#NOT A HAPPY ENDING BUT REALLY HEARTFELT

[dreamerchildunofficial]

Frisk, opinions on us. The players.

* ...

* I... um...

* ...

* I really like you, Razoolio. You've always been kind and have helped to change the way I think about the Players and everything a lot.

* And I guess I like interacting with all of you who stay on anon too most of the time. Besides that one... incident, you have all been really helpful even if I can't tell if you're being that way because you're interested in "my story" more than you care about me as a person. I've always figured the former, but... it's an improvement than what I thought I was dealing with before.

* ...

* I still really hate the Player who played me. I don't know if I'll ever know who they are or get to meet them, but I simultaneously have daydreamed about yelling at them and telling them off and am too terrified of the prospect of coming face to face with them.

* And as for the concept of Players in general...

* I... am more comfortable I think with the idea that you are all people too like me, and some of you aren't so bad. I am still very deeply afraid of the kind of power you all can hold over me though.

[perilegs]

My first Durge, Urdath, was doing all of the heroic shit and offering to help anyone and everyone no matter what, but, helping was just something he did, he didn't really feel one way or another doing it and getting praised, it's just something he did. And he wasn't even slightly scared of his urge making him enjoy murder and bloodshed, he thought it was useful in what he's doing. He wasn't cruel i think, but he did enjoy intimidating people by saying vile things, and didn't blink at it. It was also just something he did. He didn't think there was anything wrong with it since there was no bloodshed involved. But finding out about his past, the innumerable innocents he's murdered, Alfira, he does truly grieve them, and he wanted to be rid of Bhaal so bad and he was overjoyed once it happened. He let the love of his life become illithid. He's so scary and full of grief, but also love, for everyone around him. He's better at saying it than showing it though.

My second Durge, Nøkk, was reluctant to help anyone, he just wanted to get this goddamn parasite out of HIS head, none of this shit was any of his business! Whereas Urdath was more like "I mean it's not doing anything rn, so..." But show Nøkk enough puppydog eyes and plead and he'll do the longest sigh you've ever heard and go "Fine. I'll see if there's something I can do while I'm dealing with other things in that area. No promises though." The praise he gets from helping does things to him, it feels. Good. He wouldn't show it though. Or maybe he would, if you paid close enough attention to the way the corner of his mouth is slightly turned and there's an aura of mild bashfulness about him. If you deal with him in other situations his words tend to be honeyed, he knows just how to flatter people, and manipulate them into getting what he wants, and he has such a well practiced facade to display, perfect amounts of wit and charm, he knows how to get an audience. He thinks it's necessary - safe, but he doesn't particularly enjoy doing it. He doesn't know any other way. He's so very scared of these violent urges he's having, but he would never admit how scared and how much of a coward he truly is. Or maybe he would, one day, to someone close to him. He's very emotionally constipated. Once he finds out about his past and the innumerable innocents he's murdered, he feels scared, more afraid than he's ever been. Like he's trapped and there's no way out and he's running out of air and his past is going to catch up with him any time now. He wants to be rid of Bhaal, but that's so scary, does he have the will to defy his father? It would be much easier to bend to his will as he's always done. There's safety in such power (and powerlessness). Nøkk is so very scared, full of fear, but also joy, he enjoys making people laugh and having them listen to him play his violin or tell his stories, there's so much love in him. He's better at showing it than saying anything though.

[mangooes]

The Great (Unnecessary) Divorce Incident (sylus x non mc!wife reader)

(Name) had seen many things in her life—assassinations, high-speed chases, and even Sylus smiling while he was about to kill someone. But nothing, absolutely nothing, had ever prepared her for what she saw today.

She had been out shopping, minding her own business, when she casually passed by a jewelry store. And there, through the crystal-clear glass, she saw her husband.

Sylus.

Laughing.

With Miss Hunter.

Not just any chuckle, either. A full, amused, joyful laugh.

She blinked.

There he was, leaning close, looking at a ring as Miss Hunter teased him. His crimson eyes crinkled with laughter, his white hair slightly tousled, his expression soft.

She had never seen him that happy in a store before.

And that’s when it hit her.

Sylus must love Miss Hunter.

And honestly?

She thought it was hilarious.

Oh, what a plot twist! I fought off bounty hunters for this man, and now he falls for my best friend?

She didn’t even feel heartbroken. The absurdity of the situation was just too much.

Smirking to herself, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Time to give Sylus what he wanted after all, his freedom.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Name) wasn’t a petty woman.

Okay, maybe she was a little bit petty.

But she wasn’t cruel! If Sylus really loved Miss Hunter, who was she to stand in his way?

And so, being the incredibly mature person she was, she went home and got right to work.

Step 1: She wrote a heartfelt goodbye letter, kinda-

It went something like this:

To my dearest, soon-to-be-ex-husband, First of all, I want you to know I am not mad. If anything, I find this situation absolutely hilarious. You spent so much time chasing after me, and now look at you! Falling for my best friend! Life sure is funny, huh? Don’t worry, though. I won’t make this hard for you. I’ve signed the divorce papers and packed my bags. Be happy with Miss Hunter. Oh, and don’t forget to feed Staryus our little husky boy. He likes his meals warm, not cold. Unlike your now ex-wife. Yours formerly, (Name)

Step 2: She placed all the divorce documents on Sylus’s desk in a neat stack, right in the center.

Step 3: She packed her bags.

Or at least, she tried to.

Because the moment Luke and Kieran saw what she was doing, all hell broke loose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luke and Kieran stood at the doorway, arms spread wide, blocking the exit.

"Missus," Luke started, voice filled with pure panic. "I beg you. Think this through."

Kieran nodded furiously. "Boss is going to kill us if we let you leave!"

She sighed dramatically, shouldering her bag. "Boys, boys. No need to be so emotional. Sylus has moved on. He loves Miss Hunter now."

Luke stared at her. "What."

Kieran blinked. "What."

(Name) waved a hand. "Saw them laughing and picking out a ring together. He was so happy. It’s okay, I understand." She patted their shoulders. "You’ll take care of him for me, right?"

Luke looked horrified. "Missus, I think you need to sit down."

Kieran grabbed her arm. "I think you need a doctor."

She wiggled free. "Oh, hush. No need to be dramatic. Now, if you’ll excuse me—"

Luke and Kieran threw themselves in front of the door again.

"Missus, we physically cannot let you leave," Luke said, near tears.

"You can try," (Name) said sweetly.

And then she grabbed the nearest frying pan.

Luke and Kieran gasped.

"You wouldn’t," Kieran whispered.

She smirked.

"Sorry boys. Move, or I swear on Sylus’s secret hoard stash, I will—"

She swung.

And that’s how Luke and Kieran ended up dodging for their lives as (Name) escaped out the front door.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sylus walked into his office, excited to finally surprise his wife.

After all, today was the day he had picked the perfect ring.

Miss Hunter had helped him choose something, as (Name)'s best friend, she knew her more than anyone else. Something elegant yet bold, something that screamed (Name). The entire reason he had been laughing so much in the store was because they had been joking about how dramatic his wife would be when she saw it.

But as soon as he stepped inside—

Luke and Kieran stood rigid, pale, and sweating bullets.

Sylus raised a brow. “What’s with the faces?”

Then he noticed the stack of papers on his desk.

His crimson eyes darkened as he strode over, picking up the neatly folded letter on top.

He read it.

Silence.

Miss Hunter, reading over his shoulder, choked.

“Oh my god.”

Luke and Kieran took a step back.

Then—

His evol errupted

The entire stack of divorce papers disintegrated into red and black mists.

Sylus exhaled slowly, eyes flickering red with rage.

Mephisto landed on his shoulder. Cawing, ready to be deployed.

Sylus’s jaw ticked. “Find her.”

Luke and Kieran saluted. “We’re on it, boss!”

Miss Hunter was already on the phone. “Tara, I need you to do a favor for me, track (Name)’s movements. Now.”

Sylus didn’t wait.

He grabbed his jacket, his keys, and walked straight to his bike.

As the engine roared to life, his gaze was deadly.

'My wife is NOT leaving me over a STUPID misunderstanding.'

And with that—

He sped off to bring his ridiculous stubborn wife home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile (Name) was settling down in her favourite spot in the N109 Zone. It was their favourite place to visit, (Name)'s favourite coffee shop, stepping in the cafe brought her memories of the amount of time she spent with her ex-husband.

As she order her usual without a partner this time, she sat near the window, sipping her coffee, waiting for her ride to the train station to move out.

'Did i went too far..?...what if Sylus had not care at all?'

She did what she had to do, shaking her head to get rid of her negative thoughts, she smiled to herself. Imagining how she might plan her life in the future even without the man she loves.

When a familiar engine roar made her pause.

She turned her head.

A black sleek sports bike skidded to a stop.

And there he was.

Sylus.

Looking absolutely livid.

She blinked. "Oh."

Before she could even think of escaping, Sylus stalked into the cafe, crimson eyes burning with rage and disbelief.

“(Name).”

“…Hi, Hus- oh i mean Sylus,” she greeted casually, sipping her drink.

Sylus closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if mentally restraining himself.

“Explain,” he said slowly, “why I came home to divorce papers.”

She raised a brow. “Uh, because you love Miss Hunter now? Duh.”

Sylus’s eye twitched.

“Sweetie.” He leaned down, placing a hand on the table, trapping her in place. “Do you know what Miss Hunter and I were doing at that store?”

She smirked, wiggling her eyebrows as if challenging him. “Buying a ring for your new woman?”

Sylus’s eye twitched. Then, without a word, he pulled out the ring box, popped it open, and held it in front of her face.

Inside sat a gorgeous, carefully chosen crimson ruby ring.

For her.

She stared.

“…Wait.”

"This is your ring, sweetie. Did you think i would let you go so easily?" Sylus deadpanned.

She blinked. Looked at the ring. Then at Sylus. Then back at the ring.

"...Oh."

Sylus groaned, dragging a hand down his face, he laughs about the absurd situation in front of him right now.

Then he gently carried her, threw her over his shoulder, and walked out.

"SYLUS—"

"Less talking now, kitten. We’re going home."

People in the café watched in amusement as a laughing kicking (Name), like a misbehaving kitten was carried off by her furious husband.

“SYLUS, PUT ME DOWN!” she shrieked, smacking his back.

He did not.

Instead, he adjusted his grip on her thighs, completely ignoring the stares of the café patrons. Some people gasped. Others whispered. A few even took out their phones to record the absolute spectacle of a very powerful-looking white-haired man casually kidnapping his wife.

She huffed. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Sylus snorted. “Oh, I’m embarrassing you? Sweetie you were about to divorce me."

"Then how was I supposed to think when i saw you like that huh?!?!"

Sylus stopped walking. Then, in one fluid motion, he pulled her from his shoulder, flipped her around, and held her in his arms bridal-style instead.

He leaned in, voice dangerously low.

“And you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers, “could’ve not written a divorce letter without talking to me first.”

(Name)’s breath hitched.

Damn it.

He always did this—turning the tables at the last second, making her stomach flip, making her feel stupidly in love even after she just tried to end their marriage.

“...Sorry,” she admitted.

Sylus smirked, kissing her temples. “Good girl.”

She immediately scowled.

And then bit his hand.

"Ouch—!"

Miss Hunter’s call came through Sylus’s earpiece.

“Did you find her?”

“Oh, I found her, a stray kitten waiting for its owner to pick up.” Sylus said dryly, tapping her thigh in warning as she kept wiggling.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moment Sylus stepped through the door, still carrying his wife (despite her multiple attempts to be put down), Luke and Kieran visibly sighed in relief.

“Missus! You’re alive!” Luke practically cried.

Kieran clutched his heart. “Boss, thank god. We thought you were gonna start a war or something—”

Sylus glared. “Don’t tempt me.”

Both men immediately straightened up.

Meanwhile, Miss Hunter stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a deeply exasperated expression.

“So,” she drawled, “you wrote an entire goodbye letter just because you thought Sylus loved me?”

(Name) crossed her arms. “In my defense, you were laughing together. It looked suspicious.”

Miss Hunter rolled her eyes. “We were laughing about you, (Name).”

She winced.

Right.

“…Oops?”

Sylus sealed his promise to never let his wife go with a kiss on the lips. "You're lucky I love you."

Miss Hunter sighed. "She really is."

Luke and Kieran nodded solemnly.

Sylus sighed. “I swear, next time you pull something like this, I’m chaining you to our bed.”

She perked up.

“Oh?” she teased, smirking. “Kinky.”

Sylus groaned, amused.

Miss Hunter facepalmed.

Luke and Kieran? Died laughing.

Just another normal day in the Onychinus household, well maybe not so normal afterall.

I can't write angst so i write comedy instead haha- anyways i hope this is not too ooc for sylus but this scenario just came up to my head last night and i had to write it

[lady-of-endless]

"Veiled Intentions" (Hwang In-ho/Player 001/Front man x player!reader)

Summary: No game of cat and mouse ends well.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who voted for this fic to be done first. I'm happy to provide. He might be a little obsessive, but you should've expected it by now. Don't worry; I got a softer, heartfelt, and angsty fic on the go for tomorrow. Hope you'll enjoy this one until then, darlings!

(Squid Game masterlist here)

Whenever he flashed a smile to the team, no one noticed how the coldness of his eyes was somehow still persistent. The charm of his smile always eclipsed that detail. It was enough to successfully manipulate most players, except for you. The only one who seemed to see the bigger picture was you and he could sense it. No amount of calculated smooth-talking, apparent encouragement, or fake short smiles could trick you too.

The others seemed to accept him easily, either for the calmness that made him seem reliable or for the vital need to have more people with the same vote. Not you, and it was clear to him.

In-ho had a plan going on; he had no intention of wasting time and trying harder to trick you too, letting you do your silent judging. But still, you were slowly becoming more and more present in his mind. You weren't warming up to him, weren't impressed like the others. Why not? More importantly, why did he like it that way? You were smarter and he enjoyed watching you analyzing everyone around, including him. Yes, you were a problem for him, but he was almost proud of having such a fascinating problem to take care of.

In-ho was too good at looking relieved, and joyful whenever the other players from player 456's team made it during the games. You noticed a strange spark in his eyes whenever you also completed the games. Was he really relieved or just glad that with each game he was getting closer to taking care of you personally?

Even now, he was watching you silently when the speakers announced bedtime. You all remembered what was the plan Gi-hun came up with to stay safe and looked around for a lonely bed bunk. Your constant doubt pushed you to come up with a plan to figure him out and now it was the perfect time to strike.

In-ho was ready to make a strategic choice when your voice interrupted his thoughts again.

"Join me?" You asked bluntly, with a warm smile on your face. A fake smile, a reflection of his. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow at your proposal. "For bonding time, getting along." You added, encouragingly, almost playfully, not to stir suspicion in others.

All the other teammates noticed how you kept your distance from him and were glad to see you try to get along.

In-ho almost wanted to chuckle at your reasoning but his expression remained composed. He could tell that you were trying to convince him with your charm and that you only played a role. And he was doing the same.

"Lead the way then." In-ho responded calmly, as always.

In-ho had a small, almost imperceptible smirk on his face the whole time following you, and his eyes were glued to the nape of your neck. How could he ignore you?

You crawled carefully under a bed that was placed closer to a corner no one else chose. A shiver ran down your spine when he joined you effortlessly, making almost no sound at all. The lights dimmed. However, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the space from under the beds was not enough for two. Both of you were lying down on your backs, staring at the bed from above. His shoulder was pressed against yours, the feeling was impossible to push aside.

You closed your eyes tightly, cursing the tight space and sighing deeply. Why didn't you think this through? In-ho was amused by your frustration and how your body tensed next to his.

"You seemed so sure about this." He teased with a mocking tone he didn't even try to hide.

The way his voice sounded so intimate in the dark and how his warmth surrounded you, were making it hard to stick to the plan. You grew a little hotter under your clothes but you had to go for it. You took a breath in and spoke in a whisper.

"I can see right through your tactics." You said bluntly, still looking at the bed from above to avoid his gaze, knowing how intense it gets sometimes. You were almost proud of the sternness of your tone. "What are your intentions?"

He didn't respond right away, taking time to just look at your expression. In-ho was a meticulous man, he was expecting that question sooner or later from you.

"Wasn't I clear from the start?" In-ho asked calmly, almost innocently, switching his position to lay on his stomach and elbows, never losing sight of you. That position forced you to look up at him, exactly the way he liked it. He was getting too comfortable for someone who was cornered. Seeing how there was no sign of panic or surprise on his face, the previous boost of confidence was starting to slowly diminish in you.

"I think we both know what I mean." You added coldly, letting him know you've had enough of his games. He could feel your patience running thin and he was enjoying it.

Your assumption was true; you were so close to figuring it out but, at the same time, so far away, so clueless about what he really wanted, what he really was capable of. It gave him the freedom of acting anyways he wanted for a little bit.

"Indeed." He said, seeing an opening and moving a hand to the opposite side of your face on the floor, making it look like he was just supporting himself and not caging you. "And that's because you're playing the same games, don't you agree?" He asked smoothly. He watched as you rolled your eyes and looked away to hide your real reaction, taking you longer to respond. In-ho didn't insist, wanting to take his time exposing you bit by bit. When you turned your head back at him to answer, your heart halted, words dying. Your eyes met intimately, his face was even closer than expected.

"It won't work with me." His breath touched your lips. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear to see your face better. He frowned when he caught himself giving in to his instincts, his fingertips caressing your cheek and stopping on your lower lip without thinking.

"But your tries were..." He added, applying pressure on your sensitive skin and moving his lips even closer to yours slowly. "Entertaining, to say the least."

In-ho watched your expression closely, observing the details of your face in the dark. He couldn't get enough that moment but his face didn't betray any sign of the greed that was coursing through him. So he didn't stop there, using the momentum of your shock.

"Was it fun?" He asked, mercilessly but blissfully tormenting and playing you. "To feel like you had the upper hand?" He whispered while his hand descended to the base of your neck.

In-ho looked at your parted lips again, waiting for your answer and not moving away. There was a storm of conflicted thoughts in your mind and the warmth of his palm on your pulse point was not helping you find a good answer in time.

"Answer me." His grip tightened slightly, his tone smooth yet demanding. "And look at me, darling"

You looked up at him and nodded, admitting silently. Finally, you understood what you got yourself into and felt more than exposed. It was frustrating how easily he switched the roles from being the one interrogated to the one asking whatever he wanted.

You shivered at the sight of his subtle smirk. It was nothing like the bright fake smile he offered to the team. One corner of his lips curled upwards while the rest of his expression remained composed. His eyes glinted with icy, calculated sharpness. Finally, you could see him, whoever he was, and not the simple player 001.

In-ho was studying her, thinking about how you weren't aware of the effect you had on him from how well he was concealing it. Still, none of your questions were answered.

"What are you going to-"

"Hush." He murmured against your lips, cutting your words. "Don't wake the others."

In-ho slowly traced your collarbones through the thin material of the shirt with your player number and placed his whole palm on your chest over your racing heart. He paused, just to feel your heart, taking credit for its hectic beating. The silence that surrounded you was not helping either, you could hear every breath, every move, enhancing the intimate feeling so much you had to remind yourself that you were still in the middle of a sick challenge with daily deadly games.

He looked back into your eyes and spoke softly, seeing your inner conflict, wanting to distract you from it. "I've caught you staring at me so many times."

"I was just spacing out." You whispered, not hesitating this time but still telling him another lie.

Even the always calm, rarely out of character In-ho chuckled at that. It was a pleasant, unfiltered but still strange sound.

"Liar." He said while caressing your hair again but making sure to tug gently at the roots as a warning. "You had so many opportunities to push me away since we got under here." He whispered, almost tenderly, meaning it. His eyes were not locked on yours. Was it because he was letting himself think out loud? "But you don't want to do that..." He added, pausing his touches, giving you time to object. But the truth was that your denial ended with him calling you 'darling'. That waited objection never came and In-ho understood.

With that, he allowed himself to take what he wanted. He thought to himself that it was inevitable. His lips found yours with an unexpected gentleness despite his restrained hunger. The hellhole you were trapped in seemed to fade away with the way his lips explored yours. His fingers tightened possessively against your skin as the kiss deepened. His warmth was embracing you blissfully but his tongue was making you dizzy with each breath he was stealing from you.

After what felt like time, bending to his will, In-ho broke the kiss slowly. Even if you didn't say a word, he still covered your lips with his finger for a moment.

"I'm expecting you to still be smart about this and keep it private." He spoke in your ear, an expectation or a warning. "Do that and you'll be safe no matter what."

What you couldn't understand was that this was a hidden promise. If you kept whatever he gave you a secret for yourself, he would pull all the strings to get you alone with him, away from that game.

[dollyichi]

DREAM-LIKE

todoroki shouto x f ! reader ᯓ★ m—dni. 1.1k words. established relationship / somno (initially) / morning wood / unprotected / in the morning <3 / not proofread

an entry to my “ milk and cookies “ event with the prompts #1 “i had a very nice dream that started off just like this.” & #19 “did you just get bigger from that?” requested by an anon!

you never the one to take initiative. it was always your boyfriend who suddenly grabs you by the waist, under your shirt no less, and whispers that he wants to do it.

but it’s inevitable that when you’re apart, you end up being in the mood. which could be a quick fix to tell him to come over and jump you, but it wasn’t necessarily your style.

you knew it’s your own personality getting in the way. it felt hard to voice out to him. not necessarily because you’re intimidated by him, it’s mainly because cause your man literally has such a high sex drive that it’s scary—plus, you just didn’t know how to make it less embarrassing when he teases you even when it’s never on purpose.

besides, between the two of you, he was the sweeter and more affectionate one. very frank and straight o the point that leaves you in a puddle of emotions that you try to push through—exactly how he confessed to you. quick, easy, and heartfelt that definitely felt like a train wreck.

you think of the times whenever he initiated. somehow it was like second nature to him. that man has no shame and you shouldn’t as well as no one could be as shameless as shouto, but it’s still a bit hard.

you come up with a plan, you stay over at his place and in the morning you pray for morning wood to come and use it as a practice to start. it’s funny how you’re treating this like a mission of your own, infiltrating your opponent at their most ‘vulnerable.’ still, you already know he’d be into this.

to you, your shouto is a lot of things, but he is especially a pervert.

when you finally wake up, you see him in such a sweet state. lying fully on his back with his mouth slightly open. completely asleep with his arm on your back where you leaned on last night.

quietly, you pull away on the thick comforter and see his bulge underneath the pj’s that you matched with. immediately straddling his waist. he twitches slightly but continues to snore.

“hmm…” you’re pressing your clothed cunt against him. “h-hah…” you just wished he wakes up already so he could fuck you as soon as possible.

you grind harder, having your clit rub against the fabric. biting your bottom lip while you humped on him. it’s so thin you could almost feel the veins on his dick.

he fucked you so well last night your panties were soiled to no return. which was exactly what was happening to your pajamas, getting damp every time you moved.

“mmh…” shouto flutters his eyes open, getting such a nice view of you with your half-lidded eyes. “good morning.” he greets, already sitting up. you get startled for a bit already shy that you were so into it that you didn’t notice he was already awake.

“i’m really happy you waited for me to wake up.” he smiles, leaning on his elbows to get a better view.

“you were hard.” you stay with a little firmness. pushing him back down on the bed so his head rests on the soft pillows. he’s looking at you too intensely for someone who just woke up.

he chuckles in defeat, trying to get a better angle to see you a bit better. “that’s nice of you to help me out.”

“it’s not like i could shake you awake.

“no i need you to shake me next time.” he was dead serious too, typical shouto.

he pulls down the garter from your pajamas, exposing your cunt that’s already building up slick. “no panties?” he says as if so amused. you click you tongue, “you literally ruined them last night.” you motion your head towards the laundry bag hanging by the door. he chuckles, cupping your face, “ah i remember. i did a pretty good job.” he discards your pajamas and throws them on the floor in a swift motion.

you roll your eyes at him, already feeling the warmth that’s crept up to the apples of your cheeks.

“you know, i had a very nice dream that started off just like this.” he admits, sitting up to kiss you. you pull him closer. which definitely explained his hard on earlier. “you were so adorable in it too.”

“you were on top of me just like this, feeling so good riding me.” and he went on and on while he kissed your neck. telling you about his naughty and very graphic dream that’s even getting you a little breathless. “y-you’re such a damn perv.”

you yelp when you feel two of his fingers already curling up inside you. “so wet it slid right in, must feel nice.” he comments.

your shake your hips slightly, you needed more though. today you wanted to be greedy, and whatever consequence you have to endure (which is him definitely teasing you after) will be dealt with later on. you just needed him while the sun is prettily shining on his face.

“i don’t need that just put it in.”

“so greedy and impatient.” his tone is so coy, which pissed you off a little.

“h-hah… just greedy today.” he smiles to himself when you didn’t deny the impatient part. you’re such a mess that when you answer with your typical rebuttals it didn’t feel snarky at all, it just confirmed how cuter you get everyday for him.

“that’s okay baby just use me.” he says so soothingly.

shouto positions his tip at your entrance, and you waste no time by moving your hips to get him to bottom out. you’re already moaning at how perfect he fit right in. even when he gets to hold you, it always felt like the first time. he even felt getting weak at his own finger tips.

“mmph! fuck… y-you’re so big shou.” you ride him while he hands rested on your hips. his brows furrowed while you pick your movements. his mind is still trying to wake up, feeling your pussy clench down felt really dangerous. he’s just so sensitive right now.

you let out a breathy moan, feeling every inch of his cock that’s stretching you out. using him to hit your sweetest spots. sometimes it felt too good that you end up rambling away about how he makes you feel good, verbally expressing everything that goes in that pretty head of yours.

shouto gets weaker and weaker when you’re so honest like this, only finally waking up when you whispered under his ear a small, “i love you.” already in such a trance from bouncing on his dick. he hisses, cock twitching and getting harder from your affection.

you felt him hitting deeper inside you, “d-did you just get bigger from that?!”

he grunts, this time bucking his hips upwards meeting yours. seeing how your tits bounced up and down whining above him makes his cock ache. he wants to cum so bad. “you definitely have to wake me up like this from now on.”

“like h-hell i would! in your fucking dreams!”

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : in my head i thought reader to be a little bit rough and snarky to contrast a very sweet and patient shouto

[jenscx]

PLEASE LOOK AT ME ! — yu jimin

jimin has problems in life that can only be solved by your attention (screw her for loving her girlfriend)!

tags fluff, established relationship, college au, ex-playgirl!jimin, return of jimmy (yum!), jealousy, gawd i love down bad jimin, waiter waiter more yuri please!

wordcount 2.6k

🎙️ author’s note: happy rina day!!! hopefully this jiminful fic can make up for my rather long absence! heh sorry it’s rushed and short :// im kinda running out of ideas… title is from qwer’s t.b.h (pls go listen!) lab my league of legends girls (proud scuttle btw)

so jimin has a problem. a big, no, huge one. ginormous even. she doesn’t have many problems in life. her family takes care of her well, her friends are all very caring and she even has a loving girlfriend who she would do anything for.

and that’s where her problem starts— from her wonderful, gorgeous girlfriend. they’ve been dating for about a month or so, meaning they’re relatively new to this dating thing. before you even started dating, you were friends. jimin met you through another mutual friend and was stuck longing for your attention before she finally tried to ask you out.

her first confession left her rejected. jimin still pouts sometimes when she remembers it. after the words had left her mouth, you merely stared at her and asked if she was serious. when she said yes, you walked away! fortunately, jimin was already head over heels by then. if anyone else pulled that shit on her, she would have killed them and then herself. but anyway, long story short, you rejected her just because of her… generous past.

jimin wasn’t exactly the most stellar person when it came to dating and she definitely had her fair share of flings that ended up going nowhere. it wasn’t as if she slept around, she just had fun! fun that eventually resulted in a lot of people hating her guts but jimin didn’t do anything wrong. they came to her with unrealistic expectations and when she couldn’t provide that, they threw tantrums. and it just so happened that one of her unfortunate flings was in contact with you. group mates or whatever, jimin didn’t really care.

she only cared when that particular person started telling you not to accept her heartfelt confession! that was a crisis! after she found out, jimin immediately orchestrated a plan to change your mind. it started with bouquets of flowers that she watched you throw into the trash every time. then, it evolved into sweet notes she left on your desk and slipped in your bag (she never got a reply). and finally, after much effort, she got your number.

not directly from you of course. her best friend got it for her. jimin was a little peeved at how easily aeri managed to nab your number but whatever. it was for a greater cause (becoming your one true love!)

eventually, your walls fell. and jimin got a girlfriend. yahoo! everything was perfect the moment you officially started dating. the first date ended with jimin walking you home and you rewarding her chivalry with a kiss on the cheek. the second date went even better since jimin brought you to an aquarium. she managed to see her favourite fish and stare at a pretty girl. the third date, you had planned and hence, was already perfect in jimin’s books.

but now, she’s facing the worst days of her life. okay, she’s exaggerating. after one month of dating, you made the executive decision to introduce her to your friends. at first, jimin was excited. she had already met your parents (long story short, she somehow ended up at your house, in your bed, and met them when they abruptly came into your room) and that went splendid. they love her. but meeting your friends? that’s a whole different ballpark and jimin’s never been very good at sports.

in fact, she even tried to sign up for basketball after hearing that you were interested in becoming an assistant manager for the team. jimin had thought she was relatively tall, not to brag or anything, and she had long limbs. perfect for basketball, right? well, no. the moment you stepped into the court, jimin got smacked in the face by the ball and it hurt. she might have cried a little too.

anyway, everything worked out in the end since you brought her to the infirmary, chiding her cutely about the safety risks involved in contact sports. (not that her injury was caused by contact from others but jimin didn’t bother correcting you).

she’s just lucky that despite her lack of strength, she has a great personality and a handsome face. both suitable for wooing pretty girls. jimin tried going to the gym once and she succeeded in continuing for a few weeks. you would have to waterboard this out of her but truthfully speaking, jimin did not even graze the workout equipment there. she only visited the gym because for some reason, there was a fat orange cat that frequented it as well.

anyway, apparently your friends are very protective of you, meaning if jimin does one thing wrong, they might show up to her house bearing gifts. gifts of doom! jimin thinks she saw that once on tiktok. probably something you sent her.

sometimes you bomb her phone with videos that she has to spend at least ten minutes watching so that she can give her input. jimin loves the fact that she’s the one you think of when watching these silly little tiktoks. most of them are just memes of having a loser girlfriend (she doesn’t take offense, she wears that title like a fucking medal of valour).

occasionally though, there’s those sweet appreciation videos that make her heart soar. jimin just likes you so much. she doesn’t care if you’ve only been dating for a month and it’s too early for her to say but in her heart, you’re practically married.

jimin’s spent one too many nights thinking about white wedding gowns. she would never admit that though.

she sidetracked again. after much stalking by aeri, jimin found out that your friends weren’t particularly fond of her previous lifestyle either. bummer. but that doesn’t matter right? she’ll just charm the pants off your friends with her awesome personality! (not that she wants to see them without pants…)

“jimin-ah, stop rubbing your eyes.” jimin instantly drops her offending hands from her face, swiftly placing them obediently onto her lap. you chuckle, amused at how docile the former playgirl had become.

