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fortunxa · 10 days ago

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Jinx’s take on birthdays

H E A D C A N O N S

「 ✦ Jinx x birthday girl!reader (ft. Isha!) ✦ 」

author’s note: this is my birthday gift to myself, so happy 21st to me! a day late, but the energy is here 🍰 it’s a hefty “birthdays by Jinx” guide, trust. everybody’s included

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── .✦ in general

⭑.ᐟ Jinx is unpredictable and spontaneous, but she’d put a lot of effort into making you feel special. It wouldn’t necessarily be traditional, but it would scream Jinx’s personal touch. Expect creative, maybe even over-the-top plans.

⭑.ᐟ She’d probably start scheming weeks in advance. She would try to keep it a secret but might accidentally drop hints—giggling to herself or testing out her surprise explosives in the middle of the night.

⭑.ᐟ On the day of, she’d be buzzing with energy, maybe even more excited than you. She’d be jumping around, barely able to contain herself, and constantly checking to make sure everything’s “just right”.

⭑.ᐟ Chaotic wake-up call. Jinx wouldn’t just wake you up—she’d startle you awake. Maybe it’s a mini firework going off, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” screamed at the top of her lungs, or her jumping onto the bed while tossing confetti in the air. She’d think it’s hilarious.

⭑.ᐟ She would wake up early to attempt to make breakfast in bed, and it’d be a mess. The pancakes might come out misshapen, the eggs might be slightly burnt, and the kitchen might look like a warzone, but she’d serve the meal with the biggest, proudest grin, sticking sparklers in it.

– “Chef Jinx, at your service! Presentation’s… optional.”

⭑.ᐟ She would tease you all day with “hints” about what’s coming—big dramatic gestures, mysterious grins, and exaggerated secrecy.

⭑.ᐟ Alternatively, she’d pretend to forget about the birthday at first, just to make the reveal more dramatic.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx might attempt to bake a cake—or something resembling one. It’d probably have lopsided layers, mismatched decorations, and way too much frosting, but she’d remind you it was baked with love. Surprisingly, it ends up tasting quite good, all things considered. She insists on lighting so many candles that it becomes a literal bonfire.

– “Make a BIG wish!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would pour her heart out into making a gift. Maybe it’s a painted gadget, a weapon engraved with your initials, or a music box that hums your favorite tune. / She would try her hand at crafting something wearable—a necklace made from colorful wires and gears or a bracelet with tiny charms representing your relationship. / She might secretly collect mementos from your time together—photos, doodles, or little objects from your dates. She’d throw them into a scrapbook and complete it with her graffiti-style art.

⭑.ᐟ Isha would work on a small handmade gift for you as well—a simple drawing or a decorated trinket like a painted stone or a flower crown. She’d try to give it to you directly but hesitate, clinging to Jinx’s sleeve.

– “What are you waiting for, kid? Go give it to her!” And Isha would finally step forward, holding out the gift with both hands and a bashful smile.

⭑.ᐟ The birthday card would be a mix of chaotic doodles and messy handwriting. Jinx might overthink the message, so she’d stick with keeping it short and sweet.

“I suck at words, but you make me feel lucky. Thanks for sticking around, you weirdo. ꨄ︎ Love you. — Jinx :Þ”

⭑.ᐟ She would secretly paint an enormous mural on a wall in Zaun or Piltover, featuring your likeness surrounded by bold, neon colors and chaotic designs. It’d say something cheeky like, “the best girlfriend in Zaun (and Piltover—fight me)”.

⭑.ᐟ If someone tries to upstage her efforts—whether with gifts or plans—she would get hilariously pouty and competitive.

– “Oh, that’s cute, but did they make you a flamethrower? Didn’t think so.”

⭑.ᐟ If anyone else tries to monopolize your attention for too long (even for innocent birthday wishes), she might get possessive and interrupt, playing it off as a joke.

– “Okay, okay, enough. She’s MY birthday girl.”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would be extra overprotective on your special day, constantly holding your hand or slinging an arm around your shoulders. She’s not only protecting you but your “birthday vibes” as well (her words). She scowls if anyone so much as looks at you funny.

– “You want a birthday beatdown, huh?”

⭑.ᐟ She would absolutely wear a birthday hat all day, and she’d insist you wear one too.

⭑.ᐟ She would write a chaotic, nonsensical birthday song and perform it with full dramatic flair, banging on random objects to create a “beat.”

– “This song’s copyrighted—only for you, babe!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would stick to you like glue, constantly poking you, dragging you to see surprises, and showering you with compliments.

– “Wow, your face is so birthday today. Like, insanely cute. Unfair, really.”

– “You’re so perfect, it’s disgusting.”

⭑.ᐟ She might hijack a Piltover broadcast or Zaun’s speakers to publicly shout out your birthday.

⭑.ᐟ She would watch your reactions to everything she planned, grinning like a proud kid.

– “Do you like it? Tell me you like it! C’mon—smile for me!”

⭑.ᐟ She keeps shouting, “IT’S HER BIRTHDAY!” every time someone enters the room, even if it’s someone who already knows.

⭑.ᐟ No matter how chaotic the day is, Jinx would genuinely want you to feel loved and appreciated. She’d get quiet for a moment at the end of the day, letting her vulnerability show.

– “I don’t always get things right, but… you’re my favorite person. So, yeah. Happy birthday, babe.”

⭑.ᐟ As long as there’s leftover cake, she’ll keep celebrating.

– “What do you mean your birthday is over? How am I eating a birthday cake slice, then?”

── .✦ Jinx planning a surprise birthday party

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would throw a chaotic but fun party with a theme that makes sense only to her. Think: “sharks with birthday hats”.

⭑.ᐟ Or, she’d mix everything you like to make a big, nonsensical theme. Think: your favorite animals/colors/anything relating to your interests in one big concoction. (thanks bunny!!<3)

⭑.ᐟ She would talk a mile a minute about her ideas, constantly glancing at Isha to see if she’s keeping up. Isha, sitting cross-legged on the floor, would enthusiastically point to certain parts of Jinx’s sketches or mimic explosions with her hands to signal she loves the idea of fireworks.

⭑.ᐟ Isha would be Jinx’s undercover operative, spying on your preferences.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would drag Isha into a crafting frenzy. They’d make mismatched decorations like paper chains and confetti cannons. Isha would quietly fold a bunch of origami animals to scatter around as subtle decorations, which Jinx would “improve” by adding googly eyes to practically all of them. Can’t forget the banner that says “YOU’RE THE BOMB” (because of course).

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would initially want to handle everything herself, believing that only she could make the party perfect. She’d get flustered when things went wrong but stubbornly refuse to admit she needed assistance.

⭑.ᐟ If things got overwhelming, she might swallow her pride and reluctantly ask for help in last-minute desperation, though it’d come out dramatically.

– “Okay, fine! I need backup.”

⭑.ᐟ To keep the party secret, she would assign ridiculous code names to everything.

the party = “Operation Boom Bash”

the cake = “Project Frosty Delight”

you = “Target Hot Stuff”

⭑.ᐟ She would treat it like a mission briefing, but she’d be annoyingly cryptic with her instructions.

– “Okay, so I need, like, three gallons of paint, a live shark—just for a minute!—and maybe some cupcakes.”

– “How is the live shark a must-have for a birthday party, but cupcakes are a ‘maybe’?”

– “No questions!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would be offended if anyone tried to suggest a different idea. She was your girlfriend, after all, and she only wanted the best for you. But she quickly realizes that her demands are nearly impossible to meet, so she tones them down to avoid making the party a disaster. Accepting the help is her way of showing she’s trying to be a better person for you. She wants to show she can do something right.

– “I just want her to be happy, you know? I need this to be right.”

⭑.ᐟ DIY invitations. Jinx would hand-make wild, artistic invitations for the party, even if it’s just for you. They’d be chaotic masterpieces—probably involving glitter and graffiti-like design, with Isha sneaking a doodle of you, Jinx, and herself on the back. Jinx would only invite people she knows you like, even if it means threatening them to RSVP with notes like, “Show up or get kaboomed. <3 Jinx.”

⭑.ᐟ The day of the celebration, she might hand out “party favors” for any friends who join—small, colorful explosives or confetti grenades.

– “Take one! They’re mostly harmless!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would constantly check in with you because she’d be genuinely worried about messing things up despite her confidence.

– “You havin’ fun? You like it? How ‘bout now?”

– “You’re smiling, so I guess that means I didn’t screw this up, right?”

⭑.ᐟ She’d pull Isha aside occasionally to ask her to “spy” on guests to make sure no one was causing trouble.

– “Okay, short stack, go check on the snack table and make sure no one’s hogging the chips.”

⭑.ᐟ Isha would quietly insist on getting a slice of cake to give you herself, practically shoving it into your hands with a big smile.

⭑.ᐟ During a toast for you, Isha would quietly raise her glass (even if it’s just juice) and look at you with a shy smile, gesturing a little “cheers” with her cup.

⭑.ᐟ Isha would be in charge of keeping guests entertained while Jinx set up bigger surprises. She would direct people with expressive gestures, and they would end up following her lead because she’s so animated and endearing. She’d shoo them away to the dance floor or hand out drinks with glow-stick stirrers.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would constantly circle back to you to check if you need anything.

– “You still good, babe? Need more cake? A drink? Someone thrown out?”

⭑.ᐟ Isha would trail after you for a bit, helping out in small ways, like passing you a drink or brushing confetti off your shoulder, subtly showing her affection.

⭑.ᐟ If anyone tried to make the party about themselves or annoyed you, Jinx would intervene immediately.

– “Go eat some cake and zip it.”

⭑.ᐟ Isha would stick close to you during parts of the party, mirroring Jinx’s protective instincts. If someone approached who looked suspicious (in her eyes), she would cross her arms, glare, and shake her head like a little bodyguard. Jinx calls it “the Isha test”.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would rope Isha into playful pranks, like sneaking up behind guests and tossing glitter at them.

⭑.ᐟ She would start spontaneous dance-offs, grabbing you and spinning you around just to hear you laugh.

– “Dance with me, birthday girl! Don’t make me embarrass myself alone!”

⭑.ᐟ She would be darting around and hyping up the crowd, while Isha acted as her silent shadow, handing out sparklers or checking up on the games.

– “Ladies and gentlemen, step right up! And by step up, I mean do what the kid tells you—she’s in charge of this one!”

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would stick to traditional party games and activities but add her own twist to them each time, no matter how trivial.

“bomb pong” ➪ her version of beer pong, where she’d paint the ping pong balls to look like mini bombs.

“truth or chaos” ➪ self-explanatory. She would make sure you only got fun or flattering dares, even being flirty and teasing with them.

– “Oh no, you chose chaos? That means you have to kiss the coolest person at this party.” And you both know it’s her.

trivia game ➪ Jinx would want to show off how much she knows about you. The catch? Half the trivia questions would also be about herself just to test you, too.

– “Okay, bonus round—what’s my favorite thing to blow up?!”

Glow-in-the-dark darts and lit up board just because she could. If you point out the dangerous side of the game—especially with little Isha running around—she’d groan loudly but relent, setting up a glow-in-the-dark ring toss instead.

She’d hang a homemade piñata filled with tiny trinkets and candy. Everyone would take turns blindfolded, with Jinx calling out unhelpful directions like: “Swing left! No, your other left!”. She’d make sure you got the first and last swing.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would be cheering you on during every activity and heckling the opponents, while Isha would root for you by miming cheers and clapping her hands. If you won a round, Isha would leap into the air and give you a medal she crafted beforehand.

⭑.ᐟ Like the mini-Jinx she is, she would periodically check on you, giving you a thumbs-up or tapping your shoulder to make sure you’re having fun.

⭑.ᐟ If you seemed overwhelmed, Isha would grab Jinx’s arm and point to you, miming a timeout gesture. She would sit quietly nearby, offering her company without being intrusive.

⭑.ᐟ After the chaos of the party, Jinx would unwind next to you on the couch, resting her head on your shoulder while little Isha napped, curled up in your side, making you both grin.

– “Looks like you’ve got another fan, huh?”

── .✦ birthday girl!reader who wants a low-key celebration

⭑.ᐟ If you didn’t want a big party or over-the-top surprises for your birthday, it would definitely take Jinx a moment to recalibrate.

