiss.

The room’s still spinning when you part your lips to answer his question. As a rule you always give a fake name—one of the pretty ones that you and Anya came up with to stop creeps from finding you out in the real world—but for some reason you can’t lie to Wooyoung. With him kissing you like he wants to devour your very soul, the only possible thing you can spill out is the truth.

Wooyoung kisses his way down your neck, inhaling the sugary scent of your perfume as he drags his tongue between your breasts. “Such a pretty name. I like it.”

“I…I like your name too” you stutter, fingers combing through his hair, “Wooyoung’s a pretty name.”

Catching the fabric of your top between his teeth, he tugs harshly, causing the knots holding it together to slip. Your lush breasts fall free from your top, the tiny hairs on your arm standing up at the feeling of your stiff buds brushing the fabric of his shirt.

“Mmm, say it again” he groans, the tip of his tongue swirling around your nipple, “It sounds so fucking good when you say it.”

Taking your bud between his teeth, he sucks harshly at it, treating you to a combination of pain and pleasure that’s nothing short of addictive. Wedging a knee between your legs, he pushes your thighs apart, reaching down to knot your panties in his fist. Your body jerks as he snatches them away, leaving your dripping pussy exposed. Slipping two fingers between your folds, he spreads you open, letting his middle finger slide back and forth across your clit.

“Wooyoung…mmph…” you moan, arching into his touch, “Woo…aah”.

Wooyoung dips his fingers down to your clenching hole, stretching you open enough to give you a taste of what your body’s begging for.

“You want more, baby?” he teases, drooling around your swollen nipple.

“Yes, please” you beg, your breath hitching as his fingers, already slick with your arousal, push into you.

His movements are slow at first. Two fingers sliding in and out of you, gently stroking your pulsing walls. Your walls are so velvety and warm that he could spend all night petting them. No pussy’s ever felt this good wound around his fingers. His cock aches at the thought of how heavenly it must be to be inside of you. But that’s not truly where his head is right now. He’s solely focused on sneaking a third finger into your pussy, quickening his pace to make sure you never stop making all these pretty noises.

Wooyoung’s fingers are like magic and he’s insanely attentive, effortlessly picking up on your sweet spots and hitting them every single time. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, pushing you so close to your high that your lips are quivering. Wooyoung may be a very bad man who does very bad things but he’s so so good to you.

You tug at his hair, wanting another kiss but unable to form the words to ask for one. Guessing what you want—he wants it too—he leans up and pulls you into another kiss. Your lips collide right on the edge of your orgasm, his tongue dancing with yours as the euphoria hits and you clench around his fingers.

“Good girl” he praises, “Are you always this gorgeous when you cum or is this just for me?”

His admiration only heightens the intensity of your orgasm. That coupled with the fact that he hasn’t let up on you has you ready to fall apart right here and now. After a couple seconds you figured he’d slow down, give you some time to recover, but no, he just keeps going.

“One more for me” he whispers, bringing his thumb up to rub your clit.

“Woo, I can’t. Too much” you whine, grabbing onto his shirt hard enough to tear it.

He doesn’t care if you do. He meant it when he said you’re gorgeous when you cum. Your faces are perfection and your body’s glowing. When you look like this you could tear up everything he owns and he’d let you get away with it.

“You can do it, baby. Just look at you. You’re already so close again, aren’t you?” he coos, kissing you on the cheek.

A split second. That’s all you get to come down, if you can call it that, before the pressure’s building again and you’re coming so hard it has your ears ringing. This time he shows you mercy, gradually slowing his motions, showering you in the sweetest kisses while you come down. Climbing off of you, he stands at the foot of the bed, licking his drenched fingers.

“I was right. You are delicious.”

You roll your eyes, trying hard not to give away how sickeningly hot you find him. “Are you always like this?”

There it is again. That mischievous grin that he’s been flashing you all night. The one you can blame for getting you into this situation to begin with. He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a tattooed chest you just can’t wait to dig your nails into.

“Like what?” he asks, undoing his belt.

“Like a menace” is what you want to say but you can’t. Wooyoung’s pants are at his ankles now and he has the nerve to stand there like he doesn’t know how glorious his cock is. You don’t need a fully lit room to see how flawless, how beautifully veined, how totally made for you it is.

“Like what, cutie?” he repeats, grabbing your ankles and dragging you to the edge of the bed. Tucking his hands behind your knees, he pushes your legs back, spreading them open to push the head of his cock up against your twitching pussy.

You moan at the satisfying warmth of his arousal coating your slit, hips pressing down to stretch yourself with the tip.

“I don’t even know anymore. I’m just so…so…”

“So pretty…” he grunts, driving his length into you so deep that you feel it in your chest. Every word he says is accompanied by a thrust that rocks you to your core, little dots of color decorating your vision. “So beautiful. So fucking sexy when you take my cock.”

Your pussy’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before. It’s enough to make his head spin and his knees weak. His cock’s never indulged in something this decadent. It’s so good—maybe too good. When you first walked through the door tonight Wooyoung knew it would be. Something about you said you were sitting on a pussy like gold and he wasn’t wrong. Not even a little bit.

You can’t even pretend that you don’t feel the same way. You’re bouncing back against his cock, clamping down on him like you’ll die if he pulls out. Every stroke of his cock floods your senses with pleasure, worsening the moisture leaking from your needy hole onto the expensive sheets. It’s so overstimulating. The length. The thickness. How he throbs in response to every flutter of your walls, filling you up exactly how you need to be filled.

Shifting angles, he mercilessly drills into your sweet spot, making you lose control of your already weakened limbs. You can’t raise your hips. You can’t bounce back on him. You can’t do anything at all besides lay there and take every inch of cock that he feeds you. It’s only a matter of time before your breath’s hitching again, that airy feeling overtaking your body.

“Look at me” he commands when your head falls back, glossy eyes rolling to the back of your head. Letting one of your legs drop, he slaps a hand down on the softness of your belly and grips it hard enough to sting.

“Mmph, Woo…” you moan, teary eyes finding his gaze as your nails rake across the sheets. There’s a darkness in his expression that intimidates you as much as it turns you on.

A smile tugs at his lips at the sound of your broken voice moaning his name. “You look at me when you cum or I’ll stop. You don’t want me to stop, do you, baby?”

You shake your head, pouting cutely. You make him weaker than you can imagine but that’s not enough for him. He knows you can do better than that.

Slowing down to an agonizingly slow pace, he drags his fingers down your belly to play with your clit. “I don’t believe you. I think you want me to stop.”

“No, don’t stop” you whine, rocking up and down his length, “I won’t look away. I promise. Fuck me, Youngie, please.”

Wooyoung folds for you in an instant, fucking into you hard enough that the headboard’s rocking. You reach out for his hand and he gives it to you, fingers interlacing with yours as your high takes you under.

This is the third time he’s seen you cum—the third time he’s watched you moan and arch and cry out for him—and each time’s more perfect than the last. Good thing this isn’t the last. In fact, it’s far from it. You’re his for the night and by the time he’s done with you he’ll have every face you make, every desperate little moan, committed to memory.

#ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #ateez smut #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x you #wooyoung x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader

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helioooss · 1 month ago

Text

back to december

synopsis: after years of being together, jimin and y/n’s relationship starts to crack under the pressure of karina’s new-found world: fame.

w/c: 8.5k+

warnings: angst, swearing, this and that, not proofread

a/n: merry christmas

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the apartment door opened with a soft creak, letting in the sound of jingling keys and quiet footsteps. you looked up from where you sat, curled into the corner of the worn-out sofa, a book resting open in your lap. the faint hum of the world outside was replaced by silence as jimin stepped into the apartment.

her black hair, slightly damp with sweat, clung to her temples, and the oversized hoodie she wore looked three sizes too big. her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but even through her tired eyes, a familiar spark of excitement flickered to life.

“you’re home late,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you sat up straight, putting the book down on the coffee table.

she exhaled a breathy laugh as she moved toward you, collapsing onto the spot next to you with a heavy sigh. her body sank with yours onto the cushions as if they were the only things holding her together.

“baby,” she started, voice breathless yet glowing as her face beamed. “it’s happening.”

you frowned lightly, a mixture of confusion and curiosity dancing across your face. “what’s happening?”

she turned her head to look at you, a grin slowly spreading across her face. “the debut.”

your heart stilled for just a second, your mind needing a moment to catch up with her words.

“what?” you asked, almost as though you’d misheard — but you heard her right.

“i’m debuting!” she burst out, her hands flailing briefly before dropping back to her lap. her voice rose with that mix of disbelief and joy, like she was saying the words out loud to make them real. “it’s official. i’m going to debut in a group. with yizhuo, minjeong and aeri.”

the news struck you like a wave, one that carried a mixture of pride, excitement and something you couldn’t quite place — a faint flicker of anxiety.

“baby, that’s fucking incredible!” you threw your arms around her without thinking, and she let out a surprised laugh as you held her tightly. her body was warm and familiar, the scent of her floral shampoo lingering faintly — the smile broke across your face, legs tangled together and all.

her arms tightened around you for a moment before she pulled back just enough to look at you. her dark eyes softened. “i couldn’t have done it without you.”

“i told you it was only a matter of time,” you murmured into her shoulder, your voice muffled but steady. “it’s all you and your hard, baby. i just happen to be the lucky one cheering from the sidelines.”

“you’re always there, cheering me on, even when i doubt myself,” her eyes glimmered, showing adoration towards you.

“of course i am,” you replied simply. “i believe in you. i always have.”

her smile faltered for just a second, like she was overwhelmed by something unspoken. yet she sat up straighter, the energy returning to her. “i want to celebrate with you. i invited the girls over for dinner tomorrow — i hope you don’t mind.”

you nodded, feeling that familiar itch to do something for her. for all of them. “i’ll cook,” you offered without hesitation.

“you don’t have to —”

“i want to,” you cut in, smiling as you already made a mental note of the dishes you were going to cook. “it’s not every day my girlfriend debuts as a k-pop star. it has to be special.”

jimin’s face softened, her eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual. “you’re going to love them,” she said quietly. “and they’re going to love you.”

the next day passed in a blur of preparation. the apartment smelled like home — garlic, soy sauce, and ginger infused the air and the sizzle of meat on the stove echoed through the small space.

you’d been chopping, marinating, and stirring for hours, sleeves rolled up to your elbows and a soft hum of music playing in the background. cooking for people always gave you a sense of calm, as though each dish you prepared was a quiet offering of care.

when the knock came at the door, followed by the distinct sound of your girlfriend’s laugh, you wiped your hands on a towel and peeked around the kitchen doorway. a small, proud smile tugged at her lips as she caught your eye.

“welcome, welcome!” she said brightly as three girls spilled into the entryway, shedding coats and shoes.

their energy filled the apartment instantly — a mixture of excitement, nerves, and something unspoken that came with dreams finally taking shape.

“this place is so cute,” one of the girls said, her sharp features framed by black hair that brushed her shoulders. she was grinning brightly, her accent smooth but distinct. “you must be y/n? i’m aeri. or giselle, i guess.”

you smiled warmly, offering a small wave. “i’m y/n, nice to meet you all. i hope you’re all hungry!”

“oh, trust me, i’m starved,” the blonde beside her piped up, eyes sparkling. “all good things, i hope. i’m minjeong. they’re calling me winter now.”

“and i’m yizhuo,” the third girl said, giving you a small but bright smile. her energy felt calmer but no less vibrant. “ningning on stage.”

“stage names, huh?” you glanced at jimin teasingly. “what’s yours?”

her cheeks blushed faintly. “karina.”

“karina,” you repeated softly, testing the name. you smiled. “it suits you.”

the girls teased her relentlessly over your response, but she took it with that playful pride, her gaze lingering on you.

“you cooked for us?” yizhuo asked, peeking into the kitchen with curiosity.

“it’s nothing fancy,” you said, though you knew the spread was far from simple. “just a little something to celebrate.”

“you’re spoiling us already,” minjeong teased as she followed the others into the living room. “jimin, take notes, would you?”

“idiot,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “i look after you three enough.”

they filed into the living room, and soon enough, the dinner table was alive with chatter, the girls filling the small space with their voices, stories and questions.

jimin sat beside you, her eyes occasionally flickering your way. she looked more at ease than you’d seen her in weeks, even with the chaos.

“so, y/n,” aeri started, leaning forward with curiosity, “your girlfriend said you’re an artist. you have your own gallery, right?”

you nodded, surprised she even knew that much. “yeah; it’s a small space, but it’s mine.”

“that’s so cool,” minjeong added, her eyes wide. “what kind of art do you do?”

“a bit of everything,” you replied, feeling a faint heat creep up your neck. “portraits, landscapes, abstracts…i’ve always loved experimenting with textures and colours.”

“jimin proudly told us she was your muse,” yizhuo teased, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

the girl groaned softly beside you, burying her face in her hands. “ning.”

the girls erupted into laughter while you smiled faintly, looking at jimin’s flustered form. “she’s not wrong,” you shrugged, earning a few squeals from around the table. she peeked at you between her fingers, her cheeks dusted pink.

they fell into an easy conversation with you, despite their initial curiosity about who you were and how you fit into jimin’s life. they teased her endlessly — about her stage name, her habits, her tendency to practice endlessly, but they did so with a kind of deep affection that made your heart ache in the best way.

at one point, yizhuo turned to you once again, grinning mischievously. “so, how did you two meet?”

you glanced at jimin, who was already looking at you with that knowing smile. “we met at my gallery,” you said. “she walked in one day, acting like she was lost.”

“i was lost,” she interjected defensively, though her grin betrayed her amusement.

“sure you were,” you teased back, earning laughter from the table. “she stayed longer than most visitors, though. we got to talking. and she kept coming back.”

“for the art?” minjeong asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“for her,” jimin admitted quietly, her voice almost drowned out by the noise.

the table quietened for a beat, and you felt your cheeks heat under their gazes.

“that’s so cute,” aeri declared, breaking the silence. “karina, the hopeless romantic. who would’ve thought?”

“she’s not as tough as she looks,” you joked, catching her eye. her expression softened, a quiet kind of gratitude lingering in her gaze.

jimin dropped her hands, her voice quieter now. “i’ve always been her biggest fan,” she said softly. “she just doesn’t know it.”

your heart fluttered in your chest, but you focused on scooping rice onto your plate, fighting the smile threatening to take over your face.

as dinner wound down, the conversation shifted to the industry itself. they talked about practice schedules, strict diets and the endless rehearsals that had led to this moment.

“it’s harder than people think,” aeri explained, leaning back in her chair. “we’re up at 6 in the morning most days and sometimes finish past midnight. and then we have to get up and do it all over again.”

“and don’t forget the pressure,” minjeong added. “from fans, the company, and even ourselves. it’s…a lot.”

you listened quietly, glancing at your girlfriend, who was staring down at her plate. something about the way she pressed her lips together tugged at you.

“you’ll all be amazing,” you said softly, cutting through the weight of the conversation. “it’s not easy, but you’re already doing something most people could only dream of. and… ou have each other. that’s what matters, right?”

they all smiled and jimin’s gaze finally lifted to meet yours. there was something unspoken in her expression — gratitude, perhaps, or pride.

“she’s right,” jimin said quietly. “we’ll make it. together.”

as the night drew to a close, you retreated to the kitchen to clean up despite their protests. jimin followed you eventually, leaning against the counter as you scrubbed dishes. the apartment behind her buzzed with the muffled sound of the girls talking and laughing.

“you were right,” you said softly. “i do love them.”

she smiled faintly, stepping closer. “and they love you.”

you turned off the tap and dried your hands before facing her, putting your hands on her waist. “i’m proud of you, you know.”

she placed her palms against your face, her gaze searching yours, and for a second, the world outside disappeared. “i’ll make you even prouder,” she promised. “you’ll see.”

she was always meant to shine. there was such a promise in her words that you believed her. with everything you had.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

aespa’s debut had been nothing short of a phenomenon. their first music video went viral overnight, their sleek, futuristic concept capturing millions. everyone fell in love with them, chanting their names in sold-out arenas and plastering their faces across glossy billboards.

the world had changed in just one year and karina had become its centre. their schedules stretched endlessly, a constant cycle of rehearsals, performances, and interviews.

you watched it all unfold from the sidelines.

it wasn’t a surprise. she had always been destined for this kind of success, but you never realised how much it would take from her — from both of you.

her phone calls to you grew shorter and texts came slower. ‘i love you’ turned into rushed goodbyes, the weight of her schedule pulling her further and further away. you understood. of course you did — this was the dream she had fought for.

understanding didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

the fanmeet was packed, the sound of chatter and excitement vibrating through the venue. you stood in line with the rest of the fans, clutching your aespa album and a small envelope. your pulse thrummed faintly with nerves, though it wasn’t the first fanmeet you’d attended. you’d been to as many as you could manage, standing in the crowds like everyone else, cheering and waving your lightstick.

jimin — karina, you corrected yourself — had spotted you more than once during these events. sometimes, her gaze would linger a second too long, her smile softening at the corners but you never pushed for more.

you were just another face in the crowd. it stung sometimes.

“next!”

you stepped forward, and there they were, seated at the table, faces bright with smiles. giselle was first to see you as she grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners as she took your album. “hi!”

“hi,” you said, smiling back.

she glanced up, studying you for a second. “you look familiar,” she said, pen poised above the page. “have we seen you before?”

you blinked. “uh, maybe? i’ve been to a few fanmeets.”

“oh, a dedicated fan,” giselle teased, scribbling her signature across the page. “i like that.”

dickhead. you laughed softly before moving on to ningning, who beamed brightly as you approached.

“it’s you again!” she said, pointing at you with her marker.

your stomach dropped slightly. “again?”

“yeah! you’ve been to, like, every show, right? and didn’t you trend once for that fan chant video?”

your cheeks burned. “oh…um, yeah. i guess.”

“we appreciate it,” ningning said warmly, leaning forward slightly. “you’re one of those fans — the ones we know are always there.”

your heart clenched at that, but you managed a small smile.

winter was next. her gaze was more observant as you handed her the album. “you’ve got that stan twitter vibe,” she said bluntly, and you nearly choked on air.

“what?”

she smirked. “come on. the energy? the dedication? you’ve got a secret fan account somewhere, don’t you?”

“i…” you began, unable to stop your nervous laugh. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

her smirk widened knowingly as she handed you back the album. “sure you don’t.”

and then it was karina.

she looked up as you stepped forward, her face breaking into a smile that she tried to make look casual but didn’t quite succeed.

“hey,” she said softly, her voice almost lost under the hum of the venue.

“hi,” you replied, keeping your own voice light as you stared at your girlfriend.

“you’re here again,” she murmured as she took the album.

“i always am,” you said quietly, watching her sign her stage name: karina, in elegant loops.

her hand paused for just a second and then she passed the album back to you, her thumb brushing over your skin for a second. her eyes flickered up, searching yours.

“thanks for coming,” she said finally, her tone just a little too soft to be professional.

you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “of course, always.”

the weeks bled into each other and your conversations with jimin really became less and less frequent. you would see her once a week, if you were lucky.

aespa had moved into a luxury apartment together months ago, but most of her old things were still here — left exactly as they had been, like ghosts of a quieter life. her old hoodie still hung on the back of the door, her favourite mug sat unused in the cupboard and you swore her perfume lingered around.

the thing that kept you afloat was constantly reminding yourself of what she’d fought for — how she had argued with her company to keep you, how she had sat across from you, holding the nda papers with shaking hands.