“you’re gonna mess up your makeup,” you sigh, brushing her cheeks gently with your fingers, “don’t you wanna look pretty for my friends?”

pouting, jimin whines, “only wanna look pretty for you.”

her response brings out another hearty laugh from you. jimin wiggles her feet, ashamed at her own compliance.

“you’re always pretty. the prettiest.”

jimin immediately swallows the giggle from escaping. god, what has she become? this is downright humiliating. jimin says, “we’re gonna be late.” by doing so, she’s choosing ignorance and denial over whatever the hell just happened. damn, she’s a lost cause.

she smoothly slides her hand into yours, grinning at the small smile on your face as you make your way to your car. like a true gentleman, jimin opens the driver’s door for you (just because she doesn’t know how to drive doesn’t mean that she has to be a passenger princess!).

when you reward her with a gleaming smile, jimin’s chest blooms with happiness. she spends most of the ride humming to your playlist and sneaking small glances at you. sometimes she gets caught but it doesn’t matter! jimin isn’t ashamed of staring! that’s her girlfriend!

you do tell her to stop, breaking her poor little heart. but jimin can’t really complain because you were getting too flustered and distracted. she wants to live for the foreseeable future and not risk a car crash, so she stops momentarily. that doesn’t mean she stops holding your hand though.

five minutes away from the restaurant, jimin fusses over her stupid flannel. she regrets wearing this whole outfit now. next to you, she probably looks like a silly loser with her baseball cap. while you were dressed like a deity, she was ten seconds away from asking her big sister if she had games on her phone.

“jimin, calm down,” you finally say after jimin unbuttons her flannel for the third time, “you’ll be fine. my friends will like you.”

will they? jimin doesn’t think so.

“you’re fine,” you repeat, folding jimin’s collar neatly when you stop at a red light.

jimin chuckles. heh.

“i’m fine?” she grins sleazily at which you roll your eyes at.

“i’ll leave you to fend for yourself when my friends interrogate you.”

nooooooo!

“that’s mean! you wouldn’t do that to your awesome girlfriend, would you?” jimin exclaims, distraught. you send her a playful glare before bursting into laughter.

“you’re silly.”

jimin shifts in her seat, nerves adequately relieved by the time you park the car. she doesn’t think about her sweaty palms or her parched throat until she’s three metres away from your friends.

“oh my god— y/n, they’re there— i can’t do this!” jimin whispers harshly, only to your amusement. jimin wants to bolt out of the restaurant now before your friends realise she’s there.

“jimin, if you walk out right now, i’m going to ignore you for a month,” you hiss, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back to your side.

one month?! without your attention?! jimin might as well die. with repercussions in place, jimin obediently follows you to the table despite her hesitance. after some awkward greetings, jimin sits down in the empty booth next to you.

“so, this is my girlfriend,” you start, gently nudging jimin forward. her throat tightens up and she wills herself to not stammer through her introduction.

“hi, i’m jimin.”

“nice to meet you, jimin. we’ve heard… a lot about you.” jimin gulps, cheeks heating up. she doesn’t say anything in return, choosing to stay silent than to embarrass herself further.

she roughly knows your friends’ names; minjeong and yizhuo. you had given her some background information beforehand, how minjeong takes part in math olympiad while yizhuo does cheer.

“have you guys ordered anything yet?” you ask, cutting through the tension.

jimin’s stomach growls at the mention of food. thankfully, both you and your friends are too engrossed with looking through the menu to notice her hunger.

“ooh, they have cheesy fries!”

“jimin, do you want anything?” you ask her.

“i’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

minjeong and yizhuo soon bombard her with questions. was she taking care of you? how many dates have you guys been on? what’s her salary like at her new part-time job? does uchinaga aeri need a girlfriend— that last one, asked by yizhuo. jimin takes note of her interest and makes a mental reminder to inform aeri at a later date. eventually, they stop asking questions and instead start catching up.

she shrinks back into her shoulders, eyes darting around as everyone but her talks. jimin doesn’t feel the need to interrupt at all while you catch up. it’s been a few days since you’ve last seen them (courtesy of jimin) and she would feel like an overbearing, possessive girlfriend if she inserted herself into your conversation.

despite her silence, jimin is still enjoying her time with your friends. she listens intently to the stories they tell and the complaints they have. she does have some gripes, however.

you haven’t looked at her once after sitting down!

jimin likes to think that she’s independent and self-sufficient but she still has her needs! she silently broods and watches you talk to your friends. occasionally, minjeong and yizhuo do spare her a glance and ask her questions but you barely even pay attention to her! and she���s your girlfriend!

someway throughout your conversation, jimin starts to doze off. but an offhand mention about your previous situationship has her straightening up immediately.

“chaeryeong mentioned about getting coffee someday, but like, ugh, i don’t think it’s a good idea?” you grimace while minjeong and yizhuo nod. jimin narrows her eyes.

“what’s she doing back in town? didn’t she go overseas for that dance scholarship?” minjeong asks, shoving another spoon down her throat. you shrug, “she posted on instagram a few days ago— how she’s home or whatever.”

jimin groans internally. dance scholarship? she didn’t know your ex went out of the country because she was good at moving her limbs! she barely knew anything about this chaeryeong girl! (jimin couldn’t bring herself to ask you anything— she would rather eat dirt than spend her time talking about your ex when she could very well be doing something better. like cuddling!)

“imagine she wants to get back with you,” yizhuo snorts. jimin’s heart jumps and she nearly flies out of her seat to tackle yizhuo for even suggesting such a thing. you glance at jimin knowingly, who’s just shaking in the corner like an angry chihuahua.

“well, that’s stupid,” minjeong scoffs, “doesn’t she still follow you on instagram? you post jimin on your story almost every day. i nearly blocked you.”

the weight on jimin’s shoulders lessens significantly. take that, chaeryeong!

“hm, i’ll see. maybe i’ll text her later.”

jimin pouts. she’s already spent a day without your attention (it was just an hour) and now she’ll have to watch you text your ex?! and it’s not to tell her to fuck off?!

“anyway, i gotta go. i have a presentation tomorrow and my group mates might as well be dead,” yizhuo sighs.

minjeong nods in agreement, “i’m gonna go too. jimin’s cool and i love you, y/n, but i don’t really wanna third wheel you two.”

jimin shoots a thumbs up. waving goodbye to your friends, she can finally heave a sigh of relief when they leave the door. you turn to her, amused.

“ready to go?”

she nods enthusiastically in response and basically bolts from her seat to go pay the bill. when bills are paid and tummies are full, jimin lets herself be pulled towards your car. she likes your friends but she still likes her alone time with you the most. jimin can barely contain her excitement, especially now that she can have your attention all to herself.

jimin leans her head against the window, resting her eyes. it’s only when you speak, then her eyelids flutter open.

“should i text chaeryeong? would you be okay with that?” you ask hesitantly. jimin nibbles her bottom lip in consideration.

“if you want…” her voice trails off. after a month of dating jimin, you were pretty well-versed with her habits.

“you don’t sound like you enjoy the idea.”

jimin purses her lips and stares out the window.

“i can’t control your life… i don’t like it though.” jimin doesn’t want to become that possessive and jealous girlfriend! even if she does have that ugly green monster wrenching her heart every time she thinks of you spending time with someone else.

after a few seconds of silence, jimin shrinks in her seat. your stillness makes her nervous and she resorts to tapping her foot in order to quell her anxiety.

“jiminie, don’t sulk, okay? i won’t text chaeryeong or meet up with her if you don’t like it,” you grasp her hand gently.

jimin instantly brightens up. her previous teary eyes morph into wide, surprised ones.

“seriously?! but— ah, if you want… you can… i’m not stopping you!”

shaking your head, you reply, “what i want is for you to be happy and comfortable. i’d rather see you smile than see chaeryeong at all.”

jimin swallows the choked sob from escaping. man, how did she get so lucky? she just stares at you gratefully before whining cutely, “y/nnie, i’ll get mad if you keep saying her name.”

“whose name? chaeryeong? lee chae-ryeong?” you tease before jimin starts to swat you with her hands.

“aah, y/n! stop it!”

jimin’s no longer facing the worst days of her life! she loves her life! and she loves her super awesome girlfriend too!

[writingouthere]

singlemom!reader x neighbor!sukuna. you miss having a baby and Sukuna is dying from a combination of your sexual tension, his lowkey(highkey) baby fever and the drudgery of attending a child's birthday party

cw: Sukuna's breeding kink, red flags are present and accounted for, no one gets laid tho so sad face. this actually ended up being way more sincere and heartfelt than I intended but honestly very typical of me

"Oh we're not together, Sukuna's just been letting me and Bug crash while we look for an apartment."

"Oh he's not my boyfriend, we're just friends!"

"He's actually not Bug's dad. No, no. But, they get along really well. She enjoys having someone else to hang out with aside from me, I think."

Your laughter after the last one plays on repeat as he goes to grab the two of you some refreshments. Sukuna feels like he's living the world's worst version of groundhog day, except instead of being some sad loser who relives the same day over and over, he's apparently a sad loser who is going to live the same conversation over and over again.

"Fuck this shit."

"Um, excuse me but could you watch your language. This is a kid's birthday party." Sukuna wants to ask the bitch who is correcting a grown man's language if he would mind watching his own fucking business but you seem to care about what these losers think and he won't make life difficult for you.

If he happens to step on the guy's foot as he leaves with two cups and a juice box caught in his elbow, well, his steel toed boots need the exercise.

Sukuna knew that if any of his acquaintances, he didn't have friends after all, could see him now, they would die laughing. Die ,because he would kill them for laughing, but fuck he couldn't even really blame them, even in his hypothetical.

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a feared criminal. People pissed themselves when he cornered them in a dark alley. Other bad guys would look at him and say, "wow that guy's a real piece of shit" and now look at him. Stuck at some three year old's birthday party. One more kidzpop butchering of an already shitty song away from committing another felony.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he knew he was at least getting some pussy out of it, but he had just spent the past two hours hearing you deny him to anyone who asked and it was really starting to get to him.

He knew he was being a little bitch about it, and he wasn't upset just because you weren't fucking him. He was upset that all the things you were telling people, they were technically true. He was just letting you and your daughter crash. He was just your friend, not your boyfriend. Even the comments about him not being Bug's dad, but him being positioned as some kind of really invested babysitter, those might have stung more than the ones about your relationship but you thought that was true too.

Thinking about the kid made him look for her, not that Sukuna ever wasn't aware of where you and your daughter were. It had become instinct before he was even aware of it.

Bug was laughing with some kids he recognized from daycare and others from their regular trips to the park. Her happiness was contagious and Sukuna found his lips twitching up at the ends despite his shitty mood.

Your daughter's eyes found him from across the playground. "kuna!" she called, waving her little hand at him. He waved back with his available hand and made his way towards her. She met him halfway, her little legs unsteady on the wood chips but she didn't seem to notice. She was always like that when she saw him, she ran fearlessly. Maybe she just trusted he'd catch her.

Was it so wrong of him that he didn't like the reminders she wasn't his. That it stung, not just because of his feelings but because it just couldn't be true. He might not have fathered her, but fuck anyone who said this little girl wasn't his.

"I got you a juice, you've been running around so much you gotta be thirsty."

"Not thirsty," Bug argued leaning into him. He held up his hands that were holding the grown up drinks for the two of you, and moved the package still lodged in the crease of his elbow towards the petulant toddler. "Take it, or I'll drink it."

Bug stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed it. She struggled to get the wrapping off the straw and Sukuna didn't even notice what he was doing until she had the straw stretched out towards him and he was pulling the wrapper off with his teeth. He spit it out on the ground as your daughter gave him a polite thank-you and then walked away, sipping her juice as she went to catch up with her friends.

What had become of him?

"Need a hand?" You smile at him and Sukuna hands over your cup before taking a sip of his own. There was unfortunately no alcohol in it but drinking it occupied his mouth before he acted like a pussy and asked you, "what are we?" or "should we get married?" or something equally as pathetic.

"God, I want a baby."

Sukuna almost spit out his drink but he manages to tone it down to just a little cough before turning to look at you. You don't even seem a little embarrassed which is just infuriating. Sukuna's about to make a suggestion on how he can help with that when you sigh and point to where some loser is holding their ugly baby.

"Aren't babies just the cutest, I miss when Bug was that age."

Oh, so this was just you looking at other people's red-faced brats and feeling nostalgic and was not in fact a call to action. Sukuna rolled his eyes and leaned back on the hand closest to you so he didn't touch you as he was so tempted to do these days.

"That baby, like all babies, is hideous. All they do is cry, shit themselves and vomit and I'm not even sure Bug is the exception to that and she's the best kid there is."

You look touched at his affection for your daughter but also fired up on behalf of babies everywhere.

"You can't just say a baby is hideous, Sukuna. Those are the Zenin's. Bug is friends with some of them."

"Well are the older ones cuter, because that baby looks like someone fucked one of those hairless cats."

"Sukuna!" you hiss but he sees you smile, despite yourself. "Okay, maybe that baby isn't like the cutest baby-"

"Hideous."

You continue after smacking his arm. "But Bug was cute, okay. And I'm not just saying that because I'm her mom." You take out your phone and quickly swipe until you get to what you're looking for. "See, cute baby."

Sukuna grabs your phone and looks. It's not the first picture he's seen of a young Bug and he's taken his share of photos of her himself, but he finds himself taken in by it anyway.

It has to be a picture from when Bug was really young, she still had the scrunched up, red face that he associates with newborns. But he thinks you're right, she's still cute. He doesn't know if it's because he knows that baby will grow up to be your daughter, but he finds his thumb caressing her little baby cheeks, the wisps of hair he can see peaking out from where she's wrapped in a baby blanket. It's then he sees she's not alone in the picture and there's a different version of you holding her.

The thing that stands out to him is how tired you look. He thinks this couldn't have been too long after you gave birth but still, he wondered if you'd gotten any rest those first few months. You still didn't like talking about your ex, or the circumstances that had led you to his apartment, but Sukuna knew that chances are you were taking care of Bug single handedly and that couldn't have been easy, cutest kid or not.

"She was beautiful, she still is." He reluctantly hands the phone back to you and you look at the picture again, tears building up in your eyes.

"She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I-I wish that the circumstances were different in how I got her. Sometimes, I wonder how I'll explain everything to her when she's older. She just deserves so much better than him, you know?"

"You both do." Sukuna reaches over and brushes away one of the tears that had managed to fall down your cheek. He leaves his hand there a moment, holding your cheek in his palm, just appreciating the warmth.

"Do you want any?"

"What?" Sukuna isn't sure what you're talking about anymore. He can only see your lips right in front of him, the way that your eyelashes brush against your cheek as you blink faster and faster.

"Babies, do you want any?"

Something short circuits in Sukuna's brain and he wants to say, fuck yes.

He wants to tell you that he thinks about it every day. Every time you put Bug on your hip or send him youtube videos of hairstyles you want to try on her. Whenever it's late at night, and little feet pad out of your room and Bug asks him in the loudest whisper he's ever heard, if he can get her some water because she's so thirsty.

He thinks about it when the sun streams through the curtains of his apartment in the morning and it lights up your hair as you move throughout the kitchen, a force of nature, a creature from somewhere far too good to have ended up here with him.

He thinks about it when the three of you go out and people just assume you're a family, because of course you're a family. When you and Bug play some made up game, or Bug gets tired even though she denies it and he carries her sleeping form against his chest. When he holds her in his lap on the subway and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder and he feels like this, this is what he's always wanted.

He's not all pure and good though, because he thinks about it late at night in his bedroom too. After a day of your smiles, of seeing your thighs stretch out of those sleep shorts you started wearing when the weather warmed up, whenever he remembers the feel and smell of your panties when he's lucky enough to find a pair in the laundry basket, he thinks about how the two of you would make some really cute fucking babies.

He's imagined it a million ways. He's imagined you telling him you've gone off your birth control and you need him now after he takes you out on an anniversary dinner. Or him crowding you up against the kitchen counter and you begging him to put a baby in you.

His favorite fantasy is currently one where you get so carried away when you finally finally fuck that you don't ask him to wear a condom and he spends the whole night making sure you're nice and good and full of him and when you tell him a few weeks later you missed your period, he'll let you freak out. But then he'll tell you that he'll take good care of you, and Bug, and your soon to be little one and he'll finally have you, all of you and once you have your second, he'll knock you up again, as many times as he can because there could never be too many mini-you's running around.

At this point, Sukuna remembers he's talking to you, the real you and he swallows a few times before he speaks.

"I do," he says simply but something must show on his face because you're looking at him in a way you never have before. He hears your breath hitch and he leans in to kiss you, and you smell so good and his thoughts are consumed by the little family he just knows you're going to have when suddenly he's pelted by a variety of sharp, little objects.

Sukuna immediately holds up his arm to shield you from what he now sees is a barrage of wood chips which are being thrown at you by an army of toddlers, including your daughter.

You immediately get up and start talking to the kids about the danger of throwing what are basically large future splinters at people's faces and Sukuna is contemplating the murder of every child that isn't his own when you turn to look at him.

You're not just looking at him, you're seeing him and oh. Maybe he would be getting laid tonight, after all.

The slow burn is almost done folks.

thank you to the amazing reception to this series and the one-shot I posted(which there will be a prequel of soon!). it's literally so insane. Masterlist will be up tomorrow which I hope helps with accessibility!

edit: masterlist is up!

[kbunzzi2oa]

Birthday Secrets - (K.Mingyu)

Synopsis ↳ its all fun and games when you surprise your boyfriend until it ends up with some good birthday sex

Contains ↳ MDNI +18, idol bf!Mingyu x fem!reader, Vernon, Hoshi, Joshua, Woozi, DK, NSFW, unprotected sex (BIG nono), pussy eating, spit, jerking off, facial, dirty talk, kissing, nipple sucking, missonary, fluff

Now playing on the radio..↳ sex with me -> (Rihanna), Reminder -> (The weeknd), In for it -> (Tory Lanez, RL Grime), Fat, Juicy & Wet -> (Bruno Mars, Sexy Red), Birthday Sex -> (Jerehmi)

W.C -> 1.545k..

[NOTE] ↳ IN HONORS of mingyus bday, i decided to make a lovely fic for this man you guys like it!

Kim Mingyu, your boyfriend of six years, was turning 28, and he aged like fine wine. He was on tour with his bandmates, and you decided to surprise him for his birthday. The plan was very simple

1. Attend the concert

2. Arrange for his bandmates to take Mingyu to a restaurant to celebrate his birthday.

3. Once he returned to his hotel room, surprise him, giving him the time of his life!

Easy right?..well no not really...see the thing was that Mingyu could sense VERY WELL when there was something wrong because the members where being a bit weird today but he pushed those thoughts away.

The day began with thousands of birthday messages flooding Mingyu's phone, arriving not only from his fellow members but also from family, cousins, fans, and even famous celebrities. He responded to them all with a single, heartfelt message, but he was eagerly anticipating a text from someone special. And speak of the devil, you texted him instantly. He immediately opened your contact and giggled like a lovestruck teenager as he read your message "Dear boyfriend, happy birthday! I hope your day is filled with countless amazing moments shared with your fans and members. I wish I could be there with you, but unfortunately, my job has been a pain in the ass" He laughed aloud, continuing to read, "But I have a small gift for you, which you'll see before midnight. Xoxo from your love! Y/N." With a dreamy sigh, he responded to her with a giddy smile, "Thank you, my love. I wish you were here with me and the others, but that's alright. One more week, and I'll finally meet you! Love you back, and I can't wait for the present." He rose from his seat, and as soon as he opened the door, the others rushed inside, engulfing him in a tight embrace. They wished him a happy birthday, and Mingyu almost got suffocated by the sheer force of their hugs.

The concert was the highlight of his life. They interacted with fans, and of course, he was showered with affection, jokes, and numerous cards from his members and fans. At the end of the show, everyone gathered together. Hoshi and Woozi held the chocolate cake, which was adorned with a large, lit "28" candle. As the fans and everyone else began singing, even the staff joined in. Mingyu made a wish, and suddenly, Vernon playfully shoved his head into the cake, a moment captured on the big screen, which sent everyone into fits of laughter. After a lively cake fight on stage, they cleaned up and headed to a bustling restaurant, where they could unwind, get drunk, and have some fun. Jun rose to his feet, a happy smile gracing his face. "I would like to thank our dear member Mingyu, who has been like a brother, cousin, and best friend for all of us. Happy birthday, and we love you!" Everyone clapped, and then, out of nowhere, Vernon yelled, "Don't forget to mention his love for his girlfriend and cake!" The room erupted in laughter, and everyone patted his back. "I would like to thank you all for being here for me. We've been through so much together that it's impossible to name it all, but with you, the staff, our fans, and my girlfriend, we made it to the end. That doesn't mean the impossible things don't end, but for now, at least, we have each other," Mingyu said happily, as Hoshi and Joshua began to laugh loudly, that's when DK says "Why does he act like Woozi when he gets drunk"

After the gift-giving, personal talks, laughter, and games, Mingyu returned to his hotel room, ready for sleep and a chat with you. As he opened the door, he gasped, and everything he was carrying fell to the floor, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Y-You're here... I... no... HOLY, BABY, I thought you wouldn't come!" he exclaimed happily, running to you and hugging you tightly. "I missed you too, Min!" He pulled away and connected your lips in a passionate, hungry kiss, devouring you like an animal, his hands roaming over you as if he hadn't touched you before. "I've missed you," he whispered, pulling away and taking in the sight of the room. Your body was draped in a red robe, revealing a hint of cleavage. The hotel room transformed into a scene of celebration, the air filled with the gentle scent of vanilla and the soft glow of candlelight. Balloons in a romantic palette of red, pink, and white floated gracefully, their ribbons dancing in the subtle breeze from the air conditioning. The focal point of the room was the bed, where a series of balloons, meticulously arranged, spelled out "Happy Birthday, Baby" against the headboard. The overall effect was a blend of intimacy and festivity, creating a perfect setting for a special night...

He looks at you before smashing his lips against yours, kissing and whimpering inside your mouth in satisfaction, he sees the way your mouth opens and moans come out, he takes advantage of that by thrusting his tongue inside. You both pulled away breathless.. He growls low in his throat as he senses your arousal, his hand sliding down to cup your pussy through the fabric of your panties. He takes off the robe and sees your body wrapped in a red lingirie. He whistles as his hand start moving up and down your covered slit "Fuck your wet for me aren't you, hm?.." He attacks your neck with love bites, his fingers ripping the lace underwear apart as now he could feel everything...

He spreads your thighs wide, his face burying between them as he starts eating you out like a starving man. His tongue parts your folds, licking and sucking your clit. He adds two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot. "Mmm.. You taste so fucking good.." You moan loudly, pushing your breasts together. He watches that action through half-lidded eyes, adding another finger inside you. He spreads them apart slightly, preparing you for his thickness. Your juices drip down his chin. He catches one of your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. He releases your nipple with a pop, admiring how flushed and swollen it is from his suckling. Keeping his fingers moving skillfully inside you, he sheathes his rock-hard cock against your thigh, letting you feel how much you've aroused him. "Fuck I need to be inside you." You moan loudly as he rips the lingire and throws it "There she is, my perfect baby, so fucking cute...want daddy's cock?..hmm?" You spread your legs wider, showing him your wet and slick cunt..He spreads your legs wider, pushing inside you in one hard thrust. You both moan loudly. He pulls out slowly only to slam back inside again. He captures your mouth, swallowing your moans. Your breasts bounce with each thrust. He spreads your legs wider, going deeper... "Baby.."

He starts fucking you so hard that the headboard hits the wall repeatedly. He's no longer gentle or romantic - he's just raw, animalistic lust. He spits on his hand and uses it to rub your clit aggressively while still pounding into you. "Take my fucking cock.." You moan loudly your eyes rolling back as his dick kept hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. "God daddy this feels so good, harder daddy please harder!" He starts jackhammering into you from behind, making wet, lewd sounds. He looks down at your body, sees your tits bouncing and your back arching. He gets an idea that's both dirty and depraved. He spits in his hand again..."Mi Amore, Turn your face to the side." His voice is strained, his thrusts becoming more urgent. You turn your face to the side, wondering what he's planning. He spits inside your mouth and then spitting on his hand ruining her mascara and her makeup. "Open your mouth" He pulls out suddenly, his glistening cock appearing between your spread cheeks. He grabs your hair, pulling your face back slightly so your mouth is open and your tongue out like a good little slut. He starts jerking himself off right in front of your face, aiming the tip at your open mouth. He rubs the wet, messy tip of his length against your tongue, smearing his release and your saliva together. He looks down at your debased expression, loving how you look with your face turned to the side, makeup smudged, and tongue out waiting for his dirty release. He suddenly stops jerking himself off and leans down, pressing his lips firmly against yours. The kiss is intense and messy, his tongue invading your mouth with a hunger that matches the raw sex you just had. He tastes salty and dirty, a mix of both of your releases still on his lips.

A few hours later, Mingyu is resting on the bed, his muscular torso bare and gleaming slightly with a sheen of sweat. You're curled up next to him, head resting on his chest, his strong arms wrapped around you. "I love you min...happy birthday.." you smile and trail your hands up and down his chest "Thank you baby, I love you to" After a while you both fell asleep in eachothers embrace.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hey!!

could i maybe get a roommate fic where carmy’s getting ridden and about to come and has no filter so it slips out that he loves her

Baby, Please.

it’s been on the tip of his tongue for too long. it was only a matter of time.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. carmy’s a bit pathetic at some points in this (you’re welcome)

word count - 2.4k

authors note - ah shit, here we go again. I always end writing carmy as a little bitch in these, sorry lmao (i’m not). but here it is!! a love confession!! will they ever talk about anything, I hear you ask? we’ll see…

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

Carmen automatically smiles when he hears your keys clinking against the lock in the front door.

As soon as he clocks it, he rolls his eyes at himself. You’re not supposed to get butterflies in your stomach when your roommate comes home on a random Thursday evening.

And yet here he is, sitting on the couch, trying to play it cool - as if he hasn’t been waiting for your return for the last hour and a half.

You’re usually back from work before he is, and suddenly he’s grateful for it. He couldn’t do this everyday. Sitting, waiting for you to come home as if you’ve been gone for months rather than nine or so hours. The apartment feels a little bigger, a little colder without you in it. Carmy wonders how he lived here for so long without you.

You swing the door open, kicking off your shoes instantly. Throwing your bag onto the counter, you take in the sight of your home. It’s clean, tidied, more organised than you’ve seen it in a while. Carmy’s been putting the work in while you’ve been gone.

“What happened, Carmen? Are you okay?”

“W-what?”

“Were you stress cleaning?”

He laughs, all full and warm.

“No, babe. Just regular cleaning.”

He rises from the couch, coming over to press a kiss into your cheek before slipping your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it up behind you.

“Carmen, what’s that smell?”

“Tomato and basil slow baked rigatoni. Homemade garlic bread. And then, if you have any room left… my homemade snickerdoodles.”

“Did you… cook for me?”

“Yes I did, baby. It’s the least I can do after you’ve been at work all day.”

It’s all so domestic, so thoughtful, so heartfelt, that you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You step forward into his space, looping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. He grins at you when you pull away.

“What was that for?”

“A thank you,” you whisper, kissing him again. “I really won the roommate lottery, huh?”

“We both did,” he chuckles, covering your face in kisses while you squirm in his arms.

Eventually, he lets you go, but not before raking his eyes up and down your figure very slowly. He takes you in - your work clothes, the way your hair is falling out slightly, your bare feet. As much as you want to let him devour you, you’re starving. A different kind of hunger to his.

“Dinner first. That after.”

“What after?” he plays coy, trying to fight the smirk off his face.

“Don’t play dumb, Berzatto. It’s not a good look on you.”

With that, you leave the kitchen to get changed, laughing as you go.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You sink further into Carmy’s side on the couch, trying desperately to pay attention to the vintage sitcom that’s playing on the TV.