⭑.ᐟ She might struggle to understand why you don’t want a big celebration. She’d look genuinely puzzled, her mind racing to adjust her usual plans.

⭑.ᐟ Once she accepts that you prefer a low-key celebration, she would throw herself into making a quiet day special. It might take some effort for her to tone down her usual chaotic energy, but she’d do it because it’s what you want for your special day.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would constantly ask questions to figure out what you consider “too much.”

– “Okay, so like, if I draw a heart on the wall in paint, is that over-the-top? No? Cool. What if I set the heart ablaze? ��Too far? Got it.”

– “Would it be too much if I put your name in lights? Or not enough?”

⭑.ᐟ She’d be extra gentle and overly concerned at times, to the point of being funny. She’d fidget nervously, constantly checking in. She’s worried about getting it too wrong.

– “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean it’s cool, it’s chill, but like… you’re sure?”

⭑.ᐟ Super simplified decorations. After easing her anxieties, Jinx would decorate with a single balloon or one small banner just because she thinks it’s hilarious. She’d point at it dramatically, bragging about how she’s “reinventing minimalism”.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would leave funny little notes in random spots to quietly show you she’s thinking about you.

inside your favorite book: “Reading? On your birthday? Wow, nerd alert. (Just kidding, keep being the smartest, cutest, book-loving babe ever.)”

by the light switch: “Every time you turn this light on, think about how you light up my life. Too cheesy? Deal with it, it’s your birthday!”

on a snack bag: “Munch away, birthday girl! Each bite makes you 10x more adorable. SCIENCE FACT.”

on the bathroom door: “Birthday bathroom breaks are scientifically proven to be 20% better than regular ones. FACT. Don’t ask how I know.”

The scientist behind the studies? None other than Jinx herself.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would give you small gifts throughout the day instead of all at once. She’d say it’s a “drip-feed of love” to “keep the birthday vibes alive”.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would plan something like an art date. She would take you to a hidden spot where you could graffiti together. She’d bring spray paints and help you come up with a tag that matches her monkey one.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx might quietly admire you during the day, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with her feelings for you.

– “Y’know, I like this. Just us. You’re kinda… everything.”

⭑.ᐟ If you wanted to stay in, she wouldn’t mind just spending the day relaxing together in her hideout. She’d insist on building a “birthday pillow fort” and filling it with snacks, blankets, and fairy lights, creating a cozy little haven.

– “Just you, me, and some snacks. It’s a date. A birthday date!”

⭑.ᐟ Well, it was a date until Isha felt left out and peeked her head out from the entrance, which made you promptly pull her into the pillow fort.

⭑.ᐟ Jinx would focus on spending uninterrupted time with you—talking, laughing, and just enjoying the day together. She’d cherish the calm moments, even if it’s not her usual speed. She might actually enjoy the slower pace, realizing it gives her more time to focus on you.

– “This is nice. I don’t gotta share you with anyone else today. Well, except short stack over here.”

⭑.ᐟ Since you don’t want anything big, Jinx would ditch the giant cake and instead stick a candle in a cupcake, donut, or even a sandwich.

⭑.ᐟ If you’re worried about Jinx not having fun with a quiet birthday, she would quickly shut that down.

– “What, me? Bored? Nah, babe. I’d sit in total silence if it meant hanging out with you.”

⭑.ᐟ By the end of the day, Jinx would be extra soft and sentimental, realizing she doesn’t need a big party to make you happy.

– “I don’t care what we do, as long as it’s with you.”

── .✦ birthday girl!reader who hates birthdays

⭑.ᐟ Initially, Jinx would be thrown off guard—she would be baffled. Expect a lot of teasing questions and remarks to test your boundaries or to try to make you laugh, diffusing the tension of the day.

– “What did birthdays ever do to you? Did a balloon pop in your face as a kid? Was there a cake betrayal I need to know about?”

– “If you hate birthdays, does that mean I don’t get to wear a party hat? Because I look really good in a party hat.”

– “What do you call someone who hates birthdays? You! Wait, no, seriously—is there a word for that? Birth-a-phobic? Cake-averse? Anti-balloonian?”

– “What do you want to do on your birthday? Oh wait—you probably want to boycott it. My bad.”

– “Can I still blow up balloons? Asking for a very sneaky clown.”

– “So, if we can’t celebrate your birthday, can I just celebrate mine again?”

– “What’s worse: hating birthdays or admitting it to someone like me? I mean, now I have to mess with you.”

⭑.ᐟ If you opened up about why you hated birthdays, she would actually listen and try to understand. She would struggle at first but ultimately stick to your wishes. She will try to come up with other ideas to make you feel cared about regardless.

⭑.ᐟ She would leave a card that says: “This is NOT a birthday card. It’s just me reminding you that you’re the coolest person ever. Luv, Jinx.”

⭑.ᐟ Subtle “not birthday” gestures. Jinx would sneak in small, low-key things to make you smile without drawing attention to the day. She would spend the entire day being extra affectionate without outright acknowledging your birthday.

Random hugs.

Leaving little flowers on the table without saying a word.

Bringing you your favorite drinks or snacks, then casually walking away like it’s no big deal.

Leaving a tiny, heartfelt note that says, “I love you every day, not just today.”

⭑.ᐟ However, it would be hard for her not to be suspicious at times. She would quietly slip a thoughtful little gift into your bag with a note that says, “Not a birthday present. Just because.”

⭑.ᐟ Accidental overstepping happens. Jinx might slip up and do something mildly celebratory out of habit, like throwing confetti or humming the birthday tune. If you got upset, she would immediately backtrack.

– “Wait, wait, wait—don’t be mad! It’s not a birthday thing! It’s just… a ‘you’ thing!”

⭑.ᐟ While you cuddle in bed at the end of the day, Jinx can’t help herself from wishing you a happy birthday but in a safe way.

– “You hate birthdays, but I love you. So, thanks for being born. Even if you hate me saying it.”

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mclacedes · 2 months ago

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The Idea Of You (LN4)

1. The Idea of Kissing

summary: in which lando and you have been friends for over 5 years and developed feelings for each other, but refuse to admit it until his family's new year's party.

autor's note: I present to you my first story on tumblr :')!! I'm so happy that this is finally becoming a reality, that I could post all the chapters at once... maybe chapters every other day would be a good start.

I would like to remind you that English is not my first language, so FEEL FREE to correct me 🤍

WARNINGS: bits of fluff every here and there, angst, a little smut, mention of anxiety

wc: 5.5k words

“i'd rather take that risk than keep pretending”

next chapter: The Idea of Worthiness

the norris party had been a great success, with laughter and music still echoing in the kitchen, where you and lando worked side by side to clean up the remnants of the celebration. the cozy mess of half-eaten snacks and empty drink bottles created an intimate atmosphere, a testament to the night’s joy and the warmth of being with friends.

since you two became friends in 2018, it has become the most normal thing in the world for you to spend a few days at his family's house when he gets time to come home; so when your families met at Silverstone 2019, it was almost like you were one big family, only one thing, part of the same thing. as usual, his mother invited you to their New Year's party.

the party—like anything involving the Norris name—was a blast and, of course, something to remember. it was the best possible way to welcome 2024 with open arms after the last disastrous years.

now, confetti, shiny paper, and glitter were scattered across the floor of the house, remnants of a night well-spent. you and Lando willingly took your time cleaning up, both of you slipping easily into the comfortable rhythm of a shared task. Lando rinsed the cutlery, while you swept the floor.

as you moved around the room, your eyes were drawn to him—his back, broad and muscular beneath the thin fabric of his white dress shirt, which clung just enough to reveal the silhouette of his strength.

as you swept the floor, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger a little longer on Lando’s silhouette as he washed the dishes. the quiet between you felt more yours than the remnants of the party scattered around the room. with the last guests gone, the laughter and music faded into a soft hum, leaving just the rhythmic clinking of dishes. you found the moment oddly intimate, a shared space where everything else faded away.

“do you remember the first New Year’s party you came to?” Lando’s voice broke the silence, pulling you from your thoughts. he turned slightly, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “i think it was 2019. you nearly dropped your drink when my dad tried to get everyone to sing ‘Auld Lang Syne.’”

you laughed, the memory making you feel warm inside. “how could i have forgotten? your dad was so into it, and i was just standing there, completely clueless.”

“it felt just like a movie scene,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “and i still think you owe me a proper midnight kiss for that.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words. it was a lighthearted joke, but it hit closer to home than you expected.

you've had this major crush on him since 2019, and moments like these only made it harder to ignore. every lingering glance, every shared laugh, and the warmth of his presence felt charged with something unspoken, something you both danced around but never fully acknowledged. as you swept the floor, the weight of your feelings settled in the silence, an undercurrent that hummed softly between you. it was a reminder of all those stolen moments and quiet confessions, a connection that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

you shook that feeling off.

“god, you'll never let that go, will you?” the playful shock was palpable in your tone as you stopped sweeping the floor. a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you watched lando position himself to face you, on the other side of the kitchen island. he rested his body against the sink, his weight supported on his elbows.

“how could i? you pulled me in for a kiss but didn't move!” he rolls his eyes.

the memory hits you, sending a shiver down your spine. you remember just how physically close you two were there and what led you to do that… the overwhelming want of his lips in yours, the way he looked just as pretty as tonight, how he was a gentleman to you all night long.

“i was a bit drunk,” the lie rolls off your tongue with a little too much ease.

lando moves around the island and stop in front of you.

“are you drunk right now, love?” his voice dropped almost an octave, reverberating low and husky. his voice like that had a special effect on you, something you would never understand.

“not much, you know i don't like drinking” you shrug.

“then why does it look like you still wanna kiss me, beautiful?” his eyes twinkling with mischief, the voice drunk on his characteristic playful confidence and that smile… it made your heart perform various somersaults in sequence, the butterflies on your stomach wanted to be freed. he was driving you wild. and he knew it. “did you kiss someone tonight?”

“why does that even matter?” you rolled your eyes and turned your back to him.

he followed. his body now stands fewer meters from you. you could feel his presence, hanging imposingly around the kitchen.

“because i wanna know if i’ll be the first to do so this year, baby,” your whole body froze by the saying.

every limb petrified, every cell dead, every neuron fried. you stood right there were you where, unable to process the weight of his words.

you took a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. the warmth of his presence enveloped you, making it hard to think straight. somehow, you managed to turn around.

“i mean… you know what they say—no kiss, no bliss”

“no one says that, lan,” you chuckle at the made-up saying.

“well... then we do,” he states.

“we?” you echo, hesitantly. “what do you mean, we?”

“us, love. you and me,” he turns around and smile.

you felt the heat creeping up your cheeks at his words, a mix of embarrassment and excitement swirling within you. “so, what? i should kiss you because you coined a catchy phrase?”

lando stepped closer, a playful glint in his eye. “well, it sounds pretty convincing to me. plus, it’s new year’s! a fresh start, right? a perfect time to mess around and have some fun, don't you think?”

your heart sunk to your stomach.

for lando, it was a joke, something that'd entertain him.

the realization that he would never look at you how you looked at him hit you right in your stomach—the weight of his words hitting harder than expected.

“i… i can’t handle this right now,” you stammered, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. “i need a minute.” without waiting for a response, you dashed out of the kitchen, desperate to escape and keep your tears at bay.

you bolted into the guest room that had become a second home over the years, flinging yourself onto the bed and burying your face in the soft pillows.

the weight of his words clung to you, turning what had felt like playful banter into something more painful. hot tears slipped down your cheeks, soaking into the fabric of the pillow as you tried to quiet your racing heart.

after a few minutes, soft knock interrupted your spiraling thoughts, and before you could muster a response, lando stepped in. his expression shifted from playful to serious, concern etched across his features as he took in your trembling form and the telltale signs of tears. his heart sank, breaking at the sight of you so upset.

“y/n,” he said gently, closing the door behind him. “can we have a word?”

you turned away, not wanting him to see the tears brimming in your eyes. “go away” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow.