“i won’t lose you, y/n,” she’d whispered that day. “i’ll do whatever it takes.”

and she had.

now, the silence was the hardest part.

it was late afternoon when you arrived at their apartment, a small bag of groceries clutched tightly in your hands. the sleek, modern building seemed too pristine, like it belonged in a magazine, but it suited the: polished, untouchable, larger than life.

jimin wasn’t there. she’d left early that morning for solo activities. a photoshoot, you thought, though it was hard to keep track of her schedule these days. her texts had been brief that morning.

from: my love 🫶

leaving early today. the girls are home, though. they miss you. i miss you. i love you baby

sent 5:07 AM

it wasn’t much, but it was enough.

you stood at the door for a second, taking a deep breath before knocking. the door flew open, revealing yizhuo in an oversized hoodie and socks that looked like they belonged to a child. she grinned at you, eyes lighting up.

“y/n!” giselle’s voice echoed from the doorway, accompanied by the sound of excited footsteps. “is that you? what’s in the bag?”

you smiled, holding up a grocery bag full of ingredients as you slipped off your shoes. “you guys asked for kimchi jjigae, right?”

“oh my god, she came through again,” yizhuo cheered, rushing over to take the bag from your hands. “this is why we love you. well, one of the reasons.”

“don’t flatter me too much, ning,” you joked, nudging her playfully as she helped you into the luxury apartment’s sprawling kitchen. the place was sleek and spotless — completely different from the homey, cluttered flat you still shared with jimin’s belongings.

the other members were scattered around the living room, lounging across sofas like exhausted cats. minjeong, in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, sat cross-legged on the carpet with a controller in her hands. she glanced up when she saw you.

“y/n!” her face lit up as she paused the game, throwing her hands up. “you’re here! i thought you abandoned us after how awkward that fanmeet was.”

you snorted as you set the groceries on the kitchen counter. “i can’t abandon you guys if you keep bribing me with compliments.”

“it works every time,” aeri said with a wink, trailing behind you. “i nearly slipped up the other day and was about to ask you if you could cook at home and feed us.”

“you’re just stupid like that sometimes,” you chuckled teasingly as, earning a slight push from her. you quickly got to work, tying your hair back and pulling out pots and pans from their neatly arranged cupboards.

while you prepped ingredients, aeri and yizhuo hovered around the kitchen like puppies begging for food.

“so,” aeri started, propping her elbows on the counter. “when are you moving in here officially? we might as well just claim you as aespa’s honorary fifth member at this point.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head as you chopped tofu. “i think you’ll have to run that past your managers.”

“nah, you’re already in,” yizhuo piped up, stealing a piece of green onion from the cutting board and dodging your swat. “jimin just doesn’t want to admit she’d lose her mind without you.”

at the mention of her, something in your chest twisted, but you masked it with a light smile. “you’re all dramatic. i’m sure she’d be fine.”

“don’t let her fool you,” aeri leaned closer with a cheeky grin. “she acts all cool and composed, but we’ve seen her mooning over you. ‘the love of my life is coming over? i’ll clean the living room!’ ‘my girlfriend likes this snack, we should keep some here.’ it’s adorable.”

“stop,” you said, your voice softening involuntarily, cheeks warming.

“she’s lucky, though,” minjeong said from the couch, still tapping idly on her controller. “no one else would put up with her constant brooding and perfectionism. we’d have kicked her out.”

you laughed at that, the weight in your chest lifting for just a moment. “well, someone’s got to keep her in check.”

“exactly,” aeri agreed, clapping her hands together. “and you feed us, which means you’re already way cooler than karina. no offence to our leader.

“all the offence please,” yizhuo teased under her breath, earning a set of laughter from minjeong.

minjeong finally stood up and leaned against the counter, watching you with a curious expression. “so, what’s up with jimin today? she’s doing something solo, right?”

you nodded, focusing on cutting tofu. “photoshoot, i think. she didn’t say much.”

“she never does,” she muttered, though her tone was light. “she’s so busy lately. we barely see her, and we live with her.”

“i know,” you said softly, more to yourself than to her.

the kitchen fell quiet for a moment. yizhuo and minjeong exchanged a quick look, but neither said anything.

“are we gossiping?” aeri teased, breaking the silence. “because i can tell you who’s been stealing my snacks again.”

“not me!” yizhuo shot back immediately.

“sure,” aeri deadpanned before turning to you. “smells amazing, y/n. i don’t know why karina ever let you out of her sight.”

“it’s not like that,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice casual.

“no, seriously,” she added, crossing her arms. “you’re her soft spot. we’ve seen it.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, making your chest ache faintly. you’d always been her soft spot — her quiet space away from the noise. you wondered if that space was shrinking, if the demands of the world were slowly pushing you out.

by the time you finished cooking, the entire apartment smelled like garlic, simmering kimchi, and savoury broth. you set the bubbling pot of jjigae in the centre of the dining table, along with plates of rice and simple side dishes you’d thrown together on a whim.

“y/n, you’re a literal saint,” minjeong said, sliding into the seat closest to the pot. “this smells so good.”

“i swear you’re trying to ruin us,” aeri added, spooning herself a generous helping. “we’re going to start rejecting all the food the company gives us.”

“you’ll get me blacklisted if you keep saying that,” you teased, sitting down across from them.

“worth it,” yizhuo said through a mouthful of tofu.

it was easy to slip into conversations with them. between bites of stew and rice, they told you stories about their chaotic schedules — forgotten dance moves on live stages, accidentally matching outfits and how yizhuo almost fell asleep during a radio interview.

“fame’s not as glamorous as it looks, huh?” you mused after aeri recounted how she nearly tripped down a set of stage stairs.

“nope,” minjeong, resting her chin on her hand. “it’s exhausting. but when we’re on stage, it feels worth it.”

“still,” yizhuo added, looking at you, “i don’t know how you do it.”

you blinked. “do what?”

“deal with jimin’s schedule,” she said bluntly. “you guys don’t even get to see each other that much anymore, right?”

the air shifted slightly, the question hanging heavier than it should have. you forced a small smile, stirring the rice in your bowl. “we make it work,” you said quietly, trying to sound casual.

aeri glanced at you, a flicker of something like sympathy in her eyes. “she doesn’t shut up about how much she misses you, you know.”

“she’s just bad at showing it,” minjeong added with a shrug.

“really bad,” ningning agreed, earning a smack on the arm from aeri.

you chuckled softly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “i know she’s busy. it’s her dream. i’m proud of her.”

“you’re good to her, y/n,” aeri tilted her head, her voice softer now. “she knows that. and honestly… she’s so lucky to have you.”

something about the way she said it tugged at you — like a quiet reassurance, but also a reminder. you nodded, offering her a small smile before focusing on your food. “well,” you said after a beat, “as long as you guys keep eating what i make, i guess i’ll stick around.”

“don’t need to ask me twice,” minjeong said instantly, earning a round of laughter.

after dinner, the girls collapsed onto the couch, groaning about how full they were while you tidied up the kitchen. you heard one of them flick on the tv, someone grumbling about someone else hogging the remote.

barely noticing the time, you were just finishing up when you felt arms loop around your waist from behind, a familiar chin resting on your shoulder.

“you didn’t tell me you were coming,” jimin murmured, her voice low and tired.

you paused, leaning into her touch slightly. “i wanted to surprise you.”

“you always do,” she said softly, her grip tightening.

you exhaled quietly, turning to look at her. her face was bare of makeup, her eyes slightly shadowed with exhaustion but she still looked like her.

“you okay?” you asked gently, brushing her hair back.

she nodded, though her gaze dropped slightly. “i missed you.”

“i’m right here,” you said softly, trying to smile.

her eyes flickered with something unspoken before the sounds of aeri shouting from the living room broke the moment.

“jimin! get out here! y/n’s our girlfriend now, so you’re being replaced by three beautiful women.”

jimin rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “remind me why i brought them into my life?”

“because they’re good for you,” you murmured, nudging her.

“you’re better,” she replied quietly, almost too soft for you to hear.

you pulled her face, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “are you still coming to my opening next week? mum and dad will be there.”

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

and even though she pulled you into the living room with the others, her arm slung over your shoulder, you couldn’t shake the weight of her words.

i wouldn’t miss it for the world.

you hoped she meant it. because as you looked at her, laughing with the girls, you couldn’t help but feel how far away she seemed — even when she was right beside you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the hum of quiet conversation slowly faded as the last of your guests trickled out of the gallery. the evening had been a success — more than that, really. the walls were lined with paintings that had taken months of late nights and countless hours to finish, and people had loved them.

three had sold in the first hour and one was going to los angeles.

yet as you stood by the entrance, offering polite goodbyes, the warmth of the evening didn’t quite settle in your chest the way it should have.

“sweetheart, are you okay?”

you turned toward the familiar voice. your parents stood a few feet away, your mum’s coat draped over her arm while your dad shifted his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

smiling tightly, you tugged the sleeves of your shirt down as you shrugged. “of course, mum. it’s been a great night.”

your dad sighed, his eyes falling towards the nearest painting; a soft, abstract silhouette of a woman, bathed in streaks of light and shadow. “is jimin still coming?”

the question hit you harder than it should have. after all, you’d spent all evening glancing toward the door, hoping for a flash of black hair, hoping to see her slip in quietly, apologetically, but she never came.

you forced a casual tone. “she’s…working still. something ran late, i think. she’ll text me later.”

“she’s going to miss the entire night?” he asked, frowning slightly. “it’s your opening.”

“yeah, idols and their schedules,” you awkwardly rubbed your nape, chuckling. “it’s okay, dad, really.”

your mum gave you a knowing look, the kind only mothers could manage — one that said she saw straight through you. she reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “you’re always so understanding, darling. but don’t let her forget how important you are, too.”

“i’m fine, mum,” you reassured her, though the words felt hollow.

he nodded, clearly wanting to say something else but holding back. “we’re proud of you, kiddo. the show was incredible. you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“thanks dad,” you murmured, offering them a small smile. “i appreciate you two showing up, i know the drive was pain.”

“anything for you, sweetheart,” your mum pulled you into a hug, kissing your cheek goodbye. “come over for dinner when you’re free, okay? i miss you both.”

they gave you a final hug before heading out into the night, leaving you alone in the quiet of the gallery. you exhaled slowly, looking around at the space you’d poured yourself into.

the pieces were yours. each stroke, each colour a reflection of something you couldn’t quite put into words, but so many of them were her.

she was everywhere, woven into the canvas, immortalised in paint.

your phone buzzed, breaking the silence. you grabbed it quickly, hope rising in your chest and only for it to deflate as you saw the multiple names on your screen.

from: minjeonggg

your show looked amazing, y/n! karina told us about it. hope you’re celebrating 🫶 sorry we couldn’t be there today but i promiseeee i’ll see u this week

sent 11:31 PM

from: aeri-chan

ok miss popular, dinner’s on me. i’m cooking (please don’t let me)

so proud of your hard work <3

sent 11:40 PM

from: ningx2

i saw photos from a friend of mine who came to the openinggg, showed the girls if u don’t mind. they’re all so beautiful 🤩

sent 11:43 PM

you stared at the screen for a moment, your chest tightening — all but from your girlfriend as you swiped to your call log. no missed calls. no texts.

pressing her name, the phone rung in your ear as you paced the room. it rang once. twice. seven times. just as you were about to hang up, the line connected.

“hello?” her voice was tired, clipped in a way that instantly told you this was going to go poorly.

“hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you hesitated for a second. “are you still coming?”

“coming where?”

you paused, heart stopping. “the gallery show. my show, jimin. the one you promised you were show up to. in fact, mum and dad actually waited for you.

a beat of silence stretched between you.

“y/n, i told you i was busy tonight,” she muttered, a hint of frustration bleeding into her voice. “i had a shoot that ran over. it wasn’t like i could just leave.”

“i know you’re busy,” you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “but this was important to me and i wanted you to be there, even just for a little while.”

“you think i don’t know that?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “i’m sorry, okay? i wanted to be there, but i can’t just drop everything for a gallery show.”

you flinched, her words striking deeper than she likely intended. “it wasn’t just a show. it was my work — a year’s worth of it.”

“and what do you think i’m doing?” she snapped suddenly. “you think i’m working this hard for nothing? i’m doing this for us. for our future.”

“i’m not asking for a future, i’m asking for now,” you replied, your voice catching at the edges. “you don’t even call anymore. you don’t text. i feel like i’m standing on the outside of your life, watching you move further and further away.”

“fuck y/n, stop,” she called out, sharper this time. “you’re making it sound like i’m doing this on purpose — like i don’t care. i care about you, you know that.”

“then why do i feel like i don’t have a place in your life anymore?” you asked in a quiet voice, trying to hold back your tears.

the silence that followed was deafening. you could hear her breathing faintly on the other end, uneven and tense. “i don’t have time for this,” she muttered, her voice cold.

“wait —“ you followed, desperation evident in your voice.

the line went dead.

you stared at your phone, your fingers still clutching it tightly. the words felt like they’d been ripped out of you, leaving you hollow. you wanted to apologise and tell her you weren’t angry — just hurt, but knowing jimin during arguments, all you could do was wait.

the next few days crawled by. she didn’t call, and you didn’t text her. every time your phone buzzed, you reached for it instinctively, only to feel that sting of disappointment when it wasn’t her.

you spent your hours in the gallery, moving through the motions — packing paintings, restocking supplies, tidying the studio, anything to keep your mind busy.

three days later, the doorbell above the gallery chimed and you looked up, surprised to see aeri and minjeong walking in, their faces bright with easy smiles.

“look what the cat brought in,” you said, trying to sound cheerful as you tucked a cloth into your pocket. “what are you two doing here?”

“we came to see your show properly,” aeri smiled. she glanced around the space, her eyes widening as she took in the paintings on the walls. “wow, these are amazing!”

minjeong wandered toward a painting near the window — a soft, abstract piece of two hands reaching for each other but not quite touching. “you’re really talented, you know that?”

“i appreciate it,” you replied, the words feeling hollow in your mouth.

awri paused, pointing to another painting; a woman sitting alone by a window, light spilling onto her face. “is this karina?” she asked softly.

you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. “yeah.”

minjeong studied the piece for a moment before turning back to you. “she’s lucky to have someone who loves her like this, you’re so good to her.”

you chuckled, pressing your hands together. “i try.” they both stopped at another canvas, an abstract piece this time — gazes lingering on the soft blues and greys. “that one sold immediately for twenty thousand dollars. i was in the middle of packing it down.”

minjeong’s eyes widened. “holy shit, y/n. that’s insane. i’m glad we got to see it then!”

you smiled faintly, though the ache lingered. “thanks. i want to make something that matters, you know?”

“you already have,” aeri said firmly. “ning would’ve come too, but she got dragged into solo schedules today.”

your heart sank slightly, though you didn’t let it show. “it’s fine. i’m glad you guys came.”

“we wouldn’t miss it,” minjeong wrapped her arms around you. “your work deserves to be seen, y/n. don’t ever forget that.”

aeri kissed your cheek, letting out a laugh when the brim of her hat hit your face. “i’m sorry!”

“idiot,” you shook your head, smiling. “sorry to see you guys go.”

minjeong sighed. “we’re sorry too, we have a meeting with our director in half an hour.”

you bowed your head. “please send my regards to ning and jimin.”

after they left, the gallery fell quiet again, leaving you alone with your thoughts. you sank onto a small bench near the centre of the room, staring at the paintings surrounding you.

they were all pieces of her — fragments of moments, memories captured on canvas. her laughter in the kitchen as you danced around with flour on your hands, the way she’d lean her head on your shoulder when the world felt too heavy.

the way she’d whispered, “i’ll always be here.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was november and the city was wrapped in the magic of the season. soft snowflakes drifted from the sky, blanketing the streets in white. shop windows glowed with warm lights, adorned with wreaths, tinsel and cheerful displays.

the world around you buzzed with a festive energy, but it felt distant; a joy you couldn’t quite reach.

jimin hadn’t spoken to you in over a week.

she told herself she was giving you space, letting things settle before she reached out but every passing day without hearing your voice made the ache in her chest grow heavier.

she missed you. horribly.

she missed the sound of your laughter, the way you always tilted your head when you were concentrating on a painting. she missed your voice, even the way you’d tease her about how serious she could be.

but what hurt most was the way you’d sounded during the argument: disappointed, like she’d let you down beyond repair and she shut you down.

her phone sat untouched on her bedside table, but she couldn’t bring herself to call you.

she told herself you were fine, that you always understood.

and then she found it: an old flyer tucked into her wallet, creased from months of being ignored.

free weekend art class: saturdays, 2-5 p.m.

without a second thought, she grabbed her hoodie and a coat, pulled a cap low over her face, and left the dorm.

when she arrived, the small studio sat quietly on the corner of the street. large windows stretched across the front, letting in subtle beams of warm afternoon sunlight. she stopped just outside, heart pounding in her chest as she looked in.

there you were.

you stood near the window, laughing with a group of students as you demonstrated something with your hands. you wore an old paint-streaked apron over your clothes, your hair messily tied back with strands falling loose around your face.

jimin froze, her chest tightening painfully at the sight of you.

you were so beautiful.

for a moment, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. your laugh carried faintly through the window, and she felt like someone had punched the air from her lungs.

you looked happy here, in your space — your world. one she hadn’t been a part of in far too long.

her hands trembled as she pushed open the studio door. the small bell above it jingled, startling you mid-sentence. your gaze flicked to the door, and when you saw her, your expression froze.

the soft smile on your face faltered, replaced by something unreadable.

“oh…hello, have a seat,” you said, your voice calm but distant. “the class finishes in an hour, sorry you missed most of it.”

the class turned briefly to look at her, then back to their work, unfazed. she stood awkwardly near the door, her cap pulled low, unsure of whether to move closer.

“i’m sorry,” she said quietly, though her voice barely carried over the hum of the room. “it’s okay, i’ll stay and watch for now.”

you stared at her for a beat before turning back to your students, forcing yourself to focus. “right, let’s keep going. we’re almost done for today.”

jimin stayed silent at the back of the studio, hands shoved deep into the pocket of her hoodie. she watched as you moved between easels, stopping to encourage your students with soft words and kind smiles.

“light strokes,” you were saying, guiding a young girl’s brush across the canvas. “you’re not fighting the paint, you’re moving with it, okay? let it flow.”

the girl nodded, grinning up at you. “like magic?”

you laughed softly, the sound carrying faintly through the glass. “exactly like magic.”

jimin’s heart clenched painfully. she’d forgotten what it was like to just watch you.

the way you moved between students, offering encouragement, helping them mix colours, or joking with them about how ‘happy accidents’ were just part of the process.

“mr. kim,” you said with a grin to one of your older students, “i know damn well you didn’t mean to paint a tree in the middle of your cityscape, but we’re rolling with it now.”

the man laughed heartily, shaking his head. “art is chaos, isn’t it?”