All you can focus on are the rough fingertips tracing patterns on the bare skin of your thigh. They keep getting higher, brushing the seam of your pyjama shorts occasionally. Every so often, Carmy leans in to press a kiss onto your temple, into your hair, behind your ear. You rest your head on his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart.

“That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I could eat that pasta every day for the rest of my life and die a happy woman.”

Carmy laughs, and the sound rumbles through both of you.

“I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You sit up, then, turning in your seat to look him in the eyes.

“Carmen. You cook for me almost every day.”

“Yeah, but… not really.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Most of the time when I’m cooking at home, I’m trying a new recipe, or perfecting an old one - for the restaurant. And then we both eat it for dinner. But tonight, I actually picked a recipe I knew you’d love, and made it for you. Because I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling as you do it.

“You know I don’t mind either way, right? Whatever you make is always delicious. Except for that weird duck mousse from last week. That was… awful.”

He shoves you playfully, laughing when you topple backwards onto the couch cushions. Climbing onto you, he digs his fingers into your ribs, chuckling as you try to squirm away from him.

“Stop, before I kick you in the stomach or something,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to try and keep him still.

When that doesn’t work, you resort to dirtier tactics. You roll your hips up into his, watching as his face changes when he realises what you’re doing. The tickling stops, replaced by fingertips gripping your sides in a completely different way.

“Fuck,” he murmurs into your neck as he drops his head down. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Minx.”

“Well you wouldn’t stop, so…”

“You’re usually telling me not to stop, honey. ‘Oh, Carmen, don’t stop baby, don’t stop’…”

You laugh as he mocks you, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You still want me though, huh?”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, tension thickening in the air. Carmy’s eyes go dark as he looks down at you, gaze raking across your face. You nod in response to his question, chewing at your bottom lip.

“You gonna let me thank you for dinner properly, Berzatto?

Who is he to say no to an offer like that?

You tighten your legs around his waist and pull his hips down to yours, flipping you both over on the couch. You settle with your thighs on either side of his, your weight keeping him anchored down to the cushions.

“You look so pretty underneath me,” you whisper, tracing the features of his face with your gentle fingertips. “Pretty, pretty boy.”

Carmy’s hips buck up into yours at the praise.

“You’re so fucking predictable,” you giggle as he groans. “You love this, don’t you?”

“Love what?”

His voice is all strained and breathy already, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Being my bitch.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, but his tightening grip on your waist gives him away. You lean in to press your forehead to his, breathing him in for a moment. Carmy tilts his head up to meet your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth as you whine.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, melding your lips against his. You let him explore your mouth, winding your hips down into him in a steady motion. You lean back to pull his shirt over his head, yours following suit shortly afterwards and ending up in a pile on the floor.

Carmy kisses his way across your chest, nipping and sucking as he goes. You’re way past the don’t leave marks stage. Neither of you care anymore. You rake your nails down his stomach, smirking when he shudders, goosebumps rising across his skin.

You tip forward to bite at the muscle of Carmy’s neck, licking a stripe up his throat as you go. He tastes like his minty shower gel and cinnamon sugar from the snickerdoodles. It’s the perfect combination to make your mouth water.

He tangles his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama shorts, trying to tug them down. You go to stand up to help him, but the whine he lets out stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“Carmen, if you want my pants off, you need to let me stand up.”

“You can do it here.”

He pulls you back down into his lap, ignoring your raised eyebrows. You manage to slip your shorts and panties down one leg, rising awkwardly on the other to try and get them off. You kick them to the floor, chuckling as you settle back over Carmy’s hips.

“Happy now?”

“Very happy,” he mumbles, reattaching his lips to your jaw. “The happiest. Got the prettiest girl in the world naked in my lap right now.”

Heat rises across your chest at the compliment, head ducking down to avoid his eyes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, tugging down the waistband of Carmy’s sweatpants.

You pull them and his boxers off in one fell swoop, dropping them onto the floor. When you take him in your hand, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, looking up at you through thick lashes.

“Wait, baby.”

You freeze instantly, finally meeting his gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong. Just need to get you ready first.”

You shake your head, gentle smile on your face. He’s always thinking about you. Selfless boy.

“I am more than ready, Carmen.”

When he looks at you with skepticism in his eyes, you decide to make a point.

You trail your fingers down your stomach, pulling them through your wetness when you reach it. Sliding a digit inside, you rock your hips, throwing your head back. You can both hear how ready you are, and it makes Carmy groan.

“Oh, fuck.”

He’s whispering in awe, careful not to spook you when you’re so clearly in your own little world. You add another finger, and Carmy has to grip your hips as hard as he can to stop himself from flipping you over and having his way with you.

You remove your fingers and shove them straight into Carmy’s mouth, panting as he laves his tongue around them. You both whine in unison. Always so in sync.

“I’m more than ready,” you whisper into his jaw. “Promise.”

“I believe you,” he croaks, wrecked already. “Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.”

You line him up, sinking down ever so slowly. You want to feel every inch, every ridge, every movement. You don’t want to miss anything.

You both drop your heads back in bliss, chests heaving against each other. You’re adjusting, while Carmy’s trying to get a hold of himself. He doesn’t want it to be over too quickly, but it so easily could be if he isn’t careful. He runs his hands up and down the bare skin of your back, admiring how soft you are.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says through gritted teeth. “Shit, baby.”

“You feel so good. So big, Carmen. Fuck.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you can’t help but tease, running your thumb over his bottom lip.

“Talk like that. Fuck.”

“Oh,” you laugh in fake realisation. “You like it a little too much, huh?”

He leans his head forward to rest on your chest, gasping when you lift your hips up to drop them back down. It’s all so slick, so easy. It’s like you’re made for each other, made to fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

You can’t help but want to push him a little further. He’s always so quietly domineering, so seemingly in control, that you love when he allows himself to fray at the edges slightly. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you off.

“So you don’t want me to tell you how you’re filling me up just right? That you’re so big, that you feel so fucking good? That I could sit here for hours? That I’ve never had it like this with anyone?”

Carmy’s hips buck up involuntarily, and you chuckle a little cruelly.

“Baby, please.”

“Okay, Carmen. Okay.”

You press a sugary sweet kiss to his lips before settling your hands on his broad shoulders to give yourself some stability. You set a steady rhythm, winding your hips up and gliding them back down with a clear purpose. Your knees ache, and your hips are being held open a little too wide, but you feel delirious with it, high off the pleasure. It’s good. So good.

“Shit, honey. Fuck. S’good, yeah? So good. Keep going, don’t stop.”

You’ve always found his babbling amusing, but right now there’s nothing funny about the way the sound of his voice pushes you undeniably closer and closer to the edge. You never want him to stop talking.

Carmy moves one hand from your hip to between your legs, rubbing soft but intentional circles onto your clit. It sets your nerves alight, whole body buzzing with anticipation.

You keep your rhythm going, even as it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate. You can feel that Carmy’s close, that he’s sitting on a knife’s edge waiting for you. You realise, suddenly, that you want him to come before you. You want to undo him.

You move one hand to tangle in his hair, while the other settles at his throat. You don’t squeeze too hard, just enough to turn his moans into breathy little ah ah ahs.

“Baby, please. Fuck, so close. So good, honey. You’re so good.”

Your grip tightens in his curls, making him groan. Your hips get faster, and so do his fingers on your clit, the pressure more insistent now.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, don’t stop baby. Fuck, I love this. I love you. Keep going, so close. Atta girl.”

Your brain is too lost in your actions to register his words. Instead, you press your forehead to his, kissing him gently in contrast to the violent slam of your hips. This juxtaposition seems to be Carmy’s undoing, his grip on your hip tightening so much you hope it’ll bruise.

He emits the most gorgeous moan you’ve ever heard when he comes, which sends you straight over the edge. You tighten like a vice, whole body shuddering with it. Your climax seems to last forever, every single one of your nerves fried and frayed.

You both come down slowly, foreheads pressed together and lungs heaving. You’re panting into his mouth, smoothing out his hair where your fingers have ruffled it. Carmy’s arms wrap around your back, pulling you in so you’re chest to chest as he presses a kiss to your temple. You sit like this for a while, completely at peace in each other’s company.

Eventually, after what could have been hours but was probably minutes, you break the silence.

“So we should probably talk about the I love you, huh?”

@jazminsjaz @buendiabebeta @kingsqueensandvagabonds

[svt-luna]

ʚིᵋ ⋆ SEVENTEEN (세븐틴) 5th Album ‘HAPPY BURSTDAY’ LISTENING SESSION ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

SEVENTEEN (세븐틴) 5th Album 'HAPPY BURSTDAY' LISTENING SESSION

synopsis: Join SEVENTEEN in this listening session for their 5th Album HAPPY BURSTDAY, filled with heartfelt reactions, behind-the-scenes stories, and playful moments you won’t want to miss.

wc: 7.3k

my family and i have been traveling lately, so i have been busy and haven’t been updating 😭 this is my little token for you, my loves because i simply couldn’t help myself! after watching this video, i knew you guys would love to see the members’ reaction to Luna’s solo song (i do too!!) however, this will be a shorter post because i will not be doing the entire video considering it won’t really change anything plot wise. i will, however, focus on their reaction to Luna’s solo song and Luna’s reaction to Jeonghan’s solo song + JeongNa crumbs because… JEONGNA FOREVER! anyway, happy reading my loves and see you soon!! 💖

oh! and! STREAM HAPPY BURSTDAY!

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ svt youtube

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

The studio was quiet, dimly lit with just enough warm light coming from the ceiling panels and computer screens. The equipment around the room gave off a soft hum— mixers, monitors, wires, a few glowing buttons here and there.

The desk in front of the dual monitors was packed, but not messy— everything had its place. There were folders open on the screens already, each one marked neatly with names, tracks, timestamps. The walls were padded, the soundproofing thick enough to make everything feel still. Even the air felt heavier somehow, in a good way.

Behind the desk, a long couch sat against the back wall. A little wrinkled from use. Some bottles of water, a blanket folded up at the side. It looked like a room meant for focus, not fun— but familiar enough that it didn’t feel stiff.

Woozi came in first.

He walked straight in, quiet, like this was just another Tuesday for him. He sat in the producer’s chair without a word, leaned forward, and immediately got to work. His hands went to the keyboard and mouse right away, clicking through files, setting things up. He wasn’t rushing, just moving like he already knew exactly where everything was. The screen lit up in front of him while he adjusted some sliders and cleaned up the timeline on one of the tracks.

It was calm. No chaos. Nothing like how Seventeen usually acted during variety shoots or Going Seventeen. The vibe here was completely different—serious, but not stiff. Comfortable. Like they all knew they could focus and just be themselves without the jokes flying every five seconds.

Then the door opened.

“Woozi!”

Dokyeom stepped in, his voice echoing a little in the quiet room. It broke the silence, but not in a bad way. Woozi answered with a small hum, still not looking up from the screen.

Dokyeom made his way to the couch and sat down, stretching out a little as he got comfortable. He looked around like he was expecting the others to follow soon— and he was right.

Not long after, the door opened again and Seungcheol walked in, holding a cup of coffee. He didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod as he passed by and took a seat by the end, close enough to keep an eye on everything. He looked chill. Focused. Like he was already settling into work mode without needing to talk much.

Then Dino and Hoshi came in together.

“Hello.” Dino said, soft but clear.

They both walked in like they knew exactly where they wanted to sit, not making a fuss. The room was starting to fill out slowly, like drops of water hitting a still surface one by one.

Minghao and Jun followed next. Quiet, calm, just sliding in and taking their spots. No one needed to say much. Everyone just kind of… settled in naturally.

Then came Joshua and Vernon.

“Hey, hey,” Joshua greeted as they walked in. Vernon nodded, tucking his earphones in his pockets.

People were sitting now— on the couch, on the chairs, leaning against the walls. It wasn’t packed yet, but the energy was shifting a little. More people, but still calm. Still grounded. It was a totally different kind of silence now— one where everyone was waiting for something to start, but not in a rush to get there.

Only twelve of them were present today.

Jeonghan and Wonwoo weren’t here. Still off doing their military service. No one really mentioned it out loud, but it was obvious. The space they left behind felt noticeable in its own quiet way.

“Hello!”

Seungkwan walked in with a burst of energy, like he hadn’t gotten the memo that the vibe in the room was chill. His voice bounced off the walls a little, but it didn’t bother anyone. It just made a few heads turn and smile without even meaning to.

“We just have Mingyu and Jiyeon left,” Woozi said from the desk, still focused on the screen but very aware of the room.

“We’re waiting for Mingyu and Jiyeon,” Seungcheol added, nodding.

“They were taking pictures outside,” Seungkwan said, throwing the two under the bus without hesitation.

A few quiet laughs. No one was surprised.

And then, a few minutes later, the door opened again.

Luna stepped in first, and Mingyu followed right behind her.

Both of them were wearing all black— Mingyu in a black turtleneck and matching pants, Luna in an oversized black jacket with the collar popped just slightly. And of course, they were both wearing sunglasses.

They didn’t mean to match. But they did. And they looked like they knew it.

“Hello,” Mingyu said first.

“Sorry we’re late,” he added right after, both of them still standing by the door for a second like they weren’t sure if they were walking into a meeting or a music video.

“Seungkwannie said you were taking photos, that’s why,” Seungcheol said, tone somewhere between teasing and scolding.

“Sorry,” Mingyu giggled, not even pretending to deny it.

“You two look cool,” Joshua chimed in, glancing over at their matching vibe.

“Why’d you think we were taking photos outside?” Luna smirked, making her way toward the couch without missing a beat.

She spotted an empty space at the other end, right in front of Seungcheol, and took a seat there like it had been saved for her. Mingyu pulled up a nearby chair, placed it next to her, and sat down with his arms crossed and a grin still stuck on his face.

Now they were all here.

Well— twelve of them.

And it was time to start.

Once everyone had found their spot and gotten comfortable, there was a small lull in the room. A few sips of coffee. Some minor adjusting in seats. Woozi tapped something on the keyboard, and the speakers gave off a soft, anticipatory hum.

“That means we’re all here now!” Dino suddenly said, his voice cutting through the calm with just the right amount of enthusiasm.

“We’re all here,” Joshua repeated with a relaxed nod, smiling a little as he leaned back into the couch.

“Everyone’s here now. So let’s hear our songs one by one.” Dino proposed, glancing around like he was cueing them into some sort of group agreement.

From the producer’s chair, Woozi spun his swivel chair around to face them. “We don’t need to listen to the group songs,” he said casually, arms folding in front of him like he was about to explain something technical.

“But we should… Or not? We’ve heard them a lot, right?” Seungkwan offered, head tilted like he was already second-guessing his own suggestion.

“‘THUNDER,’ ‘HBD,’” Woozi listed the group songs off-hand like they were groceries.

“We’ve practiced ‘THUNDER’ a lot,” Seungcheol muttered from the couch, which triggered a tiny chorus of agreement.

“We already know the group songs,” Luna chimed in, backing Woozi’s point.

“We’ve listened to those three so many times already,” Woozi added, looking at the screen again, clicking a few folders open as he spoke.

“Let’s listen to the solo songs!” Hoshi said brightly, like he’d just thought of it, despite everyone already agreeing.

“We’re going by the order of the track list,” Dokyeom offered, sounding like a kid volunteering to be line leader.

“Go by the track list,” Jun echoed quickly, probably just wanting to move things along before someone changed the plan.

“We have the track list order. We can follow that, or if anyone wants…” Woozi began, turning his chair slightly again— but before he could finish, everyone interrupted him.

“Let’s just follow the track list,” they said in a messy but enthusiastic chorus.

“How was the track list set up?” Hoshi asked curiously, eyebrows raised.

“The album… It’s just that’s it was put together based on vibes.” Woozi answered as he turned back to the monitor, scrolling with focused little flicks of the mouse.

“Then, first up is Minghao.” Woozi said, clicking into a new folder.

“I know,” Minghao chuckled nervously, shifting in his seat as the others immediately responded with a collective, dramatic “Ohhh” of excitement and praise.

To test the volume, Hoshi pressed play on their title track, and ‘THUNDER’ blasted through the studio speakers. The bass vibrated a little in their seats— strong but not too overpowering. Everyone blinked a little at the sudden noise.

“How loud do we want the sound?” Woozi asked, adjusting a knob as the thunderous intro echoed around the studio.

“This is perfect,” Luna said, casually running her hands through her hair.

“I think this is good,” Joshua agreed with a calm nod, his voice mellow under the music.

“I think we can make it louder,” Minghao said from his seat, and Woozi— without hesitation— turned the dial up just a touch.

“Okay!” they all said together like a kindergarten class with homework instructions.

“We’ll go with this volume,” Woozi confirmed, giving one last satisfying flick to the controls.

“The sound is great here,” Dokyeom added, head bopping a little like he was already feeling the beat.

“I’m feeling nervous,” Minghao laughed, suddenly standing up like the nerves caught up with him all at once.

“You’re getting up? Why?” Jun chuckled, watching his fellow member start to pace lightly near the front of the room.

“You’re so cute,” Luna giggled from her seat, watching Minghao with an amused grin as he waved his hands slightly, clearly trying to shake off the jitters.

“Then… let’s cut to the chase and go with Minghao!” Woozi announced from the desk.

“I’m so nervous too! It feels like a briefing!” Seungkwan blurted, fidgeting like he was preparing to present a PowerPoint in front of his boss.

“We’ll say the song title first and share our thoughts after listening to it,” Woozi instructed smoothly, already pulling up the first file.

“Then, that person can talk about the thought process behind the song,” he added, glancing around the room.

“Okay!” the members all nodded in unison, ready.

What followed was a surprisingly touching but still fun hour of music and reactions.

In the order of the track list, one by one, each member’s solo track played: Minghao’s ‘Skyfall’, Joshua’s ‘Fortunate Change’, Wonwoo’s ‘99.9%’, Seungkwan’s ‘Raindrops’, Hoshi’s ‘Damage’, Mingyu’s ‘Shake It Off’, Dokyeom’s ‘Happy Virus’, Woozi’s ‘Destiny’, Vernon’s ‘Shining Star’, Jun’s ‘Gemini’, and Dino’s ‘Trigger.’

Each time a song started, all heads turned toward the one who made it. And without fail, that person would let out a tiny nervous laugh, shoot up from their seat, and start pacing somewhere in the room like it was instinct. Some of them circled near the couches. Others just stood behind their chairs, arms crossed or playing with the hem of their shirts. There was something about hearing your own voice out loud in a room full of your members that made even the most confident of them squirm a little.

The upbeat songs made the studio feel like a quiet dance party. Heads bobbed in sync. Shoulders bounced slightly. Some members tapped their knees, while others mouthed along to hooks they were hearing properly for the first time. Luna, in particular, tapped her fingers on her thigh to the rhythm, fully zoned in but still smiling.

When a ballad came on, the vibe naturally shifted. Their bodies leaned back. Eyes softened. Some swayed gently with the melody, others simply sat still, taking it in with thoughtful expressions. A few even closed their eyes for parts of it, not dramatically— just to really listen.

The best part was right after each track ended. That moment where they all immediately turned to the member who made it, faces full of honest surprise and impressed smiles. Every single song was followed by a wave of compliments— some casual, some loud, some over-the-top and playful. Everyone got their moment to shine, and the energy never dipped once. After each round of praise, the member who made the song would take a breath and explain the thoughts behind it— why they wrote it, how it came to be, what it meant to them.

As the songs went on and people kept getting up, sitting down, and scooting closer to or away from the speakers, the seating arrangement kept changing. At some point, no one was in their original spot anymore. Some moved to stand up. Others switched chairs just to sit beside whoever’s song was next. Luna ended up on the armrest of the couch once, and Woozi practically became the DJ-slash-usher for the whole rotation. It wasn’t organized at all— but that was exactly what made it fun. The chaos was lowkey but constant.

By the end of Dino’s track, only three songs remained.

Jeonghan’s.

Luna’s.

And Seungcheol’s.

The room settled a little again. The air wasn’t heavy— just expectant. They all sat, glanced around at each other, and got ready to keep going.

After Dino’s track finished, Seungcheol looked over at Woozi.

“Is Jeonghan next?” he asked.

“Next up is Jeonghan,” Woozi confirmed.

With that, Luna tucked her legs up on the sofa, wrapping her arms around Seungcheol’s neck and resting her head on his shoulder. He ran his hand up and down her arm, a comforting gesture that spoke volumes without saying a word.

“Jeonghan’s song is great,” Dokyeom said, nodding.

“The song is called ‘Coincidence’,” Woozi added.

“We have both coincidence and connection,” Minghao mused.

“Destiny,” a chorus corrected him.

“Oh, it’s destiny,” Minghao said, chuckling.

Woozi clicked a few buttons, and the room filled with the soft, angelic voice of Jeonghan.

What if we had just decided to remain friends ~

How nice it would have been if we hadn’t made eye contact ~

The melody was gentle, a ballad that wrapped around the listeners like a warm blanket. Luna closed her eyes, snuggling deeper into Seungcheol’s side. He patted her arm, understanding the emotions she was feeling.

I’m just saying it’s all coincidence. I need to prepare my heart ~

But on that long day, in that long heart. It’s not our fault ~

The members sat in silence, each absorbing the song in their own way. Some closed their eyes, others swayed gently to the rhythm. A few who had heard the song before mouthed the lyrics, their expressions soft and reflective.

Just like the day we met by chance, we just left by chance ~

It’s coincidence, coincidence, coincidence ~

This is the way I fool myself ~

Luna remained still, her thoughts drifting to the time when Jeonghan had explained the song’s meaning to her. It wasn’t just about his goodbye before his military service; it was a reflection of a period in their past when things had been uncertain.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry ~

You’ll definitely hate me ~

Hate in eyes full of love ~

She remembered the year they had barely spoken, the awkwardness that had settled between them after she had drunkenly confessed her feelings and he had gently turned her down. They had moved past it, grown closer, and now were planning a future together, but the memories still lingered.

One drop, and another drop ~

I didn’t want that ~

The room remained quiet, the song’s gentle melody filling the space. The members respected the moment, understanding the depth of emotion behind the lyrics. They knew the story, had witnessed the journey, and now shared in the reflection.

But just like the day we met by chance ~

We also left by chance ~

As the song continued, Luna felt a mix of emotions. There was sadness for the time they had lost, gratitude for the love they had found, and hope for the future they were building.

It’s coincidence, coincidence, coincidence ~

This is the way I fool myself ~

The moment Jeonghan’s final note faded into silence, a weight hung in the room— not heavy, not oppressive, but lingering like the scent of rain after a storm. Heads were bowed, a few members exhaled quietly, and no one dared speak too soon, as if disrupting the stillness would undo the softness that Jeonghan’s voice had painted across the air.

And then, from the sofa, Luna finally shifted.

She sat up slowly, unfolding her legs and pulling away from Seungcheol’s shoulder, her voice soft but sure as she murmured, “It’s beautiful.”

Heads turned her way. She didn’t flinch under the eyes, didn’t shrink from the weight of the song she had carried with her far longer than most. There was something in her eyes that stayed shadowed— nostalgia, understanding, and maybe, a quiet ache that still surfaced despite the years that had passed.

“Did Woozi write it?” Seungcheol asked, his voice cutting gently through the quiet.

“Woozi did,” Dokyeom answered immediately, leaning forward as though proud to be able to confirm it.

“Jeonghan did a great job singing it,” Joshua chimed in, nodding thoughtfully.

Seungkwan, who had been swaying moments ago, added with a playful shrug, “Seriously, he kind of like… awakened.”

“So, he recorded it before he left?” Hoshi asked, glancing toward the speakers, as if Jeonghan might pop out of one and confirm it himself.

“Yes, he did,” Woozi nodded, already preparing to explain. “It was done a while ago.”

He shifted forward in his seat, propping one arm on his knee as his fingers gestured unconsciously, his producer mind already back in the studio.

“Jeonghan actually had this idea years ago,” Woozi began, voice slow, thoughtful. “He wrote some lines. Just a couple. They were tucked into his notes, probably forgotten until we were finalizing this album. He showed them to me and just said, ‘I had this idea back then… it was just something I wrote during a weird time.’”

The members listened quietly, nodding at intervals. Seungcheol leaned his chin on his fist, while Mingyu sat unusually still, lips pressed into a line. Luna started shifting on her seat, her nails all of a sudden so interesting to her. Even Vernon, who had been fiddling with his hoodie string earlier, now sat with his hands folded, focused entirely on Woozi’s words.

“So I picked it up from there,” Woozi continued. “I wanted to build it around what he was feeling at the time, what he couldn’t say directly. Jeonghan really helped me with it. He was involved in the whole structure of the melody, the tone… we were careful about every word.”

He paused. His gaze drifted for a second, as though replaying all the studio sessions in his head.

“It’s the story of a man who’s saying goodbye,” Woozi said. “When I thought about what could really represent who Jeonghan is…”

He trailed off, chewing on the next thought, then chuckled lightly before continuing.

“He can be very mischievous,” he said, “but he’s also very sentimental. I imagined he’d be the kind of person who would part ways in a lighthearted way. Like he’s brushing it off.”

A few of the members smiled at that, knowingly. Jun quietly nudged Minghao in the side. Hoshi stifled a laugh. Everyone knew exactly the version of Jeonghan Woozi was talking about.

“Just like, ‘How us meeting was just a coincidence’ and ‘us parting ways is also a coincidence.’ He takes that attitude,” Woozi explained, “but… it all comes from the thought that he wants the other person to be less hurt. And he wants himself to be less hurt.”

There was a moment of stillness.

“Right,” Luna muttered under her breath, so quietly it almost slipped past unnoticed.

But the members heard it. Her tone was soft— not defeated, not sad— but tender. A kind of agreement that held far more history than anyone in the room could truly speak to.

“That kind of thoughtfulness is at the base of it,” Dokyeom nodded in quiet understanding.

“I wanted that to be portrayed by the lyrics as I wrote them,” Woozi said, more gently now.

“It really suits Jeonghan,” Dokyeom added, glancing toward the speakers again, as if to see his hyung there.

And still, Luna said nothing more. She stared ahead, fingers gently tracing over the fabric of her top, her eyes glassy yet dry.

The members gave her occasional side-eyes— not teasing, not pitying— but knowing. They didn’t need to say anything. They knew. She paid them no mind, not out of defiance, but because she was somewhere else entirely.

She was in the memory of that one summer where everything had cracked quietly between her and Jeonghan, where her confession over drinks had led to a soft rejection, and where months of silent tension had followed. They’d been civil on camera, awkward off it. She remembered thinking, this is it— there’s no going back from this. And yet… somehow, they did.

They rebuilt.

They grew.

They healed.

But even now, with wedding plans quietly blooming between them, those days still pulled at the corners of her heart. Not in regret, but in memory of how fragile things once were.

And it wasn’t lost on the others. Because even if the song was “just” a track on their album, even if Jeonghan had recorded it long before he packed his bags and bid them goodbye for now— it wasn’t just a song to them.

It was a window.

And Luna had already lived inside it.

“Okay!” Woozi suddenly clapped his hands, slicing through the thoughtful air that had settled over the group like fog. The energy in the room shifted instantly, like someone had cracked open a window. Everyone’s eyes turned toward him, blinking out of their contemplative daze.

“To change the tone completely,” Woozi began, already grinning as he leaned back and clasped his hands together, “Jiyeonie with her solo song— ‘Damn Right.’”

“‘Damn Right’!” Dokyeom echoed, voice bursting with excitement as he turned toward Luna, eyes wide like he’d just been called to join a surprise party.

“Is it my turn already?” Luna asked, her voice gentle but tinged with nerves. She smiled shyly as all eyes turned to her now.

“Damn right it is,” Joshua added smoothly in English, delivering it with such perfect comedic timing that Luna burst into a wider grin at his pun.

“Oh! ‘Damn Right’!” Hoshi cheered, springing slightly in his seat like the name alone hyped him up.

Luna stood from her seat slowly.

“I understand now why you guys were standing up,” she deadpanned, gesturing loosely to them, clearly trying to keep her nerves down with humor. Her chuckle was slightly breathy.

“Nervous?” Seungcheol asked with a low chuckle, eyeing her carefully.

“I feel like throwing up,” Luna replied flatly.

The room exploded with laughter, a few of them even leaning into each other as they cackled.

“I’m so curious,” Seungkwan said, leaning forward eagerly, practically bouncing. “None of us have heard it, right?”

“Except Woozi-hyung,” Hoshi pointed out, squinting at Woozi suspiciously. “He’s been smug all week.”

“I’m not smug,” Woozi muttered, already turning to the laptop. “I’m proud.”

Luna exhaled and sat back down, her hands instantly wrapping around her legs and tucking them close. “What do I do?” she squealed into Seungcheol’s sleeve as she leaned into him, her voice rising in pitch with pure panic.

Seungcheol chuckled, patting her legs gently. “Just sit. Breathe. It’s too late to run away now.”

And with that, the song began.

The moment the first smooth notes slid through the speakers, the mood in the room did a complete one-eighty.

A velvet bassline melted into slow, sensual drums— groovy, sultry, but polished. The production melded old-school 90s R&B with slick modern touches, creating a sound that was both nostalgic and fresh. There was a confident swagger in the instrumentation, subtle harmonies gliding beneath Luna’s voice as she laid down the opening lines like warm silk on skin.

Popped up on you solo on my lonely shit ~

You didn’t even know the type time I was on ~

“Ohhh…” Mingyu murmured, slowly nodding his head like he just took a sip of something dangerously smooth.

Told ya, “Hop in on the left side”, rode the ship ~

Now you’re struggling to keep your eyes on the road ~

Vernon let out a soft laugh. “She’s insane for that.”