“i’m not going anywhere, y/n,” he voiced. “please, talk to me.”

he took a step closer until he finally sat on the bed in which you laid face down. his presence filled the small room with a warmth that both comforted and terrified you. “i didn’t mean to upset you. i thought it would be funny.”

you felt the bed shift under his weight, and the gentle creak of the mattress reminded you of how close he was. you took a shaky breath, still not ready to face him; yet you got up, walking to the other side of the bed so you could see him from the front.

“it’s not just that,” you said, your words barely escaping your lips. “you don’t understand how… complicated and hurtful this is for me.”

“complicated? hurtful?” he echoed, confusion lacing his tone. “y/n, we’ve been friends for years. what’s complicated about this?”

your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to gather all the courage in the world to tell him how you've felt for so long.

“you don’t get it, lan,” you chuckled softly in disbelief. “how come you don't see i've had feelings for you for a long time now? every time you joke around, it just… it makes everything harder. it hurts me, lan. so much. i think you won't ever see me like that because i mean… the people you've went out with, jesus, they're goddesses and me? i'm… fuck, lan!”

you turned your back to lando, staring at the wall and letting tears run down your cheeks.

lando’s heart dropped as soon as he heard the soft, muffled sobs escaping your lips. panic surged through him, and he sprang up from the bed, his pulse racing.

“hey, hey,” he breathed, urgency lacing his tone. his hands reached out instinctively to cup your face, but he hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to bridge the distance between your pain and his desire to comfort you. when he finally touched you, his soft hands were breaking out in cold sweat, yet his familiar touch brought you a sense of solace. his grip was gentle but firm, grounding you in that moment. “please don’t cry, baby.”

“look at me,” he searched your eyes, desperation in his voice. “i hate seeing you like this. you mean too much to me. way more than you know.”

“lando, i can't—” he cut you off.

“i need you to hear me, y/n. you are the most beautiful girl i have ever seen, and it breaks my heart to see you like this and because, fuck, you are the most perfect person. it pisses me off to think that you don't see yourself the way i do. god, i love you. i think it's amazing how you take your time to look after your friends and relatives, it's adorable how good you are with children, you are so effortlessly funny and intelligent. how come you don't see it?”

his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and sincerity. you felt the warmth of his hands on your cheeks, the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world. slowly, the wall you had built around your heart began to crumble under the weight of his confession.

“you’re not just my friend, y/n,” he continued, his voice softening. “you’ve always been more to me. and every time i joked, it was just me trying to hide how much i cared. i didn’t want to ruin what we had, but here we are.”

he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “i’m tired of pretending. i want you to be mine, for real. please let me in. let me show you how much you mean to me.”

your heart raced as his gaze bore into yours, searching for understanding, for a glimpse of hope. the vulnerability in his eyes made you feel seen in a way you never had before. you were at a crossroads, and for the first time, you saw the possibility of something beautiful blooming from the ashes of your uncertainty.

you felt a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you, taken aback by the depth of his words. your mind raced, struggling to process the reality of what he was saying. “lando, this… this is a lot to take in,” you managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

he took a small step closer, his hands still cradling your face as he searched your eyes for any flicker of reciprocation. “i know it is. but i’ve been holding back for so long, scared of losing you if things didn’t work out. but the truth is, i can’t imagine my life without you. i don’t want to hide how i feel anymore.”

the vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. “you really mean that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. the weight of your feelings, long kept hidden, began to surface, intertwining with his confession.

“absolutely,” he said earnestly. “you’re the one who makes me laugh when i’m down, the person i want to share my victories with. i’ve always felt a connection with you, something deeper than just friendship. and i’ve been too afraid to say anything because i didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

you took a shaky breath, the reality of his love washing over you like a wave. “but what if things change? what if it ruins our friendship?”

“i’d rather take that risk than keep pretending,” he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’re worth it. and if it doesn’t work out, at least we’ll know we tried. but i truly believe we can be more than friends. i want to explore this with you.”

his honesty wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and for the first time, you felt the possibility of a future filled with hope rather than fear. you stared into his eyes, seeing not just the boy you had known for years but the man who could potentially hold your heart.

“i just… i’ve had feelings for you for so long, lan,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “i was terrified you’d never see me that way.”

“and now?” he asked, leaning in closer, his gaze unwavering.

“now,” you said, feeling the walls you’d built around your heart begin to dissolve, “i want to see where this goes. if you’re really sure about us.”

“more than sure,” he promised, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. “i’m all in, y/n.”

in that moment, the air between you crackled with possibility, and you knew, no matter what came next, you were ready to take that leap together.

“what do you want, lando?” you finally asked, vulnerability spilling over the edges of your bravado.

“i want to kiss you, for real this time,” he replied simply, his tone low and sincere. “but more than that... i want you, y/n”

and just like that, the tension shifted. the room felt smaller as he leaned in, the gravity of the moment drawing you closer.

as you leaned in, the world outside faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you, a shared breath before the leap.

his defined lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative, igniting a spark inside you. you could taste the remnants of champagne on his breath, a sweet reminder of the night you two shared. the kiss deepened.

lando grabbed your waist and staggered back until he sat on the bed, without breaking your kiss. with his legs open, you remained between them. your hands played with norris' neck and shoulder as he explored your waist, hips, tailbone until they landed on your ass, going down to his thighs, where he gripped tighter.

the soft moan that left your mouth made him smile and squeeze tighter, which brought you closer to him. almost like instinct, you moved to sit on his lap.

it felt like you two were trying to make up for all the lost time, and the clock didn't move; the party was a distant memory. the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his hands on you and the growing bulge beneath you.

lando’s fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a fervent need that sent shivers down your spine. you could feel the tension from earlier melting away, replaced by a heat that enveloped you both. each kiss felt like a promise, a declaration of everything you had both been too afraid to say until now.

his hands moves to the back of your dress, unzipping it carefully. the brush of his fingers on your bare skin ignited a spark within you, sending shivers down your spine as his hands explored your body with a reverent slowness. he caressed your sides, fingers brushing against the fabric of your sparkly Prada dress, teasing and tracing the curves he had only imagined before.

Lando quickly got rid of your expensive dress, leaving her breasts exposed for you to do whatever he wanted with the pair.

he felt his mouth water as he looked at your breasts, feeling even more horny just imagining you bouncing on top of him and your breasts swaying with each thrust. oh, god, here was so much he wanted to try with you and the mere thought made his cock even more painfully hard.

“so beautiful…” he silently praised, leaning in to kiss the top of your tits. “so hot… so mine”

“i’m yours, yeah?” you asked, trying not to sound too desperate and needy—as much as you were too desperate and needy.

“oh, yeah, you're mine,” he told you before grabbing one of your breasts, transmitting a wave of pleasure that made you throw your head back leaving your mouth agape.

“oh, lando,” slipped out before you could stop it, leaving you feeling lighter yet more vulnerable than ever.

“baby… you can't be loud, my love; my parents are here, remember?” he said with a teasing smile, the seriousness of his words sending a rush of excitement through you. “if you moan, i stop, okay?” he added, his voice a mix of playfulness and dominance.

you nodded, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. lando’s fingers worked magic as they moved on your sides and titties, sending shockwaves through you, your body responding eagerly to his every movement.

as you settled more comfortably on his lap, the heat radiating from his body made your skin flush. you pressed yourself against him, deepening the kiss as you felt him respond, his hands roaming down your sides, exploring every inch of you with a growing urgency.

involuntarily, your hips moved against his, eliciting a slight groan from him.

“ah god, you’re perfect,” he murmured against your lips, his breath hot and needy, and it sent a rush of warmth through you. you felt like you were losing yourself in him, every touch igniting a fire that left you breathless.

a thought struck you—what would happen now.

“lando, wait, wait…” you whispered, breaking the kiss just enough to speak—or rather, whisper. the intensity in his eyes only fueled your desire. “do you have a condom?”

“uh… no, fuck…” he shut his eyes when realizing the implications of not having a condom with him.

“oh…” you said, leaving his lap to lay on the bed.

you felt a mix of disappointment and frustration, knowing that this moment could slip away before it even truly began. the air between you felt heavy with unfulfilled tension, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you had arrived at this precipice, so close yet so far.

“but i can't leave you wanting,” lando said, his voice laced with sincerity.

“but what about you?” you pointed to his bulge, the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against his jeans.

“i’ll be fine, love. i wanna take care of you.” he turned to look at you, his eyes searching for reassurance.

“are you sure?” you searched his gaze for any hint of doubt, but all you found was the same want reflected back at you.

“i’ve never been this sure before,” he replied, his voice low and thick with desire. “i need you, love,” he admitted between leaving kisses across your shoulders and the crook of your neck.

“you’re so… fuck, y/n,” he breathed, his gaze burning into every part of your body until it finally landed in your white lace panties, soaked by your pussy juices. “ah, shit… you're so ready f’me, aren't ya?”

you felt yourself begin to spiral by the way he said it, lost in the pleasure he was giving you, the warmth of his skin against yours. you bit your lip, trying not to scream his name, but the more time moved, the harder it got.

the softness of the sheets contrasted with the heat radiating between your bodies when lando hovered above you, his eyes darkened with desire, searching yours for reassurance. you nodded slightly, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

“just breathe, okay?” he murmured, his voice husky as he pressed another lingering kiss to your lips, trailing down to your neck, where he placed soft bites and gentle kisses that made you gasp.

“lando,” you breathed. you craved more, but the vulnerability of the moment was almost overwhelming.

“i know, my love, i know, shh” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “just let me take care of you, m’kay? i’mma make you feel so good, love.”

with that, he shifted lower, trailing kisses down your body, each one igniting the fire within you further. he reached the hem of your dress, his fingers dancing lightly along the shimmering fabric before hesitating for just a moment.

“may i?” he asked, looking up at you with that boyish charm and sincerity you adored.

his hands were warm as they slid over your waist, fingertips teasingly grazing the delicate material before slipping his hand beneath it. he reveled in the feel of your skin, the warmth radiating from your body contrasting with the chill of the fabric.

lando’s fingers slid beneath the lace of your panties, the fabric damp and clinging to you, sending electric sparks through your body. he took his time, savoring every moment as he explored you with the gentleness of a lover and the urgency of a man who craved you deeply.

“so perfect,” he murmured, more to himself, his voice thick with desire. his eyes locked onto yours as he slowly peeled away the fabric, exposing you completely. the heat in his gaze made you feel both vulnerable and empowered, igniting a fire deep within.

as his fingers danced over your most sensitive spots, your breath hitched in your throat. every stroke was deliberate, coaxing whimpers and gasps from you. you arched your back, instinctively seeking more, your body craving his touch.

“ah, god, y/n,” he breathed, his fingers moving in a rhythm that felt intoxicating. “no moaning, remember?” he added another finger just to watch squirm in pleasure.

“lando, please…” you gasped, the sensation overwhelming you. it was a heady mix of pleasure and anticipation, and you could feel the tension building, coiling tightly within you. “please…”

“do you want me to stop, y/n?” he dared.

“no…” your eyes fluttered shut as you cried out like a plea.

“then no sounds, alright?” you nodded, battling the overwhelming sensations as his fingers moved with expert precision. each stroke felt electrifying, and your body instinctively pushed against him, craving more.

you panted, feeling yourself unravel with each deliberate stroke. the urge to moan was becoming impossible to resist, especially as his fingers worked their magic, sending shockwaves through you.

his mouth trailed lower, and you could feel the heat radiating off him as he peppered kisses down your thighs, teasingly close to where you needed him most. you could hardly contain the whimpers that escaped your lips as he finally reached his destination.

with every kiss, every gentle touch, he ignited a fire within you that felt both exhilarating and frightening.

he took his time, his movements deliberate and intoxicating as he kissed your thighs, his breath sending delicious shivers through you.

“lando, please,” you breathed, the urgency in your voice undeniable.

he murmured, sending another wave of warmth coursing through you. he kissed you softly through the fabric, his breath hot and teasing, sending you spiraling closer to the edge.

you felt a rush of pleasure as he slowly moved aside the fabric, his mouth hovering just above you, eyes locked on yours. it was an unspoken promise, one that sent your heart racing. his gaze held yours, a silent question hanging in the air.

“you okay?” he asked softly, his voice thick with anticipation.