“exactly,” you replied with a wink.

as the class carried on, you felt her gaze on you. it was familiar, but you didn’t meet her eyes.

when the class ended, the students began packing up, thanking you as they grabbed their bags and coats. you busied yourself cleaning brushes and wiping down tables, pretending not to notice jimin still standing by the door.

eventually, the last student waved goodbye, and the doorbell chimed softly as it closed.

once the last student left, the room fell eerily quiet. you didn’t say anything at first, just continued gathering supplies, your back to her.

“y/n,” jimin said softly, taking a small step forward.

“did you enjoy the class?” your voice was polite, but there was no warmth in it.

she flinched at how distant you sounded. “i didn’t come here for the class.”

you finally turned to face her, arms crossed over your chest. your face was calm, but your eyes gave it away; hurt and guarded.

“then why did you come here, jimin?”

her throat tightened, her voice almost failing her. “because…because i missed you.”

you turned away, picking up brushes and placing them back into jars. “it took you over a fucking week to realise that?”

she flinched at the quiet sharpness in your words. “baby, i’m sorry. i —”

“don’t,” you said quickly, cutting her off. “don’t say anything if you don’t mean it.”

her face fell, guilt flashing across her features. “i know. i messed up. i…i wanted to come to the show, my love. i wanted to, but —”

“but you didn’t,” you said flatly, crossing your arms.

she flinched. “i know. i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, your voice quieter. “you’re always sorry, jimin, and it doesn’t change anything.”

for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“let me take you home,” she said suddenly, her voice breaking the silence. “just…please. let me come home. i want to talk. let me fix this.”

she looked terrible — tired. the bags under her eyes indicated that she’d been crying, the sight of her tugging your heartstrings.

you stared at her for a long moment before sighing softly. “fine.”

the drive to your shared apartment was quiet. jimin glanced at you occasionally, trying to make small talk, but you stared out the window, your expression unreadable.

when you got to your shared apartment, it felt strange walking in again, like she was intruding something she shouldn’t be a part of.

everything was still the same.

her old hoodie still hung on the back of the chair in the living room. her favourite mug; chipped at the rim, sat on the kitchen shelf. and piles of her shoes were still lined up neatly by the door.

she felt her throat close as she picked up the hoodie, fingers trembling. “you didn’t move anything,” she whispered.

you paused, turning to look at her. “of course it is.”

her voice cracked. “you didn’t…you didn’t throw anything out?”

“why would i?” you replied softly, setting your bag down on the table. “i was still hoping you’d come home one day.”

she sank onto the sofa, her head in her hands. her eyes burned, the weight of her guilt crashing over her all at once. she looked down at her lap, her shoulders trembling slightly.

you turned at the sound of a soft sob, stunned. “jimin?”

“y/n,” she looked up at, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. “i’m so sorry.”

you stared at her for a moment, surprised to see her like this.

“i’ve been so caught up in everything that i forgot,” she whispered, her voice choked. “i forgot what this…what you mean to me. i’ve been so afraid of losing everything that i ended up hurting the one person who’s always been there for me.”

you felt your own throat tighten as you watched her wipe her face with the sleeves of her hoodie, her tears unfiltered. she never cried — not like this.

slowly, you stepped toward her and sat down on the edge of the sofa beside her.

she reached for your hand, her fingers trembling as she gripped desperately, afraid that you’d pull away. “i don’t want to lose you. please…please don’t let me lose you.”

your heart clenched painfully, and you sat down beside her, letting her hold onto you like you were the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“you just need to talk to me, my love,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm. “you can’t keep shutting me out. i need to know you still want this — still want us.”

“i do,” she whispered, tears still spilling down her cheeks. “more than anything.”

you sighed, leaning your head back against the sofa. “you’re home now.”

she nodded, squeezing your hand tighter. “i’ll do better. i swear.”

you looked at her then, seeing the sincerity in her tear-streaked face. she looked small, like the girl who used to curl up beside you in this very apartment, sharing dreams she never thought would come true.

she’d gotten so far.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a month had passed and though jimin tried to make an effort, the space between you only seemed to grow. the list on her relentless schedule grew longer with each passing day — leaving no room for you. like always.

she started coming home more often, not to her luxury apartment, but home, to the apartment you both called yours.

sometimes she was too tired to say much, collapsing onto the couch while you worked on a new painting in the studio but her presence was enough.

“this is where you work your magic, huh?” she said one evening, peeking her head into the room.

you looked up from the canvas, smirking faintly as you tucked a brush behind your ear. “magic is a strong word, baby.”

“nah,” she murmured, crossing the room to press a kiss to your temple. “it’s magic to me.”

you didn’t respond, but you smiled softly as she wandered back out, her footsteps light as she disappeared into the bedroom.

she tried, she really did — but it even felt like the universe was just pulling you two apart. there were calls scattered throughout the day, sweet but fleeting texts that felt more like habit than genuine conversation.

practice went late. how’s your day?

just saw a dog that looks like the one that peed on you

goodnight. i love you!

the words still made your heart ache, but it was different now: almost routine. and on her rare days off, you no longer got a call asking if you wanted to spend time together. or if she could come home to you.

instead, you saw photos online; grainy shots on social media, taken at a distance but unmistakable — jimin out with other idols, at parties, smiling brightly in the dim glow of neon lights. you recognised the faces of her friends, ryujin and yeji among them and the aespa girls were always there too, which gave you some relief. but it still hurt.

you weren’t her person anymore. and you sat just right where she left you.

one evening, you were sitting at your parents’ kitchen table, a cup of tea warming your hands as your mum watched you carefully. your dad sat nearby, pretending to read a book but clearly listening to every word.

the quiet ache in your chest refused to let go as you tried to focus on the tv chatter.

it was your birthday.

and while your parents had gone out of their way to make it special, the absence of a single message from jimin loomed over you like a shadow.

“you’re quiet today,” she said gently, passing you a slice of bread.

you forced a smile, wrapping your hands around the mug. “just tired. it’s been a long week.”

your dad glanced up from his book, his brows furrowing. “you’re not supposed to be tired on your birthday. you’re supposed to be happy.”

“i am happy,” you said quickly, though your voice lacked conviction.

she gave you a knowing look, the kind that only mothers could master. “has she called yet?”

you hesitated, your throat tightening. “she’s busy.”

“busy?” he repeated, setting his book down with a soft thud. “too busy to call on your birthday?”

“dad, it’s not like that,” you said quietly, though the words felt hollow.

“and she doesn’t tell you anything anymore?” she asked gently, brow furrowed.

“not really,” you murmured, stirring your tea absently. “she calls, she texts but it’s…surface-level stuff. like she’s trying to keep me calm without really including me in her life.”

“you’ve been together for years, kiddo. have you told her how this makes you feel?”

“i’ve tried,” you said, voice small. “but she doesn’t hear me. it’s like…i’m shouting into a void and she’s not even there to listen.”

“y/n, love,” she began softly, reaching for your hand, “we’ve known jimin for years. we know she’s a good person, but even good people make mistakes, they can get lost.”

“she’s busy. her life has changed,” you replied, repeating the excuse you’d given yourself countless times.

he shook his head. “being busy doesn’t mean she can’t try. you deserve someone who makes you feel seen, y/n. we accept the love we think we deserve, and you —” he pointed at you gently. “deserve so much more than feeling invisible.”

you swallowed hard, the words hitting you square in the chest. “i love her,” you said softly. “but i don’t know if she loves me the same way anymore.”

your mum gave your hand a small squeeze. “then maybe it’s time you ask yourself whether love is enough to keep holding on.”

the words settled heavily in your chest, but you forced a small smile, not wanting to ruin the moment. “thank you, mum, dad. and thank you for this,” you gestured to the table, trying to shift the focus.

“we just want you to be happy, kiddo,” your dad said, squeezing your shoulder.

you returned to your apartment later that evening, the quiet space feeling colder than usual just like the season. you hadn’t heard from jimin all day —not a call, not a text. you tried to tell yourself it was fine, that she was busy with rehearsals or a schedule she couldn’t control. but as the hours dragged on, the ache in your chest grew heavier.

it was nearly midnight when your phone finally rang. your heart leapt as her name flashed on the screen, and for a moment, you hesitated. but you answered anyway.

“hey,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“my love,” jimin’s voice came through the line, soft and warm. you could hear the faint hum of noise in the background — music, voices — before it quieted. “are you busy?”

you leaned back against the couch cushions, clutching the phone tighter. “no. just…relaxing. where are you?”

“still at the studio,” she said, her tone carrying that familiar exhaustion. “we’re running late again, but i just wanted to hear your voice.”

your chest ached at how sweet she sounded —soft, almost needy.

“you sound tired,” you murmured. “have you eaten?”

“not yet,” she admitted. “but i will. promise.”

you smiled faintly. “you always say that.”

“because you always ask,” she replied softly. “how was your day? tell me about it.”

you hesitated, surprised at how genuine she sounded as you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “it was fine. quiet, mostly. i went to see my parents.”

she really forgot your birthday.

“how are they?” she asked quickly, her tone filled with genuine curiosity. “i miss them. did your dad make his lemon bread again?”

you managed a faint smile despite the ache in your chest. “yeah, he still calls it his signature recipe.”

she laughed softly, the sound tugging at your heart. “i wish i could’ve been there. your mum’s tea, your dad’s bread…i miss all of it. and them. and you.

your heart squeezed painfully at her words.

“they miss you too,” you mumbled quietly.

you heard faint shouting in the background — yizhuo’s voice calling, “is that y/n? let me say hi!”

“nope,” jimin said firmly, her voice playful but resolute. you heard shuffling, then a door slam shut. “i’m hiding in the bathroom. they’re trying to steal the phone.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you love me,” she teased softly.

“i do,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

there was a beat of silence on her end before she whispered, “i love you too.”

you closed your eyes, holding the phone to your ear like it might pull her closer. “i miss you,” you added, forcing the words out before your emotions could betray you.

“i miss you more baby, i’ll be home soon,” she heaved a sigh. “i’ll get them to drop me off at our place if you don’t mind.”

our place — it sounded nice, but you don’t know if it held so much meaning anymore. the apartment was quiet, unbearably so. the only sound was the faint hum of the heater.

“baby?” her voice cut through the line, a set of knocks coming from her end. “are you still there or did you fall asleep? i have to go!”

“yes, sorry,” you sniffled. “i love you, see you at home.”

“love you too, bye,” she whispered; you heard shuffling, then the line went dead.

your eyes burned as tears spilled over, hot against your cheeks. you’d told yourself you wouldn’t cry tonight, but it was so hard to sit here, in the apartment that still held so many memories of her feeling like you were the only one left trying to hold onto them.

the thought echoed in your mind, relentless and cruel. no matter how much you tried to rationalise it: how busy she was, how hectic her life had become — it didn’t change the fact that she’d forgotten a day that once felt sacred between you.

the girl who used to light up at the sight of you, who’d once been your rock, that jimin felt like a ghost now, a memory fading further with each passing day.

you buried your face in your hands as the sobs came harder. you lifted your head up when you heard a buzz on the table, phone lighting up.

from minjeonggg

happy birthday, y/n. sorry it’s so late, only just coming home from visiting my family in busan. sorry i couldn’t spend your special day with you and the girls but i hope rina spoilt you!! <3

sent 11:47 PM

well, at least she remembered.

part of you still hoped she’d walk through the door, even if it was late and sweep you into her arms, apologising for everything — for forgetting your birthday, for the distance, for the way she’d made you feel so small.

for everything.

but the hours dragged on and the door never opened.

you curled up on the couch, the blanket pulled tightly around you like a shield, and cried until your throat was raw and your chest ached.

you loved jimin.

but tonight, as the silence stretched on and your tears soaked the pillow beneath you, it felt like that love wasn’t enough to fill the growing void she’d left in her wake.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a few days later, you didn’t hear from karina and neither did she hear from you. you were tired of chasing after her love, of being neglected. instead, her friends were the only ones making an effort to get you out of the apartment.

from: aeri-chan

why are you ignoring me :( do you not like me :( i thought we were friends :( can you come over :(

sent 10:15 AM

from: minjeonggg

missing u y/n, come over today? jiminnie isn’t here but i’m sure you love us enough to cook us italian right

sent 10:16 AM

to: minjeonggg

you only love my cooking, not me. but i guess i love u all enough

sent 10:17 AM

from: ningx2

????? hello come over

sent 10:23 AM

from: aeri-chan

management is starving us !! why only reply to minjeong >:( ok you don’t care about me

sent 10:25 AM

the apartment felt both familiar and foreign when you stepped inside an hour later. outside was freezing cold and their heater being cranked up was so inviting.

“y/n!” aeri practically shouted when she opened the door, pulling you into a hug before you could even step inside. “about fucking time.”

“we thought you forgot about us,” minjeong said from her spot on the couch, where she was curled up with a blanket.

“she can’t forget us,” yizhuo added, peeking her head around the corner from the kitchen. “we haunt her dreams.”

you laughed softly, slipping off your shoes. “you’re all ridiculous.”

“and you love us,” aeri replied smugly, grabbing your hand to pull you toward the kitchen. “come on. we’re starving, and we saw the grocery bags.

“where is karina?” you asked, feeling your throat tighten. you were hoping she’d be here…and maybe talk to you.

she raised an eyebrow. “karina who now? since when did you ever call her that? and she’s out with ryujin and yeji right now.”

since i stopped knowing her, you thought. and yet another free schedule she refused to spend time with you on.

“just in case i slip up and call her baby in front of everyone,” you mumbled. gotta get used to it.”

“tea or coffee, y/n?” minjeong smiled as she took your coat in her hand. “we have matcha too.”

“coffee, please,” you nodded as you placed the bags on the counter. “at least someone in this room cares about me.”

“yah!” aeri slapped your shoulder playfully. “ning, get our weapon.”

and before you knew it, minjeong covered your eyes with her palms. “don’t even try to wiggle out of here — ning, hurry up!”

you could hear giggling and whispering as minjeong slowly uncovered your vision, revealing a beautiful white box wrapped in satin just sitting on the counter.

“you didn’t think we’d forget, did you?” aeri said with a smirk, gesturing for you to sit.

“we’ve been busy, but we didn’t want to let it go uncelebrated,” minjeong added, smiling softly.

your throat tightened as you looked at them, their bright smiles and genuine excitement pulling at your heart.

“guys, you didn’t have to do this,” you said quietly, sitting down as yizhuo plopped down beside you.

“we wanted to,” aeri nudged the box closer to you. “now open it before ningning explodes.”

“hey!” the girl protested, though she grinned just as widely.

you carefully untied the ribbon, lifting the lid to reveal a collection of beautifully wrapped items. your eyes widened as you started pulling them out one by one.

“you guys…”

first, a sleek cartier box holding a stunning watch, its elegant design making your breath catch.

“that’s from all of us,” minjeong smiled shyly. “we wanted you to have something special.”

“it was mostly her idea, you’re always asking for the time but you never have the watch for it,” yizhuo revealed, making minjeong slap her playfully.

next, a stack of cookbooks, each one carefully chosen. “because we know you’re basically our personal chef,” aeri teased.

then a set of high-quality art supplies — paints, brushes and sketchbooks, each item carefully selected. “ning picked those out,” minjeong mentioned, pointing at her proudly. “she insisted on the fancy stuff.”

“nothing but the best for our artist,” yizhuo said with a grin.

but it was the last item that made your breath hitch — a photo album.

your hands trembled slightly as you opened it, flipping through pages filled with photos of you and jimin, some candid, some posed. moments you didn’t even know had been captured — her laughing as you cooked together, the two of you curled up on the couch, a blurry shot of her kissing your cheek while you looked embarrassed.

“we’ve been taking these over the years,” aeri said softly. “thought you might like them all in one place.”

you pressed a hand to your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes.

“y/n, are you crying?” minjeong asked, leaning closer, her voice full of concern.

“no,” you mumbled, wiping at your cheeks with a laugh. “okay, maybe.”

“we just wanted you to know how much we love you,” minjeong muttered, sitting down on the other side of you. “you’ve always been there for us— even when you didn’t have to be. you deserve to feel special.”

you closed the album carefully, holding it to your chest as fresh tears fell. “thank you. i…i don’t even know what to say. this is a lot.”

“nothing’s too much for you,” aeri said firmly.

“besides, jimin’s probably already spoiled you, right?” yizhuo added with a grin. “what did she get you?”

the question hit you like a punch to the stomach, your mind going blank as you scrambled for an answer. “uh,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “karina…she got me this really expensive ring. it’s beautiful.”

aeri raised an eyebrow. “a ring? that’s a big deal.”

“yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “it’s…a promise ring.”

your heart twisted painfully as the lie left your lips.

minjeong clapped her hands together, grinning. “of course she did. she’s always been extra when it comes to you.”

you nodded, your smile wavering as you clutched the photo album tighter.

the conversation moved on, but the weight of your words lingered in your chest. you knew you shouldn’t have lied, but admitting the truth, that karina had completely forgotten your birthday felt too raw, too painful.

the apartment buzzed with warmth and noise as you worked in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up and hands busy slicing tomatoes and kneading fresh dough for pasta. aeri hovered nearby, stealing bites of cheese while yizhuo pestered you with questions about how to properly season garlic bread.

“you don’t get to criticise when you burn instant noodles,” you teased, flicking flour in her direction.

“that was one time,” yizhuo shot back, dodging the flour.

minjeong wandered in at one point, sneaking a spoonful of the sauce and groaning dramatically. “y/n, you’re a genius. we don’t deserve you.”

“you really don’t,” you replied with a faint smile.

“careful,” aeri teased, leaning on the counter. “if you cook like this all the time, we might just keep you here.”

“it’s tempting,” you admitted softly, but the words carried a weight you didn’t intend.

they didn’t press further.

“my parents visited your gallery, by the way,” yizhuo added.

“what?” you asked, surprised. “when? abd why didn’t you tell me?”

“like two days ago, they said it was like stepping into a dream,” yizhuo explained, her voice full of admiration. “they loved it, y/n. i swear they were ready to redecorate their whole house.”

you smiled, your chest swelling with pride. “that’s really sweet of them — i wish i was there to meet them.”

“you’re so talented,” minjeong added from her seat at the table. “jimin’s lucky. she gets to be your muse.”

the mention of karina made you pause for a split second, but you forced yourself to smile. “thanks, minjeongie.”

dinner was a lively affair, the girls laughing and talking over each other as they devoured the dishes you’d made. it felt good to be here, to see them again, even if a quiet part of you wondered why your own girlfriend hadn’t said anything about inviting you over herself.

it was minjeong who dropped the bombshell halfway through dinner.

“we have a world tour coming up,” she said casually, twirling spaghetti onto her fork.

you froze. “the what?”

aeri shot her a look, as if to say ‘why’d you say that?’ but the girl didn’t seem to notice.

“the tour,” she repeated, looking at you. “it starts in a couple of months. did jimin not…tell you?”

you felt your chest tighten, though you kept your voice even. “no. she didn’t.”

the table fell quiet for a beat. yizhuo fidgeted with her fork, avoiding your gaze, while aeri sighed softly. “she’s probably just waiting for the right time to tell you,” she said, though it sounded more like an excuse.

“it’s fine,” you replied with a small, forced smile. “it’s a huge opportunity. i’m proud of you guys.”

and you were. but beneath the pride was a sharp ache — an understanding that this would mean months of not seeing her, of waiting for calls that might never come.

and what might be the end of your relationship.

after dinner, you were curled up on the sofa, leaning against the back of it while aeri and yizhuo picked a movie to watch and minjeong finished up the dishes.