And you saw me whip my hair in the wind playing Beyoncé ~

Putting that good work in like a fiancé ~

“BOOM!” Seungkwan slapped the couch cushion before smirking at Luna,“Who could that possibly be?!”

Luna was hugging her knees now, looking like she was about to combust.

Finish line was gold, better go ahead and lend me them keys to the condo ~

I’m like Damn, right, I did that (I did that) ~

Damn, right, yeah ~

“Oh!” Seungkwan stood up with a sudden wave of energy, hips already swaying.

Damn, right, I did that (I did that) ~

Yeah, I did ~

His arms rose like a graceful balloon dancer, and he let his hips roll smooth and deliberate, as if possessed by the spirit of a belly dancer from a luxury cruise.

He danced toward Luna dramatically, his arms twirling like flower petals caught in a wind tunnel. She stared at him in disbelief, laughing helplessly.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, brows raised in faux horror.

“It’s this dance,” he replied seriously, continuing to swirl his hips like his life depended on it.

Luna let out a squeaky laugh before giving in. She stood up briefly, copying his movements with a half-hearted spin of her own before playfully smacking Seungkwan’s arm and sitting back down in defeat.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, cheeks pink but laughing.

Smooth, I move how I move ~

Please, don’t interrupt me, let me do what I do ~

By now, all of them were unconsciously moving. Even Vernon, who usually sat composed, was gently tapping his hand on his knee to the beat.

“This song is making me move like this,” Dokyeom confessed mid-hip sway, completely in his seat.

Got my boo gassed up but I can still take him higher ~

High up to the sky up, higher than a tower ~

“Right?” Seungkwan and Hoshi both said in unison, still dancing as if they were hypnotized by the groove.

Lotte that it’s a getaway, yeah, overseas any day, yeah ~

I can take your pain away, yeah, ooh ~

“Oh, she’s bragging now,” Joshua muttered with a smile, one eyebrow raised as he crossed his legs.

You can be my cameraman, put the phone on the stand ~

Do what no else can, ooh ~

“Who are you talking about, Jiyeonie?” Jun asked as he smirked at her as if he didn’t know the answer.

Damn, right, I did that (I did that) ~

Damn, right, yeah ~

Damn, right, I did that ~

Yeah, I did ~

By now, half the room was on their feet. The rest swayed or tapped, heads nodding, shoulders rolling with the music, all synchronized by instinct alone.

Damn, right, I did that (I did that) ~

Damn, right, yeah ~

Damn, right, I did that (I did that) ~

Yeah, I did ~

The last echo faded, the beat slowing until it was a whisper, then silence.

It was over.

The room was silent for a beat—one long, suspended moment where everyone just blinked at the speakers, processing what they had heard. Then, like a dam breaking, a wave of applause and hollering erupted.

“YAHHHHHH!” Seungkwan practically screamed, his hands flying into the air. “YAAAAH! THAT’S OUR LUNAAA!”

Hoshi jumped to his feet, clapping wildly like he was trying to summon fire. “AYE, AYE, AYE, AYE!!! Did you hear that??? DID YOU HEAR THAT?!”

“WOOO!” Dokyeom let out a full-on football coach yell, standing up just to spin in a circle from pure hype.

Mingyu was already halfway off the couch, both hands clapping so fast he looked like a human metronome. “Lu-Lu-ya! The vocals?! The swag?! Hello?!”

“Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay,” Seungcheol said, laughing and motioning everyone to settle, though he was clearly just as hyped. “That was… DAMN. That was clean.”

Joshua turned to Luna, eyes gleaming. “That was so YOU. But also like… new you. Elevated you.”

“Amazing,” Jun said reverently, hands pressed together like he was about to deliver a TED Talk. “That was what they meant when they said, ‘She’s not a singer, she’s an experience.’”

“I’m gonna need a minute,” Minghao muttered, waving his hand in front of his face like he was fanning off smoke. “I think the track just flirted with me.”

“Dude, that was sick,” Vernon added solemnly.

“Thank you,” Luna just hugged her legs tighter, hiding her burning face, though the proud grin she wore betrayed her completely.

Woozi finally sat forward, brushing imaginary lint off his knees before turning to the group with a calm pride that made it clear he’d been holding it in the entire time.

“This was all Jiyeon,” he said, nodding at her. “She wrote and produced it.”

The reaction was instantaneous.

“Amazing?!” Dokyeom shouted.

“Oh you’re insane,” Mingyu said, pointing at Luna. “She’s dangerous. Don’t let the sweet smile fool you!”

Luna, still laughing with her hands covering half her face, waved Woozi off and shook her head.

“No, it’s not only me,” she said, pointing at him. “Z helped me as well.”

Woozi shrugged, but the grin tugging at his lips gave him away. He tried to sip water calmly, but everyone already saw the fond, smug glint in his eye.

Once the cheers finally settled and most of the members flopped back into their seats with lingering grins and murmurs of “that was so good,” all eyes naturally turned to Luna.

She sighed, knowing she couldn’t dodge it anymore, and straightened up in her seat.

“So…” she began slowly, brushing her hair behind her ears. “I wanted to do something different. Something I haven’t done yet. Something I know I’ll be good at. And… something I know the fans will like to see me do.”

The members leaned in a bit, nodding along. Some still looked half-shocked that she was even capable of sounding like a full-blown R&B queen.

“So I did R&B,” Luna continued, her tone smooth but light, slipping into the rhythm of explaining like she’d practiced in front of a mirror once or twice. “Specifically, very early 2000s R&B.”

“Wahhh!” Seungkwan clapped.

Luna nodded. “I wanted to do something very smooth and sexy. But not like, ‘Look at me! I’m hot!’ sexy— although that’s valid,” she said with a playful smirk that got a wave of laughter.

“I mean sexy in the way where… nothing’s more attractive than being confident, right?” she added, her voice settling into something honest but still light, still playful. “Being proud to brag about the things you’ve achieved, the things you’ve been blessed with, and the things you worked hard for.”

A beat.

“That’s the sexy I was going for.”

“Right,” Minghao whispered, nodding solemnly.

“That can be printed on a shirt,” Vernon muttered.

“Can I brag about you then?” Seungkwan blurted. “Because I feel sexy doing it.”

Luna just covered her face again as the room began buzzing with new praise, a mix of teasing and awe, the energy bright and loud and glowing— like her track, like her.

Luna had barely managed to peek from between her fingers when the chaos truly began.

Seungkwan, eyes wide with mischief and mouth already halfway curved into a devilish grin, suddenly stood up with the dramatic flair of someone about to deliver an Oscar-worthy performance. He took a breath, lifted his chin, and burst into song with the one line that had clearly imprinted on his brain like a permanent tattoo.

“‘And you saw me whip my hair in the wind playing Beyoncé. Putting that good work in like a fiancé!’” he belted out, voice sharp with flair and pure camp.

He didn’t just sing it— he performed it. One hand whipped his imaginary hair dramatically while the other held a fake mic. He strutted in front of Luna like he was on the Victoria’s Secret runway, hips swinging with every syllable, his eyes locked on hers like she was the final boss in a dance-off.

Luna blinked up at him in disbelief before slowly breaking into a knowing smile, one that screamed, I knew this was coming. She didn’t stop him— she didn’t even try. She just leaned back, covered her face again, and laughed helplessly.

That was all it took.

As if a signal had been fired, Dokyeom and Hoshi sprang up from their seats like synchronized swimmers trained in chaos.

“‘And you saw me whip my hair in the wind playing Beyoncé!’” Dokyeom joined in, his falsetto dramatic as he twirled once and pointed at Luna like he was in a cheesy 2000s music video.

“‘Putting that good work in like a fiancé!’” Hoshi added, sliding into frame with a shoulder shimmy that would’ve made anyone proud.

And just like that— it was BSS mode: activated.

The three of them circled Luna like a musical wolfpack, each delivering the iconic line like it was the chorus to a national anthem.

“Fiancé!”

“Fiancé!!”

“FIANCÉ!!!”

They were practically harmonizing it now, the word echoing through the room as they pointed at her repeatedly, their faces twisted into exaggerated, knowing smirks. Every time they said it, they dragged it out longer, louder, more obnoxious.

“‘PUTTING THAT GOOD WORK IN—’”

“‘LIKE A—’”

“‘FIANNNNCÉEEEEEEE!!!’”

The rest of the members were howling. Joshua had fallen sideways on the couch, wheezing. Dino was physically holding Mingyu back from joining because they both knew one more would tip Luna into combustion. Jun was clapping like a seal at an aquarium, absolutely delighted. Even Woozi had given up pretending to be chill, his head tilted back with a quiet, tired laugh.

Luna, for her part, was red. Not pink. Red. She had fully buried her face into her palms and was now making a muffled whimper scream sound that only someone utterly defeated by embarrassment could produce.

“What is wrong with you people?!” she cried into her hands. “You’re all insane!!”

“WE’RE CELEBRATING YOUUUU!” Seungkwan defended mid-dance.

“AND YOUR FIANCÉEEE!” Hoshi chimed in, finger guns blazing.

“JEONGHANNIE-HYUNG IS PROUD!” Dokyeom yelled toward the ceiling like it was a spiritual message.

“I HATE YOU ALL!” Luna groaned, though the smile on her face said otherwise.

Realizing she had to escape before they broke into a remix, Luna suddenly sat upright, spun toward Woozi, and blurted, “Cheollie’s song is next right!”

It came out so fast and loud, it was the most obvious topic shift in the history of mankind.

The room exploded in fresh laughter. Hoshi collapsed backward onto the couch, giggling like he’d just been blessed. Vernon was shaking his head. Minghao smirked knowingly.

“Look at her tryna change the subject,” Seungcheol said from across the room, biting back a grin.

“Wah! Last song! Z…” Luna said, calling Woozi like she was summoning a lifeline. She turned to him with the most desperate version of mock-exasperation in her tone. “Go play it quickly.”

Woozi blinked once, then gave the smallest, smug smirk before nodding. “Alright. S.Coups’ ‘Jungle.’”

As soon as the first beat dropped, the room snapped into a different rhythm.

Luna released a breath like she’d just escaped a battlefield. “Finally,” she whispered under her breath as the opening synth washed over them.

The vibe shifted. Heads started nodding. Shoulders moved in slow sync. The members gradually leaned back in their seats or got up to bounce subtly to the beat. All eyes now turned toward Seungcheol as the deep bass kicked in.

Luna took the opportunity to melt into the couch again, finally out of the spotlight, sipping her water like it was wine after war. No more “fiancé” chants. No more exaggerated pointing. Just Seungcheol’s low, commanding voice taking over the room.

They listened.

They bopped.

They danced.

As the final track played out, they eased into a calm, content rhythm. Seungcheol shared a few humble remarks about the song— its darker vibe, its layered lyrics, the experimental direction. Woozi followed up with some closing thoughts, nodding proudly at each member as he recapped how personal each track was, how unique each story had been.

And with that, the listening session came to a warm, chaotic, and completely unforgettable close.

comments…

@/bunniecouple_17 • 3 hours ago ╰ I DIDN’T KNOW I NEEDED AN HOUR LONG LISTENING SESSION 🥹 THEY ARE INSNAE FOR THIS!

@/lunababybae • 3 hours ago ╰ I NEED THE GOV’T TO DECLASSIFY JEONGHAN’S SONG RIGHT NOW. WHO BROKE HIM. WHO. TELL ME.

@/gyuccibabe • 3 hours ago ╰ i just KNOW Luna was holding back tears listening to Hannie’s song… you can literally see it in her eyes 56:25 ok i am not okay.

@/soonducksupremacy • 3 hours ago ╰ “LIKE A FIANCÉ!!!” BSS chanting that like a pagan ritual while Luna hides in her hands is peak entertainment 😭😭😭

@/caratforever_17 • 3 hours ago ╰ no bc why did Mingyu and Luna come in glowing and Seungkwan ratted them out IMMEDIATELY 😭😭 bro is tired of them

@/cheolspopularity • 3 hours ago ╰ we really got a whole album of 14 different genres and they ALL HIT??? who gave them the right to be this versatile

@/urjeonghanismytype • 3 hours ago ╰ JEONGHAN’S SONG GOT ME LYING FACE DOWN IN THE DIRT. WHY DID IT HURT. WHY DID IT SOUND SO SPECIFIC. WHAT KIND OF GOODBYE? WAS IT TO LUNA????

@/ilovemybossboyfriend • 3 hours ago ╰ LUNA’S SONG WAS JUST HER FLEXING HER CAREER, HER ACHIEVEMENTS, HER LIFE, HER MAN, HER RING, HER INCOME… YES MOTHER GO OFF

@/seventeencaratfiles • 3 hours ago ╰ ok but what if Jeonghan’s song IS about a certain Cold War… 😭

@/min9yupls • 3 hours ago ╰ i’m sorry i’m STILL not over luna pointing at woozi like “no. he helped me too.” she’s such a humble baddie i’m crying

@/vernonearth • 3 hours ago ╰ Dino’s song was SO GOOD like his maturity and his vocals?? yes baby you better devour 🥹

@/jeongnacore • 3 hours ago ╰ the way the camera KEPT cutting to Luna during Jeonghan’s song and the OTHER MEMBERS were GLANCING AT HER i felt like i was watching a live documentary

@/xuwenzhoufanaccount • 3 hours ago ╰ wonwoo and jeonghan NEED TO BE RETURNED TO SVT IMMEDIATELY!

@/thatonegurlcarat • 3 hours ago ╰ Luna’s song sounded like a diss track to every girl who thought they had a chance with jeonghan 😭😭😭 and i SUPPORT IT. damn right she did that.

@/thesassycaratclub • 3 hours ago ╰ luna: sings about her man BSS: chants “fiancé” like a cult me: throws phone at wall in love

@/kimbokju’sroommate • 3 hours ago ╰ THE FACT THAT I COULD TELL HOSHI WAS WAITING FOR A REASON TO DANCE TO THAT FIANCÉ LINE… HE POUNCED 😭

@/joshushushu • 2 hours ago ╰ joshua’s solo was like a warm blanket and a hug and then right after that JEONGHAN STABBED ME IN THE CHEST WITH HIS LYRICS

@/zzznanaaaa • 2 hours ago ╰ ok but do you think jeonghan wrote that song DURING the cold war with luna or AFTER???? bc the pain was past tense but the delivery??? THAT WAS RECENT

@/cheoliebiceps95 • 2 hours ago ╰ SEUNGCHEOL’S ‘JUNGLE’ GOT ME SWINGING THROUGH MY PROBLEMS. IT ATE. IT STOMPED. LEADER OF THE LEADERS

@/bssnation • 2 hours ago ╰ can’t believe dk, hoshi and seungkwan turned into a whole flash mob just to bully jiyeon 😭😭😭 AND THEY DID IT IN HARMONY TOO!!!

@/softforzi • 2 hours ago ╰ woozi being proud of everyone else’s tracks like the musical dad he is 🥺 he rlly be building svt from the ground up again

@/seoulcitycarat • 2 hours ago ╰ 00:30 Luna and Mingyu seriously walk in with matching outfits and matching grins only to be ratted out by Kwanie 🤣

@/princesscheollie • 2 hours ago ╰ “last song! z… go play it quickly” luna i love u but that panic shift was so loud i felt secondhand embarrassment 😭

@/junhuiwinked • 2 hours ago ╰ JUN’S SONG WAS SO GOOD I HAD TO STEP OUTSIDE AND BREATHE. he’s too powerful. send help.

@/bugsbunnycore • 2 hours ago ╰ BSS HAVE RUINED THE WORD “FIANCÉ” FOR ME I CAN’T EVEN HEAR IT WITHOUT DOING THE STUPID DANCE THEY WERE DOING 🙃

@/gyuluna2000 • 2 hours ago ╰ Luna’s “something I KNOW I’ll be good at” confidence was so powerful I felt my problems disappear with her certainly 😫

@/dkwonangel • 2 hours ago ╰ Dokyeom really out here singing his HEART OUT and still found time to tease Luna 😭 our multi-talented king

@/ashonashonash • 2 hour ago ╰ someone mentioned 2018 JeongNa Cold War and i haven’t stopped shaking since. THEY WERE SMILING FOR CAMERAS AND IGNORING EACH OTHER AT THE SAME TIME! THAT WAS AN ERA!! YOU JUST HAD TO BE THERE

@/nochuwooziii • 1 hour ago ╰ Jiyeon said she wanted to do something “smooth and sexy”? yeah she succeeded too well now i need to go to church

@/s.coupswife_fvr • 1 hour ago ╰ i am so normal about this album (i say as i scream into a pillow and cry in seventeen languages)

@/fandom_moments • 1 hour ago ╰ THE MEMBERS WERE DOING THOSE SIDE GLANCES AT LUNA DURING JEONGHAN’S SOLO AND I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS 😭 they KNOW something yall

@/tangerinechoi • 1 hour ago ╰ THE VARIETY, THE RANGE, THE TALENT. HOW DID THEY PUT OUT A WHOLE ALBUM AND NOT MISS ONCE??? TALENT.

@/choi_chwe17 • 1 hour ago ╰ JeongNa Cold War 🚬 🚬 🚬I haven’t heard those words in a while 🚬🚬🚬

@/hyunglineenthusiast • 1 hour ago ╰ THIS ALBUM MIGHT END ME 🫠

@/jjongslilsecret • 1 hour ago ╰ 1:00:00 yes ma’am, damn right she did that.

@/zzzrrah • 1 hour ago ╰ this was more than a listening party this was a telenovela and I NEED THE NEXT EPISODE RIGHT NOW.

@/jjeonghanismytherapist • 1 hour ago ╰ Jiyeonie tearing up to Jeonghan’s song and then flexing about him in HER song is such a real relationship dynamic. i love that for them.

@/boo_slapped_me • 1 hour ago ╰ if i had a nickel for every time bss emotionally terrorized Luna live on camera… i’d have like 4 nickels. which isn’t a lot but it’s WEIRD THAT IT’S HAPPENED THAT MANY TIMES.

@/lemonadegyu • 1 hour ago ╰ no bc how is jeonghan gonna drop a sad boi ballad and luna responds like “anyway here’s me snatching your fave and looking hot doing it” 💅🏻 DAMN RIGHT SHE DID THAT

@/dokyeomdoyouhearme • 1 hour ago ╰ WHO LET THEM COOK. WHO. THE ALBUM SLAPS TOO HARD. I’M NOT EVEN MAD. JUST DIZZY.

@/iluvjeonghanniee • 1 hour ago ╰ “putting that good work in like a fiancé” — OK BAE JIYEON YOU WIN. YOU WIN FOREVER. DAMN RIGHT YOU DID THAT.

@/notmecryinglol • 1 hour ago ╰ i’m sorry but that was not a song. that was a PUBLIC DECLARATION OF POSSESSION. luna said “he’s mine, try again next life.” damn right she did that 🤭

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Taglist: @zhqvie @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco @minvxq @soulphoenix1618 @whineywheeiny @rairaine @toplinehyunjin @ateez-atiny380 @cherrylovescheol @jiimtaee @blurr3db3rry @seomisaho @amanda08319 @peanutbutterslothsstuff @cheolsboo @allthings-fandoms @mystic-megumi @sherlockbye @tastyluvr @luperque @reignofraine @kpoplover-19 @star2013 @frankenstein852 @axleighkaize @jmkookie01 @shhh94 @gigglensnort @stupendouscookiehumanmug

[fujoshirat]

✩₊˚.Belated Housewarming—Literally!

Shouto Todoroki x reader

Summary: After your husband's job as a hero deprives you of intimacy and loving, you decide to make his birthday unforgettable with a heartfelt surprise that reminds him just how much he’s missing. The most important part of your plan? That damned lacy, frilly, pink apron hanging in your closet.

Warnings: A18+ (MINORS DNI), FILTHY smut, porn w/ plot, sex marathon, dom!Shouto and sub!reader, cursing, pet names, missionary, doggy style, squirting, oral (female receiving), upstanding citizen, three-legged stance, inappropriate use of a home but whatever floats your (Shouto’s) boat, breeding kink, domestic kink, temperature play, slight angst in the beginning but overall fluff and smut :)

Author's Note: Happy birthday to the man I fell in love with in 2020 ( ˊᵕˋ )♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The soft clunk of the dryer shutting off echoed through the quiet house, signaling the end of yet another cycle. Bending down, you toss the clean clothes into the laundry basket and walk to the dining table. The entire house is quiet, save for the soft sound of rain outside and the ruffling of clothes being folded.

Yup, this was your married life: silence in a punctual routine while living in an empty house that felt too large without your husband. For all the joy your wedding brought, no one had warned you how lonely it could feel to be married to the second-best pro hero in Japan.

And you have had enough!

It’s been one year since he proposed, 10 months since you moved in together, and 3 months since you both got married. You knew about what you were signing yourself up for. However, nothing could prepare you for what it was really like being married to a pro hero, no less the second best pro hero in all of Japan! A month after your wedding, Shouto had to hop on a plane to America for a mission with other pro heroes, leaving you alone in the house for three weeks. And in the weeks leading up to Christmas, Shouto would come home exhausted from work and patrol. It would be just past 11, just as you were tucking yourself in to bed (Shouto begged you to go to bed at an early time, even if he wasn’t home yet, but you found that hard to do), and your husband would open the front door. You would feel your heart skip: finally, he was home. But then, he’d stumble through the bedroom door with a tired sigh, eyes heavy with fatigue, and you could see the toll his day had taken on him. His uniform would be rumpled, his hair slightly damp from sweat and snow, and his pretty heterochromatic eyes would be soft and dazed as he quietly greeted you.

“Welcome home, Shou.”

“Tadaima.”

“Long day?”

“Mhm…”

“Are you hungry? I made chazuke for dinner earlier.”

“…”

“Perhaps a warm bath?”

“…”

You’d try to stay awake, to offer him something, anything that might lift his spirits—your smile, a warm meal, even a conversation. But all he seemed to need was sleep, and that’s what he’d do. He’d change into his pajamas (simple black shorts), kiss your forehead, and collapse into bed next to you (whose exhaustion was also a massive headache).

You were absolutely sexually frustrated and terribly missed your husband. As days went on, you longed for more than just his presence in the room. You wanted him. But the mission schedules, late night patrol shifts, and endless demands of Japan left you feeling distant.

Yeah, you were screwed.

And you couldn’t blame him. It had been his dream to become his own hero, not for his father, not to surpass All Might, but for himself. It was his calling, and the nature of his work, no, responsibility, naturally required much time and effort. However, you felt like it only widened the gap between you two as the days went on.

At least Christmas was decent. He finally took off time from work for the important holiday and stayed home with you for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Those two days consisted of cuddling on the couch, hours of talking while a random TV show played in the background. You also visited his family for Christmas Eve dinner and stayed home the entire time on Christmas day.

And now, it was January. It was a new year, but most importantly, Shouto’s birthday was fast approaching. You were sick of this abstinence, it needed to end already! The last time your husband had touched you was 4 months ago on your honeymoon! Grumbling to yourself, you dig a hand through the laundry basket until you find the matching sock and continue your folding. ‘Don’t be selfish, Y/N! You knew that marriage wouldn’t be picture perfect! Get a grip!! Ugh, but I’m so pent up! I need the affection!’

You must be ovulating or really really REALLY horny right now because look at you, arguing with your voices in your head! Sighing to yourself, you finish the last of your laundry and head upstairs to start putting it away. After doing so, you check the time on your phone, the lock screen a picture of you and Shouto cutting the wedding cake at your wedding (photo courtesy of Izuku), and it brings a wistful smile on your face. You looked so happy, and so did he. Shaking your head, you pout and check the time: 10:59am. Getting ready to put the laundry basket away so that you could figure out what to eat for lunch, you spot something in the corner of your eye in the closet.

Upon closer inspection, you open the closet door and see your pink, frilly cooking apron hanging. ‘Huh, weird, I must have been so tired cooking dinner last night that I threw it in here.’ Taking it out, you put it on mindlessly in preparation for in case you need to make lunch because there aren’t enough leftovers. As you walk past the mirror and to the bedroom door, you pause in your steps. Your eyes widen when you an idea comes to mind as you remember how you looked in the corner of your eye when you passed by the mirror.

The apron, with its delicate trim, was really nothing special. It was a simple, pink, frilly apron that you had bought before moving into the house with Shouto. However, in this instant, the delicate lace trim, extra pink bows, and its slightly playful charm instantly sparked a thought. You had always loved cooking for Shouto (and he loved your cooking too), but it wasn’t just about the meals anymore. It was about what you could do for him—what you could show him. You could almost picture the look on his face if he found you, wearing nothing but that apron, waiting for him to come home. That thought sent a thrill up your spine, and you quickly caught your breath, heart racing a little too fast for comfort.

That idea was what you needed, and you knew exactly when to do it and what to prepare. Running down the stairs, you eagerly check the pantry. ‘Y/N! You naughty girl! What are you thinking?’ God, you were mad, insane, the surge of excitement building up in your head like your bottled emotions these past few months. You make a mental note to buy more soy sauce and extra buckwheat noodles tomorrow on your daily grocery store run. It was currently January 03, and you had exactly one week to prepare for Shouto’s birthday. Your idea felt so right, so tantalizing. Surely Shouto was pent up as well? Prior to engagement or marriage, you two never avidly had sex, nor did you avoid it.

And it was his birthday, more importantly, his first birthday celebrated with his wife, you. You wanted it to be extra special, to be a sexy happy memory made in this house. You wanted to make the day about him, so why not kill two birds with one stone? Squealing to yourself, you start cooking up lunch while scrolling through Instagram to find the open hours of a bakery down the street.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

At 6:45am, you slipped out of bed as quietly as you could with as little movements as possible. Taking off your pajamas, you could feel the warm, tantalizing bed with the most handsome birthday boy on earth trying to entice you back to bed. But, no, you were stronger than this! You threw the silky pajamas in the hamper and easily put on your “lingerie:” the lacy, pink, frilly apron. Next, you brush your hair as neatly as possible and put on light blush and mascara to look even more delicious. You have to hold back a squeal when you look at your appearance in the mirror. The flimsy material covered enough to leave room for imagination as well as exposed your body just next to those enticing areas. You felt like the epitome of the balance of sweet and sultry—like Sabrina Carpenter concert outfits—exactly what you were going for!

Your thighs weren’t killing you as much as they did these past few days (you did 50 squats from January 03 to 09, and then 30 yesterday to soothe your poor muscles and give them a break before the real workout you desired). Squats are no joke, but anything to be closer to a BBL on this special day! Entering the kitchen, you open the fridge and pull out a simple, white box. You place it on the counter and hum to yourself, ‘Do I make the cold soba now? Or should I wait?’ You tapped a finger to your chin, glancing at the clock on the wall: 7:01 a.m. There was still plenty of time before you planned to wake Shouto up, so you decided you might as well start cooking. The sooner everything was ready, the smoother your plan would go (plus, you weren’t sure if your legs would be okay if you had to cook lunch in between ykw).

After making your husband’s favorite meal, you quickly throw it in the fridge and grab the cake. Running upstairs as quietly as you can, you let out a relieved sigh when you see that Shouto hasn’t woken up yet—still sprawled on his side, one arm tucked under your pillow (that was “pretending” to be you). Your heart pounded with excitement, and at 7:30am, you place the cake on the dresser. Leaning over, you gently brush a strand of hair from his face.

“Shouto,” you quietly murmur, “wake up, birthday boy.” He stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, his soft expression shifting as his brows furrowed slightly and his nose scrunched up. “Mmm…” You have to hold back a laugh—he’s so cute!

“Shouto,” you call a little louder, amusement evident in your tone, “time to wake up!”

This time, his mismatched eyes flutter open, clouded with sleep. His left hand reaches up to caress your cheek as his right hand rubs his eyes. For a moment, he blinked his sleepiness away, still looking up at your face.

He smiled tiredly, exhaustion from last night’s patrol evident, until, in the corner of his eye, Shouto swears that you’re wearing a tank top. Tilting his head slightly downward, his gaze lands on what you’re wearing.

“Good morning, and happy birthday!” you smile shyly, desperately trying to ignore the burning feeling in your cheeks. “Did you sleep well?” Face filled with confusion, his eyes wander down further, and he takes in what you’re wearing (or rather, not wearing)—just one article of clothing (if it could even be called that):

That damned lacy, frilly, pink apron that you use when cooking.

Pink dusts his cheeks, mouth opening to speak, then closing. Shouto was speechless, realizing what today’s occasion was.

“Y-you’re—” His voice gets caught in his dry throat, and he swallowed hard. “Y-you’re wearing just that?” You tilted your head innocently, pretending not to understand. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

Shouto blinked, his hand reaching out almost instinctively to rest lightly on your hip, his fingers brushing the soft ribbon tied around your waist. “No, nothing’s wrong,” he said softly, his voice barely above a murmur. You giggle at this and move his hand away. “Ah-ah-ah! That, is for later. Aren’t you hungry for breakfast? I got you a cake!” You cheerfully open the cake box and hold it up to him. The fluffy sponge and layers of whipped cream topped with plump, glistening strawberries all add to the strawberry shortcake’s appeal. You watch Shouto sit up straighter, eyes practically sparkling at his breakfast.

“Strawberry shortcake,” he murmurs, “my favorite.” You smile and stand a little closer to him. “I know! That’s why I got it-” Suddenly, you’re cut off when his palm grabs your plump flesh. Not expecting this, you slightly jolt in surprise and grip onto the cake so to not let the beautiful creation get destroyed.

“I want this cake for breakfast, Y/N.” His velvety, smooth tone sends shivers down your spine—and the smirk on Shouto’s face and his mismatched eyes full of mischief blatantly focused on the furious blush on your face tells you all that you need to know: That bastard knows that he’s doing!! “Shou!” You huff, voice wavering as you try to ignore your burning cheeks, “Behave yourself! Let me feed you your breakfast.”