“yes, yes” you breathed, the word escaping your lips as a plea and a promise.

with that, he took you into his mouth, drawing you in with a gentle intensity that made you arch against the mattress. every movement was careful yet filled with a desperate need, and you lost yourself completely in the rhythm he created.

what lando’s tongue did on your pussy was almost obscene, the way he explored every sensitive inch of you with a fervor that sent jolts of pleasure racing through your body. his movements were both calculated and wild, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you, the way your body responded to his every touch.

with each flick and swirl, you felt yourself unraveling, the tension inside you coiling tighter as he expertly guided you toward ecstasy. you couldn’t hold back the moans that escaped your lips, the sounds echoing off the walls of the room, mingling with the racing heartbeat that pulsed in your ears.

“lan,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath as your fingers tangled in his curls, urging him on. you could feel him smirking against you, the vibration of his laughter sending delicious shivers down your spine. he loved the effect he had on you, and it fueled his desire to give you everything you craved.

the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, entwined in a dance of passion and intimacy. each wave of pleasure that crashed over you was met with a new height of exhilaration, leaving you gasping for more. lando's hands found your hips, grounding you as you surrendered completely to the sensations flooding your senses.

you could feel the warmth building inside you, a tight coil of pleasure that threatened to unravel at any moment.

“lando, i’m—” you gasped, your voice breaking as he increased his pace, his determination making your heart race.

“relax and let go for me, love,” he urged, his voice muffled against your skin. the way he said it felt like a gentle command, coaxing you to give into momentary bliss.

“you’re doing so well f’me, baby,” his praise was enough make you go over the edge, you couldn’t stand another second of staying quiet.

the soft, needy sounds that slipped from your lips ignited something primal within him, making lando moan against your pussy. the vibrations sent shockwaves through you, amplifying your pleasure and pulling you deeper into ecstasy.

“there you go,” he chuckled, his breath warm against your sensitive skin. “let it out. lemme hear you, love.” his fingers continued their sweet assault, each movement perfectly tailored to your body’s response, driving you wild.

“fuck, i’m… shit,” you gasped, gripping the sheets, struggling to articulate your need, but the sensations were too overwhelming.

you pressed him against you, craving more of that intoxicating connection.

“you’re so beautiful when you’re lost like this,” he whispered, looking up at you with a wicked grin. “don’t hold back; i wanna hear all those lovely sounds you make.”

the encouragement only fueled your desire, and the combination of his words and the way he touched you pushed you to the edge again. your moans became louder, spilling out despite your efforts to contain them, and each sound only seemed to spur him on.

“that’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice thick with lust. “let it all out for me. i want to feel every inch of you.”

you arched your back, the pleasure building higher and higher, each stroke of his fingers a delicious tease that had you begging for release. “lando, please, i can’t—”

“yes, you can. just let go,” he urged, his lips brushing against your thigh as he continued to work his magic, sending you spiraling further into pleasure.

the moment stretched on, each second a mix of bliss and sweet torture, and as you felt yourself teetering on the brink, you knew you were ready to surrender completely. “shit, i’m so close…” you breathed, unable to hold back any longer.

“that’s it, love. let it happen,” he coaxed, his fingers quickening as he pushed you over the edge, the pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and trembling beneath him.

with one final stroke, the tension shattered, and waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and gasping for air. you didn't fight the instinct to cry out as you surrendered to the bliss. for a second you forgot about lando’s parents and family, the world around you had faded away.

after the waves of ecstasy receded, you lay together in a blissful haze, the warmth of his body still wrapped around you, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin. the soft sounds of the party outside faded into the background, but you knew that this moment, right here, was all that mattered.

your body relaxed in a way that you didn't even care about what lando's parents would think about you screaming their son's name in the very first day of 2024. that moment was yours and no one would take that away from you.

“happy new year's, y/n,” he muttered against your hair.

“happy new year's, norris.”

the next morning, january 1st, 2024, you woke up alone. the bed felt strangely empty without lando beside you, a stark contrast to the warmth and intimacy of the night before. a nagging worry settled in your stomach as you pushed the covers aside and got up, glancing around the quiet room. after a moment’s hesitation, you made your way downstairs, curiosity guiding you but anxiety nipping at your heels.

in the now-clean kitchen, you found cisca, lando's mother, bustling around as she cooked breakfast. her presence was comforting, a reminder of the welcoming home you had come to cherish, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest.

“good morning, y/n,” she greeted, glancing up with a warm smile. “did you sleep well?”

“yeah, just… where's lando?” you asked, the hint of worry creeping into your voice betraying your calm facade.

“he said he needed to think; he left about an hour ago,” she replied, stirring a pot on the stove.

“oh…” your heart sank, a mix of confusion and concern flooding your mind. why would he leave without saying anything? had you messed things up? the uncertainty twisted in your stomach, and you felt the warmth of last night slip away, replaced by the chill of doubt.

cisca seemed to sense your unease and turned to you, her expression softening. “look, y/n,” she began gently. “i know you two like each other, and i know… things happened last night. i just want to say that i am so supportive of you getting together. you do him so much good, dear.”

you felt your cheeks warm at her words, a mix of embarrassment and happiness washing over you. but the lingering thought nagged at you—that maybe lando regretted what happened last night, that perhaps he needed space because he was unsure about everything.

“thank you. it means a lot to hear that. lando and i have been close for a while, and last night... it just felt right,” you said, trying to convince yourself as much as her.

“wait,” she said, raising an eyebrow playfully, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “so does that mean you’re actually together now?”

you paused, the weight of her question hanging in the air, amplifying the doubt already creeping into your mind. “i… well, we haven’t really talked about it like that yet, but... i guess? i don't know…”

her smile widened. “well, i’m glad to hear that anyway! he’s a wonderful boy, and you two deserve to be happy together.”

you nodded, but the uncertainty remained. what if lando was questioning everything? as you thought about him, your heart fluttered with the possibilities of what was to come, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something might have changed overnight. you needed to clear your head.

you excused yourself, feeling the weight of the morning's events pressing down on you. “i should go home and be with my relatives,” you said, trying to dismiss the anxious thoughts swirling in your mind.

as you stepped outside, the cool morning air hit you, and a wave of insecurity washed over you. what if lando regretted last night? you pulled out your phone and quickly typed a message to him:

“hey you, good morningg

you alright? didn’t see you leave.

text me when you can.”

you hesitated for a moment, staring at the screen, hoping he’d reply soon. with each passing second, the uncertainty gnawed at you, but you tried to shake it off and focus on the warmth of the memories from the night before.

#lando norris angst #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris #ln4 #ln4 mcl #lando #lando x reader #mclaren #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #angst

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respectthepetty · 2 months ago

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After telling Home he forgave him and begging him to come back to eat the food Peach made him, the last thing Peach said to Home before Home returned to his body was a plea for Home to come back for Pang.

Home isn't just a sugar daddy.

He is Pang's best friend.

When Home and Pang thought they lost their best friend, these normally loud and theatrical characters became quiet.

Because they are the same.

Which is why Home noticed what was happening with Pang even when her own brother didn't.

People mistake Home and Pang's behavior for silliness and dismiss their contributions, but Home and Pang actually try really hard all the time to fix problems even if their approach is out of the norm.

They are besties and siblings.

And Peach knows that Pang has already lost enough family.

So Peach made one last attempt to get through to Home by reminding him that even if he didn't want to come back for Peach, he had to come back for their little sister.

Pang and Home understand each other without having to speak a word.

They get each other when nobody else does.

And Peach knows that.

So even if the boys were actually upset with each other, they don't want to see Pang upset.

She just wants the best for them.

And they want what's best for her.

Pang has two brothers who love her dearly.

So much, in fact, that they both came back for her.

#peaceful property #I am unwell about this show #it's all I think about #my brain is on two modes: jack and joker and peaceful property #that's it!#everything else is confetti #pang and home are best friends #and the best siblings #home really inherited a sister and a boyfriend thanks to these ghosts #pang isn't just his sister-in-law #she was the final push for him to get back in his body #I need the last four episodes now before I go crazy!

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srslyblvck · 18 days ago

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── secret santa,, james potter [part two]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you become the secret santa of none other than james potter

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

part one!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE GIFT EXCHANGE UNFOLDED in a whirlwind of laughter and surprise. Sirius, true to form, had been uncharacteristically secretive in the days leading up to the event. That alone had set off alarms, and when he strolled into the common room pushing a large object covered in a velvet cloth on a rickety old stroller, you and Marlene exchanged knowing looks.

“Any guesses?” Marlene whispered, elbowing you as Sirius dramatically cleared his throat.

“Do we even need to guess?” you muttered back, stifling a laugh.

Sirius clapped his hands together, commanding everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and Moony,” he said, smirking at Remus, “I present to you the pièce de résistance, the magnum opus, the most legendary Secret Santa gift in Hogwarts history!”

Remus raised an eyebrow, looking amused but wary. “I don’t know if I should be terrified or flattered.”

Sirius ignored him and grabbed the edge of the cloth. “I told them to make it bigger,” he lamented dramatically. “But they just didn’t have the time. Ah, well. Behold!”

With a flourish, he whipped the cloth away, revealing a giant chocolate wolf, standing on all fours and towering at least an inch taller than Sirius himself. The room erupted into cheers and laughter, but you and Marlene were nearly in tears, clutching each other as you tried to contain your giggles.

“Merlin’s beard,” Remus muttered, stepping closer to inspect the monstrosity. “This is... something.”

“It’s everything,” Sirius corrected, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Hand-crafted by the finest chocolatiers in Hogsmeade. The wingspan of those ears alone! Tell me it’s not perfection.”

Remus shook his head, a fond smile creeping onto his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously thoughtful, you mean,” Sirius replied, puffing out his chest.

The rest of the gifts followed in quick succession. Peter received a self-refilling candy jar from Dorcas, and Marlene was gifted a set of enchanted Quidditch gloves from Lily that could warm themselves in the cold. When it was your turn, Lily handed you a neatly wrapped box. Inside was a gorgeous hardcover book on advanced defensive spells, its gilded pages shimmering in the firelight.

“Lily, this is amazing,” you said, touched by the thoughtfulness of her gift.

“Well, I had some help,” Lily admitted with a smile, nodding toward James. “He said you mentioned wanting it.”

Your stomach fluttered, and you glanced over at James, who was currently distracted by Sirius poking the chocolate wolf.

After all the gifts had been opened and the wrapping paper lay scattered across the floor like confetti, someone suggested revealing the Secret Santas. Sirius, naturally, couldn’t wait to take credit for his masterpiece, and one by one, everyone admitted who they had been paired with. When it came to James, he stood and spun in place, scanning the room dramatically.

“It was you,” he declared, pointing directly at you.

The room went quiet as everyone turned to look at you, and your cheeks burned under the sudden attention. “Alright, alright,” you said, holding up your hands in surrender. “It was me.”

Before you could say anything else, James let out a whoop and launched himself across the room. You barely had time to brace yourself as he wrapped his arms around you in an exuberant hug, lifting you slightly off the ground.

“Thank you!” he said, grinning from ear to ear as he set you down. “This is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. I’ve got the best Secret Santa ever.”

You laughed nervously, your face aflame. “It’s just a notebook and a pin, James. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it?” he repeated, looking scandalized. “You’ve clearly never received socks from Sirius.”

“Oi!” Sirius interjected, but James waved him off, still beaming at you.

In the days that followed, you noticed James with the notebook everywhere. He scribbled in it during class, carried it tucked under his arm in the corridors, and even brought it to breakfast. As for the pin, he flaunted it proudly, even showing it off to Professor McGonagall one morning.

“Very nice, Potter,” McGonagall said, though the faintest smile tugged at her lips. “But I suggest you focus more on your Transfiguration essay and less on your accessories.”

James nodded solemnly but winked at you as soon as McGonagall’s back was turned.

One evening, the common room was quieter than usual, the buzz of the day fading into the crackle of the fire and the occasional rustle of pages turning. You were curled up in your favorite armchair, a book resting in your lap, utterly lost in its pages. It was one of those rare moments of peace at Hogwarts, and you relished it, unaware of the pair of hazel eyes watching you from across the room.

James had been sitting there for some time, the notebook in hand, pretending to work on what looked like Quidditch plays. In reality, he’d been sketching you. His quill moved quickly, capturing the way your hair caught the firelight, the slight furrow in your brow as you read, and the way your lips curved ever so slightly, as though you were on the edge of a smile.