“you mean you have terrible taste,” yizhuo shot back at something aeri said, crossing her arms as she stood near the couch.

“please tell them notting hill is a masterpiece,” yizhuo pleaded, looking at you for reassurance.

“it is,” you said, laughing softly. “julia roberts is iconic.”

“see!” she yelled triumphantly, flopping onto the couch.

as they began another argument about snacks and who got control of the remote, you really settled onto the couch, letting the warmth of their presence ease some of the tension that had been building in your chest for days.

the argument over the movie ended in a win for yizhuo and the group eventually settled into the couch with bowls of popcorn. the soft glow of the television illuminated the room as notting hill began, the familiar soundtrack filling the air.

minjeong sat down beside you, the couch sinking further. “sorry,” she pursed her lips.

you playfully rolled your eyes, groaning. “i was already comfortable!”

your phone sat untouched on the coffee table, the screen dark. you couldn’t stop glancing at it, hoping it would light up with her name.

but it didn’t.

all the lights were turned off, the tv illuminating most of the apartment. it was late when the door finally opened, and karina stumbled in.

the first thing you noticed was the smell —alcohol, faint but unmistakable. she looked slightly disheveled, her hair loose and falling into her eyes, her cheeks flushed as if she’d been out drinking all night.

“y/n?” her voice was sharp, her brows furrowing as she stopped in her tracks. “what are you doing here?”

the room fell silent. yizhuo paused the movie, her gaze flicking between the two of you.

“we invited her,” minjeong said, standing up and crossing her arms. “she didn’t just show up, jimin.”

“are you drunk?” aeri asked concerningly, stepping closer to your girlfriend. “maybe sit down before you say something stupid.”

karina shot her a glare before turning back to you. “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

you frowned, your chest tightening at her tone. “because i didn’t think i needed to, karina.”

“you should have,” she snapped, frustration clear in her voice.

“okay, that’s enough,” aeri said, stepping between you two. “y/n didn’t do anything wrong. we invited her because we missed her.”

“can i have some privacy?” karina asked sharply, her gaze hardening.

aeri exchanged a look with yizhuo before sighing heavily. “fine. but don’t make this worse, jimin. and minjeong is another world you have to tackle.”

she and ningning retreated into the kitchen, but minjeong stayed rooted in place, her arms crossed as she watched karina carefully.

“minjeong,” she warned, her voice low.

“don’t start with me,” she replied, not moving an inch.

“i mean it,” she muttered, her tone sharper now. “go.”

minjeong looked at you, her gaze softening slightly. “are you okay?”

you nodded faintly, though your chest ached. “it’s fine. i’ll be fine.”

reluctantly, minjeong followed the others into the kitchen, leaving you and karina alone in the living room.

“what’s wrong with you?” you asked softly, your voice trembling. “why are you acting like this? i haven’t even seen you in days.”

she sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair as she slumped onto the arm of the couch. “i just…i didn’t expect you to be here, okay?”

“why does it matter?” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “you’re the one who hasn’t been around. what’s wrong with me spending time with people who actually want to see me?”

her face softened slightly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “it’s not that…i just wish you’d told me.”

“why? so you could avoid me too?” you asked bitterly, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “that’s not fair.”

“what’s not fair is me finding out about your world tour from them,” you said, your voice rising.

she froze, her eyes widening slightly.

“you didn’t even tell me,” you continued, your voice trembling. “you’ve had all this time, and you couldn’t say a word? do you know how that feels?”

“i was going to tell you,” she said defensively, though her voice lacked conviction.

“when, jimin?” you asked, stepping closer. “when it was too late for me to even process it? when you were already gone?”

she sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. “can we not do this here?”

“why not? because it’s inconvenient for you?” you shot back.

“because it’s not their business,” she snapped, gesturing toward the kitchen. “come with me. we’ll talk in my room.”

you hesitated, your chest tightening.

“y/n,” she said more softly this time, her voice steady but firm. “please. just come with me.”

you glanced toward the kitchen, where aeri and yizhup were clearly trying to eavesdrop. minjeong stood leaning against the counter, her expression unreadable as she watched you.

finally, you nodded, following her down the hallway.

as she opened the door to her room, she turned back to glance at minjeong.

“stay out of it,” she warned.

minjeong’s gaze narrowed, but she said nothing as you stepped into the room, the door closing softly behind you.

the room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater. karina stood by the door, her arms crossed, while you stood near her desk, trying to keep your emotions in check.

“so,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “you were going to tell me about the world tour?”

“i was,” she replied flatly, avoiding your gaze.

“when?” you asked, your voice sharper this time. “after you left? after i found out from some interview or social media post?”

“don’t be dramatic, y/n,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “i was going to tell you when the time was right.”

“the time was right weeks ago,” you snapped, your frustration spilling over. “do you even hear yourself? i’m supposed to be part of your life. why am i always the last to know about everything that matters?”

“because it’s hard,” she shot back, her voice rising. “it’s hard to keep up with everything. my career, my schedules, this relationship — you don’t get it.”

“no, i don’t,” you admitted, tears stinging your eyes. “because you don’t let me in. you shut me out. you don’t talk to me, you don’t tell me things, and then you act like i’m the problem for wanting to be included in your life.”

“maybe you are the problem,” she said coldly, the words cutting through the air like a knife.

you froze, staring at her in disbelief. “what?”

“you’re so needy, y/n,” she continued, her voice harsh. “you’re always clinging to me, always wanting more. i’m doing my best, and it’s never enough for you.”

“needy?” you repeated, your voice trembling with anger. “what the fuck?”

“yes, needy,” she snapped. “it’s like you can’t function without me. it’s not my fault you don’t have any other friends. you built your whole life around us, and now you expect me to do the same?”

the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, but you refused to let them stop you. “that’s not fair,” you whispered. “i sacrificed so much for you because i love you, karina.”

“life isn’t fair, y/n,” she said, her tone bitter. “and it’s not my fault you don’t have anything else going on. i didn’t ask you to make me the centre of your world.”

you stared at her, your chest tightening with each word she threw at you. “jimin, do you even hear yourself right now?”

“i do,” she said sharply. “and you should, too. my world doesn’t revolve around you, y/n. it never did, and it never will. my life will keep spinning with or without you in it.”

the words hit you like a physical blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. for a moment, the room was silent, save for the sound of your shaky breathing.

“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“maybe i do,” she muttered, looking away. “you don’t belong in my —“

your chest tightened painfully, and before you could think, you raised your hand and slapped her right across the face.

the sound echoed through the room, sharp and final.

her head snapped to the side, her hand flying up to her cheek as she stared at you coldly — eyes devoid of the love she held for you that filled them.

“you don’t get to talk to me like that,” you said, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “not after everything we’ve been through. not after everything i’ve done for you and all the bullshit you put me through.”

you grabbed the photo album from her desk, the one the girls had made for you.

“this was supposed to be a gift,” you shoved it into her hands. “for my birthday. the one you forgot. but i don’t want it anymore. you can have it.”

she stared at the album in her hands, her mouth opening slightly as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

“we’re done, jimin, karina, or whoever the fuck you are right now,” you said, your voice breaking. “i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep loving someone who doesn’t love me back. it’s over.”

“y/n —” she began, but you shook your head, cutting her off.

“don’t,” you raised your hand, voice firm despite the tears streaming down your face. “don’t say anything. just…don’t.”

you turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

as you gathered the rest of your things with quiet sniffles, you felt a hand stop you. you looked up at minjeong with shaky breaths.

“let me help you, y/n,” she started putting your gifts in the box whilst aeri handed you your coat.

there was an unspoken silence — it told them everything they needed to know. as you left the dorm, the cold night air hit you like a wave, but it did little to numb the pain in your chest. and even though it felt like your heart was breaking into a million pieces, you knew it was the right thing to do.

because you deserved more than this.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the morning after the breakup, you woke up to a silence so thick it felt like it might suffocate you. the cozy apartment you once loved, nestled in the corner of a quiet street, now felt hollow.

this was the place where you’d built a life with jimin — before she was karina. it was your shared sanctuary, the place where laughter echoed in the evenings, where the smell of her favourite tea lingered in the air, where you both dreamed of a future that now felt like a distant memory.

you sat on the edge of the sofa, your phone in your hand. the screen lit up with a flood of messages — aeri, yizhuo and minjeong. they were worried, apologising for the night before, telling you they were there if you wanted to talk.

but you couldn’t face them. not because they’d done anything wrong, but because they were a part of jimin’s world; the one she didn’t want you to be a part of.

your thumb hovered over the screen for only a moment before you made the decision.

aeri-chan. ningx2. minjeonggg.

you blocked each of them, one by one.

when it was done, you set the phone down, staring at it blankly. it felt like another thread severed, another piece of your life with jimin falling away.

the next task was harder.

you stood in the middle of the bedroom you’d decorated for her, staring at the collection of her belongings scattered around. her favourite hoodie was still draped over the chair in the corner, her skincare products neatly lined up in the bathroom and stacks of her old clothes in the wardrobe.

with trembling hands, you began packing them into boxes. each item was a reminder of the life you’d built together, and as you held them, memories surfaced unbidden.

the books: the ones she’d never quite finished, tucked away on the shelf.

your hands moved methodically, placing everything into boxes, but your mind drifted. you remembered how she’d sit at the tiny kitchen table, humming softly as she waited for you to finish cooking. how she’d sneak up behind you while you painted, her arms wrapping around your waist as she whispered, “you’re amazing, you know that?”

you paused when you came across framed photos of you throughout the years — from that one vintage photobooth in gangnam.

the tears didn’t come. you were past that now. there was only an ache; deep and heavy that settled into your chest like it might never leave.

you knew what you had to do.

the photos couldn’t stay. not for your sake, and not for hers.

gathering every picture of the two of you, you made your way to the kitchen. with a deep sigh, you lit the edges with a match, watching as the flames consumed the images.

it wasn’t anger that drove you. jimin was karina of aespa now, a name and face known to millions. these moments were yours, and yours alone. no one else needed to see them.

as the last photo burned, you stood in the quiet kitchen, the faint smell of smoke lingering in the air.

you stood in the doorway, looking out at the space you had called home. the sofa where the two of you had spent countless nights watching movies. the tiny kitchen where you’d cooked her favourite meals. the walls that had once been filled with laughter and love.

you were going to miss this place; you had built a life with her here, after all.

it was the one place where she wasn’t karina, but just jimin.

that life was gone now.

within three days, with your dad’s help, you packed up your things and moved out of the apartment. he worked tirelessly, carrying box after box to the car, only pausing to check on you every so often.

“you okay?” he asked gently as you stood in the now-empty living room, staring at the bare walls.

you nodded, though your chest felt tight. “yeah. i just…i need a minute.”

he gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping outside, leaving you alone.

you took one last look around, the memories flashing before your eyes. the laughter, the love, the life you’d built here — they were all distant now.

then, you closed the door behind you, feeling both the weight of the past and the faintest glimmer of relief.

the air inside the gallery was heavy with the scent of paint and wood varnish, a smell that had always felt like home to you.

today, it carried a bittersweet edge. the light streaming through the windows highlighted the scattered boxes and carefully wrapped canvases as you stood in the centre of the room, trying to figure out where to begin.

“y/n, where do you want these?”

you turned to see jaehyung, one of your long-time students, balancing a stack of sketchbooks in his arms. his brows furrowed with focus, though his boyish grin peeked through.

“just over there by the window, jae,” you said, gesturing toward a corner where you’d already begun stacking supplies.

“got it,” he replied, setting them down gently before glancing around. “i can’t believe this place is closing. it feels…weird.”

“you’re telling me,” mr. kim chimed in from across the room, his usual warm demeanour tinged with sadness. he was one of your older students, a retired schoolteacher who’d taken up art as a hobby. “this gallery has been like a second home for us.”

you smiled faintly, though the weight of their words pressed on your chest. “it’s not forever,” you said gently. “just…a break. for now.”

mr. kim paused, studying you with his kind eyes. “sometimes a break is necessary, y/n. don’t forget, you’ve built something special here. we’ll be waiting when you’re ready to come back.”

“yeah,” jaehyung added, his grin widening. “and in the meantime, you’re stuck with us online.”

you laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “i’ll hold you to that. i expect all of you to still send me your projects, okay? no slacking off just because i’m not here to check in person.”

“you got it, boss,” jaehyung said with a mock salute, earning a chuckle from mr. kim.

the three of you worked steadily throughout the day, wrapping paintings, packing supplies, and carefully disassembling easels. the gallery grew quieter as the shelves emptied, the once-vibrant space slowly transforming into a blank canvas.

as the last box was taped shut, you glanced around the room, frowning.

this gallery had been your dream — a place where you could share your passion and build a community.

“y/n,” mr. kim said gently, interrupting your thoughts. “you okay?”

you turned to him, offering a small smile. “yeah. it’s just…hard to say goodbye.”

“it’s not goodbye,” jaehyung said quickly. “it’s ‘see you later.’ right?”

you chuckled, nodding. “right.”

once everything was packed, you sent out a final email to your students.

Dear Everyone,

The gallery will be closed until further notice. Thank you for your support, your creativity, and the joy you’ve brought into this space. I’ll miss seeing your faces every week, but this isn’t the end — just a pause.

If you need anything or want to continue lessons online, please don’t hesitate to reach out. You know where to find me.

With gratitude, Y/n

the last thing you did was hang a small notice on the gallery door.

you stepped back, staring at the sign as it swayed gently in the breeze. the weight of finality settled in your chest.

“ready?” jaehyung asked, stepping up beside you.

you nodded, taking one last look at the gallery before turning away.

“goodbye.”

“see you later,” mr. kim corrected you firmly.

the morning was cold, the air sharp and heavy with the promise of snow. as you carried the last box of your ex-girlfriend’s belongings down the stairs.

mrs. choi’s apartment was just two doors down from yours and when you knocked, she answered almost immediately, her warm, familiar smile faltering slightly when she saw your expression.

“y/n-ah,” she said gently, stepping aside to let you in. “come in, come in. it’s freezing out there.”

you stepped inside, the warmth of her small, cozy apartment wrapping around you like a blanket. her place smelled of fresh kimchi and tea.

“you’re all packed, then?” she asked softly, gesturing for you to set the final box near her kitchen table.

“yeah,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “this is the last of it.”

she glanced at the box, her expression growing even softer. she reached out, placing a hand on your arm. “you’re really leaving, aren’t you?”

you nodded, swallowing hard. “i need to, ajumma.”

she looked at you for a long moment, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “you and jimin…always thought you two would make it. watching you both grow up, seeing the love you had — it was something special, y/n.”

her words made your throat tighten, but you forced a small smile. “it was special,” you said quietly. “it just…wasn’t enough.”

she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “sometimes, the ones we lose find their way back to us,” she murmured. “not always, but sometimes. and if they don’t, it’s only because something better is waiting.”

you looked down at your hands, her words both comforting and bittersweet.

“you’ve always been kind, y/n,” she continued, her voice warm and steady. “to jimin, to everyone. don’t let this make you hard. the world needs more people like you.”

her words brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly, not wanting to break down here. “thank you, mrs. choi. for everything.”

she smiled, patting your hand before glancing at the box. “i’ll keep this for her. she’ll come by eventually and i’ll make sure she gets it.”

“thank you,” you said again, your voice barely above a whisper.

as you stood there, ready to leave, she suddenly tilted her head, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “now, tell me, is she on tv?”

you blinked, surprised by the question. “yeah,” you said softly, a small, proud smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “she’s doing really well. she’s…she’s amazing.”

her eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together. “i knew it was her and my mahjong friends called me crazy. she must be famous!”

you nodded, the pride in your chest mingling with the ache of loss. “she is now.”

she frowned, reaching out to pull you into a hug, her small frame surprisingly strong as she held you close. “you’ll be okay, y/n,” she said softly. “i know you will. and wherever you go, they’ll be lucky to have you.”

“thank you,” you murmured, your voice breaking slightly as you clung to her for just a moment longer.

when you finally stepped back, she smiled at you again, her eyes filled with a quiet sadness but also hope.

“goodbye, mrs. choi,” you said softly, your hand lingering on the doorknob.

“goodbye, y/n-ah,” she replied, her voice warm. “don’t be a stranger. and remember — sometimes, lost ones find their way home.”

as you stepped out into the cold morning air, her words stayed with you, wrapping around your heart like a fragile thread of hope.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the christmas tree sparkled in the warm glow of the living room, the scent of pine mingling with the faint aroma of mulled wine and cinnamon candles.

you carefully placed the last ornament — a delicate glass bauble your mum insisted on saving for last: on the highest branch.

“perfect,” your dad said, stepping back to admire the tree with a satisfied nod. “i’d say we’ve outdone ourselves this year.”

“we always do,” your mum chimed in, setting down a tray of wine glasses on the coffee table.

you stepped back, joining them as the three of you stood side by side, taking in the sight of your handiwork. the tree was a masterpiece, adorned with years of collected ornaments, each one holding a memory.

she handed you a glass of merlot, raising hers with a smile. “to family,” she said softly.

“to family,” you and your dad echoed, clinking glasses.

the warmth of the wine spread through you, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of peace.

you sank into the couch with your parents, the fire crackling softly in the background. as you sipped your drink, the weight of the past few months hung heavy in the air.

“this isn’t how i thought the year would end,” you admitted quietly, staring at the tree. “i mean…i didn’t think i’d be single for christmas.”

your mum placed a gentle hand on your knee, her eyes soft with understanding. “life has a way of surprising us, sweetheart. sometimes in ways we don’t expect.”

your dad nodded, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “but you’re here with us now, and we couldn’t be prouder of you, y/n. you’ve handled everything with so much grace.”

their support wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. “i don’t know what i’d do without you two,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “thank you. for everything.”

she smiled, squeezing your knee. “you don’t have to thank us. that’s what family is for.”

there was a pause, a comfortable silence as the three of you sat together. then your mum broke it, her tone gentle but curious. “so, what’s next for you, y/n? what’s the next chapter?”

you hesitated, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts. “actually,” you began slowly, “there’s something i haven’t told you.”

both of them turned to you, their expressions attentive.

“way before aespa debuted,” you said softly, “a gallery in paris has been sending me yearly invitations for an artist-in-residence program. it’s a huge opportunity…one i’ve always dreamt of. but…i kept declining.”

your dad frowned slightly. “why?”

you took a deep breath, the words heavy on your tongue. “i didn’t want to be far away from her. i didn’t want to miss any part of her life, specially when she was working so hard to make her dreams come true.”

your mum’s expression softened, her eyes glistening. “oh, y/n…”

“i made a lot of sacrifices,” you admitted, your voice steady but quiet. “and i don’t regret loving her. but now…i think it’s time i start saying yes to things for me.”

“are you going to accept this time?” he asked, his voice full of quiet encouragement.

you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i already did. i’m going to paris a week after the new year.”

she gasped, her smile wide as she reached over to hug you tightly. “paris! oh, sweetheart, that’s wonderful!”

“about time you did something for yourself,” he added with a proud grin.

she pulled back, a playful glint in her eye. “do they have any good korean restaurants in paris?” she asked your dad.

he chuckled, shaking his head. “we’d better find out.”