Your husband visibly pouts but lets out a sigh and leans back slightly. Who was he to deny his pretty wife from feeding him? You smile triumphantly, setting the cake box on the nightstand and sliding onto the edge of the bed beside him. Grabbing a fork, you carefully cut a perfect bite from the Strawberry Shortcake, making sure to get just the right balance of sponge, cream, and strawberry.

“Open wide, birthday boy,” you quip cheerfully, holding the fork up to his lips. The man smiles and obediently opens his mouth. “Ah~” Taking a bite, his expression turns even softer. A soft hum of appreciation escapes his throat, making it known that the cake was delicious. “It’s really good, love. Thank you.” “Mhm! It’s no problem at all!” Waiting for him to finish chewing and swallow, you bite back a smirk as you prepare for the next bite.

It was time for part 2 of your plan.

Reaching over to the cake, you use the plastic butterknife (harmless, I promise!) to scoop up a little bit of the frosting from the cake. Your husband looks at you curiously, unsure of what you’re doing.

And then, the cool feeling of the sugary frosting hits just above the valley of your chest, right where the top of the apron above your cleavage is. To add the cherry on top (or should I say, strawberry hahahahaha okay fine i’m not funny ig sorry), you place a plump strawberry right in the middle of the cream. Shouto’s eyes widen, and it widens even further when you teasingly tug the apron a little lower to show off your bare body for a few seconds. Innocently, you look at your husband. “Shouto,” you speak sweetly, feigning innocence. “What’s wrong, love?” You watch him swallow. Hard. His gaze lingers on the frosting, then flickers back up to your face.

“I said I was gonna feed you, right?” You bite back a giggle when you notice his hands gripping the blanket.

“Come and eat, birthday boy.”

Shouto gulps, eyes glued to your chest, as he moves over to you. His strong arms wrap around your waist as his warm breath hits your collarbone. He looks up at you with lidded eyes as he slowly rubbed your hands along your exposed hips. “If I come and eat, I won’t let you escape, okay?” You couldn’t tell if your husband was horny or trying to be cute, but his cheeks were still painted that lovely shade of red. Not thinking much of it (have we learned nothing??), you nod. “Mhm! It’s your birthday breakfast, remember?” Shouto’s eyes darken as he moves his face close to your exposed breasts.

“Itadakimasu.”

Warm, wet muscle dances along the valley between your soft chest. Biting back a moan, your head tilts upward, hands flying to Shouto’s hair. “S-shou…” No response: the red and white haired man was too busy going down on your divine body. He licks off the whipped cream frosting and starts eating the strawberry. Suddenly, he nips at your soft skin, eliciting a yelp from you. “Shouto!” you chastise him, but he interrupts you with another bite.

“God,” he mutters, “You’re so sweet.”

Your cheeks flush red again and you bite your lip to stifle and noises. You don’t even notice that Shouto has finished the dessert on your body and is looking up at you with a lovestruck expression. His calloused hands rub small circles at your waist to calm you. “My love, are you alright? Was I too rough?” You nod and look at him with a smile. “I’m okay!” The man lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding in.

“You know, I really like this surprise. It’s been so long and I didn’t realize how much I was holding in.” His eyes look down a little shyly from his honesty, and your heart melts.

“Oh, darling, I’ve been pent up too.” You gently touch his cheek while Shouto’s eyes widen at the revelation. You’ve been pent up this entire time? “Since when?” You let out a gasp at the question and look away shyly.

“D-don’t laugh!” "I won't laugh, I promise," he says, his voice tender without any trace of mocking as he reaches up to lift your chin so you can meet his gaze.

“U-uhm… Since you left to America...” His eyes widen in shock. “That long?” You watch his face contort from one of shock to one of regret once realization hits him like a wave.

He had been neglecting you, and he didn’t mean it.

“Y/N, I…” He bites his lip and runs a hand through his hair, shorter than when you first met him. “Shit, I… I’m so sorry I didn’t notice-” “No, no, no! It’s okay, it’s not your fault!” You wave your hands around in front of you as you try to reassure him. “I just didn’t want to say anything or bother you because you’ve been so busy and tired and stressed and-!” Shouto cuts you off mid-frenzy-of-an-explanation by grabbing your chin and forcing you to look into his eyes.

“I should have noticed how much you were holding in,” he murmurs regretfully, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. He wasn’t frustrated with you, he was frustrated with himself. “God, how many times did I ignore you? Every time I went straight to bed from patrol? Shit, love, I…” Shouto’s voice falters, and you could see the guilt weighing on him.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I was so focused on missions, and I just... I didn’t see how badly you were hurting, how much you needed me here. I wasn’t there when you needed me most.” You have to blink back tears at his statement. What he said was true, but you didn’t want him to shoulder the blame. It wasn’t his fault. “Shouto,” you whisper, “It’s okay. I know how important your work is for you, and I support you.” He shakes his head, rendering you confused.

“No, Y/N, I should have made you my priority, not my work.” His eyes burn with fierce intensity, gazing into yours as if they were wishing stars.

“You are my priority, and as your husband, I’ve completely failed in showing you that you are my priority.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you sniffle. “D-don’t say that,” your voice is wobbly as you reach up to wipe a stray tear, “Y-you’re gonna make me cry and I worked hard on this makeup.” (thank god for waterproof mascara) He laughs at your attempt to lighten the mood and kisses his forehead. “You look beautiful, baby, you know that?” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips linger for a moment, and when he pulls back, there's a lightness in his gaze, something playful.

"Okay, okay, enough with the tears for now," you say, trying to change up the sappy, sad mood. You wipe your eyes and take a deep breath, giving him a small, teasing smile. "I wanted today to be special, so let's enjoy it. Plus..." You pause, the mischievous twinkle in your eye returning as you lean closer.

"I want you to make me cry for another reason."

Shouto’s eyes widen in surprise for a brief moment before he catches the playful spark in your gaze. A grin slowly spreads across his face, and a quiet chuckle escapes him. “Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, but there's something else there too—a promise.

"Well, then, let’s see if I can make that happen."

Arms wrapping around you, Shouto presses his lips against yours. The kisses are soft at first, testing the waters and giving you the chance to back down (not that you were ever going to). But as the seconds go by, once your consistent kissing back makes it evident to your husband that you weren’t going to stop, the kisses become hungry and urgent.

His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue gently traces the line of your lips, begging for more. You respond in kind, your body melting against his, as you part your lips to let his tongue in. The heat between you both intensifies, every brush of his lips, every movement of his hands, making your heart race.

Suddenly, you pull back breathlessly. Shouto pants softly, eyes clouded with lust as the thick tent in his pants press into your bare pussy. You move your hips teasingly, grinding against him, drawing out a moan from your husband. “B-baby…” he murmurs out, squeezing your hips. You respond with a smile and reach down to remove his underwear. “If you’re okay with it, love, I’d like to take the lead this time.” Shouto’s eyes widen, but he smiles and nods.

“Okay, Y/N, but tell me if you need help or if it’s too much, okay?” Your heart warms at his offer, ever the gentleman, and you nod. “I don’t think I’ll need help but thank you, darling.”

Carefully, you lower your body down on his cock. You gasp when you feel his thick tip stretch your sweet cunt. He’s big, so so big and delicious. As your walls are practically split open, you have to go reeeeeally slow so to not hurt yourself. Hands gripping the sheets, you let out a slutty moan at the sensation. Your husband’s eyes are half-lidded, lust and love mixed together in the perfect ratio. He was only a little more than halfway in, and you already felt so full. Biting his lower lip, he gently reaches a hand over to hold your waist, thumb rubbing loving circles to help soothe whatever pain you may have been feeling (so sweet :( ).

And then, you go all the way up, just until only the tip is inside, and slam yourself down. Shouto lets out a choked, guttural moan, biting his lower lip. “F-Fuck…” His hands grip your waist tighter as he braces himself for more loving from you.

However, your hips do not move as he planned. Rather, they do not move at all and you remain planted on him. Slightly frustrated, Shouto looks up at you curiously.

“Love?”

There is a dangerous, mischievous glint in your eyes as you sweetly bat your pretty lashes at him, hips still not moving. “Yes, Shou?” Reaching over, you cut a piece of the cake and hold the fork up to his lips.

“You’re hungry, right? Say ‘ah’!” He frowns, clearly expecting you to ride him, but he obediently eats the cake. Swallowing, his fingers rub your waist. “Darling, are you going to move now?”

His frown deepens when you shake your head and hold up another forkful of cake to his mouth. “I can’t let my husband go hungry, right?” Before he can interrupt, you giggle. “We never really had a personal housewarming did we? Why not do it now?”

Oh, that’s what you’re plan was. Teasing him by fucking cockwarming him, a dirty move.

And Shouto Todoroki, as much as he loves you, does not like that.

Yeah, you probably should not have teased him so much, because strong hands grab your hips and lift you off your husband’s hard dick. Your back hits the soft mattress and you let out a soft “oof-!” The fork discarded onto the nightstand (a miracle it didn’t drop to the floor), Shouto’s darkened gaze pierces into your soul. Brows furrowed, his expression tells you all that you need to know: He’s had enough with your game, and it’s time for you to face the consequences.

Before you can protest, defend your playful teasing, his lips roughly press against yours, hungrily making out. He bites your bottom lip softly, hands roaming up and down your body, asking for permission to slip his tongue in. You open your mouth submissively, his wet muscle entering the warm cavern. His lips trail downwards to your jaw, nipping and kissing it, before settling onto your neck and biting the sensitive roughly. A whine escapes your throat, body burning with desire and need. “Shouto!! Haah, please…” Your body jolts with slight pain and pleasure when his left hand swats your ass, leaving a pinkish mark.

“Please what?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, feigning innocence as his fingers trail up your sides, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. “You were so confident earlier. What happened, hmm?”

“I… I didn’t mean it,” you stammer, your cheeks burning as you look up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t tease me, please…”

His smirk deepens, and he leans in again, this time pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your jaw, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “Oh, but darling,” he purrs, his lips moving down to your neck as his hands tighten on your waist, holding you in place. The teasing tone he used while calling you such a sweet nickname makes your pussy clench around nothing, making even wetter. “Weren’t you just having fun teasing me?” Your eyes widen when one of his hands roughly pin your smaller hands down on the pillow above you.

Oh fuck, you were screwed.

Shouto lines up his shaft to your pussy, angry red tip swollen and leaking. He playfully slaps his cock on your clit, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“You know that I don’t like it when you tease me,” Shouto notes calmly, his eyes telling a different story. “Are you going to remember that next time? Or do I have to fuck you stupid to remember that, my sweet wife?”

Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sound of that nickname. But before you could respond Shouto begins to push the bulbous tip inside your tight hole. You throw your head back into the pillow, hands gripping the sheets at the stretch. Just the sheer stretch of his tip alone made your brain fuzzy. Shouto hisses at the feeling of your goey, tight walls. “D-damn, baby,” he breathes out, eyebrows furrowed sexily, “S-so fucking tight…” After a minute, he was balls deep, all of him buried inside your sweet pussy.

Yet, this was not enough for Shouto.

He slides himself all the way out (getting back at you), and rams himself back in. A soft cry escapes your throat, and Shouto almost hesitates to continue. However, your lewd expression and hips desperately moving to feel his cock move again quenches his fears of it being too much for you. He begins thrusting, pants and groans slipping out of his lips.

“Ah ahh—Shou—!! Y-you’re s-so deep-” Fat crystalline tears well up in the corners of your eyes as you whimper. Your husband suddenly thrusts harder, prompted by your comment. “Y-yeah baby, nice and—fuck—deep, gonna cum inside, okay?” Pupils practically heart-shaped, you nod eagerly.

“Yeshh-! Pleasepleaseplease-” Your husband continues mercilessly pounding into your sensitive cunt, soft thwacks! and squelching noises made from the way his mushroom tip kissed your cervix.

“Oh!! So—hngh!—good!!” Shouto toys your clit sweetly with a few circular brushes of his thumb against your neglected clit, pushing you over the edge. “Ahh-!! C-cummin’!!” Eyes squeezing shut, your pussy clenches around your husband’s dick, body jerking up in pleasure as you ride out your high. This seems to have pushed Shouto over the edge as well, because with a final thrust, he empties his balls in your sweet womb, filling you up with his hot, thick cum. Gently, you pull his face down to kiss you softly, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down.

However, as you reach for a towel on the nightstand, beefy, muscular arms grab you and flip you over on your stomach. A pillow is pushed underneath your abdomen as Shouto lifts your hips up to his cock. “D-darling!?” You squeak in surprise, not expecting his actions. Suddenly, Shouto plunges his dick back into your pussy, cum dripping down and onto the bed. A pathetic sob escapes your throat, along with moans and whines. “T-Thought we were done—ah!”

“You thought we were finished? Love, you should know…” His voice drops down to a husky, seductive whisper when he leans down to your ear, warm breath ticking you. His cock twitches in your hole, keeping your gummy walls nice and warm and stretched.

“I fully intend on making this house a real home with you, and ensuring that your womb is nice and full is step one.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Currently, you were getting your brains fucked out in the kitchen, body practically sandwiched between the kitchen island and your husband. It had been hours since you both started going at it. Only your right leg was touching the ground, buckling knee desperately trying to support your body. Shouto was holding your left leg, one hand looped underneath the knee of your left leg and the other grabbing your slutty waist as he ruts his cock into your cunt.

You couldn’t even form a sentence, your moans and mewls and Shouto’s groans filling the house. Manicured nails gripping the countertop, a gasp escapes your throat when you feel the familiar tightening in your stomach. Eyes widening, you know what was up: you were going to cum for the nth time.

Your eyes trail to the bruises on your hips from how hard he had been gripping you, then to Shouto’s face. “S-Shouto,” you moan breathlessly, a gasp slipping from your lips when his pelvis begins thrusting faster. “C-Close!!” The smug man smirks, biting his lower lip sexily and pulling your body closer. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you feel an unfamiliar feeling begin to build up in your abdomen. Cock drilling your insides, kissing your sweet, spongy g-spot, Shouto continues pounding hard. “B-baby-!! Oh! Ahn-! GonnA-!!”

Suddenly, the pressure is too much for you and a strangled sob escapes your lips.

Translucent liquid splatters onto Shouto’s abs and pours onto the floor. When you realize what just happened, your blood runs cold. Shouto’s eyes widen when he realizes this as well and his movements stop.

“…”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then, blood rushes to your cheeks. Shit. You hide your face in your hands, groaning from embarrassment. “Shit-! Shouto! I-” You what? You couldn’t even say it.

You fucking squirted all over him and the kitchen floor.

Just when you’re about to spew out an endless number of apologies, the breath is knocked out of your lungs when Shouto’s hips start to move again. Your hands fly to grab at the marble countertop of the kitchen island again.

“Oh-! Ahn-! S-Shouto-!! Too much!!” The sensation was overwhelming, and you were still overstimulated from your recent climax. His fingers dig deeper into your soft flesh, kneading your waist.

“Hnngh-! I-Isn’t it—ngh—gross?” Your husband shakes his head, hips continuing to meet your pelvis, and a deep gasp escaping from his throat. “Not at all, love.” He pulls your waist closer to meet his hips, eliciting a sweet, harmonic moan from you. Leaning down, his hot breath hits your ear as he whispers seductively.

“It was hot.”

Your face burns from his honesty, not expecting his reaction. Whining, your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overwhelming sensation of a particularly harsh (yet pleasurable) thrust. Your blood boils in your veins as you tried to maintain your grip on the marble island top. Soft pants escape your husband’s lips, a curse word sprinkled in every now and then. Suddenly, Shouto bites his lip. He was getting close. Despite your lower half feeling like jello, you rocked your hips as best as you could to meet his hips, anything to get him close to finishing!

Through your clouded, fucked-out mind, you were still able to count how many times Shouto had finished so far today: four times (twice on the bed to fix your attitude, once in the bathroom when he was “cleaning you up,” and once on the stairs—wait… how did that even happen!?!?). “S-shou,” you pant out, one arm reaching up to wrap around his neck and stabilize yourself. “T-this is —ngh— s’pposed to be about you!” He smiles softly at your remark and slows down. Tenderly, he takes your other arm leaning on the kitchen island and has you wrap it around your neck as well. “I know, but I can’t help wanting to make you feel good.”

Without letting himself slip out of your heavenly folds, Shouto easily picks you up and carries you to the wall. The taller man pins you against it before resuming his lovely assault on your pussy. You writhe against him, babbling mindless nonsense and singing his name with your moans. You were so close again! Heat coils up in your abdomen again as you cling tighter to Shouto. His fingers dig even deeper, and he lets out a guttural moan.

“God, baby, y-you’re—fuck—divine.” His pace grew more erratic as he began thrusting faster. Tears form at the corners of your eyes as you sob pathetically, nails digging into his back. Shouto’s mouth presses against yours yet again, hungrily kissing you. Your legs quiver and your body jolts in pleasure as you come again. Your orgasm hits you like a truck, sensitivity heightened from the overstimulation. A few seconds after, Shouto thrusts one last time and fills you up, hot cum flooding your tight walls. Your body shakes as you come down from your high, euphoria surging in your veins again.

Carefully, Shouto lets your legs touch the ground—not that that was any good (he just pounded you!), but hey, the thought counts, right? Still holding onto you, he kisses your forehead softly, body pressed up against your bare skin and the pink apron. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” You smile cheerfully and nod. “Mhm! My legs are a little sore, though.” Your gaze flickers down to the pool of fluids a few feet away from you, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Let me just go clean that up.”

Getting down on your knees, you unintentionally flash Shouto with your perky, round ass on full display (keep in mind, you’re still wearing that flimsy, probably crumbled up by now apron). Shouto gulps, adam’s apple bobbing as he watches you grab a rag and wipe up your mess. Cum was still leaking from your cunt, dripping down your thighs and even leaving drops on the floor.

Just as you finish cleaning up your mess with a light, undignified blush, rough hands grab your waist and the familiar hard dick presses up against your ass. You gasp at the feeling. “S-Shouto?” Your response is an icy smack on your left ass cheek, making you yelp. “Shouto!” But before you could get mad at him further, your breath is knocked out of your lungs yet again when he slams his dick into your pussy. You fingers dig into the rag underneath you, knees wobbily trying to maintain balance on the hardwood floor.

“Hnngh!! Not again!!”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It was only 11:51am, and sweet Jesus were you tired.

You felt like you did every position already: on the bed, on your knees, against the wall, bent over the countertop, on the fucking stairs!! You were exhausted! And to your right, the birthday boy was cheerfully slurping his cold soba noodles for his birthday lunch. You weren’t very hungry, but you took a few bites earlier (he practically forced you to eat, concerned for your well-being). It didn’t even look like he broke a sweat, the only evidence of your nasty morning being the scratch marks on his back.

As you take a sip of water, your husband sneaks glances at you. Eyes full of concern and worry, he observes the various bruises, hickeys, and the state of your apron.

Right, that damn apron.

It was a wonderful surprise, a surprise that Shouto would have never thought would ever greet him in the morning, even more so his birthday. If he were to ever tell his first-year high school self of this life, he would probably scoff and tell him to focus on his hero career. But right now, as he looks at you—the person who’s turned his house into a home (and the reason why he even has a big house like this #proposal)— he can’t imagine anything better than this. Finishing his lunch, he places the plate down before wrapping his muscular, warm arms around you. Shouto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, eyes on yours.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice is soft and tender, full of love that makes your heart melt.

“Mhm!” You quip cheerfully and place the glass down. “I told you, I’m not hungry. You worry too much baby.” “I’m allowed to worry,” he murmurs, his hand resting against your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Especially when it’s about you.”

Your heart swells at the sincerity in his voice, and you rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you say with a smile, looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “You’ll have to put up with me for a while. ‘Till death,' you know?”

His lips curl into a small smile at the reference to your vows, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he whispers, pulling you closer. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

‘Till death’ was what he had promised. ‘I promise to love you until death, until death do us part. Yet I will love you even after death, for an aeon of eternity.’

And everyone knows that Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki never does a half-assed job. Especially as your husband. Looking back at your adorable figure, his smile reverts to a frown when he spots that lacy, frilly, pink apron.

Right, that damn apron.

The sight of it stirs a conflicting swirl of emotions in Shouto. On one hand, it’s adorable—seeing you proudly donning the frilly, slightly-too-thin fabric while bustling around the house for his birthday. But on the other hand... it’s too flimsy, too distracting, and it’s been on you for too long. It takes everything in him not to reach out and tug it off, not because he’s impatient but because it feels like the apron is mocking his already limited self-control. ‘You might be upset,’ he thinks to himself, lips pressed together in a thin line. Shouto knows how much effort and planning you’ve put into your plans today, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

But at the same time, he wants to see you fully naked, bathed in your usual goddess beauty, all unwrapped just for him.

Besides, it was fine, right? That poor article of clothing needed a break: cum stains everywhere, smelling like a mix of Sol De Janeiro cherirosa and sweat from your lovemaking. It was crumpled up in areas too, no matter how much you tried to smooth it out.

The final string of restraint snaps in him when you put his empty plate in the sink, cute ass on display once again. Before you know it, the knot of the apron is undone and you’re tossed onto the couch.

“Shouto!” You huff, voice full of surprise. But before you can continue your complaining, the pink apron is pull off of your body and tossed to some corner of the living room. Shouto eyes you hungrily, like a wolf looking at his prey. You swallow nervously.

“B-baby?” His hand moves to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with surprising tenderness. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice softer now but no less earnest. “And I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.” He begins pressing featherlike kisses to your body, making you giggle and smile.

You were not prepared for what was coming next.

Cold fingers teasing your entrance suddenly press down on your clit, making you scream. You’re soaking wet again, face burning. “My lunch was delicious, like how you always make it,” your husband notes, teasing your hole by rubbing his hot fingers along your entire slit (from clit to ass).

“But I want to eat my dessert now.”

Your cunt makes embarrassing squelches and sounds, music to Shouto’s ears as he continues to eat you out on the couch. It’s been how long? 5 minutes? 10 minutes? 20? His tongue swipes your sweet bud while his middle and ring finger curl slightly and hit just the right spot. Shouto’s name tumble out of your mouth, recited like a prayer. At a particularly rough suck on your clit, your hands fly to Shouto’s hair, gripping it tightly. He moans at the feeling and flicks the bud teasingly. This sends you over the edge, eyes rolling to the back of your head and thighs spasming around your husband’s head.

Pulling his head away from your womanhood, he gives it a light, playful slap, watching your thighs jolt up. “S-Shouto!” You scold him lightly, out of breath. That was your third orgasm from just his fingers and tongue alone. He chuckles and reaches over to kiss you. “Sorry, love, I was just teasing.” Sweetly, he helps you sit up on the couch and rubs your arms to soothe you.

He presses a gentle kiss to your temple and pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “You’ve made today perfect,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “And I want to spend the rest of it making you feel just as special.”

Your heart swells at his words for like the fifth time today, and you relax against him, the earlier tension melting away. “You always make me feel special, love.” your tone is filled with warmth as you gaze up at your husband’s perfectly mismatched eyes.

As he lets you cool down, Shouto turns on the TV to check the news. After a few minutes, you suddenly get an idea that you almost forgot about in your plan.

“Shouto?” you quip, gently tapping on his shoulder. He looks at you with a curious look. “Yes, love?” You grin, twirling your hair with a finger.

“There is one more place we haven’t quite warmed up yet.” Eyes filled with curiosity, he watches you stand up start walking. Shouto frowns and puts the remote down before following you. “Love? Where are you going?” Like a lost puppy, he follows you around the house.

You open the laundry room and walk to the washing machine. All of a sudden, you grab a dirty laundry basket and drop down to your knees. Digging your hands through the clothes, you begin tossing the clothing into the machine. “Y/N? Let me help y-”

All of a sudden, you stick your upper half inside, your bare butt on full display. Shouto’s jaw drops, throat drying up. You wiggle your legs in mock distress, fighting the smile on your face.

“Honey! I think I’m stuck in here. Can you help me out?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[slowpitstop]

I Dare You – IH6 (part one)

summary: A girl, a boy, a slow burn, a bunch of F1 drivers, too many parties and just enough tension to ruin your week

word count: 5.6k

isack hadjar x reader

note: hello my lovelies! this is the first fic I'm posting on tumblr and I hope you'll like it!!! This is part 1 so please comment and repost to give me any motivation to write part 2 otherwise this will end up in the bins of my projects along with my draft masters thesis lmao

Paris, April 2025

Your breath feels so loud it almost drowns out the music pulsing in the background. You recognise Niagara Falls by The Weeknd. The bass notes are shaking your bones but not as much as his eyes do.

Isack is looking at you, not moving an inch. His lips are slightly parted and all you want is to crash into them, hard, not sweet.

You stand two meters apart, fists clenched, while he is leaning against a cluttered table like you’re not melting in front of him.

“I dare you,” he smiles.

Something twists inside you and your veins ache. You take a step. Then another.

4 months ago -  London, January 2025

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Everyone around you screams while you snort out a huge laugh watching your friend miserably fall out of a handstand.

“Victor freaking Martins. You have to stop doing things like this or else you cannot complain about all the compromising videos I have on my phone,” you say as you lend him a helping hand.

You two keep dancing for a while, the music pounding in the crowded London apartment you somehow ended up in with a mix of friends and a bunch of strangers too. The lights are low and the air is buzzing with perfume, sweat and cheap champagne. It’s loud and chaotic and a little too hot but the energy feels good.

A little later, breathless, you slip away to get a drink, weaving through the crowd. You find a quieter corner with a table full of bottles and pour yourself an iced tea. Near the table, two guys are talking in French. You don’t mean to listen but you catch the words anyway.

The tall one, standing next to you, points to a girl in the crowd and smirks.

“C’est déjà Halloween?.” (Is it already Halloween?)

You follow his gaze and freeze. That’s your friend Marla, the same one you hyped up a few hours ago when she was choosing her outfit: orange overalls and a sheer green mesh long sleeve shirt. Sure, she looks a bit like a fashionable vegetable, but who cares? She loves it.

That is when you notice the other guy, shorter, half-hidden behind his friend. He has a boyish grin on his face and bursts of laughter when the tall one adds “En tout cas, c’est exactement comme ça que j’imaginais une citrouille danser” just as Marla throws herself into some heartfelt moves. (Anyway, that’s exactly how I imagined a pumpkin would dance)

He leaves but the other one lingers. He turns, catches you watching him.

“Hi,” he says, completely oblivious to your death stare. “Having a good night?”

His accent is thick and unmistakably French. You blow out a breath, like a bull in a kid’s cartoon.

“You Frenchies really like talking about people in front of them thinking no one can understand, huh?”

He blinks, confused. His smile fades. Now that you see him clearly, you clock the details of his vaguely familiar face: dark curls, Roman nose with a beauty mark, eyes the color of hot chocolate. But none of that matters.

“You think nobody here understands French?” you’re almost yelling now over the music.

“You can understand French?” he asks.

“Je suis à moitié française, bien sur que je comprends. Et surtout ce que tu dis sur mes amis,” you snap while pointing at Marla. (I am half French, of course I understand. And especially what you say about my friends)

He has recovered his composure now, and frowns. 

“Eh, j’ai rien dit, perso.” (Hey, I didn’t say anything myself)

“Ouais enfin t’as bien rigolé.” (Yeah, well you sure had a good laugh)

He shrugs. 

“Bah ouais. C’était drôle.” (Well yeah. It was funny)

Your eyes narrow and you give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“I think it is funnier that two guys standing stiff as planks in a corner are commenting on a girl who’s just dancing and having fun.”

“Woaw, relax,” he says, holding his hands up. “You’re scary.”

“And you’re an idiot,” you say before you can think.

He raises an eyebrow and the space between you snaps tight. You’re about to say something else but your words catch behind your teeth. Maybe you overreacted. It was just a dumb comment. Marla had said she was going for chaotic sexy vegetable vibe, so why were you so angry?

Because he had that smug, boyish grin that made your stomach slightly twist and you didn’t like how that felt. Feeling a bit stupid and not ready to admit it got to you, you put your drink on the table a little too hard, and head back to the dancefloor as he watches you go.

When you come back to your friends, Victor wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Why were you talking to Isack?”

“Who?”

He tilts your head toward the guy you just argued with.

“Him. He raced with me in F2, you don’t recognise him? Isack Hadjar. Really good, just made it to F1 with Racing Bulls.”

The rest of his words feel like they echo from underwater.

“You’re going to see him a lot this year actually, since you’re interning with McLaren.”

Your eyes lock with Isack’s across the room and for a second, you wonder if he is just as thrown off as you are.

March 2025, Melbourne GP - Wednesday evening

The restaurant is fancy in a subtle way but the wine still costs more than your rent. The McLaren team fills the space with warmth and noise: engineers and mechanics are trading jokes while Zak Brown at the head of the table is sitting like the godfather of the whole operation.

You are seated between Oscar Piastri and one of the data analysts who is obsessed with tire degradation. Someone raises a toast to the start of the season and you clink glasses even though you are still convinced someone will soon realise you are an imposter and revoke your badge.

You were not supposed to be here, not really. Not at a literal F1 team dinner. You were a final-year engineering student at MIT and your school had this partners program where the lucky nerd who topped the year in each discipline gets to do their final semester with a real-world placement. Most get stuck designing powertrains for scooters but somehow, you got McLaren. The email even said that Zak Brown himself, a fellow American, helped launch the programme years ago. You remember rereading the name like: wait, that Zak Brown?