He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to draw you. Maybe it was the way you seemed to disappear into your own little world when you read, or maybe it was how your presence seemed to anchor the chaotic energy of the common room. Whatever it was, James found himself unable to look away.

Finally, when he was satisfied with the sketch, he cleared his throat softly. “Hey,” he said, his voice low so as not to startle you.

You looked up, blinking as though surfacing from a dream. “Oh, hi,” you said, setting your book down. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough,” he replied with a teasing grin. He held out the notebook. “I’ve been working on something. Want to see?”

You took the notebook hesitantly, your brows furrowing in curiosity. As you turned it toward you, your breath caught.

On the page was a drawing of you, so lifelike it felt like looking into a mirror—or maybe something better. The firelight he’d captured gave the sketch a warm glow, and every detail was perfect, from the tilt of your head to the way your fingers rested lightly on the pages of your book.

“James…” you murmured, tracing the edges of the drawing with your fingertips. “This is beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as the real thing,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly, but you couldn’t stop the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “You’re insufferable.”

“True,” James said, “But at least now I’ve got a proper muse.”

James Potter was, without a doubt, impossible. But as you glanced up and caught him watching you again, you realized there was something about that impossibility that you didn’t mind one bit.

#divider by fairytopea #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #james potter #james fleamont potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #lily evans

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octoberautumnbox · 5 months ago

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The Sultry and Pervy Soda in Apartment 307

tripleS Seo Dahyun & Male Reader (ft. Kep1er Seo Youngeun)

Categories/warnings: smut, voyeur, masturbation, buncha others maybe idk I forgor

Word count: 6.1k

a/n: thanks to @thewritingrowlet for beta, to @sinswithpleasure for making me get off my ass to write this, and to @midnightdancingsol for the more-than-welcome poking me with a stick y'all r awesome :DDDD

Street lamps flickered to life as the sun shone a golden hue across the sky. The festivities were just about ending and people were exchanging goodbyes and good nights, clearing out slowly – one by one, then pairs, then swathes of people vacating the increasingly empty street. It was a grand stroke of luck for you to move into the neighborhood right before the street fair, and the moving guys didn't mind too much about the tricky navigation and maneuvering once their plates piled high with biryani chicken and jasmine rice.

After helping stack up the chairs and fold up the tarps, and of course waving at the other volunteers, you spot a girl struggling with a particularly tall tower of dirty paper plates. You rush over to her to lend a hand, but unfortunately for the both of you, the tower topples over and a splattering of soy sauce covers her shirt.

“Ah, Dahyun-unnie’s gonna kill me…” she whines, and you rush for as many clean tissues still on the tables that haven’t been cleared up.

“You okay? Anything hurt?” you hand the tissues to her and start picking up the plates, in two piles this time. A cursory glance to her and you find a volunteer’s nametag on her upper left.

“Fine, thanks,” she says as she wipes as much of the liquid off of her clothes as she can, “but if you don’t mind, I need to get changed or else I’ll never get this stain out.”

“No worries, Youngeun. Just get your stuff sorted and I’ll finish up here.”

She smiles and bows just as you get up from the ground, and she rushes off without much more fuss. You drop off the trash in the proper bin, dust off your hands, and after the organizer’s reassurance that they can handle everything else, you head on off to your own apartment.

~~~

Your door clicks shut behind you, and you not-so-gracefully crash into your bed. After the week you've had and the stress from the move, it just feels right to bury your face in your hands and groan in exhaustion. Once you let out a particularly satisfying sigh of fatigue, you let your arms fall to your sides, spread-eagle on the mattress, and drum your fingers into the soft cushioning.

You stare at the ceiling, making vain attempts to distract yourself by thinking random thoughts: “Should I get ice cream tonight?” “How long has the window been open?” “Is the ceiling cream or beige?” “Why does jacking off feel good?” “What's Wooyeon been up to lately?”

The last one does give you an idea, and you reach for your phone to check. Their comeback is just recently out, and you have to say, in one particular fancam she looks a bit too good to not stare. The way her outfit hugs her body, accentuates her curves, shows off just the right amount of skin…

The video plays on, and you casually strip yourself of your pants and underwear. Sitting up properly, you intently watch Wooyeon's performance, paying close attention to her creamy-looking thighs, her cute, glazeable tummy, and her pretty, ruinable smile. In no time at all, you're rubbing your cock to her performance, as if she's dancing just for you. Every wink she does sends another spark of lust through your system, each jiggle of her thighs another wish that you were in between them and eating her out. You keep a steady pace as you jack off to the woman on screen, lazily moving yet dead set on blowing your load to her.

The song draws to a close, the confetti flies, and Wooyeon strikes her ending pose. You admire her body one last time, paying special attention to her cute chest. She bends forward ever so slightly, the perfect tease, before she flashes a show-stopping smile as the camera zooms in on her face.

You reach your limit, and in no time at all you're shooting your cum into your hand. You had the sense to prepare a roll of tissue paper in your room just for moments like this, and it's not like you'd be admonished even if you weren't living alone. Catching your breath, you reach for the tissues on the desk and clean yourself up.

A breeze wanders into the room, and you look up to find its source: the open window. Mentally curse yourself, not to let this sort of thing happen again and embarrass yourself. As you make to close it, you find, just across from your own window, another open one that frames someone else. The girl standing in her own room in the building next door has her eyes fixed determinedly on you, her head tilted, her lower lip caught between her teeth just a little bit, and a mysterious smile on the corners of her mouth.

Immediately you feel heat rise up to your cheeks, and you're sure you've just turned a bright red. The girl's eyes wander up to meet yours, and the smile on her face vanishes. Her expression quickly turns into shock, then she shuts her eyes hard before pulling her curtains closed. Remembering you're in the same situation, you pull yours closed as well.

If anyone was going to admonish you for anything, it would be yourself, for letting this happen to yourself – What a fucking idiot.

~~~

You rise groggily, rolling off of your mattress like a dolt, but you’re at least able to catch yourself before you hit the cold ground. The heat got to you, and the floor seems a much better alternative than your bed at this point.

Righting your posture and laying your head on the tiles though, you decide this is no way to spend the night no matter how cold they are. Stumble around in the dark for a bit, deciding that it isn't worth the effort to turn on the light, and just resolve to navigate around your new bedroom in an unfamiliar apartment before dawn. Good start to a new life, you joke to yourself.

“Ah, fucking shit,” you grunt in defeat, before getting up and making for your window again. You slowly pull apart the curtains, the rings clacking against the bar much too noisily for whatever time it is now, and open the window to finally let in a cool night breeze.

The air fills your lungs and nips against the skin of your back, forcing momentary goosebumps before it all settles down and your body relaxes. You head back to bed, considering maybe the blanket you brought down on the floor with you can stay there, when your attention is snatched by a strange noise.

Your eyes drift around the room lazily, but you can't find anything out of the ordinary. Just then, you hear a faint yet distinct set of words in a singsong voice from somewhere just out of sight: “Mmm, fuck yes, daddy…”

It jolts you awake, and the thought hits you. It's dangerous and embarrassing and not at all okay, but you have to know. Just a peek.

You freeze at the window, with nowhere else to look but right at her. “Yeah, it's good, shit…” she moans, seated precariously on her gaming chair, her legs apart and on the armrests on either side of her. She covers her eyes with her hand as her tongue goes crazy, dragging around her lips whenever she's not breathing heavily or saying whatever.

Her other hand works diligently at pumping a dildo into her glistening pussy, intermittently chanting “Just like that…” it seems whenever she hits a particularly good spot and her back arches forward off of the chair.

Her breath hitches and her back arches just a tiny smidge as she comes to her high. “Mmm… mmmmfuucckkkk– fuck, fuck, yes, hngg~!” Just then her body seizes, her hips jerk slightly, and she pushes her dildo as far in as she can take. She pulls it out recklessly and it's followed by a quick stream of her squirt, then a cream flowing from the freshly fucked hole collecting on the seat of her chair.

She lays for a moment just like that, out of breath and seemingly satisfied. She licks her lips a couple more times, savoring the feeling of having just came, vying to get her breath under her control once more. Once she's satisfied, she works up the strength in her yet-weak legs to start cleaning herself up: first the tissues for her cunt, then her seat, then she wobbles over to what you assume is a bathroom to wash up.

“... Fuck. Fuck.” You realize you just watched your neighbor pleasure herself, and she has no idea. However, your guilt never surfaces, never forms, having quite enjoyed the show. You can't think of anything else; her cunt is beautiful, slick, creamy, probably sweet to the taste, and if she sounds like that with a dildo, your mind couldn't race fast enough to think of how she'd sound with your cock.

A sharp gasp rips your attention back to the window opposite, and in it you find her wide-eyed and staring right back. Her mouth hangs open and her cheeks shine a bright red, and you feel the responsibility of breaking the stalemate falls on you and you alone. But what the fuck do you say in a situation like this?

You rush for something – anything – to try and salvage the situation, just one thing to say and hopefully be able to face her tomorrow morning like nothing happened. However, your words fail you, and blank after countless blanks are drawn from your head. Panic rises in your chest, your cheeks just as red as hers, and your eye contact with her becomes almost unbearably painful.

So you break it, albeit accidentally. Your gaze floats down to her flat tummy, admiring how her waist curves like the perfect handles to grab onto while you pull her onto your cock. Even lower still, and you find her exposed pussy, clean shaven and silky smooth to the eye, and for just a moment lewd thoughts intrude your mind once again: the images of her taking her dildo flash before your eyes, leading you to think that however good she felt would be nothing she’s ever had before if you had a shot with her. Inadvertently you lick your lips at the sight of her sex, and you swallow your spit to try and get yourself under control.

You finally snap out of it, and you notice her staring back at you with a common intention. She’s biting her lip again, her head tilted ever so slightly to the right, and she grips her lap to give you a better view of her pussy lips. Or, it could just be your imagination that she’s showing herself off to you. You’re pitching a tent in your boxers, “Shit, I’m only in my boxers,” and she watches you like her beautiful round eyes are all yours. You stay there for a moment, basking in the lustfulness of the woman before you, and you can only be sure she’s doing the same.

Her eyes widen again, a different emotion this time, and she takes a panicked look behind her. A bright light enters her bedroom from somewhere you can't see from her window frame, and she hurriedly pulls the curtains shut. Your show is over now, and you’re left with nothing else to do but shut your own window and relieve yourself with the memory of the pretty girl in the next building, half-naked and checking you out.

~~~

“This is stupid,” you scold yourself, “what would I even say to her?” The question lingers in front of you as your feet bring you to the building next door. “Hi, I'm sorry I watched you cum last night.” A poorly constructed string of words for sure, but it is what it is. You toss the thought around some more, but before you know it, you're face to face with the door to the apartment of the girl who you, for lack of a better term, watched cum last night.

Two quick raps on the wood, right next to the plate inscribed with “Seo Residence,” and you close your eyes. “I'm sorry I watched you cum last night, I'm sorry I watched you cum last night,” you repeat silently. Even with your hopeful attempts to make it sound less absurd, you know it's so irredeemably bad that not even the most heart-wrenching apology would make up for it.

“Can I help you?” The sudden voice shocks your eyes open. The moment you're dreading is delayed for a few more minutes, as the girl that greets you at the door is not the girl from last night.

“Hi, Youngeun, I'm from, um, the next building,” you stutter out, “I need to talk to, uhh…” and it occurs to you that you don't even know her name. You stare at each other for a good few seconds, when it finally ends with her connecting the dots.

“Ah, you're here for Unnie,” she concludes. “Dahyun-unnie, the guy from the street fair is here to talk to you.”

“Who?”

~~~

“There’s no point in pretending. I know you saw me, and I’m okay with it– I liked it, even. Now, you either come clean and tell me what you saw, or I go around and tell people how you perved on the poor girl who accidentally left her window open on a hot night.”

You gripped at her bedsheets, your fingers just as tense as the breath caught in your throat. It was a good threat, you had to admit, and if only you weren’t on the receiving end, you’d even applaud her. Instead, she stood over you with debilitating authority and a venomous tone. Her smirk did you no favors, highlighting her alluring features, including her gaze as sharp as the edges of a ripped up tin can. She had you.