“maybe we’ll come with you,” your mum teased, winking at you.

you laughed, the sound light and genuine. “you two would love it.”

“to paris next week then!”

that night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, your thoughts drifted to jimin.

there was no anger in your heart, no hatred for her. you couldn’t hate her. she wasn’t a bad person. she wasn’t even a bad girlfriend — not entirely.

she was just someone who had been swept up in a world that demanded more than she could give.

you thought about who she was before the world knew her as karina — the girl who made you laugh until your sides ached, who held you when you cried, who whispered dreams of forever into the quiet of the night.

you had grown up together, loved each other deeply. and while it didn’t last, it had been real.

“thank you,” you whispered into the darkness, not knowing if the words were meant for her, yourself, or both.

as you closed your eyes, the weight of the past began to lift, paris awaited.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

jimin stumbled out of her car, the freezing air biting at her cheeks as she stared up at the familiar apartment building. the snow fell in slow, heavy flakes, blanketing the quiet street in white. her breath came in uneven puffs, her heart pounding harder with every step she took toward the door.

her first day off in weeks and all she could think about was you. it had been over five weeks since she’d seen you and she couldn’t ignore the ache in her chest any longer.

it was the first time she’d had enough space to think, to realise just how much had slipped through her fingers. she told herself it wasn’t too late, that if she just got to you, everything would be okay.

she could explain, apologise, fix things — really try her hardest this time.

her hand trembled as she unlocked the door, her key sliding into place like muscle memory. she pushed it open, half expecting to see you curled up on the couch with a book or maybe in the kitchen painting something.

the first thing she noticed was the silence, heavy and suffocating. her eyes darted around the space, searching for any sign of you, but everything was gone.

the walls, once decorated with your paintings and small shelves of trinkets, were bare. the bookshelf was empty. the worn-out sofa, still in its usual spot, felt smaller without your blanket draped over it or the little pillow you always used.

“y/n?” she called out, her voice cracking.

no answer.

she stepped further inside, her footsteps echoing in the hollow space. the bedroom door was open, and when she walked in, the emptiness struck her all over again.

the closet was empty. no clothes, no art supplies, no trace of you. the desk where you used to work on sketches late at night was gone, leaving only faint scuff marks on the floor.

her chest tightened as she stood in the centre of the room, her breathing shallow.

“no,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head. “this isn’t…this can’t be —”

she turned back to the kitchen, her eyes frantically scanning the counters, hoping to find something that would tell her where you’d gone.

that was when she saw it — a folded piece of paper with her name written in your handwriting.

her hands trembled as she picked it up and opened it.

“jimin,

i’ve left a box of your things with mrs. choi. there are about three of them filling up her apartment. please pick it up when you can. i asked her to keep it safe for you.

take care,

y/n.”

the note slipped from her fingers, landing softly on the floor.

for a long moment, she stood there, staring at the paper, her mind racing. you were gone.

her next stop was mrs. choi’s apartment, just two floors down. the elderly woman answered almost immediately, her kind face softening when she saw jimin.

“jimin-ah,” mrs. choi said gently, stepping aside to let her in. “come in, dear. you must be freezing.”

she stepped inside, her eyes darting around as though expecting to find some sign of you here, even though she knew better. “mrs. choi…where is she? she’s not at the apartment, and i…i thought maybe…”

she sighed, her expression tinged with sadness. she gestured toward a neatly packed boxes sitting by the sofa. “y/n left before christmas, dear. she asked me to hold onto these for you.”

jimin stared at the boxes, her chest tightening. “she…she left?”

mrs. choi nodded, her voice soft. “she didn’t say much else, just that it was time for her to go.”

the words hit her like a physical blow, and her knees nearly buckled. “i didn’t think she’d actually leave,” she whispered, more to herself than to mrs. choi.

the older woman reached out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “you know, jimin, love can’t grow if you don’t take care of it. even the strongest love can wither if it’s left in the cold for too long.”

her eyes filled with tears, her throat tightening as she looked down at the box.

“sometimes,” mrs. choi continued, her voice even softer now, “the ones we lose find their way back to us. but you have to be willing to meet them halfway.”

jimin nodded numbly, unable to respond.

“thank your, ajumma,” she bowed her head. “i’ll have someone pick these up from you, but for now, i have to visit her gallery.”

the snow was heavier now, falling in thick flakes that clung to her hair and lashes as she sprinted down the familiar streets. when she reached the building, she stopped short, her heart sinking all over again.

the windows were dark, the inside barren. a small sign hung on the door:

“closed until further notice. thank you for everything.”

her hands pressed against the cold glass as she peered inside. the space that had once been alive with your creativity and passion was empty, stripped of all the warmth and colour that made it yours.

her forehead rested against the glass as tears streamed down her face, her breath fogging the window.

“y/n,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “please…”

but there was nothing.

jimin gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white as tears blurred her vision. the snow fell heavier now, making it harder to see the road, but she didn’t care.

the silence in the car was unbearable, filled only with the sound of her shaky breaths and the occasional muffled sob. she couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t breathe properly. she had spent weeks distracted by her career, ignoring the growing distance between you and now the weight of what she had done — what she had lost — was crashing down on her.

she should’ve followed you that night.

her phone buzzed in the cupholder, and with trembling hands, she reached for it, barely able to see the screen through her tears. it was aeri.

“jimin, where are you?” aeri’s voice was steady but tinged with worry. “minjeong and ningning said you ran off. we’re freaking out —”

“she’s gone,” she interrupted, her voice cracking as the tears came harder. “aeri, she’s gone.”

“who’s gone?” aeri asked, her voice softening with concern.

“y/n,” jimin sobbed, gripping the phone as if it were the only thing anchoring her. “i went to the apartment, she’s not there. the gallery, it’s closed. mrs. choi said she left before christmas. i don’t know where else to look.”

“yu jimin, breathe,” aeri said firmly, though her voice remained gentle. “where are you now?”

“driving to her parents’ house,” she whispered. “i just…i need to see her. i need to fix this.”

“okay,” the other girl said. there was a brief pause before she added, “i’ll call our manager. we’ll come get you.”

“no,” jimin pressed on, her voice trembling. “just meet me there. please.”

“jimin,” aeri said again, her tone more insistent. “you shouldn’t be driving in this state. pull over. we’ll come get you, okay?”

she hesitated, her grip tightening on the wheel, but the desperation in aeri’s voice broke through her haze. finally, she pulled over to the side of the road, the car skidding slightly on the icy pavement.

“please hurry,” jimin whispered before hanging up.

when the van arrived, aeri was the first to step out, her face pale with worry as she rushed to jimin’s car. yizhuo and minjeong followed closely behind, their eyes wide with concern.

jimin opened the door, stumbling out into the snow as the sobs overtook her again.

“she’s gone,” she choked out, her voice barely audible. “i fucking ruined everything and now she’s gone.”

aeri caught her before she could fall, holding her tightly as she cried into her shoulder. yizhuo placed a hand on her back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, while minjeong stood close, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if trying to hold herself together.

“we’ll figure it out,” minjeong reassured her, though her voice trembled. “let’s just go to her parents’ house, okay? maybe they’ll know where she is.”

jimin nodded weakly, allowing them to guide her into the van.

the drive felt awfully long. when they finally arrived at your parents’ house, the driveway was empty, the windows dark.

her heart sank as the reality began to set in.

she stumbled out of the van, ignoring the biting cold as she made her way to the front door.

“y/n!” she shouted, her voice echoing into the still night. “please! i’m sorry! just talk to me!”

the silence was deafening.

she pounded on the door, her fist striking the wood harder and harder as tears streamed down her face.

“y/n!” she screamed again, her voice breaking.

there was no answer.

she backed away, her legs giving out as she fell into the snow. “no,” she whispered, shaking her head. “no, no, no…”

the sobs came harder, wracking her body as she clutched at the ground.

minjeong knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders while aeri crouched in front of her, gently holding her face.

“jimin,” yizhuo said softly, her voice breaking. “she’s not here. we need to go.”

“i can’t,” she sobbed, shaking her head violently. “i can’t leave. she has to come back. she…she has to.”

“she’s gone,” minjeong mumbled, her voice thick with emotion as she rubbed circles on her back. “but it doesn’t mean she’s not coming back.”

jimin let out a guttural scream, the sound ripping through the night as she collapsed into minjeong’s arms.

“please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible now. “just let me stay. please.”

their manager stepped forward, his expression filled with sympathy. “karina, we need to go. it’s not safe out here.”

jimin shook her head, her tears freezing on her cheeks. “i can’t…i can’t leave her. i can’t.”

aeri’s voice cracked as she gently pried jimin away from ningning. “jimin, she’s not here. staying won’t change that.”

finally, after what felt like hours, jimin allowed them to guide her back into the van. her body felt heavy, her mind numb as she stared out the window at the dark house, her tears falling silently.

as the van pulled away, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the empty driveway in white.

and for the first time, jimin truly understood what it meant to lose the person she loved most.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end.

#karina imagines #karina x reader #kpop x reader #aespa x reader #aespa imagines #kpop gg #aespa #karina #angst #kpop imagines

735 notes · View notes

jayparked · 3 months ago

Text

relief switch | sim jaeyun | m

pairing: switch! sim jaeyun x switch! female reader

genre: smut

au: established relationship

rating: explicit/18+, minors dni

word count: 7k

sexual warnings: switch/soft dom jake and switch y/n, oral (male receiving), fingering, dirty talk, head pusher jake, unprotective sex, non penetrative and penetrative sex, whiny jake, begging, swearing, slight size kink???, thigh riding, hair pulling, lots of praise (praise kink???), spanking, naked dry humping(??? idk what else to call it), pet names (useful girl, sweet boy, good boy/girl, sweetheart, babe, baby, my love etc i practically used them all), body worship, marking, biting, edging, choking, overstimulation, forced orgasm, creampie, a bit of nipple play, roleplay for like .02 seconds, lots of moaning/whimpering/whining, a smidge of degradation, jake is down horrendous, they're so in love it makes me sick, good aftercare :]

a/n: sorry idk what demon possessed me. also shoutout to my best friend @sungbeams this one is for you ♡ and no i am not jayunki biased i dont wanna hear it anymore k thanks ♡

Groans and jangling keys fill your small apartment as you and your boyfriend return home from your prospective jobs at the same time. No words are spoken as you both remove your shoes, throwing them haphazardly with a pout towards the shoe stand near the front entryway. Neither of you bothers to turn on the light, leaving your apartment in a calming darkness as the sun sets outside.

“Today sucked.” Jake finally breaks the silence, leaning against the front door. His eyes shut for a moment as he loosens his tie from his neck.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you grumble, hanging up your jacket and sticking your hand out for his without a glance.

He hands it to you with a sigh. “I’m honestly in a terrible mood. Just a fair warning in case I say something a little mean. I just genuinely do not have an ounce of joy in my body right now.”

Normally, you would be comforting your boyfriend without letting another moment pass by; guiding him to the plump couch and putting on his favorite show, making him his favorite food, snuggling up with him and whispering sweet words in his ear while you run your fingers through his hair until he falls asleep. It’s a foolproof plan for when he’s having a bad day or just needs some extra comfort.

But, like him, you also do not feel even an ounce of happiness in your own body. And a part of you feels guilty for not being able to swallow it down so you can be there for him properly.

Noticing the difference in your behavior, Jake straightens himself, tilting his head to the side while he looks at you with furrowed brows.

“You okay, babe? Work doesn’t usually get to you like this. Do you want to talk about it?” He speaks to you with a low softened voice, despite his earlier proclamation.

Vigorously, you shake your head. “It’s just dumb stuff and I know I’m overreacting slightly. I just…I don't know…I kinda wanna just be in a bad mood? Does that make sense?” you chuckle, “I know it sounds dumb but-“

“No, I get it,” stepping towards you, Jake pinches your chin gently between his thumb and pointer finger, “Hell, take it out on me if you need to.”

It might be the way his thumb is lingering along your jawline now, hovering so his skin is only slightly grazing against yours, or the way his eyes darken as he looks at your lips, but something in his words sounds more like a plea than a simple comedic suggestion.

You narrow your eyes at your boyfriend, trying your best not to convey how instantaneously he takes over your mind and body. It’s dizzying the way he looks you up and down, consuming how you can feel the heat from every slight touch of his hand.

“How would you like me to take it out on you?” You question with a lowered voice, tilting your head down slightly to flick your eyes more up at him, batting your eye lashes in a way you know he can’t resist.

His thumb stops moving just below your bottom lip where his eyes also rest. “Well, depends on the type of day you had. Do you need to let out your anger? Pretend I’m your boss and raise your voice, say some absurd things? Or do you need to feel useful?” The more he talks, the lower his tone and volume go, his voice growing softer while his speech slows. To make it worse, at the end of his sentence he releases your lips from his gaze, his deep brown eyes flicking up ever so slightly to meet your own. And you instantly become putty in his hands.

“Useful,” you mutter, averting your gaze to the side to avoid the smirk you know is displayed on his handsome face.

“Oh, I can put you to use, my love. Knees. Now.” Jake commands with a snap of his finger before pointing it down at the ground and using his other hand to give your bottom lip a quick swipe with his thumb.

“Right here? In the entryway? What about the bedro-“

“I thought,” he cuts you off, removing his hand from your face to slowly start undoing his belt, “you wanted,” the belt’s on the floor, his hands now unbuttoning his slacks, “to be,” his eyes are locked on yours, “useful,” he growls.

Placing a hand on the back of your head, he leans you forward, giving you a swift tender kiss on the forehead before pushing your head down.

You fall to your knees quickly, your hands sliding down his torso until they rest at his hips where his slacks are barely hanging on by his growing bulge that you’re now eye level with.

Between clenched teeth and a sharp inhale of his breath, Jake commands, “Don’t make me have to ask you twice.”

Your hands move without any further hesitation to push his slacks and underwear down from his hips, his hardened member bouncing at the release of the constraints. How is he already this hard? Jake’s weeping cock is already fully stiff and alert, a small bead of precum glistening at his tip, begging for contact.

Looking straight up at your man, wanting to hold his gaze, you stick your tongue out and give him a long lick from the base of his member to just below the bulbous part of his tip. Jake’s head falls back against the door, his eyes fluttering to the back of his head as one of his hands reaches for your hair. He strokes it gently at first before giving a warning tug.

“Please,” he whines softly with an airy gasp, eyes still closed, “not today. Don’t tease me today, Y/n.”

Even though he’s not looking, you still smile up at him fondly. Just for a moment, savoring the desperate look on his face before swirling your tongue along his tip.

Jake’s body trembles, mouth open slightly as he sucks in a breath. Then suddenly, he opens his eyes. They narrow down at you with a darkness that loudly tells you he is not planning on warning you again. Jake places both of his hands around your head, palms brushing your temples as he lines your mouth to his cock.

You hold his eye contact as you open your mouth and wait for him.

You don’t have to wait long. Jake has never been the patient type. And when it comes to you sucking him off? He was never really good at playing around and teasing and for sure did not like to have that patience tested.

Slowly, but steadily, Jake pushes himself into your mouth until your nose brushes his abdomen. Stifling a gag, you moan against his body and try to maintain your focus. His entire body shivers as he holds you in place, hands still cupping your face lightly as your eyes flutter shut. It takes everything in you to try to remember to breathe through your nose, or really, to remember to breathe at all. Which seems ridiculous but, in this moment, every cell of your body is consumed by him.

Jake’s head falls back against the doorframe yet again, an intense inhale goes in through his nose and his lips form in a tight line. He may have tried to contain his moans but couldn’t suppress a deep, guttural groan from ripping out deep within his throat.

“Fuuuckkk, baby. How do you always take me so well?” His thumbs brush at the tears welling up under your eyes, a soft, fond smile forming on his face.

The softness of his features only lasts for a moment before he starts moving his hips with a perfect cadence, relentlessly fucking your throat.

“That’s my good, useful girl,” Jake slowly groans. With each thrust that has him hitting the back of your throat, you try to focus on your breathing even more. Your goal is to not gag, no matter how much your body wants to, no matter how much you know he would love it. He’s claimed in the past that hearing you gag on him alone gives him an insane ego boost. But feeling it? Oh he couldn’t contain himself. Knowing he’s too big for his perfect girl but she tries her best to please him anyways? One of the best feelings a guy could ever hope to experience.

And because of this, Jake knows exactly when you’re on the brink of hitting your limit. As much as he would love to chase his own pleasure, he’s choosing to think outside of himself and knows you need this more than he does.

One of Jake’s hands moves to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and your mouth off of his slick cock, leaving a string of saliva connecting the two of your bodies together.

Jake kneels down until he’s face to face with you, holding your face in his hands as he looks in your eyes. “That’s all I needed. Now, let me get a good look at you.”

His grip makes it impossible for you to look away. All you can muster out is a slight moan in protest, your bottom lip jutting out as you furrow your eyebrows. Thumbs catching some runaway tears from under your eyes, Jake lets out a low chuckle, peppering quick kisses along your face.

“As good as you make me feel,” he starts, guiding you up to your feet and leading you towards the bedroom, “it’s not how I want to come.”

“But I barely even-”

“Shhh,” Jake abruptly pushes you up against the wall in the hallway, his lust filled eyes combing over the spots where his hands roam all over your body, “it’s okay, baby. That’s all the use I needed from you. You did amazing. Let me make you feel good now.”

Gently and slowly, at first, he kisses your lips, moving your arms so they wrap around his neck. Muscle memory has your hands interlocking in his hair at his nape, giving a slight tug which elicits a sweet groan from your man. It doesn’t take long after that for the kiss to deepen, Jake moving one his knees to press against your clothed heat. He pulls away from you briefly to look in your eyes, looks down at his knee then back up at you, giving you an encouraging nod, his eyes wide and eager, swimming with excited anticipation.

You look deeply into Jake’s eyes as you lower your core down to his thigh, holding his gaze as you slowly move yourself along his muscle. You can’t hold in the soft whine that comes out as you finally feel some friction on your needy clit. Jake loves and hates when you hold eye contact and moan like this, claiming it’s an unfair use of power. He shakes slightly under your touch, gripping your hips tightly enough to surely leave some marks. He tries to hold your eye contact, but can’t help as his eyes roll back, his body moving closer to yours to grind with you.

“Fuuckkk, baby,” Jake lulls out, “you really needed me this badly?” He continues to grip your hips, now guiding you along his thigh. His assistance reveals his own desperation. Jake pushes you down harder against him while simultaneously moving you back and forth at a faster pace. Pretty little desperate whines come out of him as he stares hazeley at your lips.

“Mmmm, sweet boy, look at you. So desperate to make me feel good, hm?” It was hard to talk like this in this position you’re in. Too easy it would be to give into your boyfriend’s ministrations, too easy it would be to give in to your own wants and pleasures.

“Please use me now.” Jake’s grip on your hips tighten. Your wincing muddles amongst his moans as he grinds you harder against his thigh.

“Please, baby,” he begs again, his yearning glossed over eyes meet your gaze once more. A lightning shock shoots down to your already throbbing core, “Please need me.”

That is your last straw.