When you called Victor after getting the internship, he hallucinated for ten whole seconds and then said something that sounded like:

“You made it to F1 before me. I hate you. I’m so proud. I still hate you.”

Despite growing up in the U.S., summers at your grandparents’ in France meant everything to you: the tiny village in Essonne just an hour from Paris, your grandma’s terrifying Peugeot and Victor Martins. You met him when you were kids, racing bikes down gravel alleys. He got into karting first, obviously. Then one day you tried it too, just for fun and… you were awful. But something still clicked in your brain, not on how to drive the damn thing but how it worked. This spark steered you early on, toward engineering and eventually one of the best schools in the world.

You smile at the memory while someone refills your glass.

Thursday evening

You are in the hotel gym which is small but well equipped. You usually prefer running outside, especially early in the morning when the city is quiet but today the heat is too brutal. The air conditioning of the gym is a relief. Cool and steady, it matches the rhythm of your breath as you run on the treadmill.

You like the treadmill for your interval sessions, the fact you can precisely control the speed. Your feet hit the belt in a steady pattern, sweat building on your skin. You are focused and in the zone when the door swings open.

Isack walks in with his trainer, chatting. Your heart skips a beat, not for him obviously, but out of surprise, and you pretend you didn’t notice him.

But of course, you notice. He is wearing a fitted black t-shirt and training shorts and as he moves through warmups, his sleeves ride up his biceps. Then he starts on the weights. You see him in the mirror, the way his arms flex naturally with each movement, controlled and easy. He is focused, jaw clenched and hair damp at the edges. Shit.

You catch yourself staring a little too long and suddenly your foot slips. A loud noise echoes as your shoe hits too hard and you try to regain your balance.

Isack’s eyes snap to you.

Your cheeks are heating and you feel mortified. He smirks, part amusement, part something you can’t quite place.

You return your eyes to the screen in front of you, pushing the speed up in some desperate attempt to outrun your embarrassment. The weight of his gaze lingers, itching the back of your neck. You focus on your breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

Later

You are down at the hotel lobby vending machine at 1am because jet lag is eating you alive and there is nothing in your room but cool air and silence. You punch the button for crisps and the machine does nothing. Of course.

You are about to kick it when you hear a voice behind you.

“Maybe try saying please.”

You turn. Isack Hadjar, in sweatpants and a hoodie, with messy hair.

“Maybe try minding your business,” you mutter, not even looking at him.

He leans on the machine. You can feel him there like static electricity, right under your skin. He finally breaks the silence.

“You’re still mad about New Year’s?”

You roll your eyes and sigh.

“No, I don’t care. Why would I be mad? I don’t even know you.”

“Fair enough” he smiles, then adds: “I wasn’t trying to be a dick to your friend, you know that, right?”

“Fine,” you say, half to him, half to yourself. “Noted.”

You nod. He nods too. Not defensive, not smug, just… honest. There’s a beat. One too long. He looks exactly like the pictures you found online when you googled his name like a total idiot after that New Year’s argument. Same eyes. Same muscular silhouette. Same effortless charm that pisses you off just a little.

Except now he’s right in front of you. Real and warm and too close.

The crisps fall with a mechanical noise and break the spell. You snatch the bag and step back without another word, heart doing something stupid in your throat. You feel him looking at you the whole way to the elevator.

Race Day

You are in the McLaren garage, yawning. The first Grand Prix of the season is about to start but you are still half asleep, from jet lag and a few nights of tossing and turning in your bed. Friday practice and Saturday qualifying had gone well for the McLaren boys, which made you genuinely excited. Everyone knows it, this season, McLaren is onto something.

The crew slowly clears from the grid and the cars start their formation lap. You are looking at a detail on a spare piece of the car with one of the mechanics when a wave of noise breaks behind you. You turn toward the TV screen just in time to see the replay: Isack’s car is in the wall. Your stomach drops. How is that even possible? 

“Shit, that’s embarrassing,” says an engineer in the background.

You follow his exit on the screens, and even though he does not take off his helmet, you can see he is devastated. On his way back to the garage, Anthony Hamilton stops him to give him some comfort. You lean back, fingers brushing your face. He must feel awful. You should feel something else, some sort of vengeful smugness, but you don’t. There is no satisfaction at all, just some uncomfortable feeling in your chest.

A few hours after the Grand Prix and celebrations at McLaren’s, you are walking in the paddock hallway. You don’t mean to run into him. Not really. You’re just cutting through the back hallway to bring data logs to your trackside lead when he is suddenly there, half leaning on a wall and phone in his hands.

Isack’s suit is rolled down to his waist. He looks pissed. He sees you before you can turn around. Too late. You force yourself toward him.

“How are you?” you ask.

He shrugs. You open your mouth but he cuts you before you can speak, looking exhausted.

“Look, I’m not in the mood for banter, honestly.”

“I don’t want to banter” you protest. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About the crash.”

He pushes himself off the wall like your words physically annoy him. He looks at you, trying to decide if you’re lying. You hold his gaze but he looks away first.

“C’est vraiment la honte putain. Je me suis affiché comme un con sur mon premier Grand Prix en F1,” he mutters as he kicks a rock with his shoe. (This is so fucking embarrassing. I made a fool of myself at my first F1 Grand Prix)

You look at him, surprised by the sudden confession.

“It was just a stupid mistake, you have plenty of time to prove everyone wrong. Actually, it’s a pretty cool redemption arc story, you know.”

Then you add, because you are apparently incapable of stopping and need to fill this unbearable silence:

“I’ve watched footage of your F2 races. You have talent.”

His head tilts and he shows his usual smirk.

“You’ve stalked me?”

You feel your entire face becoming red, realising your mistake.

“No, I mean, I watched Victor's. You just happened to be in them.”

“You said you looked at my races, though.”

“God, fuck off.”

He laughs and it settles somewhere low in your stomach. Someone calls his name from down the paddock so he gathers his gear and starts walking back.

You call out, trying to save face:

“I still think you’re an idiot! By the way.”

He glances over his shoulder, a wide smug grin on his face. You try to ignore the warm and irritatingly happy feeling that blooms through you.

China GP, March 2025

Sunday mornings in the paddock seem to always be a little chaotic but today it’s the good kind. You’re sitting on an overturned crate near the Red Bull hospitality area, sipping something over-caffeinated. Around you, a loose group of rookies and Lily, Alex Albon’s girlfriend, who somehow manages being surrounded by chaos and still look elegant.

Someone, probably Ollie, just sparked a heated debate about who would survive longest on a desert island.

“You’d be dead in two days,” Kimi says, pointing at him. “You got lost inside a shopping mall.”

“I was eleven!” Ollie squeaks.

Laughter breaks out. Liam is mid rant about survival tactics and the object he would bring with him “I’d hunt some fishes, with like, sticks. Or a sharp spoon”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Isack smirk. You don’t look at him, you’re careful not to.

“Since you guys are asking, I would bring Liam and eat him for protein,” says Ollie out of the blue.

Liam smiles. “Kinky.”

You choke on your drink and Lily mutters “Oh my God”.

“What about you?” she turns to you. “How long are you lasting out there?”

You shrug. “I know how to boil water, I can tie knots and I don’t complain. Also I have watched all seasons of Survivor religiously.”

Lily whistles. “Damn. Attagirl.”

You try not to glance at Isack but you fail. He feels you staring and tilts his head toward you but you turn back to Lily a little too quickly, gulping your drink.

Then, salvation: Alex Albon appears from around the corner. He heads straight for Lily. 

“There you are,” he says, smiling. “Come on, I’m saving you from this testosterone soup.”

Lily stands and kisses him on the cheek. “Please get me out.”

You hop off the crate too to follow them. Lily loops her arm through yours and you glance back, just briefly. Isack’s eyes are still on you, unreadable.

Sunday evening

Someone has the bright idea of heading up to the hotel rooftop. It’s one of those in-between evenings where the post-race buzz still lingers but there’s no party, just too much dopamine and nowhere to put it. Someone brings snacks, someone else pulls out their JBL and the music mixes with the honks of Shanghai in the distance.

The sky is dark but it’s a nice night. String lights are throwing a golden halo over everyone’s head. You pull a hoodie over your sundress and sit cross-legged on the ground, sipping a Coke zero.

Ollie points a finger at Kimi.

“Truth or dare.”

A wave of protests erupts until Ollie threatens to switch the music to his Bangers only playlist.

Kimi is challenged to serenade a picture of Toto Wolff with a Backstreet Boys song. He does, terribly, and Ollie discreetly films the moment for future blackmail. Liam makes Lily answer whether Alex has ever cried during sex. He hasn’t, but he has cried watching The Notebook, apparently. You don’t know who dared Arthur Leclerc to try pushups on the roof ledge, but you stopped watching after the second one.

Eventually, it lands on you.

“Truth or dare?” Isack asks through the laughter.

You hesitate. He is leaning back on his hands, casual, but he looks at you like he knows you won’t pick truth. And maybe it’s pride or the rush of your second Grand Prix, but you say:

“Dare.”

Isack sits up straighter. “Walk the ledge.”

You blink. 

“Excuse me?”

He points to the low concrete ledge that lines the edge of the building, maybe half a meter wide.

“That’s so dumb,” you say. “What if I die?”

“I said walk, not fall. Are you scared?” he says and you catch the smile he is trying to hide. “Come on, I dare you.”

“Fine,” you concede, already standing. “Just to prove a point.”

Alex says your name like a warning but you wave him off. You climb onto the ledge, carefully, the night breeze making your sundress float up. Your feet balance quickly, muscle memory from years of martial arts and being stubborn. Halfway across, the wind picks up. You flinch. Your arms extend for balance but you wobble a bit.

And then he’s there. Quiet and sudden, next to the edge, reaching his hand out instinctively.

You don’t think. You grab it.

The second your palm touches his, a jolt goes through your fingers, sharp and electric. Like the spark of static from an old sweater. You let go immediately. He flinches too.

“What the hell was that?” you mutter.

“Static,” he says, staring at his hand like it betrayed him. But his voice is a little off.

You climb down fast, cheeks flushed. Lily grins at you like she knows exactly what just happened.

Somewhere in the English countryside, April 2025

You don’t really know whose house this is, only that Ollie found the party and wherever Ollie goes, Isack follows. Victor is here too, sipping a beer next to you. You are sitting in a pair of lounging chairs in the back garden with a small group. You’ve had maybe three beers. Four? You’ve stopped counting. Enough to feel loose and light, stretched out with your legs over Victor’s.

It’s been a strange few weeks. Japan feels like a blur and Bahrain is coming soon, but right now you’re in this bubble back in Europe with everyone. You miss Liam. He hasn’t been around much since the news, the fact that he got demoted to Racing Bulls hit him hard. You hope the memes you send relentlessly and the appreciation messages you text him are cheering him up a little.

But everything else is going surprisingly well. You are three Grands Prix in, and you’re not just surviving, you’re actually doing something. You have caught a few people off guard with how quickly you’ve picked things up. Your work is helping engineers tweak things, even small things. You’re useful. You’re wanted. Sometimes you catch yourself smiling for no reason at all, like you have finally found your place.

You suddenly tune back into the conversation the boys are having. Someone brought up MMA and some dramatic fight from last week, and now all the hormonal late teenagers around you are losing their minds.

“Wasn’t Adesanya the first one to come in with that insane striking record?” Ollie asks around.

You take a sip of your beer before responding.

“Nope. Germaine de Randamie was undefeated in 46 kickboxing fights before she got into MMA. Try again, sunshine.”

The group turns to stare at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Wait, you follow MMA?” Ollie says, clearly stunned.

Victor bursts out laughing.

“Of course she does. She did taekwondo for twelve years and boxing for five.”

Everyone laughs, quite impressed, before the conversation shifts. Amid the chatter and clinking bottles, Isack, who has barely looked at you all evening, tilts his beer slightly in your direction.

“You’ve been hiding this side of you.”

You reach for your beer, barely holding back a smug grin.

“You never asked.”

“Maybe we’ve been training in the same gym, do you know La frappe in Paris?”

“Sorry, I only train in tough cookie places,” you smile. Isack lets out a laugh.

“Putain,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You can be so cocky.”

You shrug, innocent.

“Just telling the truth.”

“What? You think you could take me?”

“I know I could take you,” you say before you can stop yourself.

He lifts a brow, his mouth twitching.

“You sure? You’re all talk.”

You lean back in your seat. You did not notice, but the garden has gone quieter as most people have drifted back inside because of the cold. It’s just you, Isack and Victor now. The air feels different somehow. You're both a little too competitive, a little too tipsy and neither of you knows when to back down.

Victor gets up and glances between you and Isack.

“I’m going for a wee, I do not want to see what this turns into,” he says, pointing between you two. “And I swear to God, if I come back and find you rolling in the bushes, I’m calling your mums.” You flip him off as he leaves.

Silence. Then, Isack stands and offers you a hand.

“Come on, let’s settle this.”

You give him a look.

“You’re not serious.”

“I dare you.”

Before either of you can think any better, you are both on your feet, half-fighting, half-laughing. He’s quick, but you’re quicker, dodging a grab and slipping around him. You aim for his ribs, gentle but cocky and he screams with exaggerated offense.

At some point, you throw a lazy leg kick that he somehow catches. You both lose your balance and roll into the grass, breathless. You manage to pin him for half a second before he flips you with way too much ease. He ends up above you, hands wrapped around your wrists, pressed into the grass. You stop giggling. His curls are a mess and he's panting a little.

His eyes flick down to your mouth and you suddenly realise how close your faces are. Now all you can think about is how your lips are almost brushing his. How they looked like when he laughed two seconds ago. How they might feel.

You can hear your own heart in your ears. Your skin is burning, in the places where he touches you, where he doesn’t. What the hell am I thinking? You’re drunk. That’s all it is. Just the beers and the grass and the way he’s looking at you like you’re some kind of mystery he wants to solve with his mouth.

He breathes out, slowly and his lips almost touch yours when…

“OLLIE BROKE A TABLE!!” someone screams from inside.

You both get up within a second like you have been electrocuted, barely looking at each other.

“I.. I’m going to see what that was,” you mumble, already moving. 

You don’t wait for him to respond and just run.

Essonne, France, April 2025

The sun is bright over your heads. You squint as you wipe sweat off your forehead with the bottom of your shirt. Victor misses his shot and groans.

“Sucker” you tease, snatching the ball.

“I’m not a sucker, I’m distracted,” he says, looking at you. “You’ve been in a mood all day. Spill the tea.”

You roll your eyes and dribble past him, taking a shot that bounces off the basketball rim. He takes the ball, still looking at you like he is not going to let this go.

“What’s going on with you and Isack?”

You freeze for a second too long.

“Nothing.”

“Oh come on. You were flirting with your eyes at that party like it was a full-time job.”

You try to dodge him, literally and figuratively but he runs into you lightly, grinning.

“I’m serious! You’ve been weird ever since. What happened?”

You press your lips together. Bounce the ball twice.

“Nothing happened, okay?”

Victor raises an eyebrow, smirking. You cave.

“Fine. We almost kissed.”

He blinks and his jaw drops.

“WHAT?”

“We were messing around on the grass. It got stupid. We were drunk. And then someone yelled about Ollie breaking something and I panicked and left. And I haven’t talked to him since.”

Victor makes a noise between disbelief and amusement.

“You ghosted him?”

“I didn’t ghost him.”

He just stares.

“I just… avoided him. For the rest of the party and at the Bahrain GP.”

He drops the ball and throws his hands up dramatically.

“You’re unbelievable!”

You throw your hands up as well. 

“Hey, it’s not like it’s just my fault. He also hasn’t reached out.”

“But why don’t you reach out? You like him.”

“I don’t like him.”

He squints at you again.

“You look at him like you want to fuck him and kill him at the same time.”

“Shut up!” you throw the basketball at his chest. He dodges, laughing.

“You do! You’ve got the murder eyes and the horny eyes!”

You chase him across the court, swearing in French under the spring sun.

Paris, April 2025 (back to the beginning)

You don’t really want to be here but Marla begged and honestly, there wasn’t much to do tonight anyway. You are only in Paris for the night, crashing at her place since your early train to visit your family and Victor leaves from the Austerlitz station.

The party you found yourselves in is hosted by a Red Bull crew member, a celebration after the triple header. The apartment is full of people. A mix of F1 people, friends of friends and party crashers. There is French rap humming in the background and wine glasses everywhere.

You are sitting on the kitchen counter in a short skirt and large sun-faded Carhartt t-shirt, both stolen from Marla’s wardrobe an hour ago. Your hair is loose and your legs swing lazily as you sip a very bad rosé.

Marla stands beside you, arms crossed, the neck of a beer bottle tucked between two fingers like a cigarette.

“I get she is lonely after the divorce, but she could literally find anyone else. I always have to be the one going, ‘Mom, that man brought a coupon to your birthday…’”

Your attention slips and your eyes drift toward the living room. Paris + Red Bull party equals Isack Hadjar, prince of the evening. He has been laughing for half an hour now with two guys you vaguely recognise from the Racing Bulls garage and a girl with a backless dress and perfectly blown out hair. You haven’t seen him since England apart from a glance at the media pen at the Saudi GP, but now he’s here, on home turf, like the party belongs to him. Of course he’s magnetic. Did a magnificent season debut. Everyone knows his name here. You wish you didn’t.

“You’re not even listening to me,” Marla complains.

“I am!”

Marla tilts her head.

“You’ve looked at him like six times in two minutes.”

“No I didn’t,” you say too quickly.

The girl next to Isack says something and touches his arm. He doesn’t pull away. You grit your teeth and gulp your glass of wine in one go before reaching to pour another one. Marla watches, unimpressed. 

“Anyway,” you say, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere, “please tell me more about your new step dad.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “He wears leather bracelets. Plural. And he plays the didgeridoo.”

Later in the evening, you are standing by a dying potted plant, pretending to check something on the wall. Your glass is still half full but your head is light from the wine.

You turn to head back to the kitchen and slam right into someone. Your wine nearly spills down your front. A hand reaches, steadying your arm.

“Careful,” he mutters.

You look up. Isack.

“Maybe look where you’re going,” he says, pulling his hand back like he regrets touching you.

“Are you mad at me?” you say abruptly, the wine talking through you.

His brow lifts, caught off-guard.

“What?”

“You’ve stayed a mile away from me all night, hovering around…” you glance at the girl with the backless dress across the room “... whoever,” you mumble.

He exhales.

“I’m being weird? You’re the one who’s been ignoring me for weeks. You barely hang out with the guys anymore. And you look right through me like I don’t exist.”

“I haven’t been…”

“Yes, you have,” he cuts in. “Just admit it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

He lets out a dry laugh. 

“It is to me. You got scared,” he says like he’s daring you to deny it.

You cannot hold his gaze as you look away without replying. 

“Then say it,” Isack says, calmer now. “Say there’s nothing between us. Say it and I’ll walk out that door. You’ll never have to deal with me again.”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out, because you don’t know how to lie right now. The silence stretches and his expression doesn’t change.

“Yeah,” he says, voice flat. “That’s what I thought.”

Then he turns and walks away.

You stay frozen for a second. Maybe two or three. And then the air rushes back into your lungs. Heart pounding, you push through the crowd. You shove your wine glass into Marla’s startled hands on the way.

He is already halfway down the corridor when you catch him just as he slips into the pantry to get his hoodie, all the guest’s jackets being oddly packed next to the food shelves.

You follow him inside and the door clicks shut behind you.

He turns around, clearly irritated.

“What now?”

You take a shaky breath, words tumbling out before you can stop them.

“I don’t know what I feel, okay? And it’s so unfair of you to ask that because I cannot think when you’re around, and… and I feel like an idiot. Like I’m drowning in something I don’t understand, and you’re just standing there like it’s nothing.”

His expression softens.

“You didn’t say anything either, after England,” you say through your breath.

“Because you acted like it was a mistake,” he replies while running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I got scared,” you whisper.

He meets your gaze.

“So did I.”

You are way too aware of every detail right now, the cramped room, his eyes, the way his presence makes your chest tighten while he is in front of you, waiting for you to say something, anything.

Your breath feels so loud it almost drowns out the music pulsing in the background. You recognise Niagara Falls by The Weeknd. The bass notes are shaking your bones but not as much as his eyes do.

Isack is looking at you, not moving an inch. His lips are slightly parted and all you want is to crash into them, hard, not sweet.

You stand two meters apart, fists clenched, while he is leaning against a cluttered table like you’re not melting in front of him.

“I dare you,” he smiles.

Something twists inside you and your veins ache. You take a step.
Then another.

You’re in front of him now. So close you can smell his cologne and feel his breath on your lips. His hand slides to your jaw, gentle but sure and then his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is nothing like you imagined. It’s worse. Rougher, hotter, messier. Your teeth bump. Your hands are in his hair. His fingers dig into your back like he doesn’t believe you’re real.

You grip the front of his shirt as Isack exhales into your mouth. There’s too much noise in your head and not enough space between you. He flips you around, lifts you onto the table and you pull him closer between your legs.

One of his hands slides up under your skirt and his fingers leave burning marks on your thigh. He kisses you like he wants you to feel every inch of it, like he’s daring you to pull away. His lips trace the shape of your jawline before returning to your mouth. You let out a moan.

It’s not soft, it’s not perfect. But it’s just right.

[hamilton-here]

Hi! How are you? Idk if you are not comfortable writing about things that happen in real life (you Can change the name) but i would love to read about reader reaction to lewis liking his ex picture! With a happy ending he thank you

𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒜 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒

Authors Note: Hi all! Here is a quick request I completed today when I should have been doing class work���Enjoy! Lots of love xx

P.S I hope this meets the expectations of what you requested and doesn’t seem rushed

Summary: After discovering Lewis liked a sultry photo of his ex just before her engagement announcement, the reader confronts her insecurities. Only to have Lewis reassure her with a heartfelt proposal that proves she's the only one he wants.

Warnings: bit of angst

Taglist: @hannibeeblog @nebulastarr

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The sun was barely rising over Monaco when you woke up to your phone vibrating with back to back notifications. You almost ignored it - another group chat, probably, or your best friend sending TikToks before her morning coffee. But then you saw her name.

Nicole Scherzinger.

And beneath it, two posts.

The first was a sultry black and white shot of her in a body hugging satin dress, cut high on the thigh, one hand tangled in her hair, the other resting just above her hipbone. She looked radiant. Wild. Free. The caption was a simple black heart.

The second post was a carousel - a ring, a kiss, a sweeping view of Italy.

“Yes a thousand times.” The caption said.

And in the likes?

Lewis Hamilton.

Your heart dropped.

You stared at the screen, feeling everything go unnaturally still the room, your breath, your chest.

You weren’t the jealous type. Not really. You’d seen the pictures of them before, the old red carpet photos, the gossip columns, the recycled headlines. You’d told yourself that was the past. You were his present. His future.

But something about him liking that photo the sultry one, the one posted right before she announced she was engaged…made your stomach twist into knots.

It was like seeing a private moment you weren’t supposed to witness. Like a secret you hadn’t been let in on.

You stared at the photo again. Then again. Then at the comments. And then, finally at the name highlighted among the hundreds of thousands of likes.

Your boyfriend’s name.

Lewis emerged from the shower a few minutes later, towel slung low around his waist, humming something low under his breath. He stopped when he saw the expression on your face.

“Hey. You alright?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you held up your phone.

His brows pulled together. “What’s that?”

“You tell me.” Your voice came out quieter than you meant it to. “You liked her photo. The one where she’s practically naked. And then she posted that she’s engaged.”

Lewis blinked, stepping closer. “I - what? Wait, what are you talking about?”

“She posted a sexy photo,” you said, trying not to sound petty. “Then minutes later posted her engagement. And you liked both.”

His face fell.

He crossed the room, taking your phone gently from your hand and scrolling through the posts. You watched his expression go from confused to frustrated to instantly guilty.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t even notice the second one.”

“Not sure that makes it better,” you said, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “I know I’m not her. I know you loved her once. But you liking that picture, it felt like you were looking back. Like some part of you still misses it. Misses her.”

“Hey. No.” His voice was sharp but earnest as he crouched in front of you, hands on your knees. “That’s not it. I promise. I didn’t even see the engagement post. I saw the first one when I was half asleep last night and I just scroll, double tap, move on. Mindless. It didn’t mean anything.”

“It meant something to me.”

That’s what broke him.

He sat down beside you on the bed, his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I was careless. I didn’t think about how it might make you feel, and that’s on me.”

You stared down at your hands. “It just hurts. She was such a big part of your past. And sometimes I feel like I’m just standing in her shadow. That no matter how far we go, she’ll always be that part of your life that people compare me to.”

Lewis reached for you, gently lifting your chin until your eyes met his.

“You’re not standing in anyone’s shadow,” he said softly. “And you never will be.”

You stayed quiet, your heart aching in that vulnerable way you hated, the kind that made you feel small. Replaceable.

Lewis stood, turned and went to the drawer in the corner - the one you never really paid attention to. He pulled out a small velvet box and held it in his palm for a second before walking back over.

“I wasn’t gonna do this yet,” he said. “Had some grand plan in mind. Something in Italy maybe next month . Somewhere romantic. But maybe what matters more is doing it right now to show you it’s real. That it truly counts.”

He sank to one knee.

You gasped softly, lips parting, eyes darting between his face and the box in his hand.

“Liking that photo? That was a mistake. But the biggest truth in my life is this - I don’t want her. I don’t want anyone else. It’s always been you. You’re the one I want beside me when I’m tired, when I win, when I lose. You’re the one I think about when I land in a new country, when I’m stuck in traffic, when I’m lying in bed staring at the ceiling.”

The box opened, revealing a diamond ring that glimmered even in the soft morning light. It was timeless. Elegant. You.

“I want a life with you. A messy, honest, ridiculously beautiful life,” he said. “Marry me. Let’s make our story the one people talk about.”

You covered your mouth with your hands, breath trembling. The pain in your chest had softened into something warmer, fuller.

“Yes,” you whispered. “God, yes.”

He slipped the ring onto your finger like it belonged there, like you belonged. And when he kissed you, it wasn’t performative or perfect. It was just him sincere and sure and a little shaky, like he’d been holding that love in for too long.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Later that night , social media buzzed again only this time, it was about you.

A new post. From Lewis.

A photo of the two of you curled up on your sun soaked balcony, your ring front and center, his lips pressed to your temple.

Caption: “Some things aren’t for the timeline. But this? This love? I want the world to know.”

There were no more doubts after that.

Not because of the ring.

But because of the way he looked at you every day after, like you were the only person who ever mattered.

Because you were.

Every quiet moment after in the slow mornings tangled in sheets, in the late nights when sleep wouldn’t come and the world felt too loud, he looked at you like that.

Like you were the calm after every storm.

The choice he made a thousand times over.

The beginning and the forever.

And when he held your hand in public, when the flashes went off and whispers of "Is that his fiancée?" rippled through the crowd, he didn’t let go.

He didn’t flinch.

Because you were no secret.

No rebound.

No shadow.

You were it.

His love. His future. His home.

And the whole world could watch, because he finally had everything he’d ever wanted.

And this time, he wasn’t letting go.

[princessaffirms]

💗✨ SHIFTING/MANIFESTATION TOPICS TO STUDY

to learn more about it and solidify your belief into undeniable, unshakeable certainty that your beliefs are TRUE!!

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

HI ANGELS!! 🥹✨🫶 long time no see! i’ve been undergoing such a TRANSFORMATIVEEEE part of my manifestation/shifting journey and had such a spiritual awakening where everything just kinda…clicked? (longer slightly emo/heartfelt message at the end about my coming back to this blog lol <3)

so i thought i’d share some topics i’ve been studying lately to help me expand my spiritual knowledge and expand my faith in my beliefs being true! i highly recommend checking them out and exploring them in more depth, but i’ll definitely be writing posts about them! ✨

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

☀️✨ TOPICS TO STUDY TO EXPAND + REINFORCE YOUR MANIFESTATION/SHIFTING KNOWLEDGE:

NDE (near death experience) research

QHHT (quantum healing hypnosis technique)

PLR (past life regression)

LBL (life between lives)

higgs’ field

soul contracts

transpersonal psychology

spiritual neuroscience

einstein’s theory of relativity

simulation theory

holographic universe theory

anthropic principle

the subconscious mind

the layers of consciousness

the aware study + aware ii

non-local consciousness research

quantum physics being applied to decision-making models in psychology (and proving to be more accurate than classical prediction models!)

soul signatures

the paradox + duality of our souls being in oneness with source/the universe (however you refer to it) yet also having individuality and being the sole operant power of our own subjective realities (super abstract concept but makes so much sense when it clicks!! took me a hot second to really grasp it loll)

…just to name a few! 😋 if there’s any specific topics from this list you want me to prioritize writing about, please let me know!! would be more than happy to yap about them <3

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

💌✨ P.S.:

i’ve missed posting here and interacting with the community dearly, but i’m BACKKK and feeling much more grounded, replenished, and realigned 🤍 thank you for being patient and gentle with me, as well as allowing me to take some time to myself! i’m very grateful to this incredible community for being so uplifting and understanding <3 i’m really glad i took my time with things instead of rushing, i always want to be able to show up as the best version of myself!

i’ve also learned to take the pressure off of myself to always pump out “productive”/informative posts everyday, or be this perfect blogger, and just allow myself to post in a way that feels more authentic and true to me :) kinda like talking to a friend! definitely still going to maintain appropriate language, etc. (especially for my science-related posts), but honestly i’ve made peace with the fact that i don’t need to be overthinking every little thing lol!!