“Alright,” you surrender, holding up your palms in defeat, “I admit. All I saw was you on the chair, legs apart, dildo in your pussy. That’s all.” It only comes as an afterthought that you did technically watch her cum, but rocking the boat and adding new information unprompted seems like a dangerous move. Instead, you sit still, breath held, and wait for what she might say next.

“... Okay, I believe you. Your secret is safe today.” Hearing that, you release your breath and replace it with new air. Dahyun backs off and relaxes her arms to her sides, and fails to stifle a giggle at watching you fail to decompress. She saunters back over to her chair, the same one you watched her get off in, and crosses her legs.

Her thighs peek out from under her skirt, forcefully drawing your attention, and the pit in your stomach opens again: keep this up and she’ll have another card to play against you.

You make a feeble attempt to look her in the eye, and it works for a moment. Once you meet her gaze, you find the same mischievous smirk on her lips, still taunting or teasing you or just showcasing her amusement of the situation. The corners of her mouth curl upwards dangerously, and her eyes thin to scrutinize you as you shrink in the face of her earlier threat.

“Easy now, I said you’re safe today,” Dahyun giggles. She rests her chin on her hand, still decoding your thoughts with much more ease than you’re comfortable with; all she’s doing is looking at you and somehow you’re unraveling in front of her, getting pushed to stranger and stranger thoughts. You try in vain to find something to protect yourself against her latent mind-reading powers, but once again, nothing comes up. Your stuttering fills the silence of the room for no good reason; your handle on the situation shrinking weaker and weaker.

The only thing that takes up space in your mind is the memory of her smirking at you after her fat pussy lips were pushed apart, taking her sex toy like it was nobody's business, pleasuring herself while being vaguely aware that you were watching. It was a dangerous skill she was using against you, and for all the wrong reasons, it turns you on even more.

She suddenly rises from her chair, a hand on her hip once more, and you’re forced to give her all your attention again. She flashes an evil smile at you, one that you could never in your current clouded state ever read, and she places a light yet daunting hand on your shoulder. She inches her face closer and closer to yours, and in no time at all, you're out of space for backing away.

“I already told you I wouldn’t snitch. Why are you so nervous? What do I need to say to calm you down?” She finally takes a seat on the bed right next to you, and she less-than-gently shoves you so that you face away from her. Her fingers dance around your shoulders, finding tense spots you didn't even know were tense.

“Listen,” she whispers nearly right into your ear, “I won't tell anyone, but you have to do better than that. What exactly did you see? And what did it, erm, make you… feel?” Dahyun plants a kiss right on your nape, and then starts massaging your shoulders and back delicately. She lets out another giggle, but different this time: it's less one of manipulation and more of pure amusement.

The way she squeezes and rubs your muscles weakens your defenses even more. She expertly maneuvers her fingers, picking the flimsy locks of your psyche, toying with you like you're nothing. You're completely in the palm of her hand, and there's no way out but farther into her grasp.

“I… You're hot, Dahyun, and I wish I could've seen more,” you finally admit, just as your eyes grow weary. The calm colors of her wallpaper and the faint fragrances of her bedroom lull you into a dangerous sense of serenity. “I just thought… how good it would be,” her massage intensifies ever so slightly, coaxing out more of your confession, “to have you bouncing on my cock.”

Seemingly satisfied, the girl kisses you again on the nape, her lips lingering on the skin of your neck, and it sends shivers outwards, down your spine and across your body. Her arms come under yours and wrap around your chest, and her hands fall gently, non-threateningly, to your belt. She finds her way under your shirt, and she feels up your stomach in soft touches, as if luring you into a trap.

“I was thinking the same thing, Oppa,” she sighs, and before you notice, your belt clacks onto the floor and you hear your jeans zip open. “I thought about how a guy like you should never need to jerk himself off, especially when a volunteer is just next door.” Just like that, she's already stripped you of your pants, and you couldn't be more vulnerable. Dahyun makes her way to your ever-hardening cock, and she takes it in her hand. “Perfect… we're gonna have fun, aren't we, Oppa?”

She kneels on the floor in front of you, and she makes a show of licking and kissing all over your cock. Her plump lips meet your shaft again and again with each kiss, and every so often she takes short drags of her tongue on you to get some much-welcome spit on your cock.

“Fuck, Dahyun,” is all you could put together. Dahyun looks nothing like the type of girl that'd do this to some guy she didn't know, and yet here she is, sucking you off like it’s her sole purpose on this Earth. She shoots you a lustful look, and amongst the closing her eyes to savor your dick on her lips and tongue, she shoots you a sexy wink that nearly makes you fall in love.

In an effort to not blow your load too early, you grab her by the hair, strands tangling around your fingers and trapping you just as well as you’re trapping her. You pull her off your cock with a yank, and the sudden jerk of her head makes her choke on her own spit. She tries admonishing you, but between teary eyes and a momentarily scratchy throat, she can’t say much.

Use this to your advantage, jump at the opportunity to gain the upper hand. Stand as quick as you can, throw her onto the bed. Amidst everything, she’s unable to react, only fully grasping the situation after her last cough, when she’s laid flat on her mattress with a pillow beneath her head. Huh, who knew you had such good aim.

“Tough guy, huh? Never would’ve guessed; Youngeun sang you praises for being so sweet when she stained her shirt. Or was that your plan all along?” Despite the situation, she doesn’t try to get up or take back control. Instead, she blinks prettily at you, licks her lips, smiles a sultry smile.

“Accusing me of being a pervert, even though you started it when you watched me jack off first.” Hide the shakiness of your voice, reclaim the breath she so easily stole away. Your hands slide up her legs, from her calves to her things and finally to under her skirt. Find the garter of her underwear, tease her by slipping your fingers under. “Projecting, aren’t we?”

She lifts her hips off the bed to help you strip her, the slow rise of her ass and the clumsy reveal of her pussy lips leading you to believe maybe she’s still the one pulling the strings. Despite all this, your appetite grows as her glistening cunt comes into view, and all you can think to yourself is how much more delicious it looks up close. Ridding her of her underwear, there’s nothing else to do but to dive right in.

It doesn’t take long, not at all, before Dahyun is squirming against your tongue on her clit. She runs her fingers through your hair, settling on the back of your head. Not long at all, and it’s just a few swipes of your tongue against her sex before she holds you in place with her legs, her thighs you couldn’t get enough of earlier now like clamps preventing your escape. Your hands are firm on her hips, making sure she doesn’t get away either, and your onslaught finally begins.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be good at that–” she sighs, savoring the feeling of finally having another person get her off. She moans her love without shame; an audience through her open window is nothing compared to you right between her legs. A horrid sense of shame comes over her as she watches you watch her squirm and thrash from being eaten out: her face reddens, her lip quivers, her pussy leaks more and more to entice and keep you from leaving her forever. Never mind that she forgets that you need air to breathe; you almost agree that right now Dahyun is the only thing keeping you alive at all.

She’s starting to buck her hips, her thighs nearly crushing your head between them, her back arching to signal her impending release. Any moment now, she'll lose control and her floodgates will open; she'll threaten to drown you with her love, she'll tug at your hair and grind against your face as her orgasm overtakes her. Fight to keep her down, struggle against her thrashing to hold her hips steady. Your determination to receive the reward for all your hard work drives you: relish in the smoothness of her skin under your fingertips, savor the slick that she releases just for you.

“Mmf, fuck yes, please, oh my god, oh mmm–”

“Hnnggg– Aaahh!” Another voice interrupts Dahyun's, and her attention whips to where it came from. The door swings open behind you, or at least you hear it, as Dahyun squeezes you ever harder right as her climax arrives.

“Youngeun, what are you– Aaaaahhh!” She explodes right onto your tongue, and for a moment the world fades around you. Her nectar floods your senses with perfection you could never find anywhere else, the hauntingly succulent mix of sweetness and sin drawing out your own moans as she thrashes against her mattress. You force out more of her juices with relentless laps at her sex, while the frenzied pulling at your hair and pushing against your forehead tells you she doesn’t know what she wants past letting out everything she can.

It takes just a little while longer before she settles, and as she releases you from her legs you get a grasp of what just happened. Youngeun is unsteady at the door, a hand on the frame and the other still in her shorts. The look in her eyes is one of shock and embarrassment like you’ve never seen, and by the way Dahyun stares back, frozen and equally wide-eyed, you gather the situation at the very least isn't what they were expecting either.

Tension hangs heavy in the air, and neither of them move an inch. You're only still in the middle of recovering from having your breath taken away, but it grows more uncomfortable for you most of all. As far as you're concerned, they're stepsisters, and the younger one who thought you were sweet for helping her in the street fair just watched you eat out her elder sister and got off like some porn video.

Youngeun is the one to break the ice: “Shit, unnie, I'm sorry, I'll go! Just forget I was here–” before getting cut off herself. “Hey,” Dahyun reigns, “sit.” She motions her sister towards the gaming chair, and Youngeun, judgment clouded with fear, takes sheepish steps to approach it.

Dahyun pulls you up to her eye level, keeping hands on your cheeks, and meets your lips with hers delicately. “Mmm, bet that was just as good for you, huh?” She runs her tongue over your mouth to lap up her spent essence, and you meet her halfway, deepening the kiss.

Still, the presence recently known is now a presence impossible to ignore. Despite Dahyun’s love spreading from her lips to yours, her heat bringing your temperature up all the same, you can’t help but be wary of the girl on her gaming chair taking after her sister, legs on the armrests and fingers in her dripping cunt. Dahyun tries in vain to pull your attention back to her, only her, and how could you resist either one?

“Mm, Youngeunie,” she sings, breaking away momentarily, “behind you, on the right, top drawer, it’ll help.” She returns to the kiss as easily as drawing the curtains to show you, while off to the side you hear the shuffling friction of wood against wood as her sister pulls out the drawer.

“Unnie, this is…” she says, but the thought is lost and replaced with a prolonged moan. Dahyun slips her tongue into your mouth, grunting as she feels your cock throb against the lips of her puffy cunt, coating your shaft with her liquid heat and coaxing you into a worsening state of mind. Her pussy quivers against the underside of your cock, chipping away at your common sense, until…

Meet your forehead to hers, make sure she stays how she is. Your left hand wraps around her neck, controlling her air and keeping her still, while your right dips into her sex to draw out her slick for you. Stroke your cock at the evil you’re planning, line up your tip to her entrance, and with absolutely no warning, no mercy, no reprieve, push your head past her welcoming glistening lips and into her tight, loving pussy.

“Mmmm, fuck, shit, oh– Oh my god, oh my god!!” Dahyun’s pleasure comes in the form of unsteady grunt and weak scratches against the hand on her neck. Her face takes on a light shade of red, her forehead creases, and her tongue is only nearly starting to stick out. Her pussy squeezes around your cock like it never wants to let go, her tightness driving you crazy with how good she feels, that you maybe wouldn’t mind putting a fucking baby in her.

Your hand leaves her neck and immediately she pulls you down to kiss the bruises you almost left there. Keep pounding into her, feeling her slick all over your cock, throbbing hard and hitting her good spots while sliding in and out of her pussy like it was all yours.

The moment her fingers relax then tense in your hair, you’re given just enough freedom back to see what’s gotten her so distracted, only to find–

Youngeun slumps further back onto the chair as far as she can without falling off. Her toes curl in the air as she diligently and roughly pumps the dildo in and out of her own cunt. Her top is pulled over above her chest, and she pinches and tweaks her nipples nonstop while cupping and squeezing her tits. “Unnie, unnie, fuck, he’s so hot…” she moans, dead-set on fucking herself with her sister’s dildo to the sight of you railing her beloved unnie.

“Fuck, Youngeunie, you’re such a pervert for getting off to this…” Dahyun again lifts her back off the mattress, and you know by now what this means. Her grunts turn erratic just as quickly, her pussy clenching tighter around you, practically begging you to stay inside her.

“Hngg, unnie, h-how good is he? I bet he f-feels so big…” “He really fucking is,” she sighs, waiting for the inevitable, slowly letting her sensibilities go. Her lips crash onto yours once more, slipping you her tongue like retaking its rightful place in your mouth. The sight of it causes you to throb inside her again, and amidst the thrusts in and out of her cunt along with Youngeun's own jerking off to your side, you feel your time's drawing to a close.