“Oh my- I need you so badly, Jake. I can't take this teasing foreplay anymore. I need to feel you inside me. Baby, please.”

Switch flipping yet again, Jake doesn’t hesitate and wraps both of your legs around his waist, now carrying you to the bedroom while you feverishly kiss along his neck and jawline, leaving a pretty trail of love marks as you go.

He walks towards the room with long confident strides, holding you up easily with one hand as he opens the door. And once you’re both inside, he closes the door behind him with a simple kick of his foot, not even bothering to look back as he does so.

Laying you down softly on the bed, Jake’s jaw clenches as he works to fully undress himself. As he’s unbuttoning his shirt, he smiles softly at you and leans forward, connecting his lips with yours yet again. The kiss is soft, delicate, as his fingers continue to work against the stiff buttons of his shirt. Your body relaxes against the kiss, your mouths molding together with familiarity, tongues swimming messily with each other in a familiar dance.

Finally, his top is fully undone but he doesn’t take it off. As for his pants, he’s long forgotten those somewhere near the front door of your shared apartment. Jake doesn’t hesitate with removing your clothes, practically ripping them from your body. He’s fueled by his need to see you naked and needs to see you now.

Your chest rises even faster as your skin is now exposed, your boyfriend taking a moment to marvel at your physic.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he grumbles as he gets on all fours, crawling on the bed until he’s hovering over you, using one hand to pump his length a few times for good measure. He bites his bottom lip as he looks down at himself and back up at you, the sparkle in his eyes all too telling how excited he is to dive right in and ruin you.

“Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” He holds himself at your entrance, body frozen in place as he looks into your eyes with those big pleading puppy dog eyes of his that always has you on your knees. You could never say no to him when he looks at you like this. How he manages to look so adorable and sexy at the same time will forever be a mystery to you.

“If we wait any longer I might actually lose my mind,” you huff, leaning forward to cup both of your hands on his cheeks, pulling him forward into a savory deep kiss. Jake’s eyes immediately flutter shut as you guide him down with you, his lips hungrily chasing after your own. Before your head even hits the pillows, Jake blindly inserts his tip inside your cunt, the sensation making you gasp against him.

Jake chuckles against your mouth, taking the chance to quickly pepper sweet kisses around your entire face. “Hmm? Didn’t think I’d be able to do it without looking? Darling I know your body better than anyone else. I could find this pussy anywhere.” The confident smirk on his face pulls you in even deeper to his charms.

His words make you clench around him, making your boyfriend wince slightly.

“So tight. Even though it’s just my tip. I guess I should have taken the time to prep you properly. I’m sorry, darling, this might sting.”

And, without another word, Jake pushes himself forward, his cock sliding into you painfully slow. Each inch stretching you further and further as your body desperately tries to adjust as quickly as it can. A mix between a choked moan and a gasp leaves your lips while Jake turns his head to the side to sink his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder, small whimpers coming from him in return.

Wanting to hear more from him, you take one hand and intertwine your fingers in his wavy black locks, tugging slightly so his head is lifted from the crook of your neck. Now that he’s facing you, you can properly look him in the eyes while he whimpers again, this time from the tugging on his scalp. Jake’s bottom lip juts out at you, his puppy eyes are back, pleading for something unknown to you.

Despite his pouty demeanor, Jake is still rocking his hips back and forth, pounding into you at a satiable rhythm. The dynamic between you two might seem confusing to anyone on the outside looking in, but the satisfaction from being with someone who’s both submissive and dominant all at the same time is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Plus, it allows you the space to give the same in return. Taking turns between caring for each others needs to then be the one receiving fulfills you in more ways than you can even begin to explain.

“Aw don’t give me those eyes, pretty boy. You know how it makes me melt,” you sigh, eyes rolling back as you roll your hips in time with his thrusts.

“Let me leave marks on you then.” Jake doesn’t wait for a response. He quickly grabs your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging softly before sucking. Words completely escape your brain as he releases you, smirking before diving back down against your neck. Your brain starts to feel dizzy as he adjusts his hips, fixing the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly to where he knows he’ll hit your g-spot. He nips at the flesh below your ear, right in the spot that sends chills down your entire body. At this point, your clit is throbbing and it’s your turn to become a pouty, moany mess.

“Use your words, Y/n,” Jake chuckles against your neck, giving one last bite before flatting his tongue on the sensitive area.

When he doesn’t hear you say anything in response to his command, he sits himself up so he’s looking in your eyes. One of his eyebrows quirks up, waiting for your response. When you still won’t give it to him, he stops his languid movements and slowly pulls himself out of you with a tsk tsk tsk.

“I know you know better than to ignore me.” He licks his lips slowly and leans forward, his face now hovering directly over yours. Your chest is rising and falling quickly, not realizing how out of breath you were from only such a short time of contact with him. Jake’s head tilts to the side, his eyes darkening ever so slightly as his impatience takes over. Suddenly, one of his hands is lingering over your throat, his thumb lightly brushing against your esophagus.

“Now, beautiful. Why are we being so stubborn all of a sudden? Why aren’t you talking to me?” He releases your throat by moving his hand upward just a bit, his thumb moves along your jawline then up some more to trace along the outside of your bottom lip. Tingles and chills naturally erupt throughout your body with every soft touch he leaves on your skin. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed since you two have been together, Jake still has this unwavering affect on your mind, body and soul. Subconsciously your body communicates with his, going well beyond needing words at times.

But that doesn’t mean Jake doesn’t want to hear them still.

“I know you want something. It’s so easy to tell with the way you’re moaning and the way your hips are bucking up against me. Just say the words and it’s yours.”

It’s stupid to try to compete with him. No matter how hard of a stubborn fight you could try to conjure up, Jake always wins.

Always.

“I want you to play with my clit while you fuck me,” you whine, drawing out the last syllables in an unmistakably ‘you can’t say no to me’ way, shaking your shoulders, closing your eyes and jutting out your lower lip for extra affect. He might be the one to win every time it comes to stubbornness, but no one can deny the fight you put up when it comes to pouting, begging, and pleading.

“Ugh, baby don’t give me that look, please,” Jake rolls off of you, now on his back beside you with one arm covering his eyes, “I just want to hear you say what you want. I love listening to your demands. It's so sexy when you tell me what you need.”

“Would it be even sexier if I just do it?”

Jake moves his arm slightly to look at you with a questioning yet excited gaze. His hesitation and agape mouth is all the answer you needed.

Without letting another second pass, in one swift motion you’re now on top of him; both legs straddling either side of his thighs and your core hovering dangerously close to his cock.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, hands up in the air somewhat similar to a surrender pose. Jake’s eyes dart all across your body, genuinely not knowing what to do. His mind races with all the places he wants to put his hands on you, all the things he wants to do and say to you. It’s happening so fast that he’s stuck in a frozen state.

You place one hand confidently on his chest, making sure he stays put. It’s your turn to hover your face over his, taunting him with what looks like is going to be a kiss, but you pull back at the last second, smirking at the dumbfounded look on your boyfriend’s face.

“Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’?” You tease.

“Oh yes, I have,” he nods quickly, eyes wide as he licks his lips hungrily, his hands now resting comfortably (and cockily) behind his head, “but I think I could still use a demonstration.”

With a smirk, you lean down and kiss his plump lips. It’s slow and intentional, setting the pace of not wanting to get too lost in the moment. After a few languid exchanges, you lower your hips down until finally, finally, your still sopping cunt makes contact with his length. You know he expects you to be just as impatient as him, to just grind against him a couple times before finally letting him back inside you.

But that would just be too easy.

You slowly start to grind against him, moving back and forth slowly. You press down harder against him when you get close to his tip, making the poor boy moan louder and louder each time you do so. Almost immediately your slick is coating him, the friction now even more satisfying the more you grind against him.

“Ugh…Y/n…baby…put me in already,” he begs, his eyes clenched tightly shut, “Put me in so I can start playing with your clit like you wanted.” Beads of sweat start to trickle down his temples, his cheeks flushed a glowing shade of pink. You silently ignore his pleas, wordlessly picking up your pace and pressure. Jake’s hands fly to your hips, nails digging into your skin at a satisfying grip. At first, you thought he was going to attempt to stop your movements. But, to your amusement, he’s only assisting you more. He guides your hips along his length while bucking his hips upward. You’re desperately trying to revel in the absolute mess of a sight your boyfriend is below you, but the friction against your clit is getting harder and harder to ignore. Jake’s eyes are still shut tight, his bottom lip now quivering as a slew of please’s and an array of petnames leave those pretty lips of his. At this point, your brain is so hazy you can’t even make out anything he’s saying.

Eyes focusing on those quivering lips, you lean in once again, this time more hungry and desperate than before. Going straight for that bottom lip of his, you pull it between your teeth, groaning with him as you feel his cock twitch between your other lips.

“Baby, please. If you don’t slow down I’m going to come.” His legs are starting to tremble beneath you as he desperately tries to find relief and restraint in the same action. His composure is cracking more and more.

And you only want to do as you're told.

So, with a smirk, you slow your pace to a painstakingly slow one. From quick and harsh movements to slow, drawn out romantic ones, Jake is immediately regretting his word choice.

If it’s any consolation at all, it’s just as torturous for you as it is for him. The moans and whines you’ve been trying to trap within yourself are letting loose and competing with the whimpering man beneath you. The longer you draw this out, the harder it is for you to keep your own composure, quickly forgetting the punchline to the joke you’re playing on him.

“Fu-fuck, oh my god. I can’t- I can’t take this anymore, baby. Please, let me come. I need to come,” he pleads with a shaking voice, head thrown back against the pillows so that the muscles in his neck strain. In this position he’s proudly displaying the bright love marks you’ve left along his delicate skin. Seeing those marks ignites something truly primal within you, knowing that he is all yours and everyone, stranger or familiar, will know it without a doubt. Jake always wears your marks proudly after the fact too, claiming that if anyone has an issue with it they’re just immature and jealous that he gets fucked so well and they don’t. It’s a part of what makes marking him up even more arousingly special. Plus, it’s not like he doesn’t do the same to you. The running joke at both of your places of employment is that whenever either of you come in with a new scarf or turtle neck it’s to maintain what little bit of professionalism you have left. But if anyone asks about it…neither you nor Jake are shy of pulling down the garments and displaying the pretty bruises in any coloring stage they may currently be in.

“You want to come now?” You finally speak up. Jake’s muscles start to twitch all throughout his body at the sound of your sultry tone. You watch as he bites down on his bottom lip hard, gripping your hips even tighter as he desperately tries to hang on for just a little bit longer.

Jake finally opens his eyes to give you that irresistible pleading stare. “Yes, please.”

“Such a needy boy, all ready to come without even being inside of me,” you coo and Jake just whimpers in response. You lean your head down next to his ear, making sure he feels the warmth of your shaky breath as you tell your sweet boy to come for you, eliciting a quick bite on his earlobe.

Of course, you do this while guiding your cunt only along the tip of his cock now, thankfully (in Jake’s mind at least) picking up speed once again. Jake’s mouth falls open in the perfect ‘O’ shape, his moans coming out in gasps and he looks in your eyes. Mere moments later you feel his cock spasm beneath you, his hips bucking up as he sits up slightly, spurts of cum shooting past your folds and onto his stomach.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close against him as his chest rises and falls quickly. Jake whimpers and nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, leaving soft desperate kisses where he can. In turn you wrap your arms around his shoulders and rest your head against his. Soft murmurs of praise and comfort leave your lips as you rub your thumb in small circles against his bare skin. You both stay like this for a moment, you not caring about the pause in intimate physical action. In your relationship, this moment of sex is the most intimate you can be with one another and it’s something you cherish deeply. Knowing that the both of you put the other person's needs and comforts before their own is something unique to you both.

The heartfelt moment doesn’t last as long as it usually does though, because before you can even blink you find yourself with your back now on the bed and Jake with a devilish smirk looming above you.

“My turn,” he snarls, grabbing your hips roughly and flipping you onto your stomach. Time isn’t wasted with your impatient man as he pulls your hips towards him, placing a hand between your shoulder blades to keep your head down.

A loud smack followed by your body wincing, Jake rubs his hand soothingly on the mound of your ass that he just spanked. He’s cooing something under his breath, but your heart beating loudly in your ears keeps you from hearing what he’s saying exactly.

You’re about to ask him to repeat himself, turning your head so you can see him properly, when he smacks his hand across your butt harder than before.

“Did I say you can move? Face back down.”

The growl in his undertone sends shivers down your spine, eyes widening as you turn back and do as you're told.

Not long after that you feel three of Jake’s fingers push deep into your cunt, pistoning in and out at an insane speed, especially considering he hasn’t properly warmed you up.

You cry out in surprise, gasping into the bedsheets while the friction and lack of proper build up confuses your body. All the tension from before blooms inside you and you can't believe you’re already feeling that white heat about to burst inside you.

“You’re already clenching around my fingers,” Jake chuckles in surprise, not relenting on his speed as he continues to scissor his digits inside of you, “oh my poor needy baby, you’re absolutely soaking me.”

You shut your eyes tightly, trying to think of anything to hold onto your sanity. You absolutely cannot come this quickly, you’ll never hear the end of it from Jake. You wouldn’t put it past him to brag to everyone and anyone he knows about it too, it must be some kind of record, right? Making your girlfriend come in less than a minute? Maybe even less than thirty seconds? Yeah there’s no way you can let him have this one. But fuck, he really knows how to curl those fingers perfectly within you, beckoning your release with aggressive tender strokes.

Tears prick your eyes and you can’t stay still, grasping at the bedsheets frantically while you try to adjust your body to avoid the inevitable.

“Not so funny when the tables are turned, huh?” Jake chuckles menacingly, speeding up his pace and flicking his thumb against your throbbing clit. It feels like he’s about to split you in two with his fingers alone and your entire body is at war with itself – unsure if it loves the contact or wants to get away.

“As soon as you come I’ll give you my cock again. That’s all you gotta do.” He states plainly, almost nonchalantly, eyes focused as he watches his fingers drill in and out of your hole, unknowingly pushing you right over the edge and perfectly into his trap.

Everything blurs as your release erupts. Moans of pleasure and surprise fill the room while Jake grabs ahold of your hips, rooting you in place.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you. Just needed to hear my voice to get you to come undone, hmm?” His one hand roams over the mound of your ass while he murmurs to you, fingers still languidly pumping in and out of you. Your muscles are finally starting to relax, legs still shaking as your breath catches up with you. Just as you’re about to collapse into the bed, Jake says one word that has your eyes opening wide in surprise.

“Ready?”

You open your mouth to ask ‘Ready for what?’ but before you can get the words out your cunt is deliciously stretched, now filled to the brim with your boyfriend’s throbbing cock.

“Ah-aahhh,” Jake sighs, “you’re still so tight holy shit.”

You jolt forward as you feel his tip kiss the edges of your walls. Pulsing around him, you’re still sore from the damage his fingers did just moments before. Jake’s hands move from your hips and roam your body, admiring everything about you as he gives you a moment to adjust to his girth. His hair tickles between your shoulder blades as he leans forward to plant chaste kisses across your skin, groans singing out between each one that he leaves. His cock twitches inside of you and you know it’s taking everything in him to keep calm and still. Even his breathing is becoming rigid and off beat.

Wordlessly, he lifts himself up and slowly pulls himself away from you until just his tip is inside. It’s like you can hear his brain churning with thoughts and ideas, but you know his brain fog can get just as bad as yours and he’s probably lost in the moment.

Now that you’ve had a taste of him, though, you’re not letting him off so easily.

“Jaakkeeee,” you whine, wiggling your ass slightly to get his attention, which only backfires and makes your body flinch with the feeling of him still partially inside of you.

“I’m trying not to go crazy here.” He laughs. You turn your head to look over your shoulder and see your boyfriend's eyes glued to where you’re both connected.

With a warning bite to your tone, you mutter his name again and he groans in response, biting down hard on his bottom lip before chuckling to himself.

“Alright. You asked for it.” He snaps his hips forward and slams his cock deep into you again. Instead of starting a slow rhythmic pace he thrusts quick and hard. Your body is pressed firmly into the mattress with the way he’s holding you down, his grip stronger than you’ve ever felt in the past.

The pace he’s set is dizzying, pounding you deep into the mattress as the sounds of your squelching wetness fills the room. Your body doesn’t even get a chance to fully appreciate the bliss he’s bringing you before your system is shocked again and again and again.

“Gonna fuck you till you’re good and dumb, all you’ll be able to say is my name,” he grunts, giving a deep smack to your ass before grabbing your hips and pulling you back and forth with his thrusts.

Normally you’d giggle at him in response, but fuck he might actually be fucking you stupid. Moans, whines, and his name is truly all your lips can form. You want to scream out how good he’s making you feel, but each time his cock slams against your sweet spot your eyes roll to the back of your head and you lose any coherent thought that was trying to form inside your brain.

None of it goes unnoticed, of course. Jake is a very observant and attentive boyfriend in every sense.

“What? Five seconds with my dick inside you and you lose your mind? Who knew you would be such a cock hungry little slut.”

“Just…just for you.” Is all you manage to gasp out knowing how much Jake loves to hear how you only go crazy for him.

“Fuck.” His thrusts quicken despite his already relentless pace. Jake pulls your hips upwards ever so slightly, but it’s enough to change the angle, his tip now hitting a perfect bullseye against your sweet spot. The force of his body slamming into yours doesn’t give you a chance. Before you know it, you’re coming undone yet again, body shaking as you gush all over his cock.

“You’re coming so quickly tonight, baby. Work really has had you all pent up. Don’t worry, just hang on a little bit longer and then you can rest, okay?” Jake kisses the spot between your shoulder blades again, one of his hands reaching around to grab at your breasts. He tweaks at your perked nipple as his pace becomes sloppy and uneven, his head resting on your back as his hips continue to snap back and forth. Small whimpers leave his lips as he chases his second release that he’s been holding onto for so long now.

“Mmm, fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he whines, lifting his head up and placing his hands back on your hips.

Three more thrusts is all he has left in him. On the final thrust he grinds his hips harshly against you, making sure his cock is as deep in your cunt as it can possibly be as he spills his seed deep within your clenching walls.

The warmth weirdly soothes you through your overstimulated body. Being full of him like this makes you feel even closer to him and it’s something you’ll never get tired of. Feeling his cock twitch relentlessly inside you is addicting, your body trembles with satiated pleasure around him, wishing this feeling never had to end.

“Fuck that was a lot,” Jake mutters to himself. You feel him spilling out of you even with his cock still stuffed inside of you. You chance a look back at your boyfriend and marvel at the sight of him; wavy hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his eyes fluttering slightly from bliss and tiredness, and his beautifully plump lips parted slightly as he tries to regain his breath. It’s a breathtaking sight, and one you’ll never truly get used to seeing.

All too soon, Jake slowly pulls himself out of you. The loss of contact from him has you wanting to throw a mini fit, but you’re too tired to fight for it. Plus, it’s not like you’ll be feeling this emptiness for long. The likelihood of you being woken up in the middle of the night with your boyfriend between your thighs, lapping up the previous night's leftover reminiscence, is very high. Once is never enough when it comes to Sim Jaeyun.

After a moment, your boyfriend helps you flip over onto your back, nessling himself against your warm body as you try to catch your breath. Your arm wraps around him automatically, holding him as close to your beating heart as you can muster.