I’VE ALSO BEEN TAGGED IN SM CUTE TAGGING THINGS I WILL GET ON THEM TRUST !!!!!! LOVE U ALL THANK U FOR THINKING OF ME !!! 🥹😚😚

anyway, i love you all so incredibly much and deeply appreciate this community!! 💗✨ can’t wait to continue posting about what i love <3

- with love always, princess

[navi-the-flying-bee]

Valentine's day

(a/n): okay. I know i am VERY late,but to arrive late is better than not arriving. So... Forgive me?

Characters: Atsushi, Fukuzawa, Dazai, Fyodor, Mori, Chuuya, Ranpo, Poe, Nikolai.

Warnings: use of y/n. This took me too long but mostly because i had writing block while writing it (which was a month ago? Or two?) then i had to drag myself to continue it.

Nakajima atsushi

Valentine’s Day at the Armed Detective Agency was… chaotic.

Not that you were expecting anything less.

You had no real plans for the day. romance wasn’t exactly your forte. You were more of a “wait until the 15th and buy discounted chocolate” kind of person. But apparently, Ranpo had figured that out.

And that was a mistake.

“You’re telling me,” he said, eyes gleaming like he had just solved the world’s greatest mystery, “that you, didn’t think ahead about Valentine’s Day? How tragic.”

You groaned, burying your face in your scarf. “Leave me alone. It’s a capitalist trap.”

Ranpo took a slow, exaggerated bite of the expensive chocolate he had somehow acquired (probably by guilting Kunikida into buying it for him). “Ooooh, Kunikida’s gonna lecture you again.”

And just as he said that-

“Y/N!”

You flinched.

There he was. Kunikida Doppo, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking every bit like a disappointed teacher about to give a very long lecture.

“As a member of the Agency, you should have at least some consideration for your coworkers,” he scolded. “Valentine’s Day is about appreciation, not just romance.”

You nodded. “Understood.”

Kunikida blinked. “...Wait. Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, already sidestepping toward the exit, “I’ll write you all a heartfelt letter about how much I appreciate you later. Sound good? Okay, bye-”

“come back here-!”

You turned too fast and crashed right into Atsushi.

“Oh!, I was actually looking for you,” he said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “I got you something.”

You blinked. “...For me?”

Atsushi held out a small box of chocolates, tied with a golden ribbon.

“Well… yeah,” he said, smiling shyly. “You always make sure everyone’s okay, so I figured you deserved something too.”

Your heart melted a little. “That’s-” You shook your head. “Atsushi, that’s unfair. Now I feel bad for not getting you anything.”

“No, no! It’s not about that,” he said quickly. “I just wanted to. You don’t owe me anything.”

You stared at him for a moment before smiling softly. “...Thank you.”

And that’s when it happened.

From across the room, Dazai smirked.

“How sweet,” he teased. “Ciel, did you just get a confession?”

You choked on your own words. “I- NO. Dazai, stop.”

Atsushi, now bright red, waved his hands wildly. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

Dazai, clearly enjoying the chaos, dramatically clutched his chest. “Ah, young love! So pure, so fleeting-”

Ranpo, still munching on chocolate, leaned over. “Ten bucks says Kunikida tries to shut him up in the next five minutes.”

You scoffed. “Two minutes.”

And sure enough.

“DAZAI, GET BACK TO WORK.”

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Look. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to give President Fukuzawa something for Valentine’s Day. You just… didn’t know what.

I mean, what do you give someone so wise, composed, and effortlessly cool?

You couldn’t just hand him some cheap chocolates and call it a day.

“Just write him a letter,” Atsushi had suggested.

“Or get him cat-themed tea,” Ranpo had added with his usual knowing smirk. “He’ll love it.”

And that was how you ended up standing outside Fukuzawa’s office, holding a neatly wrapped box of cat-shaped tea bags (shoutout to Yosano for the shopping advice) and a small letter.

You hesitated.

What if this was weird? What if this was too much? What if he thought you were trying too hard?

Before you could spiral any further, the door slid open.

Fukuzawa looked down at you, calm as always. “y/n?”

You straightened up. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sir.”

His gaze shifted to the gift in your hands. “For me?”

“Uh… yeah.” You hesitated before handing it over. “It’s nothing special, just some tea. And, um, a letter. You don’t have to read it or anything-”

Fukuzawa accepted the gift with a small nod. “Thank you.”

You exhaled. “Oh. Cool. Okay.”

You turned to leave when-

“I will read it.”

You froze. “Huh?”

Fukuzawa regarded you thoughtfully. “You are an expressive person. If you took the time to write something, it must have meaning.”

Oh.

Your face suddenly felt warm. “I- Uh- Yeah, I guess so.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, in an uncharacteristically soft tone, he added:

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

…

Did you just get praised by the President of the Armed Detective Agency?!

Atsushi and Kunikida found you five minutes later, sitting in the hallway, staring into space.

“She looks like she just saw a mythical creature,” Atsushi whispered.

“She basically did,” Ranpo replied, grinning.

Dazai Osamu

You messed up.

The second you hesitated in front of Dazai’s desk, you sealed your fate. Because that was all the invitation he needed to turn your day into a performance.

“Ohhh?” His eyes lit up with the thrill of chaos. “Could it be? y/n-chan, are you giving me a Valentine’s gift?”

And that was when you knew.

You were done for.

“No,” you deadpanned.

“What’s that in your hand, then?”

“Nothing.”

Dazai gasped. Full, dramatic, hand-to-chest levels of betrayal. “A confession?! Oh, Ciel, I’m flattered! But you should know, my heart belongs to the endless embrace of-”

“It’s chocolate, Dazai.”

He stopped mid-monologue. Just froze.

“Eh?”

With the patience of someone who had long accepted their suffering, you dropped the small box onto his desk.

“It’s just chocolate. Because it’s Valentine’s Day. And because if I didn’t get you something, you’d be insufferable about it.”

Dazai picked up the box, turning it over in his hands like it held the secrets of the universe. “So this is how much I mean to you, huh?”

“Do you want it or not?”

“Oh, I want it.” His smirk returned, far too pleased with himself. “I just didn’t expect you to be so bold”

You saw red. “I swear to God-”

“Did you put poison in it?”

“No, but I should have.”

“Ah, how cruel!” He collapsed against his desk like a tragic widow. “To think, my dear Ciel-chan, the one person I trusted, has betrayed me so—”

So you threw a piece of chocolate at his forehead.

It hit with a satisfying thud.

“Just eat it and shut up.”

And that should have been the end of it.

But then, Dazai looked at you, a real smile tugging at his lips.

Not the teasing kind. Not the act.

A small, genuine one.

“Thank you.”

…And for some reason-

That threw you off way more than the flirting.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

You weren’t sure why you were doing this.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was stupidity. Maybe it was some self-destructive impulse that made you think, Wouldn���t it be interesting to see how Fyodor Dostoevsky reacts to a Valentine’s gift?

So now you were here. In a dimly lit room. Sitting across from him.

Fyodor watched you with an unreadable expression, fingers tapping lightly against his teacup. “A gift? For me?”

His voice was smooth, polite-like he already knew your intentions and was simply indulging you.

You cleared your throat and placed a small box on the table. “Yeah. It’s… nothing special. Just chocolate.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Ah. How thoughtful.”

He picked up the box, examining it with unsettling amusement. “Tell me,” he mused, violet eyes gleaming, “is this an act of goodwill? Or do you simply wish to see how I would respond?”

You hesitated. Damn it. He saw through you so fast.

“I mean…” You leaned back, crossing your arms. “Maybe both.”

Fyodor chuckled. “Honest. How refreshing.”

He unwrapped the box with deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. “You intrigue me,” he admitted, plucking one of the chocolates between his fingers. “A human with a unique power… yet you walk willingly into the lion’s den.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re the lion?”

He smiled. a slow, knowing smile. “And what else would I be?”

Oh.

Oh.

You suddenly felt very, very aware of the fact that you had voluntarily given Fyodor Dostoevsky a Valentine’s gift. This was probably a bad idea.

He took a bite of the chocolate, his gaze never leaving yours. Then, tilting his head slightly, he asked:

“Tell me, … do you believe in fate?”

Your pulse quickened. “That depends,” you said carefully. “Are you about to make me regret this?”

Fyodor chuckled again, slow and deliberate. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “Or perhaps… this is just the beginning.”

You swallowed. Yeah. This was definitely a bad idea.

Mori Ougai

You would never give Mori Ougai a Valentine’s gift. Ever.

It wasn’t even about him being the leader of the Port Mafia-hell, you’d already given Fyodor chocolate, and he was arguably worse. No, Mori was just… dangerous in a different way.

The kind of dangerous that smiled too kindly while pulling the strings behind the scenes.

So imagine your absolute horror when you walked into your regular café, to your daily table and found a beautifully wrapped gift box waiting for you.

With a card.

Signed: Mori Ougai.

…You stared.

No. No, no, no. This was bad.

You immediately turned on your heel-only to find Mori standing right behind you.

“Going somewhere, y/n-chan?” he asked pleasantly.

You barely stopped yourself from jumping. “Nope.”

Mori smiled. Too kindly. “I heard you were handing out gifts today, so I thought I should return the favor.”

“…I didn’t give you anything.”

“Not yet.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m never giving you anything.”

Mori sighed dramatically. “Ah, so cruel. Even after I went through all this trouble?”

Your gaze flicked to the box. Suspicious. “Is it poisoned?”

He chuckled. “Now, now, what kind of man do you take me for?”

“The exact kind who would absolutely poison a gift.”

Mori only laughed. “It’s nothing dangerous, I promise. Just a small token of my appreciation.”

Yeah, right. That sounded ten times worse.

“…Appreciation for what?”

“For being so interesting, of course.” His smile widened. Too wide. “I do hope we continue to cross paths.”

You picked up the box like it might explode.

“Great. That’s definitely not ominous.”

Mori simply chuckled, stepping away. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear.”

You decided right then and there that you were never opening that box.

Nakahara Chuuya

You had debated this for days.

Giving Chuuya Nakahara a Valentine’s gift? Risky.

He wasn’t exactly the romantic type... well, not in the cheesy way, at least. And honestly? You weren’t even sure if he’d want chocolate from you.

But after hours of overthinking, you finally decided: screw it.

Worst case scenario? He’d mock you and move on.

Best case scenario? …Well, you weren’t sure yet.

So here you were, standing outside Mafia HQ, clutching a small bag of premium dark chocolate truffles and second-guessing your entire existence.

Before you could change your mind, the door swung open.

Chuuya stepped out.

And paused immediately when he saw you.

You blinked. “…Oh.”

He frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“I-” You hesitated, then just shoved the bag at him. “Here.”

Chuuya looked down at it, confused. “What the hell is this?”

“It’s-” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “It’s chocolate, okay? For Valentine’s Day.”

Chuuya stared.

Then, slowly, his lips curled into an amused smirk.

“Well, well,” he drawled, taking the bag. “Didn’t take you for the type to hand out gifts.”

You groaned. “If you’re gonna make this weird-”

“Nah.” He shook his head, opening the bag and popping a truffle into his mouth.

Immediately, his eyes widened.

“…Shit. This is actually good.”

You crossed your arms. “Of course it is.”

Chuuya chewed thoughtfully, then glanced at you. Something unreadable flickered in his gaze.

“…Tch.” He looked away, a little flustered. “Thanks, I guess.”

You blinked. “Wait, did you just-”

“I swear to god, don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You grinned. “You totally just-”

“Shut up.”

You laughed, watching as he pointedly refused to meet your eyes.

For someone so tough.

He sure was easy to fluster.

Ranpo Edogawa

You should have known this would happen.

Giving Ranpo Edogawa chocolate on Valentine’s Day? That was practically signing up to be made fun of for the rest of your life.

But at this point, you’d already given chocolate to Dazai, Chuuya and Fyodor (questionable life choices). What was one more?

So you marched up to Ranpo’s desk, dropped the small box of sweets in front of him, and crossed your arms.

“Here.”

Ranpo didn’t even glance up from his snacks. “Oho? A bribe?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, you idiot.”

He finally looked up, grinning like the little menace he was. “So… a confession?”

You rolled your eyes so hard you saw the ceiling. “It’s just chocolate. Don’t make this weird.”

Ranpo picked up the box, turning it in his hands with a thoughtful hum. His green eyes twinkled like he was already three steps ahead of you.

“Hmmm… I already knew you were gonna give me some, of course.”

“Sure you did.”

“I did! After all, I’m the greatest detective in the world.”

You smirked, leaning forward. Oh, you were gonna enjoy this.

“Okay then, Mr. Detective.” You crossed your arms. “What flavor is it?”

Ranpo blinked.

You saw the exact moment the gears in his head stuttered.

“…What?”

“You heard me.” Your smirk widened. “If you’re sooo smart, you should already know what kind of chocolate it is.”

He squinted at the box like it might reveal its secrets if he stared hard enough. Then-without breaking eye contact. he popped the box open and ate one.

“Hazelnut.”

Your jaw dropped. “You-”

“See?” He grinned, smug as hell. “Told you I knew.”

“YOU JUST TASTED IT.”

“Still counts.”

You groaned, resisting every violent urge in your body.

“I should’ve given it to Kunikida instead.”

Ranpo was already reaching for another chocolate. “Nah. You like me too much for that.”

You did not dignify that with a response.

Edgar Allen Poe

You hadn’t originally planned to give Poe a Valentine’s gift.

Not because you didn’t like him. Poe was actually one of your favorite people. It was just that… well, you weren’t sure if he even cared about Valentine’s Day.

But then you thought about how happy he’d look if he received a gift.

And, well… how could you resist?

So you made your way to a quiet, dimly lit corner of Yokohama’s library, where Poe usually hid away to write. You found him at his usual table, Karl curled up beside him, as he scribbled something in an old notebook.

You placed a carefully wrapped package in front of him.

Poe jumped slightly, blinking up at you. “y/n?”

You grinned. “Valentine’s gift.”

There was a long pause.

Then-

“Karl! She brought me something!”

You barely had time to react before Poe snatched the package with surprising speed, unwrapping it as if it held some ancient secret.

Inside was a beautifully bound, leather-cover notebook with delicate gold-embossed edges.

Poe froze.

His hands trembled slightly as he picked it up, eyes scanning every little detail. “This is…” His voice was almost a whisper.

“I figured you might like a new notebook,” you said, shrugging. “Y’know, for all your writing.”

Poe slowly looked up at you.

You blinked.

Was he… tearing up?

“…Poe?”

“This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received,” he declared dramatically, clutching the notebook to his chest. Karl squeaked in agreement.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Glad you like it.”

Poe nodded furiously, then froze-as if remembering something important.

“Wait here!” He rummaged through his bag, then returned holding a small, carefully wrapped package.

“For me?” you asked, surprised.

Poe nodded eagerly. “Karl and I prepared it just in case!”

You opened the package to find a collection of beautifully handwritten short stories, bound together in a small book. The title page read:

“To y/n, A Collection of Mysteries & Dreams.”

Your breath hitched. “Poe…”

He flushed slightly. “I, um… I hope you like it.”

You grinned, holding the book close. “I love it.”

Karl climbed onto your shoulder, squeaking happily.

Best Valentine’s exchange ever.

Nikolai Gogol

You knew something was wrong the second you stepped into the Agency.

Everyone was staring at you. Some with curiosity. Others cough Kunikida cough with visible irritation.

You blinked. “Uh… what?”

Dazai smirked, nudging you forward. “Why don’t you check your desk, (Y/N)-chan?”

A sinking feeling settled in your gut.

Slowly, you turned-

And froze.

Because sitting on your desk was a massive, gift-wrapped box with a tag that read:

“To My Dearest, From Your Secret Admirer (Guess Who~!)”

You felt actual fear.

“No.” You turned to the others. “I am not opening that.”

Ranpo, casually eating a snack, snickered. “Smart choice.”

Before you could destroy the box yourself, the lid burst open-

And out popped Nikolai Gogol.

“SURPRISE, MOYA LUBOOOOV!” he sang, arms spread wide.

You screamed. Kunikida almost had a stroke.

Nikolai cackled, hopping out of the box. “Did you like my present, my dear? A gift from the heart- ME!”

You stared at him in horror. “Get back in the box.”

“Aw, but I worked so hard on this!” He spun dramatically. “I even thought about filling it with doves-maybe a few fireworks, but apparently, that’s ‘too dangerous indoors’ or whatever.”

“You-” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “What do you even want?”

Nikolai grinned. “Just your reaction, of course! And to see if you’d join my villain arc!”

You crossed your arms. “Hard pass.”

Nikolai pouted. “Booooring.” Then, with a snap of his fingers, he vanished.

You sighed in exhaustion.

Then, from somewhere above you, his voice echoed:

“Check under your desk, love~!”

You did not. You simply walked away.

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

Help! I feel the writing block coming back again. So i may disappear till then if you have any questions or requests? You know where to send them. Anyway i am going to my corner rn. Bye..

[eternalguk]

Our Quiet Christmas | jjk. (M)

You are my home, my home for all seasons.

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : After a whirlwind year of schedules, chaos, and never-ending to-do lists, Jungkook whisks you and your daughter away to a secluded cabin for a much-needed Christmas getaway. With snowflakes falling outside and the crackling fire keeping the cold at bay, it’s the perfect chance to slow down and soak in the love that makes your little family so special… But Jungkook has more than just cosy movie nights and snowman-building in mind—he’s set on expanding your family, and he’s not exactly subtle about it. Between his playful charm, heartfelt confessions, and stolen kisses by the fire, it’s hard to resist the idea of giving Areum the sibling Jungkook can’t stop dreaming about.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, dad!jungkook x mom!reader, marriage au, comfort au, pwp

↠ Word count : 9.3K

↠ Warnings : making out, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), riding, missionary, impregnation!kink, dirty talking, begging, dom!jungkook, sub!reader (think that’s all)

↠ A/n : hi there ; merry Christmas Eve 🎄! I hope you’re all having a restful break and enjoying the holiday period 🫶🏻 I present you soft dad!Jungkook being absolutely smitten with his family. Snowy vibes, fireplace cuddles, Jungkook being charmingly relentless about baby number two, and you trying (and failing) to resist his puppy eyes. Feedback is always appreciated & happy reading 🦢!

↠ Song : Snowman by Sia

Winter had arrived. An icy serenade surrounds you yet the warmth of love is all you feel. An old Christmas movie plays in the background and the smell of home-baking permeates the air.

Comfort, peace and solace is all you feel right now.

“This years going to be different, I can feel it in my bones.”

“Guk, baby you say that every year.”

“No no, I’m sure about this one, you see I can feel it-

“In my bones.” You both say in sync, causing Jungkook to chuckle as he brings his hand to your jaw, moving your face towards him so he can kiss you.

His lips join yours in a soft, gentle manner.

Years have passed, but every time you and Jungkook kiss, you swear you feel the same butterflies that you felt when he kissed you for the first time after your third date outside the art gallery.

Magical. That’s how you’d describe kissing Jungkook.

His lips were warm, soft, and when they touched yours, there was no rush. Jungkook deepens the kiss ever so slightly, letting the pressure build with gentle insistence, the rhythm of the kiss calm but full of intention.

The two of you are lying on the couch, legs entangled under your daughter's blanket as you watch the fireplace emit sparks of warmth, bathing the wooden interior with golden hues.

“Eomma, appa!” A voice calls out, full of pride.

Areum.

4 years old and a bundle of joy. Your bundle of joy.

“Look, I fixed it!” Areum’s tiny and soft voice breaks the quiet. She jolts into the room, clutching the wooden reindeer ornament Jungkook had given her to paint earlier this morning. It had been her project all afternoon.

The reindeer was, to put it kindly, a riot of colour - blobs of red, green, and yellow mixing like a child’s dream of Christmas. One of its legs appeared a bit wobbly, but it stood proud, just like Areum did right now, her rosy cheeks flushed with pride.

Jungkook lets out a low whistle, sitting up slightly as the blanket slips down his chest. “Wow, princess, you really did that all by yourself, mhm?”

“Mm-hm!” Areum nodded vigorously, imitating her father. Her dark hair bounces as she hurries to place it on the small mantle above the fireplace.

You smile softly at your princess, watching Jungkook’s eyes glisten with adoration like a knight in shining armour. His role as a father suits him more than you could have ever imagined. The playful glint in his gaze softens into something so reverent every time Areum enters the room.

You know confidently that she is his whole world, as much as she is yours.

“Appa, is it good?” Areum’s wide eyes sought his approval.

“Good? Baby, it’s perfect, just like you,” Jungkook says warmly, reaching for her hand and pulling her into his lap. She lets out a giggle as he peppers her face with kisses, her tiny hands swatting at his cheeks playfully.

“Go easy on her, Guk,” you tease, leaning your head against the armrest of the couch as you tuck your legs under the blanket again.

Jungkook grins at you, Areum still squirming in his arms. “I’ll stop when she says ‘my appa is the best.’”

“My appa is the best!” she squeals, breaking into a fit of laughter and reaching to kiss her fathers cheek.

A Mini Jungkook indeed.

Satisfied, Jungkook sets her down gently, watching as she scurries off to grab another decoration. He leans back on the couch with a contented sigh, the blanket once again draped over the two of you.

“You know,” he begins, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “this is exactly what I needed. Just us. No schedules, no phone calls, no distractions.” His thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone as his chocolate brown eyes hold yours, the firelight dancing in its depth.

“I know,” you softly murmur, running your fingers over the back of his hand. “This year has been so… relentless? It’s nice to just breathe and soak in the silence.”

You both sigh, snuggling into one another despite being as close as humanly possible.

“Except when Areum remembers she has parents,” you chuckle, shaking your head in laughter as you see her ornament.

Jungkook’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Speaking of Areum interrupting our silence…” He shifts even closer, his voice dropping to that low tone he uses when he wants to get under your skin. “I’ve been thinking about adding another little someone to, you know, interrupt our quiet moments. What do you think?”

Your eyes flicker to him, your breath hitching at his boldness. You contemplate playing aloof, but your husband’s abruptness stops you. “Are you serious?”

Jungkook nods, the grin on his face unmistakably cheeky now. “I mean, we’ve been talking about it for a while. And look at Areum - she’s so ready to be a big sister. Aren’t you, princess?” he called out to her.

Areum looked up from where she was arranging ornaments on the small tree by the window, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Hmm, Appa?”

“Are you ready to be a big sister, my angel?” Jungkook questions her tenderly.

“What’s that?” Areum queries, curiosity etched into every feature of her face. “How do we get one?”

You stifle a laugh, your cheeks warming. “Don’t confuse her, Guk.”

But Jungkook was undeterred, his hand sliding under your sweater to rest on your hip beneath the blanket. “Just think about it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “Another little one resting here with us next year. Maybe a boy this time… although I wouldn’t mind another girl if she’s as perfect as Areum.”

Your heart clenches at the thought. You could picture it so clearly—a tiny baby, smaller than a bag of sugar from the grocers, cradled in Jungkook’s strong arms, Areum’s careful hands reaching out to stroke a soft cheek and your hand clutching your heart at the scene. The cabin, filled with even more love than it already is.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you say, turning to press a peck to his jaw.

“I’m just optimistic,” Jungkook counters, his dimples showing as he smiles down at you. “And we’d be so good at it, don’t you think?”

Before you could answer, Areum runs back over, throwing herself between the two of you with an exuberant laugh. “I found the star!”

The star.

Jungkook had promised Areum that when she finds his hidden star, he will help her put it on top of the already full tree. The things this man did to get a quiet moment with you…

“Eomma, can we put it on top of the tree now?”

“Of-”

“Of course, princess,” Jungkook interrupts, sweeping her up effortlessly and carrying her to the tree.

You laugh at the father daughter interaction. Maybe you did need another baby to keep you company.

You watch the two from the couch, your chest swelling with gratitude. The year had been chaotic to say the least, but this - this simple, intimate moment right here - was everything you’d ever yearned for.

Jungkook catches your eye as he lifts Areum high enough to place the star on the tree. He gives you a knowing wink, his silent promise clear: there was more love to come.

And maybe, just maybe, you were ready to embrace it.

After the tree was decorated to Areum’s satisfaction - every inch of its branches covered in her creative flair - Jungkook carried her upstairs to put her to bed.

You decided to stay downstairs, tidying up the remnants of her crafting supplies and rearranging a few of the more precariously placed ornaments. The cabin is even quieter now, save for the occasional creak of the wooden beams and the faint sound of Jungkook’s voice drifting from the upper floor.

He’s singing to her.

It’s something Jungkook has done since Areum was a baby, and the sound of his melodic voice humming a lullaby never fails to warm your heart.

You lean against the doorway, pausing to listen. His voice, smooth and honeyed, wraps around the melody like a cosy blanket.

You carry on clearing Areum’s toys away, wanting the place to be nice and tidy before Christmas Eve tomorrow.

When Jungkook finally comes downstairs, steps light and careful, his eyes meet yours. “Out like a light,” he whispers softly as though he’s scared to wake her, running a hand through his messy hair. “I barely made it through the second verse.”

“She always loves when you sing to her,” you pout, crossing the room to take his hand. “Just like me.”

Jungkook pulls you into his arms, your cheek pressing against his welcoming chest. “I think I’ve got some magic left tonight,” he whispers in a low voice, his lips brushing your hairline.

“Oh, do you now?” you taunt, tilting your head to look up at him. “What tricks you gonna show me?”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to capture your lips. But, before he could do so, something catches both of your attention. A faint tapping sound comes from the large bay window at the front of the cabin.

Curious, you turn towards it, only to see that snow has begun falling in earnest. The flakes were large and fluffy, blanketing the world outside in pristine white.

Jungkook steps out of your embrace, walking to the window to get a better view.

“Jagi, it’s a Christmas miracle.”

“I can’t believe it,” you run to the window, happiness like that of a child.

Jungkook stands there for a moment, his broad shoulders outlined by the golden glow of the fireplace, before turning to you with a mischievous grin. “It’s perfect. Let’s go.”

“What? Now?” you exclaim, your brows lifting in surprise. “You’re fucking crazy!”

“Why not?” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s just us, remember? No one’s here to tell us we can’t.” Jungkook pulls a funny face which you can’t help but laugh at.

You hesitate for a second, but the gleam in his eye is irresistible. Laughing, you grab your woolly coat and leather knee-high boots, following him outside into the magical winter night.

The air is crisp and sharp, biting at your cheeks and nose, but the snow truly made everything feel softer, quieter, as if the world had been wrapped in cotton wool and there was no way out. The two of you stand on the small porch, the snow crunching underfoot, watching as the forest rapidly around you transforms into a winter wonderland.

Jungkook turns to you, his eyes sparkling. “Dance with me, jagi.”

You laugh again, shivering as he grabs your hands. “There’s no music, you idiot!”

“Sure there is,” he replies swiftly, stepping closer. “Listen. The wind, the snow, the quiet. That’s all the music we need.”

Jungkook begins to sway with you, his hands warm as they enveloped yours. The two of you move slowly, his body sheltering you from the cold. Snowflakes are caught in his dark hair, his nose reddening from the chill, but he looks as handsome as ever, his smile lighting up the night.

“This is what I meant,” he hushly says, voice low and intimate. “Just us. No rush, no noise. Just you, me, our princess, and moments like this.”

You move forward to rest your head on his chest, letting the quiet envelop you both in a warm hug. Jungkook’s arms tighten around you, his chin coming to rest on your head.

“I think you might be right,” you whisper, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

“Right? About what, love?”

“This year being different. It already feels like it is.”

Jungkook pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes softening. “It’s different because we make it that way,” he reassures you, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “And we will keep making it better. Every year, every moment. Together.”

The snow continues to fall, and for a while, you simply stand there, swaying in the quietude, wrapped in each other’s arms. The world around you disappears, leaving only the two of you and the love that made every moment worth remembering.

Once the cold began to creep through your coats and boots, Jungkook insisted on pulling you back inside, laughing at the way your teeth chattered as you kicked off your snow-covered boots.

You now stand in the living area, shivering like a child in a cold cradle.

“I told you it was too cold,” you huff, trying to warm your hands with your breath.

“And I told you it was worth it,” he nonchalantly replies, tugging off his gloves and taking your icy hands in his. His larger palms envelop yours, the heat of his touch sending a shiver up your spine. “Better, baby?”

You nod, letting him guide you back to the couch.

Jungkook grabs the blanket you were sharing earlier, draping it over the two of you as you snuggle close, your body seeking the warmth radiating from him.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room. Jungkook reaches for the mug of hot chocolate he’d abandoned earlier, holding it to your lips for you to sip. The sweetness and warmth spread through your chest, and you sighed in contentment, leaning back into his embrace, inhaling his woody scent.

For a while, neither of you speak, simply basking in the serene silence and your comforting presence. Jungkook rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms circling your waist as you both gazed at the fire.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks quietly, breaking the silence.

“Of course, babe.”

Jungkook hesitates for a moment, his thumb absently tracing circles on your hip. “I meant what I said earlier, you know? About wanting another baby.”

You turn slightly to look at him, your brow lifting in curiosity. “Really?”

“Yes,” he says confidently, his eyes soft but steady. “Areum’s growing up so fast, and every time I see her smile or hear her laugh, I think… we made that. You and me. She’s this perfect little person, and I can’t help but think how amazing it would be to do it all over again.”

Your heart swells at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it impossible to brush off the idea. You’d talked about it in passing before, but the way he spoke now felt different.

Earnest. Hopeful. Loving.

“You make it sound so easy,” you chuckle, though your voice was softer than you intended.

Jungkook snickers, his breath warm against your neck. “I know it’s not. The sleepless nights, the mess, the chaos… but it’s worth it, isn’t it? Every bit of it. I mean, just look at what we’ve already got.”

Your gaze flicks to the staircase, where you could just imagine Areum fast asleep in her bed, her little chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm.