Make the most of it, who knows if you'll ever get this chance again. Pull Dahyun up to sit on your lap, force her to bounce on your cock. She follows like a good girl; savoring how you feel inside her, making sure that your cock is snug and comfy between her tight, slick walls. Your hands slide under her top to grope her chest, and she lets out a sultry moan of approval at how you're handling her so well. Her nipples are taut and hard against your fingertips, and the circling around her sensitive mounds only does you favors as she gets wetter and wetter, taking your cock like a champ.

“I can't fucking take it anymore,” she grunts out loud, and in one swift motion her top leaves her body, exposing all of herself to you. Before you could even dive in yourself, she pulls you onto her chest, and as soon as you're able to, you get her nipple in between your teeth. Her boobs bounce against your face as she rides you even harder, desperately chasing her own release, seeming to forget everything and everyone else.

“Fuck, fuck!” Youngeun switches hands; poor thing must be getting tired. A quick look back over to her and you find the dildo covered with slick and cream, her pussy red and puffy, her nipples sore and just as hard as her unnie's, and her eyes near tears. A quick bout of desire to get off to the sight of her overcomes you, but Dahyun tears your attention back to her, switching to her other nipple, just as she starts grinding against your dick like she found a better spot to hit inside her.

“Unnie, I-I'm close, please, you’re so hhhhot,” the younger begs in reckless need. Her toes curl and uncurl in weary need, tears starting to streak down the sides of her faces, just as her hair sticks to her forehead at the drops of sweat only starting to form enmasse.

Dahyun pulls you away, back to her, and rests her head on your shoulder, “Oppa, I’m close too,” she says with incessant sighs and gasps, curiously in sync with her bounces on your cock, “i-indulge me, would you?” She looks at you with the same weary love, the same tired, impatient persuasion.

Steel your resolve in the face of her begging. You’re finally in a winning position, with the pretty neighbor girls in the palm of your hand. A different emotion seeps into your head, one of responsibility: to finish what you started, to make good on your promises, to show both of them a good time. Dahyun’s half-lidded eyes flutter open and shut with every suckle and bite at her breasts, while Youngeun’s thighs jiggle with every forceful jerk of her hips against her toy. They’ve had enough, and you’re reaching your limit too.

“Keep your window open, got it?” A surge of confidence laces your voice at the most unexpected time, and brings out a lustful groan from the girl on your lap. “Yes, oppa, watch me all you l-like…”

“Good girl. And you,” your attention shoots to Youngeun, who you find has her lower lip between her teeth and nearly drawing blood, “you’re fucked in the head for getting off to this, but I kind of like that.” Upon hearing it, her eyes shut as she pistons her dildo as hard and fast as she can into her pussy, screaming “Fuck, oppa, please! Watch me too!!!”

The perfect opportunity reveals itself, the strings pulled taut against both of your puppets in a cruel dance for your pleasure. A bite on Dahyun’s neck and a mind-numbingly deep thrust into her sex is the last straw to finally send her over the edge as well.

“Oh shit, oh shit, I’m cumming!!!” A beautiful cry rips across her throat, and her pussy squeezes tight around your throbbing cock. Her juices flow out of her cunt generously, spraying all over your lap and the bedsheets underneath you. She buries her face into your shoulder, her teeth finding and marking flesh where her lips surround. Dahyun constricts around you, her body seizing and gripping onto you tight as her hips jerk with every stream of her girlcum that sprays out her sore cunt. Her fingers dig into your back, in no way hard enough to draw blood but only as hard as to leave marks, while her legs wrap around your waist in dire need to keep you in place and draw as much of her pleasure as she humanly can from you.

“Hngg, hahh, haaaAAAHHH!” Off to the side, Youngeun’s climax crashes over her as well, causing her toes to curl and her eyes to shut as hard as she can. She twists and turns the toy inside her pussy, hitting her good spot again and again as her cum gushes out of her in messy streams down onto the seat of her chair and floor in front of her. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and her tongue hangs free from her mouth, her ass jiggles with every jerk of her hips forward, and a prolonged and mindless moan snakes its way through her throat like music to you and your partner’s ears.

After all this, Dahyun’s whimpering finally brings you over the edge too. Her weak cries are the signal of her surrender to you, and what better way to claim her than to give her what she wants? Your grip on her waist tightens, and surely your handprints will stay on her sides for her to admire and recall when she misses you, but for now you keep her still just as she does to you. One last thrust into her is all that’s left, hit her good spot one last time, and it all comes crashing down. You erupt into her pussy, filling her with a burning heat that spreads through her entire fertile body. Each spurt of cum forces another groan of love from her, and she savors the feeling of being filled with your seed like it’s what she was made for. Your forehead meets hers and you capture her lips, and more of her tiny grunts and sighs slip through as your tongues dance around each other.

Once it ends, and you feel your cum stream out of her from the sheer amount alone, you crash sideways onto her pillow with her. She stays wrapped around you, breathing heavy and looking satisfied, just like her stepsister on her chair just a few feet away. Youngeun catches you waving her over, and she takes the spot on the bed opposite her unnie to cuddle up next to you as well. Dahyun snores quietly on your left, while Youngeun snuggles your chest to your right, and with two of your pretty neighbors bare and spent thanks to you, you drift off to sleep with them knowing you’d always enjoy a show the moment you ask.

#girl group smut #kpop smut #triples smut #seo dahyun smut #seo dahyun #triples dahyun #kep1er smut #seo youngeun smut #seo youngeun #kep1er youngeun #fic box

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vroom--vrooming · 4 months ago

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Charles Leclerc x Girlfriend!Reader

Charles just won the race in Monza and his girlfriend is beyond proud and happy for him

The atmosphere at Monza is electric, the air thick with anticipation and hope. You’re standing in the back of the Ferrari garage, your heart pounding in sync with the roar of the engines, your eyes glued to the screen as the final lap unfolds. Charles is in the lead, and with each corner he expertly navigates, the reality of what’s about to happen sinks in deeper. He’s going to win. He’s really going to win again at Monza.

The grandstands erupt in cheers as Charles crosses the finish line in first place, the Ferrari flag waving proudly in the sea of tifosi. Your breath catches in your throat, tears instantly welling up as you watch him take victory at the home of Ferrari for the second time. It’s not just a win—it’s the culmination of all his hard work, all the late nights, the sacrifices, the endless determination. He did it. He really did it.

As soon as his car comes to a stop in parc fermé, Charles is out in a flash, helmet still on, but you can sense his overwhelming emotions even from a distance. He doesn’t take a moment to bask in the glory or pause for the cameras—his eyes are searching the crowd, looking for you, and the second he finds you, his body moves before his mind can catch up.

You don’t even have time to react before he’s running toward you, the intensity of his emotions palpable. The moment he reaches you, he scoops you up into his arms, spinning you around in sheer joy, his laughter muffled by the helmet but loud and clear in your ears. You cling to him, laughing through your tears, your heart overflowing with pride and love for him.

When he finally sets you down, he doesn’t let go. His gloved hands come up to cup your face, then he pulls back just enough to lift his helmet off, revealing his face flushed with exhilaration, damp with sweat, and eyes shining with unshed tears. He’s breathless, eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment.

“Charles, you did it!” you exclaim, your voice trembling with emotion.

Before you can say anything else, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss, fierce and passionate, pouring all his feelings into that single moment. It’s a kiss filled with everything he can’t express in words—the gratitude, the love, the sheer happiness of this victory. You kiss him back just as fervently, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him even closer, needing to feel him, to reassure him that you’re there, that you’re proud, that you love him.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, foreheads resting together as you try to catch your breath. His eyes are still locked onto yours, and the way he’s looking at you—it’s like you’re the only person in the world.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” he says softly, his voice hoarse from the emotion and the exertion of the race. “Thank you for always believing in me.”

Tears spill over your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile through them. “I’m so proud of you, Charles. So incredibly proud.”

He grins, that beautiful, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter every time. “I love you,” he says, and the words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything he’s feeling.

“I love you too,” you reply, and the words come easily, naturally, as if they were always meant to be spoken in this moment.

The team swarms around Charles, celebrating his victory, but he doesn’t let go of your hand, keeping you close as he’s pulled in every direction by excited teammates and jubilant fans. You watch as he’s hoisted up onto the shoulders of the crew, his laughter filling the air as he waves to the adoring crowd.

And then comes the podium. The ceremony is a blur of cheers and confetti, but as Charles steps up onto the top step, trophy in hand, he looks down at you. His eyes find yours in the crowd, and he smiles—bright, proud, and filled with all the love he feels for you.

You look up at him, your heart swelling with pride and love. This is your Charles, the man you adore, the man who just won the race and an entire nation. And as the Italian anthem plays, with the crowd cheering and the champagne spraying, he never stops smiling down at you.

#charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 imagine #formula one #formula 1 imagines #f1 one shot #monza gp 2024 #italian gp 2024 #ferrari

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speed-world · 4 months ago

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do you think you could do one with Shadow milk cookie x reader, where reader is like his stage assistant, hypeman, supporting role kind of thing, reader is like fully fine with atrocities shadow milk

maybe something with like reader also having been sealed separately from the beasts so shadow milk would probably have to try and find where reader was sealed while the brave and others were running around

- :D

His partner in crime

You and Shadow Milk Cookie were almost like The Joker and Harley Quinn (minus the cycle of abuse-)

He always loves and appreciates whenever you help him out in setting up a play. Whether that be designing the characters with him, arranging the props and stage in the best condition, and even just rooting for him!

There are even times when you help him write out the script for his plays, which he adores so so very much!!

He’ll always make a point to credit you in the most dramatic and loving manner whenever you help him. And boy do I mean dramatic-

“Thank you all so so so so much for enjoying the show! But the real star that deserves the glory is my dazzling, extraordinary, and adorable~…Y/N Cookie!!!”

A giant spotlight was cast on you as confetti and ribbons popped out all over the audience. You smiled and bowed as Shadow Milk applauded you, and after a while, everyone started applauding you!! If they didn’t, then the jester made sure they would cheer for his assistant…”

There are times where in the middle of his performance, he allows a pause for you to applaud and cheer and for him!

Of course, all of the audience is free to do the same whenever that brief moment comes, but usually it’s only you. Granted, all he cares about is your praise and appreciation, so he doesn’t care if you’re the only one clapping for him.

When he was imprisoned by the Witches, you were…displaced. The Witches knew your connection to Shadow Milk, and sealed you to the far ends of Earthbread outside of the Beast-Yeast continent.

Shadow Milk was furious beyond belief when he saw you being sealed up too. You weren’t a Beast or did anything wrong like he did, so why were you being punished like this?!

It hurt him so much, especially because he couldn’t do anything but sit in that dang tree…

Granted, this wouldn’t stop you from doing everything you could to get back to Beast-Yeast, or more get back to Shadow Milk

When you two were finally reunited in the Faerie Kingdom, after both your seals were broken down, you both ignored GingerBrave, Elder Faerie, and everyone else there and went to a discreet place to yourselves.

While you were reconnecting the lost time, he told you about Pure Vanilla and the Witches, and you’d be right there to hold him if he got shaken up or cried when mentioning them. You hated the witches and Purr Vanilla Cookie just as much, if not more than he did.

When Pure Vanilla and his company caught up to you, it was you who personally a play where certain caricatures would reference the witches, Pure Vanilla, or any others that Shadow Milk wasn’t fond of. You wouldn’t have any mercy in disrespecting said caricatures in the plays, which Shadow Milk loved and cheered for!!

No matter what, you were always there to support Shadow Milk and his crazy antics. He would do the same, loving you and being with you through every single thing.

#crk x reader #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run x reader #cr kingdom #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader

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7ndipity · 6 months ago

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How They Would Propose

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: Headcanons about how each of the members would propose to their S/o

Warnings: none

A/N: Thank you to the lovely @bethanysnow for this request and for helping me brainstorm ideas! I hope you like it!😘

Masterlist

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Jin:

Jin loves making big gestures, like he literally brought his own confetti to an award show, so he would definitely want to go for a more grand, classically romantic proposal.

Like you would come home one evening to the house filled with heart shaped helium balloons floating around.