Silent minutes pass by. Both of your chests finally fall into a calm and matching rhythmic beat and his skin isn’t feeling as hot to the touch as it was moments ago.

With a groan, Jake sits himself up and stretches his arms over his head, letting out a satisfied sigh as he brings them back down.

Turning to you, Jake leans down and presses a light kiss to your forehead, his lips quivering slightly as his body still recovers from the intense orgasm. Wobbling slightly, Jake leaves the bedroom and flicks on the bathroom light, returning in a short minute with a paper towel. Wordlessly, he tilts your chin up with a delicate hand, fingers tracing outlines of your skin as he carefully collects the sweat from your face. And he continues this down your entire body, even opening your legs to gain access so he can clean the cum from between your legs.

He leaves again, probably throwing out the paper towel, obviously. Jake doesn’t return empty handed though. Water droplets intertwine between his fingers as the condensation slips from the water bottle he has in hand. He sits down on the bed again, smiling at you softly as he uncaps the water bottle, motioning with his head for you to sit up.

You do as you're told, wincing slightly as you truly get a feel for how sore you are. Everything hurts. The muscles in your legs, your still pulsating clit, your insides, literally everything. You scoot backwards so you can rest against the headboard and reach for the water bottle in Jake’s hand. He pulls it away, shaking his head as he tells you to open your mouth.

How could you not smile slightly as you tilt your head back, water dribbling down the sides of your chin as your boyfriend giggles next to you, cupping his hand under your face to catch the escaping water, as if that would do anything.

Cheeks full of water and eyes twinkling, you take a moment to look into Jake’s eyes. Something pangs lovingly deep within your chest as you’re met with the same look of adoration on his own face. It’s a moment where it feels like time has stopped, the world spinning by as you two live comfortably in your own little world.

Jake sighs as he tilts his head, a sweet innocent smile painted on his face while his shoulders relaxe, still holding your gaze. “I love you.”

All you can do to keep yourself from getting too teary eyed is jut out your bottom lip and hold out your arms to him. Jake smiles again and crawls towards you, the water bottle now resting on the nightstand, his head finding solace on your chest while the rest of his body sits like a weighted blanket between your legs.

Like magnets, your fingers instantly go to his hair, softly running along his scalp while lightly tugging on the wavy strands. Jake sighs with relief and you just know his eyes are already closed. His arms wrap around your waist, squeezing slightly as he buries his face upward to rest in the crook of your neck.

“I love you too,” you whisper back followed by a gentle kiss to the top of his head. You feel his lips brush against your neck in a lazy and comforting reply.

Your hands move lower, massaging the muscles of his back as you both go back and forth mumbling and murmuring about how you appreciate each other. The horrid day long forgotten as you lay peacefully within each other’s arms, knowing no matter what tomorrow or any future day may bring, you’ll always have a safe home with one another.

#svnet #jake smut #enhypen jake smut #jake x reader #jake x you #jake x y/n #jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun smut #jaeyun x you #jaeyun x reader #enhypen smut

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hederasgarden · 27 days ago

Text

Finis

Summary: Lucius comes for you (this is a follow up to Post tenebras lux and Ab Initio) Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader Word Count: 7.8 K (WHOOPS SORRY) Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Angst with a HEA, sex (PIV and f receiving), mentions of spousal death/grief and other untagged themes (please message me if you’d like to know what these are). A/N: A HUGE thanks to @aliensupastar and @ryebecca for their help with the fic. Becca also made the beautiful banner as well! This is full of historical inaccuracies and I’m using both Roman and Greek mythology interchangeably. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Gladiator Masterlist ♡ Masterlist

Anxiety pulses beneath your skin as you lie in the dark, Lucius’s body pressed close against yours. His steady, warm breath brushes the back of your neck, but you know he's just as awake as you are. Neither of you can sleep. It’s a cruel kind of torture, pretending that nothing has changed, and that you’ll still be together when the morning light spills into the cell.

You don’t know how much time you have before they come for you. It could be hours. It could be minutes. You wish you could take Lucius inside you just once more, to have him fill every part of you with his love, his devotion. You sigh and he says your name softly, urging you to face him. The ache in your chest only intensifies when you turn and meet his eyes. No words are spoken — how could there be any that would make this easier? What could you say that would make the pain of this goodbye more bearable?

You close your eyes and breathe out. Somewhere a guard’s laughter echoes faintly, while from another cell, the deep, steady snoring of a gladiator fills the silence. Then you hear it. A sound, small but sharp: the faint jingling of keys. The scrape of metal against metal.

It’s time.

Lucius pulls you to your feet with a quiet urgency, his hands steady as he drapes the cloak over your shoulders and fastens the clasp at your throat. His touch lingers there before he dips his head to kiss you, gentle and tender. It carries the weight of something else, something final. You can’t bear the thought of it. With a sudden surge of emotion, you rise onto your toes and throw your arms around his shoulders, kissing him with a desperation that feels like a vow. It’s a promise that no matter what happens, you will find your way back to each other.

"Have faith," he whispers once you pull away, his forehead against yours. "I will see you again soon."

You swallow, the words heavy in your throat. "I have no faith left in the gods," you confess. Your lips tremble with the weight of your blasphemy. It feels like a sin, but it's the truth.

"Then have faith in me," he returns, his voice soft but unwavering. He holds your cheek in his scarred hand and your lashes flutter. "As long as there is breath in my body, I will return to you."

"Lucius…" Your voice cracks, and before you can stop it, tears slip down your cheeks.

He grasps your neck, pulling you close and guiding your cheek until it rests against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a rhythmic comfort, so different from the frantic pounding of your own. He holds you like this moment can somehow protect you from what’s to come, and you stay like that until Ravi says your name in a low, urgent tone.

"Please, we must hurry."

You look up at Lucius one last time, desperate to memorize every line of his face, but time is slipping away, and you know there’s no more time to hold on. You step away, your heart heavy, and take Ravi’s hand.

The cool, solid grip of his fingers anchors you as you move down the dark hallway. Silence stretches out around you like a shroud. Despite your spurning of the gods, your mind drifts to Persephone, trapped in a fate not of her making. The thought lingers, haunting you, as you walk further into the darkness, but you press forward.

Because like Orpheus, if you look back, you will be lost.

–

You ride for days with a small group of men loyal to General Acacius and Lucilla, the landscape unfolding in shades of brown and green while the horizon stretches out endlessly. The dull ache in your thighs has become a constant companion, deepening with every hour spent on a saddle. The smell of horse and sweat clings stubbornly to your clothes, mingling with the dust of the road.

Moments of rest are brief and tense, and the men around you speak little of where you’re headed. You often feel Lucilla’s gaze on you as you ride, though there is little time to converse meaningfully. She looks different from the times you saw her seated beside the emperors in the arena. Her beautiful golden hair is plaited into a simple braid and her face is bare. Yet, even without the fine robes and jewelry, there is nothing common about her appearance. From the sharp cut of her high cheekbones to the elegant line of her jaw, everything about her is unmistakably royal.

She carries herself with a quiet authority that even the soldiers heed. They respect her and to your surprise, they show you the same reverence. It’s disorienting, unnerving even, but something in you is too afraid to push back against the illusion of nobility they’ve woven around you. So, you do what is required, what you learned from your time with Lucius and draw from the life you lived before you were a fisherman’s wife. You slip into the skin of someone else who is meant to be here and is worthy of the respect they offer. But it’s a mask that chafes, a weight far heavier than any shackle.

–

On the sixth day of riding, you crest a ridge, and suddenly the rugged coast unfolds before you with sparkling turquoise waters and lush hills. The soldier you ride with stops, just as stunned by the beauty as you. It’s been nearly two years since you’ve seen the ocean and smelt salt in the air. For a moment it’s as if Kronos himself has softened his grip on time and memories of your life before flood back, overwhelming and painfully beautiful. But the moment is brief, shattered when the soldier speaks.

“This will be your new home, my lady, until we receive word from the General that Rome is safe once again.”

He nudges the horse with a soft kick of his heels and the animal resumes its careful trot, disrupting loose stones as it makes its way down the steep, narrow trail. In the distance, you spot a small villa, nestled among rolling hills, its stone walls partially obscured by lush vineyards.

“Is it safe?” You question.

The young man offers you a smile over his shoulder. “There are many who are loyal to Lady Lucilla and the General. No one will know of your presence here.”

When you arrive you’re helped from the horse by another soldier, and follow behind Lucilla as she moves into the house. A row of servants greets the two of you, and the moment they see her they bow deeply. They don't look at you directly, but you feel their gaze flicker over you, just for a second, before their attention returns solely to her.

“Draw a bath for myself and my guest,” she instructs the gathered servants, handing off her dusty cloak and pushing her braid off her shoulder. “Bring fresh water and food for the men outside. See to it that they are taken care of first.”

You stand behind her, waiting for some instruction or sign of what you’re supposed to do. But as Lucilla turns and sweeps away, a young servant steps forward, offering you a shallow bow.

“Your cloak, my lady,” he says.

His words hit you with an unexpected force and you realize, for the first time in years, that you are no longer a slave.

–

You wake slowly, the dredges of your sleep lingering as you roll to your back and shield your eyes from the morning light. After nearly a week on the road, the bed you sleep in is a welcome relief. It’s more luxurious than anything you’ve ever known and you inhale the clean, citrusy scent on the sheets.

A gentle knock on your door is your only warning before a servant enters with a jug of water that she sets on a low table. She bows to you before moving to open the curtains and let sunlight flood the room. Next, she moves to the hearth, stoking a small fire with practiced movements. While she works another servant appears with fresh robes that she lays over the edge of your bed. The fabric is pale blue and finely made, trimmed in silver, but as your eyes linger on them, you can’t help but remember the last time you wore such finery.

"Domina," the new servant greets, drawing your attention away from the clothes. “May we help you dress?”

The way she addresses you, like the man last night, causes a strange, uncomfortable flutter in your chest. She does not seem to sense your discomfort and waits patiently for a reply, as sure and comfortable in her role as you are uncomfortable in yours. It feels so alien, to have someone serve you like this. Weeks ago, this was your job, your life. The thought twists in your gut.

“N-no.” You finally manage. “That will be all.”

“As you wish,” she replies, accepting your answer with a respectful nod.

You know they are here to serve you, and yet it startles you, the way they defer to you so unquestioningly.

She pauses at the door, her attention on you once again. “Lady Lucilla wishes you to break your fast with her on the terrace.”

Then she turns and quietly retreats from the room. Only once you're alone does the tightness in your throat abate, but there is another deeper discomfort that lingers. It takes you longer to dress than you expect and you’re left feeling unsure if it’s the way the garment fits or the unfamiliarity of the situation that feels so wrong.

By the time you reach the terrace, the morning sun is brighter and warmer. Lucilla is seated at a table laden with food, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her wine cup, lost in thought. She offers you a quiet greeting as you slip into the empty chair beside her. A plate piled high with fruit is set before you; after so long on the road, your mouth waters at the sight.

You select a peach and drag it through honey. It’s halfway to your lips when the servant’s voice cuts through the stillness of the morning.

“Did you sleep well, my lady?" She asks politely.

"I am not a lady," you correct quietly, the words slipping out before you can fully think them through.

The moment you say it, you freeze. Juice drips down your fingers, a sticky trail running under the sleeve of your robe, but you don’t even notice. The servant glances at Lucilla, brows furrowed in confusion by your denial, but Lucilla simply smiles, seemingly unbothered.

"You may go now," she says to the young woman, a touch of finality in her tone. “We will call you if we have need of you.”

The servant nods and retreats without a word, her footsteps fading into the hall. Lucilla watches her go, waiting to speak until you are alone.

"I suppose you're not a lady," she says, her tone not unkind.

She delicately eats a honey cake, seemingly preoccupied, but there's something sharp and assessing in her eyes that reminds you strongly of Lucius. You chew the peach in silence, but it feels like ash in your mouth now. You’ve misstepped.

"It would be Princess, would it not?" she asks, not waiting for a response before continuing. "You are my son's wife and he is the prince of Rome."

Princess.

Wife.

Your mind doesn’t seem to know which to focus on first. Both are heavy titles, the first unexpected, but it’s the second that gives you pause. It’s a title you never expected to have again, but it’s one you cannot deny you long for.

"My lady,” you begin quietly, “We were never…married. They gave me to him as a concubine.” Though you know she understands, Lucius told her everything before you left, you still rush to clarify. "But I was never truly that. I was only ever a slave."

Lucilla hums thoughtfully, regarding you over the rim of her glass as she drinks. "You pledged yourselves to one another, did you not?" she asks.

You nod stiffly, and then she leans forward, surprising you by gently settling a hand over your chest.

"If he lives here," she murmurs, her fingers pressing lightly, "and you live in his heart, what more could the gods ask for?"

“I...I suppose,” you respond hesitantly, unsure how to finish the thought.

She smiles warmly at you as if the matter is settled, but you feel less sure. A slave, risen to the status of princess. Would the rest of Rome regard you so generously?

Lucilla seems oblivious to your doubts and with a soft, contented hum, she leans forward, turning her attention to the plate of fruits as she seems to contemplate her choices. She glances at you briefly before selecting a date, her movements slow and measured.

“When the time comes you will stand beside Lucius as his wife and the rest of Rome will see you as such. Because he will tell them to.”

The words hang in the air between you, but they do nothing to ease the gnawing discomfort building inside.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your voice. “Where I come from - what I am…it does not bother you?”

“What you were,” she corrects, holding your gaze for a beat before she continues. “But you mean, does it bother me you were once a slave?” She questions.

You nod. “I am also not Roman. I was just a fisherman’s wife,” you reply, though that title has long since been stripped from you.

“Lucius’s father was a slave and a gladiator,” Lucilla replies, her gaze softening when she speaks of him. The love and longing in her words feel fresh, as though Lucius’s father still lingers in her mind after all these years.

You clasp your hands together, your fingers curling slightly, stroking your thumb over your knuckles. You exhale and meet her gaze again.

“He was also once a general, was he not?” you question, half unsure why you’re still pressing the point. Maybe it’s the lingering unease, the feeling that you don't belong here. Why should it be so simple?

Lucilla sets her glass down with quiet deliberation. Her eyes meet yours, steady and unflinching.

“In the Rome my father believed in,” she begins, “anyone could rise to greatness, regardless of their past. It was not about where you started, but what you did with the chances the gods gave to you.”

For a moment you let yourself imagine the world she describes — one where people can transform, where their past does not determine their worth. You want to believe her, to let the fragile embers of hope her son ignited in you months ago bloom into something real. But doubt is a hard thing to shake.

“It’s a beautiful dream,” you say, unsure if you quite believe her words. “Your father sounds like a great man.”

Lucilla smiles, sadness flickering in her eyes. “He was,” she replies. “I see so much of Lucius in him. His strength. His sense of honor.” Then, with an unexpected tenderness, she adds, “I think he would have liked you.”

“You honor me,” you respond, lowering your gaze. The weight of her acceptance feels heavier than you expect.

Lucilla shifts closer, her knees brushing yours. She says your name quietly and you look up.

“I know you may not see it yet, but not everyone could have survived what you have and come out stronger,” she tells you, her voice steady but filled with a quiet conviction. “That is your gift. And now you must decide how you wish to wield that power.”

“Wield it?” you ask, confusion threading through your words. "I have no desire to rule."

Lucilla’s expression eases, but she doesn’t falter. "No," she agrees. "Neither did I. But that does not mean you cannot help Lucius rebuild Rome into something stronger, something better. If you choose to."

You’ve spent most of your life at the mercy of forces larger than yourself, swept along by events outside your control. The thought of the power she speaks of is daunting, almost uncomfortable.

“But what can I do?”

“In this world, there are many ways to hold power. Not all of them are visible, but they are just as effective.” Lucilla explains. “True strength lies in shaping the course of events without ever appearing to control them.”

You frown slightly. “I do not know how to achieve that.”

Lucilla tilts her head, her smile knowing. "You have already mastered the basics from your time in the arena. I can teach you the rest.”

You’re silent for a long moment, processing her words.

“You truly believe I am capable of this?”

“Yes,” she says.

There’s a certainty and knowing in her tone, so like her son’s, a belief that you are worthy — even if you can’t yet see it in yourself. A wave of emotion rises within you. You want to be worthy of Lucius’s love, and of Lucilla’s faith in you.

Despite the doubt you lift your chin and straighten your shoulders. “Teach me.”

–

As the weeks slip by, you fall into a rhythm with Lucilla that feels almost comforting in its predictability, and certainly far more steady than the chaos of your days in the Colosseum. Afternoons are spent learning to be a proper Roman woman. At first, the lessons are as expected: how to dress, how to speak, and how to move with the elegance and poise that mark a lady of high status. But soon the lessons grow more layered, more intricate. Slowly, you begin to learn to move through the world with intention, to shape it and, in time, make it yield to your will.

Yet, no matter how much of your time is occupied, your worry for Lucius never fully fades. It hovers at the edges of your thoughts, a persistent shadow on your periphery that remains there despite Lucilla's attempts to keep you busy. The only moments you can quiet your mind are in the early hours of the day, when the sun is just a faint promise of light that lingers below the horizon and the villa is quiet.

On those mornings you rise without the aid of the servants, draping a heavy cloak over your shoulders and heading to the kitchen where the remnants of yesterday’s meal sit on the counter. There you gather the bread still fragrant with yeast and ripened figs and wrap them in a clean cloth. When you step outside, a wave of dizziness passes through you, a light-headedness that’s become more frequent of late as your stress and anxiety grow. You pause to steady yourself against the cool stone of the villa before you’re able to shake the feeling.

Felix, the same young soldier you rode with from Rome, is waiting for you. He leans against the wall, eyes heavy with sleep, but he rouses himself quickly as he sees you approach. Without a word, he falls in behind you as you begin the descent down the winding path that leads to the sea. By the time you reach the bottom, the path opens up to the edge of the old fishing dock. You unwrap the cloth and tear off a piece of bread, breaking it in half, and hand it to Felix along with one of the figs. He takes a seat on the short stone wall and you continue to the dock.

The planks groan as you make your way to the end where the ocean stretches out before you into nothingness. You lower yourself until your legs dangle over the water. For a moment, there is only the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, gentle and rhythmic. Then, over the quiet, you hear the fishermen further down the coast. Their voices carry on the wind as they begin their work for the day, preparing their boats and nets for the first catch.

The first time you came here, you expected the grief you carried for your lost husband would break over you like a swell, sharp and sudden. But it didn’t. That ache, that quiet, constant ache was still there as you suspect it always would be but somewhere along the way that wound had become a scar. Simply a part of you, like the salt in the air or the brine in the sea.

You break your fast with a fig, savoring the sweetness of its soft flesh until a sudden wave of nausea stirs in the pit of your stomach. It’s brief, but sharp enough to make you pause before swallowing. You will it to pass and it does though it seems to linger longer and longer lately. You brush the thought away and finish your meal, remaining on the dock until the sun’s light begins to break through the clouds, casting a soft, golden glow on the water. The heat sinks into your skin and you close your eyes, accepting its warm touch. In the quiet your mind drifts, as it always does, to Lucius and the pain of your separation deepens.