“You’re right,” you admit, turning back to him. “She’s the best thing we’ve ever done.”

Jungkook leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “And we can do it again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin. “If you’re ready, of course.”

Your eyes meet his, searching them for any trace of doubt, but there is none. Only love and unwavering belief in the life you’d built together.

A soft smile tugs at your lips. “Maybe,” you say, your tone playful but your heart already leaning towards yes. “We’ll see.”

Jungkook’s grin widens, the dimple in his cheek making an appearance. “That’s not a no.”

Jungkook’s persistence was truly admirable.

“It’s not a yes either,” you counter, however, you can’t stop yourself from laughing as Jungkook leans in to kiss you, his hands sliding up your back.

“You’ll come around,” he mutters against your lips, voice low and teasing. “You always do.”

“Don’t get ahead yourself, mister,” you chuckle as you move to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

The fire crackles before you, its warmth matching the heat building between you.

Jungkook’s kisses deepen, his hands tighten their hold on you, and for a moment, the world fades again, leaving only the two of you in your little cocoon of love.

But then a soft cry breaks the moment, drifting down from upstairs.

“Eomma? Appa?”

You both freeze before pulling back with identical smiles, your foreheads pressed together.

“Think she had a dream,” Jungkook utters, his voice laced with affection.

“Your turn,” you whisper, nudging him gently.

Your husband groans in mock protest but stands fairly quickly, tossing the blanket aside. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“I think we’re even,” you tease, watching as he heads towards the stairs.

Jungkook pauses halfway up, turning to look back at you with a smile so warm it rivals the firelight. “We’ll pick up this conversation later.”

You laugh softly, pulling the blanket tighter around you as he disappears upstairs. The fire continues its steady crackle, and you lean back into the couch, your heart full as you listen to Jungkook’s soft voice comforting Areum.

It was in moments like this - simple, unassuming, and utterly filled with love - that you realised you’d already found everything you’d ever wanted. And maybe, just maybe, you were ready to grow it a little more.

The cabin is quiet again.

You hear Jungkook’s footsteps, soft, as he makes his way back down the stairs. Areum must have settled quite quickly.

You are still curled up on the couch, the firelight painting your skin with a warm glow as you scroll through TikTok.

Jungkook pauses at the end of the staircase, leaning on the banister for a moment, his eyes fixated on you.

“You’re staring,” you sing, your lips curving into a lazy smile.

“Can’t help it,” he replies, pushing off the banister and crossing the room to sit beside you. “I have the most beautiful wife in the world.”

“You always know what to say,” you taunt, resting your head against his shoulder as he pulls the blanket back over both of you.

His arm comes around you, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your arm. “What can I say? I’m a man in love.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, scrolling through your FYP as the fire crackles softly, a contrast to the snow that continues to fall outside.

Jungkook’s hand never stops moving, his touch soothing and intimate, as if he needed to keep that connection to you at all times.

“You know,” he interrupts the silence eventually, voice deep, “when I first thought about taking you and Areum out here, I wasn’t sure if I’d done the right thing. It’s so… quiet.”

“Mhm?” You urge him to continue.

“Another part of me felt bad for leaving our family, but…” Jungkook pauses, trying to find the right words.

“It was exactly what we needed,” you finish his sentence for him, softly, nuzzling into his side.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t realise how much I needed it too. Being here with you, with her… it’s like everything else has immediately faded. All that stress, the busyness, it just doesn’t matter anymore.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. “Guk, you have worked so so hard for us. For everything. You deserve this time just as much as we do.”

Jungkook knew in that moment that you were his comforting love. The fort that comes in advance of danger. His protection before the need for that even arises. For you, he was the softest thing in the universe. There was a solace in feeling the goodness of your soul. You always carried a gentle certainty that Jungkook was born to absorb and accept love.

People had always told you, you were lucky to have Jungkook. But Jungkook knew, he was luckier to have you.

He meets your gaze, his dark eyes filled with gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken but understood. “You make it all worth it,” he says in simple words.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. His lips linger on yours, slow and tender, as if he were trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that single moment.

When you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your cheek. “I know I keep bringing it up, but… I really can’t stop thinking about another baby,” he whispers, his voice tinged with both hope and hesitation.

You laughed tenderly, your fingers brushing through his hair. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Only because I know how good we’d be at it,” he argues, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “And if I’m being honest, I’m kind of selfish. I want more moments like this. More little hands to hold, more giggles filling the house. And more time with you, building this life together.”

Your heart clench’s at his words, the integrity in his tone making it impossible to tease him this time.

“What if I said yes?” you ask quietly, your voice barely audible over the fire’s crackle. A newfound shyness came over you.

Jungkook’s breath hitches, his eyes widening slightly as he pulls back to look at you fully. “You mean it?”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “I’ve been thinking about it too. And you’re right… Areum deserves to have a little partner in crime. And I…” You trail off, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “I think I’d love to see you holding another baby of ours. To see our family grow.”

The smile that spread across Jungkook’s face was brighter than anything you’d seen all night. He let out a breathless laugh, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he whispers against your hair.

You cackle, your arms wrapping around his neck. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

Jungkook pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You’re incredible, you know that? I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, swatting lightly at his chest. “If anything, I don’t deserve you.”

“We’ll just have to agree that we’re both pretty lucky,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you again.

This time, the kiss is deeper, filled with promises and excitement for the future you’d just agreed to build together. The fire burns low in the hearth, and outside, the snow continues to fall, blanketing the cabin in a hush that seemed to echo the love you shared.

When you finally pull apart, you settle back into his arms, the blanket cocooning you both.

“So… when should we start?” Jungkook asks, his voice light but laced with mischief.

You laugh, swatting at his chest again. “How about we enjoy the rest of this quiet night first?”

“Fair enough,” he says with a grin, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

As the fire’s glow dims and the snow piled high outside, you close your eyes, the steady rhythm of Jungkook’s heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful slumber. And though the night was quiet, your dreams were filled with the sound of tiny feet and laughter, and the warmth of a love that felt boundless.

It was now 1AM.

The two of you were awake again.

The cabin was silent save for the soft crackle of the flames. You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in the same blanket that had been your haven all evening, Jungkook’s arm draped lazily across your shoulders.

His fingers trailed absent patterns along your arm, the touch light but deliberate, sending tiny shivers over your skin. You lean further into him, sighing in contentment as your head rests against his chest.

“I love this,” you say softly, the words barely audible over the quiet.

“This?” he questions, his voice low and warm.

“Us,” you clarify, tilting your head to look up at him. “This moment. It feels… perfect.”

Jungkook’s lips quirk into a small, almost boyish smile as he leans down to kiss your forehead. “It’s because we are perfect,” he teases, his voice teasing but laced with sincerity.

You laugh softly, rolling your eyes. “Confident?”

“Always,” he replies, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger against your cheek, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

The mood shifts subtly but unmistakably.

Jungkook’s hand slides down, his fingers grazing your jaw before settling at the nape of your neck. He leans in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens, his other hand slipping around your waist to pull you inevitably closer.

The blanket falls slightly as you shift to become more comfortable in your husband’s embrace. Your hands find their way to Jungkook’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. He groans softly against your plush lips, his fingers tightening their hold as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss further.

Kissing Jungkook always felt so poetic. In the emotions of his kisses, you could understand a language so passionate, it transcended the works of the greatest poets combined.

When your husband finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing slightly uneven. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he admits, his voice husky and low.

“Thinking about what?” you ask, though the heat in his gaze is leaving very little room for doubt.

Jungkook grins, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. ���About how much I want you.” He kisses your forehead.

“About how much I love you.” He kisses the tip of your nose.

“And…” He pauses, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “About how nice it would be to give Areum a little sibling.” Jungkook leans forward to capture your lips again, but you swiftly pull him back by his luscious brown tresses.

Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by his boldness. “Jungkook!” you laugh, swatting lightly at his chest, your cheeks warming at the suggestion.

“What?” he asks innocently, though his grin only widens. “I’m just reminding you that you said yes.”

“I-“

He cut you off with another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate. More urgent.

And when he pulls back, his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “Maybe I can convince you tonight.”

Your heart races at the low, teasing tone of his voice. His hand slips beneath the hem of your sweater, his touch warm against your skin as he traces light patterns along your back.

“You’re crazy,” you whine, though your voice lacked any real protest.

Jungkook chuckles, his breath hot against your neck. “Only because I know how amazing we are together. And because I love the idea of us growing our little family.”

The sincerity in his words melts any resistance you might have had, and you find yourself leaning into him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“You wanna start trying already?” you ask softly, your lips brushing against his.

Jungkook pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes filled with excitement and love. “Well, we shouldn’t waste any time.”

You laugh, your heart full as you let him guide you closer, his lips capturing yours once again. The fire burns low, its warmth nothing compared to the heat between the two of you.

“Let’s head upstairs,” Jungkook says as he pulls away. “I want to do this properly.”

You eyes soften as you nod. Preparing yourself for the night to stretch on, knowing it will be filled with whispered promises of love and … filth.

The bedroom is dimly lit, the only light coming from the crackling fire in the hearth and the glow of the Christmas lights strung around the bed. The air is warm, thanks to the fireplace, and is scented with the faint aroma of pine and cinnamon.

Jungkook sets you down on the ground gently, his hands lingering on your hips as he steps back to admire you. Your red sweater and matching skirt make you look like a holiday gift, and he couldn’t wait to unwrap you.

“Take it off,” he commands, voice calm yet husky. “Slowly.”

Your cheeks warm, but you obey, your hands moving to the hem of your sweater. You peel it off inch by inch, revealing the lacy black bra underneath.

The universe was on your side.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening as he watches you. When you finally toss the sweater aside, his hands are on you again, thumbs brushing over the lace before slipping beneath it to cup your breasts.

“You look beautiful,” he declares, voice low yet you are still able to sense that it is thick with emotion.

A smile tugs at your lips as you glance up at him. Jungkook moves closer, lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, his voice a velvety caress that makes your skin prickle with heat.

You laugh softly, leaning into him. “It feels like our first time all over again,” you say, heart racing.

“Does it?” he asks, although you know he isn’t looking for an answer.

The air between you and your husband is thick.

Thick with anticipation.

The low flicker of the fire casts a light shadow across his features as he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world. One hand rests on your hip, his grip firm yet gentle, as he thumbs at the band of your lacy underwear. The other is wrapped around your waist, holding you close as though he’s scared you’re about to get away.

You gaze at one another with eyes full of love.

Jungkook is a drug. Your drug. One touch from him and the intoxication is instant. It always has been.

This man could tell you to do anything, absolutely anything, and that is exactly what you would do. His gaze, his scent, his everything sends you into a heady trance.

You guide his digits to your centre, your sticky core waiting for him. Jungkook rubs your soaked lacy underwear, groaning deeply as he takes in your wetness.

“And I thought it was just me who was excited,” he whispers in an indulging tone, voice rich with lust as he draws you closer with his free hand, lips finding yours. “Look at you, angel, you’re fucking drenched.”

You respond by pulling him closer by dark tendrils, capturing his lips against yours. The kiss starts slow, tender, but it doesn’t take long for the heat to intensify.

Jungkook’s hand slides up to cradle your jaw, angling your face as his lips move against yours, each kiss growing deeper, hungrier. Your fingers tangle in his soft strands as you tug gently, earning another low groan from your husband, vibrating against your mouth.

“Jungkook…” you whine between kisses, your body starting to need more.

Before you can say anything else, his hands are on your waist, lifting you effortlessly like you weigh absolutely nothing. Jungkook carries you to the bed, his lips never leaving yours, and when your back hits the mattress, the world tilts slightly.

You lock eyes for just a moment, just enough for you to feel safe with one another. And then? Then Jungkook is all business.

Pulling your underwear off, he begins by kissing from your toes upward, slowly, his hands on your legs, always inching just a little higher than the kisses he plants.

Your back arches in anticipation, knowing where his fingers will soon reach. And as he does, your head rocks against the fluffy pillow, the first moan escaping your lips.

Jungkook hovers above you, one knee pressing into the bed. His dark hair falls forward, brushing against your skin as he leans in, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jawline and then lower, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your neck before pulling back slightly.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he shifts, his free hand bracing beside your head. You feel the tension in his body - the strength in his arms as he hovers above you, the control in every deliberate movement - and it’s intoxicating.

Your hands roam down his back, tracing the lean muscles. The firelight casts golden shadows across his bare chest, highlighting every dip and curve, and for a moment, all you can do is stare.

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you again, his lips brushing yours as he teases, “See something you like?”

You roll your eyes, but your laughter catches in your throat as his mouth claims yours again. The kiss is hotter, slower, more deliberate, pulling you further under his spell. His hands explore every inch of you, mapping your body as though he’s determined to remember every detail, his touch setting your nerves alight.

“You’re irresistible,” Jungkook groans, the sound itself sending you into a deep spiral.

He bends down, his mouth capturing one nipple through the fabric, sucking gently until you arch into him, another moan escaping your lips, louder this time. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavishes attention on your other breast, his tongue darting out to tease the sensitive peak.

Arching into him, you massage his scalp and moan pleasurably as he prods at your nipple with his scandalous tongue. He fondles your other breast, kneading it which has you sighing out in bliss.

“Oh fuck, I love your tongue,” you whine gratifyingly whilst he continues his soft assault on your breast, sucking and tugging at your nipples lewdly. Your fingers inch further into his hair when you feel him jut his tongue out, licking around the soft area.

Jungkook moves to place kisses between the valley of your breasts, making his way further down your sexy body, still fondling your breasts delightly. You arch further into him, half-lidded gaze peering down at him, massaging his scalp whilst he perfectly nips at your smooth skin, ascending you to cloud nine.

Sighing out in sheer ecstasy, you tug Jungkook closer to you. His hand canvases down your body, cupping your soaked sex in his palm.

You let out a scandalised gasp, gut filling with heat.

“Always so fucking wet, princess,” Jungkook groans as he glides his two fingers through your tight cunt. You brace yourself on his broad shoulders, breathing heavily and Jungkook revels in each sultry sound that leaves your pretty mouth.

“J-just for you,” you manage to whimper out as his fingers skim around your battered mound. Jungkook begins to push your legs apart and releases a satisfied hum when he sees how soaked your cunt is for him.

Jungkook pulls back, winking at you before moving forward to kiss down your body. To where you need him most. His lips adorn every inch of your body and your core ignites when you feel him reach closer to your already naked sex.

Jungkook’s eyes locking onto yours as he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. The garment falls, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze. His hands roam over your body, tracing every curve, every dip, while his lips replaced his fingers, kissing and nibbling along your collarbone, your shoulders, your throat.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your skin, his voice vibrating through you. “All mine.”

You shudder from the cold, now completely naked, your breath coming in shallow gasps as he hovers above you. His fingers trail down your stomach, stopping just above where you need him most. He glances up at you, his eyes gleaming with mischief before his fingers dipped lower, sliding through your folds.

“So wet for me,” he groans, voice dripping with possessiveness. He circles your clit once, twice, before delving inside you, his fingers thrusting deep as he continues to stroke your most sensitive spot.

Jungkook’s thumb was gentle yet insistent as he traced lazy circles around your clit, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You lay back against the plush pillows, your breath hitching as he leans over you, his dark eyes smoldering with desire. His lips brushes against your ear, his voice low and husky as he whispers, “Everyone will see you swollen and know I’ve fucked you.”

You moan, unable to form words as his fingers dip inside you, teasingly slow at first.

Jungkook watches your face intently, his thumb pressing against your clit in a rhythm that has you arching off the bed. “You’re so hot,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. “So ready to be bred.”

His fingers move faster now, scissoring inside you while his mouth trailed kisses along your jawline. “Tell me,” he demands, his tone commanding yet laced with tenderness. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“Yes,” you gasp, your hips instinctively meeting his hand. “I want… I want you so bad.”

Jungkook chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Not just me,” he corrected, his voice growing deeper. “You want our baby. Tell me.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as the weight of his words settles over you. “I do,” you admit, voice trembling. “I want - oh, God ; I want everything with you.”

Jungkook’s eyes are coloured with a shade of satisfaction, as he adds in another one of his delicious fingers, satiating your ache for more.

You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure seeps through you. Jungkook’s free hand moves to your plump ass, squeezing roughly as his fingers pick up speed, plunging in and out of you with increasing urgency.

“Tell me,” he demands, his voice gruff. "Tell me who’s got you soaked."

“You,” you croon, your voice breaking. “I’m wet for you.”

At your words, he stands, lifting you once again and placing you on the edge of the mattress. His fingers leave your aching core, and you only hope it is replaced by his mouth, the image of his tongue lapping at you with fervor making you shudder.

You cry out his name, your back arching as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

Jungkook moves his head in front of your cunt, breathing against it deeply, knowing the sensation of his hot breath would spur you on further.

And it certainly does.

You jerk rapidly as Jungkook places a kiss to your clit and your insides constrict, anticipating his next ministration.

“Can I eat you out?,” Jungkook huskily asks. He knows how tired you must be, so he ensures he’s safe to go ahead. Your chest swells with butterflies, in awe of how caring your husband is.

You move forward and cup his cheek, urging him to look towards you. You smile at him brightly, nodding your head and place a quick peck against his swollen lips.

Jungkook is quick to get back in position, paying attention to your leaking cunt again. He lifts your legs over his shoulders, letting them rest there daintily. You lean back, palms planted on the mattress beneath you as you savour the view before you.

Your sexy husband stands before you with his exposed, tanned and Apollo-sculpted body ready to devour you whole. Jungkook breathes against your folds and you quiver with arousal. His hands massage the inside of your thighs, calming your anticipation.

“My wife’s so pretty,” he whispers before moving to press a gentle kiss on your clit. You shudder at the sensitivity, bucking your hips into his face, yearning for more.

You run your fingers through his dark tresses, tightening your grip on his scalp. “Jungkook, pleasee,” you whine, arching into him more in the hopes that he’ll provide you with some form of relief.

“Patience baby,” Jungkook murmurs before jutting out the tip of his tongue and lightly tracing your nether lips. You squirm, moaning his name shamelessly and uttering soft pleas as you mentally pine for more contact from his skillful tongue. Jungkook feels more turned on as he hears you become more needy despite him not having done very much.

“I’ve got you, princess,” he growls before licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He latches onto your quivering cunt, making out with it and sucking on your labia. Jungkook buries himself further as he gathers your slickness on his tongue. You mewl at the euphoric sensation his tongue supplies and he provides you with no mercy as he eats you up with his masterful tongue.

Bucking your hips closer to his face, you wordlessly beg for more and Jungkook abides almost immediately, lapping at your folds like a starved man. He flattens his tongue against your cunt, generously sucking on the pulsing bud. Jungkook groans at the sweet flavour of your juices that has you reeling for more.

He repeatedly licks up your slit shamelessly, tongue delving into you deeper and deeper as he cranes his own neck with no care in the world. He basks in the mess between your legs, chest swelling with pride as he realises it’s all for him. Only him.

“Fuck,” he moans into your cunt, “your pussy always tastes so good. Fucking missed this,” he says as if he hadn’t woken you up by eating you out this morning.

His large, tattooed hands fail to stay still. They move from holding your thighs apart to having a tight grip on your ass, pulling you further into him.

“L-love seeing your face between my thighs,” you manage to voice weakly.

“I know you do,” Jungkook replies whilst bringing his thumb to rub against your aching clit. You rut your hips in his face, head falling back as the pleasure washes over you.

“Jungkoook, fuckk.”

He buries himself closer into your pulsing folds, nose burrowed deep within. Your hips develop a mind of their own and you begin to grind against his face, practically riding it. Jungkook hums satisfyingly as he moves his hands to rest on your ass again. He probes you forward and rocks your hips back and forth against his face making you grab a fistful of his hair, earning a slight hiss from him.

His hooded eyes meet your own and you send a lazy smirk his way as you rut your hips against his face. Your wetness from riding his nose, chin and tongue glistens on his skin which somehow turns you on more.

“Ahh shit,” you cry out, internally thanking the Heavens above that your cabin is located in a secluded area. You only hope Areum doesn’t wake up.

Whilst you continue to ride his face, Jungkook licks up and around your folds ravenously and his fingers bore into the meat of your ass.

He angles himself better and secures his lips down around your mound, dragging his tongue around until he latches onto your sensitive clit again. You moan lewdly and lurch when you feel Jungkook press his devious tongue against your throbbing bud.

“I’m gonna come!” You cry out, riding his face at a faster pace and your grip on his hair becoming tighter. Jungkook suckles your clit, tongue running through your folds, providing you with eons of paradisiacal pleasure. He shoves his face deeper into your cunt, violently capturing it with his plush, swollen lips and his grasp on you becomes harder.

You feel him smirk against you before he brings those bunny teeth of his and bites down on your clit. Your body jolts at the impact, but still manages to send hot, orgasmic spikes of arousal through your veins.

“Oh fuck,” you sharply moan, the need to come undone too prominent now.

“Come for me, angel,” he coos at you, hands moving to soothe your lower back. His dulcet voice does it for you and you feel your orgasm wash over you vigorously. Your hips grind against your husband's stupidly handsome face and he laps at your palpitating pussy.

Your mind spins and stomach bubbles as you come down from your high. Jungkook continues his assault, lapping at thecum that stains your cunt before he pulls away. You meet his desperate eyes, shimmering lips and a scandalous grin as he pants harshly.

You beckon him to you eagerly, hands growing taxed as you reach for his sweaty neck and pull him in for an all too chaste kiss. Smothering your mouth with his, you groan as you taste your essence on his enticing lips.

You devour his mouth, nibbling at his plump lower lip.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.”

You chuckle at him simping over you once again, tugging him closer. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and continue to mouth at him languidly, tongues tangling together.

Jungkook smiles against you, gushing at your sudden boldness. He runs his hand up and down the expanse of your back, gleefully continuing to make out with you.

But he isn’t done yet. When you were teetering on the brink, Jungkook pulls away, standing and stripping off his own clothes in seconds. His cock is hard and throbbing, and you can’t help but reach for him, your fingers curling around his length.

“Not yet,” he growls, stepping back. Jungkook positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance.

“Look at me,” he commands, his eyes boring into yours. “I’m fucking you full of my cum tonight.”

With that, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he claims you, his hips snapping forward with brutal precision. Every thrust is deliberate, every movement calculated to bring you both to the edge.

Jungkook’s hands grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, voice ragged. “Always so tight and ready for her husband.”

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his slim waist as you meet every thrust, your bodies moving as one. The tension between you is electric, crackling in the air as you both race toward release.

Then, without warning, Jungkook pulls out, flipping you onto your back and positioning himself between your legs once more. He grabs hold of your hips, lifting you slightly before slamming back into you.

“Ride me,” he demands with his sultry voice.

“Jungkook!” you cry, your hips rising to meet his, your body instinctively obeying his command. You shift your position, your core contracting around him as you take control, riding him with everything you had.

“Jungkook, you fuck me so good.”

“I know baby, I know,” he says, almost condescendingly.

Jungkook’s hands grips your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he guides you with precision. You feel the intensity of his desire in every movement, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Ride your husband’s dick like you mean it.” His voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine.

You obey without hesitation, rising slowly at first, the sensation of him inside you igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce gently with each upward motion, the weight of them reminding you of how close you both are to this shared dream.

Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours, his dark irises locked onto your gaze as if he can see straight into your soul. There is no doubt that he probably could.

“Faster,” he urges, his hand moving from your hip to your thigh, encouraging you to pick up the pace. You comply, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusted to the rhythm.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies colliding, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing softly. Jungkook’s other hand finds your breast, kneading it roughly as his thumb brushed across your nipple, sending electric shocks through your system.

“Do you feel how ready you are for me?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with possessive heat. “Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me.” His words sent a wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you can’t help but moan loudly, your head falling back as you surrender to the sensations.

Jungkook takes advantage of your distracted state, shifting his hold on you and flipping you onto your back once more. His chest pressed against yours, his weight grounding you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

“Tell me you want this,” he demands, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “Tell me you want my baby.”

The intensity of his question catches you off guard, but the truth is already bubbling up from deep within you. “Yes,” you whine, clutching at his shoulders as his thrusts grow more urgent. “I want you, I want this… want us.”

His response is rough, hips snapping forward as he drives into you with renewed vigor. “Good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with arousal.

“So good for me.” He reaches between you, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in circles that synced perfectly with his movements.

You cry out, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure builds higher and higher. Jungkook’s hand moves again, this time slipping lower, two fingers pressing into you alongside his cock. “God, you’re so wet for me,” he notes, voice strained. “So ready to become a mother again.”

The combination of his fingers and his cock was overwhelming, every nerve ending in your body lighting up like a firework. You can feel the orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

“Jungkook!” you scream his name, your body convulsing around him as you come, stars bursting behind your closed eyelids.

He doesn’t stop, not even for a second. If anything, his movements become more intense, his breathing ragged as he chases his own release. “Stay with me, baby,” he commanded, his voice gravelly. “Don’t let go yet.”

You cling to him, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist as he continues to pound into you, his fingers still working their magic. “Almost there,” he grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic as he nears his climax. “Almost…”

And then he freezes, his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, his seed spilling into you with an urgency that betrays his desperation to make this moment real. “Mine,” he says roughly, voice breaking as he collapses onto you, his breathing heavy.

For a long moment, neither of you speak, the only sound heard is the rapid beating of your combined hearts.

Jungkook’s lips find yours, kissing you deeply as if sealing the promise they had just made.

“This is just the beginning,” he whispers against your lips, his voice filled with conviction.

“Our family starts here,” Jungkook affirms, caressing your hips softly.

The morning sun crept over the horizon, its golden rays slipping through the cabin’s frosted windows and telling you a story that today will be a perfect day.

You stir first, the soft glow coaxing you from the cocoon of blankets. Jungkook is still fast asleep beside you, his face relaxed in a way that makes your heart swell. His hair was tousled, his lips slightly parted, one arm flung protectively over your waist as if even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Careful not to wake him, you shift slightly, your gaze falling on the fireplace across the room. The embers had long since died, leaving a bed of ash that glowed faintly in the morning light. Outside, the snow glittered like diamonds, untouched and pristine.

Last night replays in your mind, every whispered word and shared touch lingering like a secret promise. A soft blush warms your cheeks as you rest a hand on your stomach, wondering, hoping.

Before your thoughts spiral further, Jungkook groans beside you, his arm tightening around you as his eyes flutter open. He blinks a few times, his face slowly breaking into a sleepy smile as he finds you watching him.

“Morning,” he sighs, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning, baby,” you respond, brushing a strand of hair from his face and leaning in to kiss his forehead.

Jungkook leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed again for a brief moment. “You’re glowing,” he says softly, cracking one eye open to peek at you.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” Jungkook pronounces confidently, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch. “Last night…” His voice trails off, a grin spreading across his face. “Let’s just say I think we’ve got good odds.”

Your stomach turns at the memory of Jungkook fucking you so intensely. You’d been at it most of the night, Jungkook wanting to try as many positions as possible. Your husband's stamina was as high as the chances of you being pregnant already.

“Confident, are we?” you tease, though your heart is still skipping at the thought.

“With you? Always.”

The two of you lay there for a while longer, wrapped up in each other and the promise of what was to come. Eventually, the sound of tiny feet padding down the stairs broke the peaceful quiet.

“Eomma!” Areum’s voice calls out, bright and cheerful.

Jungkook groans dramatically, burying his face in your neck. “She’s too good at waking up early,” he mumbles, making you laugh. “I thought I might be lucky enough to have you ride me into being fully awake.”

“Come on,” you chuckle, nudging him playfully. “I’ll ride you later.”

With a sigh and a mumble of ‘you better’, Jungkook rolls out of bed, grabbing a pair of fresh boxers from the open suitcase and tossing his hoodie to you.

“Get it on, we don’t need to show her our anatomy just yet.”

You chuckle, quickly slip the hoodie over your head, before padding out to meet Areum, who stands at the bottom of the stairs clutching her favourite stuffed bunny.

“There’s snow everywhere!” she exclaims, her eyes wide with excitement.

“I know, princess,” Jungkook brightly says, scooping her up into his arms. “Maybe after breakfast, we can go outside and build the biggest snowman you’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” Areum’s face lit up, her joy infectious. “Bigger than the one at yoonie samchon’s house?”

“Of course,” he replies, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Ours will be much better.”

That competitive streak will never die.

You watch them with a soft smile, the sight of Jungkook cradling her so naturally makes your heart ache in the best way.

“Eomma, you’ll help too, right?” Areum asks, turning her bright eyes on you as she finally notices your presence.

“Of course,” you warmly respond, reaching out to take her into your arms. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

As the three of you settle into the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes filling the air. A quiet sense of peace lingers and you feel whole.

Jungkook catches your eye over the rim of his coffee mug, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smile. He didn't say anything, but he didn’t need to. You knew. You always did.

Whatever the future held, whatever new adventures or challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together.

And maybe, just maybe, there was already a tiny spark of new life waiting to join your little family.

A Quiet Christmas was exactly what you needed.

You reach for your phone, capturing a photo of your husband and Areum scrunching their noses as they laugh at one another.

The photo is quick to make it to your instagram, with a sweet caption that summarises it all.

Our Quiet Christmas.

And there we have it! I hope dad!jk made you feel as cosy as I felt writing this 🦢! Merry Christmas, my loves ; I hope you have a wonderful Christmas 🎄.

Here is my masterlist if you would like to check out my other works <3

↠ Taglist : @iamstilljk @lovingkoalaface @kooeuphoria @jeonsgf-97 @taeskrve @freshmoondragon (names in italics - I was unable to tag)