Was he sitting somewhere, feeling this same warmth? Was he safe? Had the plans he set in motion succeeded? The questions swirl in your mind like the restless current. You try to picture him as you saw him last, steady and focused, but all you can conjure is the look of fear in his deep, dark-set eyes the night of Macrinus' party. Anxiety and dread return to you and tears threaten to fall.

The urge to push the emotion down, to shield yourself from its pull is strong, but then, you remember Lucilla’s lesson. With a quiet exhale you drop your shoulders and accept the feeling, letting it pass over until it ebbs into nothingness. You take slow and steady breaths, gaining control of yourself once more.

“Princess,” Felix greets, wood creaking under his feet. “We must return.”

The title hangs in the air, a strange thing even after all these weeks. He says it so effortlessly, as if it has always been this way. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it.

“Perhaps there will be news today,” he suggests encouragingly.

“Perhaps,” you agree, accepting his offered hand.

By the time you finish your ascent, perspiration dots your hairline, and sweat clings to your skin. The gentle breeze that stirs through the air is a welcome relief, helping to lift the heat that has settled into your body. You reach for the clasp of your cloak, ready to shed it, when the sharp sound of metal on steel cuts through the air. Your hand freezes mid-motion, and you realize that Felix has unsheathed his sword.

Before you can question him, you register the presence of unfamiliar horses and men in the courtyard. The dust they’ve kicked up swirls in the air, and you cover your mouth with your sleeve.

“Stay behind me,” Felix urges. His free hand touches your hip briefly to guide you closer to him.

Though you do as he asks you can’t help but scan the gathered men for a familiar face, hope and dread tangling together. You find none and terror settles over you like a heavy shroud. Felix rolls his shoulders, widening his stance as he lifts his sword. There are too many men for him to fight but he stands firm, seemingly ready to lay down his life for you. It’s a sobering realization.

You glance towards the house, worried for Lucilla when you catch sight of a figure in the doorway. Even with his back to you, you recognize Lucius. His posture is stooped with weariness, but his presence still commands the air around him as he speaks with his mother and an older man beside her.

“Felix,” you whisper, fingers curling into the fabric of his cloak.

He shifts to look at you, but you cannot tear your gaze from Lucius, greedily drinking him in like a mirage in the desert, terrified if you blink that he’ll vanish. His dark brown hair is matted with dirt and sweat, his clothes torn and stained. You can see his bare arms are streaked with cuts and bruises and a bloody bandage, hastily wrapped around his left bicep, hangs loose. The sight of him is a brutal testament to his journey and your chest aches at the thought of all he’s been through.

But he’s here. Alive.

Before you realize it, you’re moving towards him. There is nothing dignified in the way you throw yourself into his arms when he turns to face you, colliding into him with enough force to send him staggering back. His arms wrap around you, steadying you both, and you bury your face against him. Your fingers twist into the hair at the nape of his neck as if you’re trying to anchor yourself to him.

Lucius says your name and a great, painful sob bursts from within you. He pulls away just enough to stroke your face and press his forehead to yours. His touch is gentle yet trembling, as though he's trying to reassure himself that you're real, that this moment is real.

“I am here,” he murmurs, “I have returned to you, just as I promised.”

You move closer to him, still shaking, and with a fierceness you can’t contain, you whisper, “Had you not, I would have gone to Pluto himself.”

“I have no doubt,” he replies, a wry smile on his lip.

Together, you breathe the same air, the rhythm of your heart easing. When you brush your nose against his, he tilts his head, letting his lips graze yours in an achingly sweet kiss. Every part of you longs to lose yourself in it, but you’re acutely aware of your surroundings — and of the role you must play.

With a quiet effort, you pull yourself from Lucius. Heat blooms in your cheeks when you realize nearly everyone is watching the two of you, but Lucius feels no such shame. He grasps your hand in his and with a proud tilt of his jaw, tugs you forward. Lucilla smiles warmly as you approach and introduces the man at her side as her husband, General Acacius.

“I have heard so much about you from Lucius,” Acacius shares, watching you with a mix of admiration and curiosity. “You are all he would speak of these last few weeks.”

You dip your head, both embarrassed and oddly pleased by the thought of Lucius talking about you to others.

“I have grown fond of her as well,” Lucilla admits. You feel her light touch on your arm before she withdraws and shifts her attention to her son and husband. “I wish to hear everything that has transpired in Rome, but you are both in need of a bath. Go,” she commands lightly.

Acacius turns to his wife with an affectionate look. He rests his fist over his chest, bowing deeply. “As my lady commands.”

You smile at Lucius, squeezing his hand. "Go," you encourage him. "We must see to it that the men are taken care of. They will need food, water, and a place to rest."

Lucius glances at his mother, and then his gaze shifts back to you. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, surprise, perhaps, but he masks it quickly. He leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, the gesture laden with affection. Then, with a final glance, he turns to Acacius and follows the older man out of the room.

You watch them leave and then look at Lucilla. She meets your gaze and offers a subtle but approving nod. It’s a quiet gesture but with it, the weight of responsibility settles heavily upon your shoulders. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, before stepping forward and catching the attention of two servants nearby. Their eyes meet yours with attentive expectation as you give them clear instructions on how best to tend to the garrison of soldiers gathered in the courtyard.

Every detail must be accounted for. These are the men who helped Lucius free Rome and brought him home safely to you. They deserve your care and your respect. But more than that, you understand something deeper: how you treat them now will not be forgotten. These soldiers will remember how they were received — whether with kindness, attention, and dignity or with indifference — and they will speak of it when they leave here.

Caring for them is not simply fulfilling a duty. You are establishing a connection, a foundation of trust and goodwill that will extend beyond this moment.

–

You find Lucius in your room sometime later, seemingly lost in thought. He drinks deeply from a cup of wine, and you take a moment to study his profile, content to simply watch him. The soft glow of the hearth casts shadows across his face, blurring the sharp lines of his features. His hair and skin are still damp from the bath, and he wears nothing but a simple towel, cinched tightly around his waist. Though weary, he seems more relaxed than you can ever recall seeing him.

When he lowers his cup, his eyes meet yours. "How are the men?" he ask with a smile.

“They are being taken care of," you reply. “They deserve it after what they’ve done for you."

Lucius steps closer, his hands reaching to cup your face. The familiar warmth of his calloused palms is grounding, a silent comfort.

"You have done well," he says, his voice thick with gratitude. "I am proud of you."

In his gaze, you see more than just affection – there’s respect. You try to look away, overwhelmed, but he holds your eyes, unwilling to let you break the connection.

"I am doing what needs to be done," you reply quietly. "For Rome. For you."

“For Rome?” He questions. “Since when do you speak so fondly of her?”

“Since I have fallen in love with a Roman,” you confess.

A smile tugs at the corners of Lucius’s lips, his eyes softening as he looks at you. You reach up, drawn to the familiar comfort of his touch, and curl your fingers over his. But when you brush over the bare skin of his finger, you realize the ring he’s worn as long as you’ve known him is gone.

“Lucius,” you breathe. “Your ring…”

His eyes close and a tremor passes through his body, an echo of a long-buried pain. When his hands fall from your face you mourn the loss of his touch.

“I returned it to the sea,” he says roughly, as if the words themselves are heavy. “Where it ended.”

You stare at him, shocked.

“I do not need it any longer,” Lucius continues quietly, trying to ease the air between you. “I have avenged her.”

A quiet ache blooms inside you as you think of your own wedding band, the one taken from you when you were made a prisoner of Rome. You remember its weight and shape, your thumb often tracing the space where it used to sit as if it could somehow conjure it back. You wonder if it hadn't been stolen from you, if you could let it go as Lucius has done.

“I carry Arashat with me. In my blood, in my bones.” His eyes open then, startlingly blue and clear. “It is the same way your husband still lives inside you.”

Your lip trembles and you sway, your body caught in the pull of something too deep for words. Before you ever fell in love with Lucius, before his touch became something that soothed the ache inside you, you forged a connection through shared grief. You could not escape those you lost, no matter how many years passed. But neither of you would ever want to.

Lucius’s voice breaks through the silence, his words raw and vulnerable. “More than that, it felt wrong to still wear it,” he admits. “When I love you the way a husband should love his wife.”

Your lips part, the words unable to form as they twist inside you. "A wife?" you repeat. You're unsure whether they should be a question or an answer.

He smiles, his lips brushing over yours in the gentlest of kisses. “My wife,” he confirms. “If you will have me.”

A bubble of laughter escapes your chest and you push forward, capturing his lips with yours in a possessive, claiming kiss. For Lucilla to bestow that title upon you was one thing, but to hear it from Lucius —asking you to take it — feels like something you didn’t realize you were waiting for.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word barely escaping in the space between you. “Yes, I will have you.”

Lucius urges you toward the bed, his mouth devouring yours. You fall together into the soft sheets and the weight of him almost steals your breath, but he hardly seems to notice. He pulls at your dress, baring your shoulder to his hungry lips.

"I have dreamed of this every night," he breathes against your skin. "Your warmth. Your sweetness."

Need flares hotly in your belly and you aid Lucius in removing your clothes. When you are bare to him he gazes down at you, his teeth catching his lower lip in an almost unconscious gesture of desire. Those sharp eyes see all, cataloging the way you sigh and arch your back when his large hands cup your breasts. Even his tender touch feels overwhelming and it’s almost painful the way his roughened fingers tease the sensitive peaks of your nipples

You tremble when his hands sweep lower, ghosting over your stomach to frame your hips. The brief pressure of his touch is soothing and you exhale as he moves down your body, finally settling between your parted thighs. In the flickering light, you see a hunger in his eyes, something so consuming it wipes away the weariness that’s clung to him since he’s returned.

“I fought for Rome, but I fought for this too,” he admits. "You are far sweeter than any honey.”

His words twist your stomach pleasantly and your fingers brush an errant curl from his forehead.

“Lucius…”

“Yes, touch me,” he encourages, lowering his mouth to you.

You drag your nails gently over the back of his neck, tracing the curve of his scalp, and feel him shudder in response. His breath falls over your skin and you lift your hips. Scars old and new catch on your fingertips as your hands roam over his broad shoulders. There’s nothing hurried about Lucius’s touch, it’s a slow exploration of your body, something he was denied last time.

Each brush of his tongue sends a surge of warmth through you and you respond by threading your fingers through his hair and tugging him closer. You need more and he gives it to you, delving deeper, greedy, and desperate for your taste. Your heart beats faster as one finger and then another slips easily inside you. He curls them up and seals his mouth over the most sensitive part of you, applying a dizzying amount of pressure. As he drinks from you his fingers move like a wave, a rhythmic caress that draws you closer and closer to the inevitable edge.

“Please,” you gasp, drawing your knees towards your chest and riding his face with a desperation that would shame you were it not for the way Lucius responds with a needy groan. There’s a fleeting moment where it feels like the sensations he drags from your body are too much to contain, but then they overflow and you let out a desperate cry of relief.

Lucius does not relent until you push at his head. Then, he stares up at you, his mouth slightly parted, his face flushed. Your fingers have made a mess of his hair and his beard glistens with your arousal. He looks entirely too pleased with himself as he crawls up your body, pausing briefly to pull the towel from his waist.

“My wife, my wife,” he murmurs. “Mine.”

“My husband,” you whisper back, curling your leg over his hip as he sinks inside you, filling you completely.

A range of emotions flicker across his face — joy and pleasure, rapture and relief — each one passing like a fleeting wave, too intense to hold but impossible to ignore. You draw him close and his chest slides against yours. The air around you feels warm and heavy, thick with significance of the moment. Lucius’s labored breaths, slow and steady, fills the space, becoming the only rhythm that matters.

You stare into his blue eyes as you climb higher and higher together. There’s no need for words here, just him and the way he moves above you and inside you. He almost looks anguished as he strains and pants, pressing his forehead to yours. You hold him tightly, eyes sliding closed as something beautiful unfurls inside and everything goes quiet.

After, you remain entwined, bodies tangled, until the warmth of your skin cools and the cadence of your breath slows. Only then does Lucius pull away, and his absence creates a hollow ache that lingers. It only eases once he returns, drawing you close and wrapping his arm around your waist. He rests his head against your stomach, his gaze lifting to meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“I thought about this often,” he admits quietly. “Of seeing you. Holding you.” He pauses, and in the stillness of the moment, you can feel the weight of everything he’s been through, every battle, every loss, every moment of doubt. "There were so many times I thought this would not be my fate.”

The raw emotion in his voice makes your throat tighten, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It’s a feeling you’ve carried too, that you might never see him again.

“But you are here now, with me,” you remind him, resting your palm against his cheek. He sighs and you study his face. “Yet something troubles you.”

He shakes his head in denial, but the movement is half-hearted, a fleeting attempt to hide what he feels. Your fingers gently brush over the space between his brows, where the faintest line of worry has settled.

“This tells me otherwise,” you say with a knowing look.

He doesn’t say anything at first. His eyes search yours, as though he’s trying to find the words to explain what’s inside him.

“For so long I have been sustained by vengeance. It was always the next fight, the next battle, the next plan.” He closes his eyes and you can see the deep grooves time has etched into his face, the shadows of everything he's survived. “I did not let myself think about what would happen after all of this.”

“You rebuild Rome,” you tell him, the words simple but resolute.

His gaze doesn’t waver as he looks at you and he asks, “Is that what you want? Truly?”

“I want you. I want a life of peace and happiness,” you tell him, your fingers gently carding through his hair in a quiet reassurance. “Your grandfather’s dream would give that to me and so many others.”

“What else do you imagine in this life of ours?” he questions.

There’s a quiet intensity behind his question and he watches you closely, almost like he’s searching for something.

“What is it you imagine?” You ask.

"At times, I wondered..." he trails off, exhaling slowly, and turning his head so that his gaze drifts to the ceiling. The silence between you stretches and you watch the muscles of his throat work as he swallows hard. He seems to measure his words, as if what he’s about to say carries more significance than he’s ready to give voice to.

“I thought I might find you with child when I returned,” he whispers, the longing in his voice palpable.

With child. The phrase lingers in your mind, tugging at something just beyond your reach. A nagging thought, one you’ve pushed away too many times, starts to surface. But before you can grasp it, Lucius's next words pull you back.

“I imagined a little boy with your eyes…or a girl with your smile.” He continues, the corner of his mouth lifting wistfully to transform his face into something even more handsome. “Children that would have your kindness, your goodness.”

His confession is a painful one, unearthing a hope you buried so deep you almost forgot it existed. It was a dream you never let yourself entertain, because you knew, deep down, that if you planted that seed, nurtured it even for a moment, you’d never recover from its loss.

When Lucius looks back to you the question is clear in his eyes. Your answer comes before you can give it conscious thought.

“Yes,” you assure him. How could you not want a child with the same fierce tenderness that Lucius carries in his heart? Someone who would inherit the best of both of you.

Lucius rises from your lap and draws you into his embrace.

“The thought of your growing round with my child is a prospect I look forward to,” he admits, resting his hand on the soft flesh of your belly.

A jolt of something tightens in your lower abdomen at his touch, an unfamiliar flutter that gives you pause. And with it, the errant thought that had lingered at the edges of your mind, too fleeting to catch, comes rushing back into focus.

You think of the dull, almost cramping sensation you’ve been attributing to the coming of your menses. How it never quite felt right. Too mild, too inconsistent. And the waves of nausea and exhaustion that have plagued you over the past few weeks alongside the other subtle changes in your body, small things that you dismissed as stress and anxiety.

But now, as his hand lingers there, warm and steady against your skin, the truth unfurls in your mind, clear and undeniable.

You’re already pregnant.

Lucius senses the shift in your demeanor and his brow furrows in concern. "What is wrong?" he asks.

“I do not think you will have to wait long,” you whisper with a shaky exhale. “I-I…I’ve been feeling strange these last weeks. I thought it was stress but…”

Lucius’s finger flexes against your belly, his gaze briefly flickering to your hand where it rests over his. Then, his eyes return to your face, and his words come soft but certain. “You have not bled.”

You shake your head and the hope and joy that suffuses every part of your body is almost crushing in its intensity. You can't hold it back anymore. Tearful joy spills from your eyes, and a breathless laugh escapes you, fragile and free all at once.

“A child,” Lucius breathes.

The tender look of hope on his face and the love in his gaze is more beautiful than anything you could have imagined. His hand moves from your belly to cup your face, the touch so gentle it feels like something sacred. He pulls you into his arms, and for a long, perfect moment, you let yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace. His lips press softly against yours, so tender, almost reverent, as if this kiss is a quiet vow, a promise of everything to come.

When he pulls back, his forehead stays against yours, his breath mingling with yours. The love in his eyes is deep, unshakable and you know with certainty that this moment is not just the beginning of your child’s life, but the beginning of a life the two of you deserve. Together.

–

The chariot jolts, the rough motion throwing you off balance, but Lucius quickly steadies you with a firm hand on the small of your back. His touch seeps through the fabric of your white gown, grounding you as you lean into him instinctively. The chaos of the parade is overwhelming. Crowds line the street and the air buzzes with anticipation as the noise of their voices fills your ears. They chant your husband’s name, eager to see the savior of Rome.

Your fingers instinctively brush over the diadem resting delicately on your head. The unfamiliar weight of it pulls at your scalp. Despite the servants’ careful work in securing it to your hair, a small, irrational fear grips you: what if it slips off, and everyone sees you are not worthy of it all?

You were never meant to be in the spotlight like this but here you are, at the heart of it with Lucius beside you. He is poised and relaxed, lifting a hand to acknowledge the crowd. Behind you, Lucilla and Acacius ride in their own chariot, looking effortlessly graceful. Lucilla catches your eye, offering you an encouraging smile, and you return it.

As the chariot moves forward, your gaze drifts toward the Colosseum. It rises in the distance, dominating the skyline. You expect to feel something, fear or anger perhaps, but instead, there is nothing. The Colosseum, that life of struggle and survival, is no longer the centerpiece of your world. It is behind you and Palatine Hill rises before you, a symbol of your new home and life.

Hesitantly, your hand rises to offer a slow, deliberate wave to the crowd. The noise of their adoration intensifies and within the cries, you hear a shout of your own name and title mingled with Lucius’s. Hearing it sends a jolt through you. For a fleeting moment, the world seems to pause around you as the weight of everything settles in your chest. Like Caesar preparing to cross the Rubicon, you are standing on the precipice of something immense and there is no turning back. You can only move forward.

With that realization, you feel something shift deep within you, a quiet certainty taking root. It starts in your swollen belly, like the first spark of a fire, and spreads steadily outward, filling every part of you with a warmth you didn’t know you were missing. For the first time, you understand that you are not just here to fulfill Lucius’ dream and legacy. You are here for yourself and all those who once stood where you did — silent, powerless, nameless.

You came to Rome a slave, but now, you are so much more. You are a wife, a princess, and soon, a mother – empowered and loved. And for the first time, you find you are not afraid.

The future is open to you, waiting to be shaped, and you are prepared to meet it head-on.

♡

Also part of this series:

Ab Initio

Post tenebras lux

Protego te

My inbox is open for your thoughts on this story, requests for drabbles with Lucius and further scenes with Lucius and the Fisherman's Wife.

#lucius verus #lucius versus x reader #lucius verus x you #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #paul mescal #Lucius and the Fisherman's Wife

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