Once you make your way through the forest of balloons, you find him waiting for you in the living room or on the balcony, in a suit and tie, surrounded by flowers.

And although he’s so incredibly sure about this, he can’t help but feel nervous, his hands shaking as he pulls out the notecards he prepared.

His speech would be simple, but so full of his love for you and the life you’ve built together, by the time he finishes speaking and drops to one knee, you’re already in tears and saying yes.

Yoongi:

Yoongi would propose in a way that’s very quiet and personable to the two of you, just like everything else in your relationship.

I’ve said this in his dating hcs, but I see him half-jokingly asking you to marry him so often that when he finally does say it seriously, you might not take it as such at first.

It would probably happen either first thing in the morning as you’re having breakfast, or last thing at night as you’re getting ready for bed. Those quiet little moments of domesticity show him how much he want this forever

“I wanna marry you.” “I know, baby.” “No, really. I want to marry you.” You turn around and he’s holding out a ring box to you. “I mean, if you’ll have me?”

Once the initial shock wears off, you half-jokingly demand that he asks you properly, which he does, quickly dropping to one knee. Then you say yes.

Hobi:

Hobi would want to make your proposal as lavish and memorable as possible. Like he loves any opportunity to dote on and spoil you.

Like I see him surprising you with a weekend getaway to somewhere coastal so the two of you could just relax together on the beach for a few days.

But then on the final evening, as you’re watching the sunset together, he turns to you and drops down on one knee.

He has a whole speech prepared, but in the moment, he’s so overcome with emotion that he forgets half of it and basically sums it up with “I cannot imagine my life without you. Will you please marry me?”

He manages to keep it together until you say yes and then he breaks down in tears as he slips the ring on your finger.

Namjoon:

Despite being a man who’s well known for his ability to weave words together into heartbreakingly beautiful lyrics, I think when it comes to his own proposal, he would be surprisingly simple.

He would bring it up after a normal date night as you're walking together through the park or something, waiting till you’ve stopped to admire the view before he decides to speak.

He would start off talking about some study he read that showed how being married can benefit ones health, extend life expectancy, etc. He would then shift to how much you mean to him, how much you’ve changed him for the better, how much he loves you.

“And so,” He pulls out the ring box, sliding it over to you somewhat shyly, almost afraid to meet your eyes. “If you're willing, would you please marry me?”

Of course you immediately say yes.

Jimin:

Jimin would want to plan something more cozy and classic, like a romantic dinner at home or at one of your favorite restaurants.

He would be so nervous, fidgeting around half the evening until you ask him if he’s alright, and then he just spills it all out.

He would have a somewhat short, but sweet speech, going over how much you mean to him, how thankful he is to have you in his life, and how he hopes for the two of you to spend the rest of your lives together.

By the time he finishes speaking, you're both crying, moving to hug each other tightly as you say yes.

After a few moments, you both manage to compose yourselves enough to separate so that he can slip the ring on your finger, before immediately pulling you close again.

Taehyung:

Tae would want to make a grand romantic gesture, similar to Jin, but on a slightly smaller scale, more personalized to the two of you.

He would pick one of your favorite places, asking you to meet him there fro date night instead of him picking you up, which already makes you suspicious that something’s up.

But nothing could quite prepare you for the scene you’re met with as you walk in, candles and your favorite flowers covering every surface, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere. And in the middle of it all stands Tae, grinning widely at you.

His speech is short, telling you how much he loves you, and promising as he drops to one knee that he will do everything in his power to try and make you as happy in life as you make him.

You can’t even say yes, just nodding as he slips the ring onto your hand.

Jungkook:

I see Jungkook going one of two ways with a proposal; either super elaborate, destination proposal with a beautifully planned out speech, or completely impromptu confession when he just blurts it out

He would want to plan an amazing weekend away together, where he would have a whole scene planned out with the flowers and candles and a speech that he's been writing and rewriting for weeks/months.

But it ends up happening very suddenly but naturally, as you’re getting ready for bed one night and he’s just watching you picking out your clothes and setting your alarm for the next day, and it just slips out. “Marry me, please?”

You whip around in shock, but he’s just staring up at you with so much love and sincerity that you don’t don’t even hesitate to say yes.

He’d be kinda embarrassed afterwards, but neither of you really mind, because it was his true feelings in that moment and that made it all the more special to you.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0o0o0ooo @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

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inkandtension · 1 month ago

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Tie That Binds.

Part 2: Warmth In New Beginnings

Minho adjusted his tie for the third time, frowning at his reflection in the mirror. Weddings were supposed to be joyous occasions, weren’t they? Celebrations of love, laughter, and promises of forever? Yet, here he was, standing in an impeccably tailored suit, about to marry a woman he barely knew, feeling anything but joyous. His reflection stared back at him, the crease between his brows deepening with every second. The tie felt like a noose.

“Stop sulking, hyung,” came Changbin’s teasing voice from the doorway. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “You look good. A real scholarly heartthrob.”

Minho shot him a glare that would have silenced most people. Changbin, however, was immune. “I’m not sulking,” Minho muttered under his breath, though even he didn’t believe the words. His fingers tugged at the tie again.

“You’re brooding, then,” Changbin replied cheerfully. “Brooding scholar. It’s a vibe.”

Minho sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. His mind wasn’t in the room; it was too busy turning over the absurdity of his situation. Years spent lecturing on logic, dissecting literature, and championing the idea of individual agency had somehow led him to this moment—a meticulously arranged marriage, orchestrated by his mother and some aunt whose face he couldn’t even remember.

“Can’t back out now,” Changbin added, pushing off the doorframe with a grin. “Unless you want to send all the guests home and deal with your mother’s wrath. And trust me, hyung, I’ll be the first to sell popcorn and watch that drama unfold.”

Minho shot him a flat look but said nothing. Changbin wasn’t wrong. Backing out wasn’t an option, not when the woman he was about to marry came with glowing recommendations. A surgeon, his mother had informed him with a delighted clap of her hands. Accomplished, brilliant, kind, and apparently drop-dead gorgeous. The perfect daughter-in-law material, in other words. His family had done everything short of hanging her résumé on the wall like a trophy.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his blazer. As he shrugged it on, he couldn’t help but feel like he was stepping into a role he hadn’t auditioned for—a leading man in a play where the script had been written long before he entered the stage.

Y/N’s palms were sweating, and no amount of discreetly dabbing them with the edge of her dress seemed to help. She stood at the altar, her heart pounding in her chest, as the murmur of guests filled the room. Her eyes flitted to the door, waiting for Minho to appear.

For the past week, her life had been a whirlwind of surgeries, late-night meetings with wedding planners, and answering endless texts from her mother. It felt surreal, like she’d been thrown into someone else’s dream wedding—one she hadn’t exactly volunteered for.

“Why am I doing this?” she whispered to her best friend, who stood beside her in a pastel bridesmaid dress, looking far too amused for Y/N’s liking.

“Because your parents threatened to disown you if you didn’t at least try,” her friend whispered back with a barely-contained laugh.

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. It was true. Despite all her achievements, she was still that shy little girl seeking her family’s approval. Being a world-class surgeon hadn’t changed that. The wedding might have been their idea, but here she was, going through with it because walking away felt too much like failure.

Her thoughts scattered like confetti the moment the doors opened. Minho stepped in, and everything else seemed to fade into the background. He was tall, lean, and devastatingly handsome. His black hair was styled to perfection, framing his sharp features. His suit hugged him like it had been crafted by someone who understood the definition of precision, and the air of quiet confidence he exuded was enough to make her breath hitch.

Her best friend let out a low whistle, leaning closer. “Okay, I take it back. If you don’t marry him, I might.”

“Shut up,” Y/N hissed.

Married life was... odd, to say the least.

Minho spent his days teaching university students, delving into the intricacies of Shakespeare and Kafka. Y/N spent hers in a hospital, saving lives and dealing with emergencies that left her too drained to care about trivial things like cooking or cleaning.

They had an unspoken routine:

Y/N would come home late, exhausted, and Minho would have dinner waiting for her.

Minho would stay up grading papers while she crashed on the couch, sometimes falling asleep mid-sentence while recounting her day.

They’d exchange polite “good mornings” and “have a nice days,” but deeper conversations were rare.

It wasn’t awkward, per se—just... unfamiliar.

Over the weeks that followed, something shifted.

Minho started texting her during the day, little things like, Don’t skip lunch, or Did you sleep last night?

Y/N found herself bringing home snacks for him, claiming she’d picked them up on a whim, though she’d actually spent way too much time in the store debating which ones he’d like.

They started watching movies together on weekends, bickering over genres. Minho preferred psychological dramas; Y/N loved rom-coms.

“You seriously think this is funny?” Minho groaned one night, watching the lead actor trip over a series of increasingly ridiculous obstacles.

“It’s hilarious,” Y/N shot back, laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.

Minho rolled his eyes but didn’t miss the way her laugh made his chest feel warm.

…

“You know,” Minho said, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, “I didn’t think married life would mean sharing my coffee stash with someone who performs literal surgeries before I even wake up.”

You glanced up from the stove, where you were stirring scrambled eggs for the both of you. "I didn’t think it’d mean coming home to someone who alphabetizes their bookshelf and gets irrationally angry when one book is out of place.”

“Touch my books again, and it’ll be war."

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Good morning to you too, husband.”

The word still felt foreign. You’d been married for three months now, after a whirlwind of family introductions and a mutual agreement that, while neither of you believed in love at first sight, you could give companionship a chance. He was a literature professor, calm and composed with a sharp wit, and you were a surgeon, thriving on adrenaline and precision. Two opposites in every sense of the word, now sharing the same roof and calling it home.

“Don’t burn the eggs,” Minho teased as he set the table, placing his usual cup of black coffee at your spot.

“They’re perfect, thank you very much,” you replied, sliding the pan off the burner. “Unlike someone’s last attempt at cooking pasta.”

Minho feigned offense. “Excuse me, my pasta was avant-garde.”

“It was burnt.”

The morning ritual of trading barbs had quickly become your favorite part of this arrangement. Despite the awkwardness of the early days, you’d found a rhythm. You respected each other’s space, cheered each other on, and occasionally stole moments like this—warm and light, like the eggs you plated and brought to the table.

Minho sipped his coffee, glancing at you. “Long shift today?”

“Not too bad. Just six hours,” you said. “You?”

“Grading papers,” he said with a grimace. “Seventy essays on whether The Great Gatsby is a love story or a cautionary tale.”

“Ah, the joys of shaping young minds,” you teased.

Minho shook his head, but his smirk softened. He looked at you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“At what? Mocking you?”

“That too,” he admitted, “but I meant… this. Us.”

You froze, caught off guard. He wasn’t usually this candid. “I guess we’re both trying,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm.

“I’d say we’re succeeding,” Minho said, reaching out to steal a bite of your eggs with his fork. “Even if you do insist on putting ketchup on your eggs, like a heathen.”

“Hey!” you laughed, swatting his hand away.

The truth was, Minho had a knack for sneaking past your defenses. Whether it was his quiet attentiveness when you came home exhausted or the way he made sure to send you texts during your long shifts (“Don’t forget to eat. And drink water. And sleep. I’m grading your habits, 2/10 so far”), he was making it harder not to fall for him.

As you cleaned up the dishes together, Minho cleared his throat. “By the way, my department’s hosting a dinner next week. Spouses are invited.”

“Oh,” you said, your heart skipping a beat. “Am I—?”

“You’re coming,” he interrupted, looking at you like it wasn’t even a question. “I need someone to laugh at my jokes when my colleagues inevitably talk about Chaucer.”

You snorted. “You’re assuming your jokes will be funny.”

He leaned closer, his voice low. “I don’t need them to be funny. I just need you there.”

Your breath caught, but Minho had already turned away, heading to his study. “Have a good day at work, Dr. Ketchup.”

“Have fun with Gatsby, Professor Burnt Pasta,” you called after him, hiding your grin.

You stood in the kitchen for a moment, fingers brushing the counter where his hand had been seconds ago. Maybe this marriage wasn’t just about making it work. Maybe, just maybe, it could be something more.

(You couldn’t make it to the party, an emergency surgery happened, you apologised though, his colleagues were a bit too sad when you didn’t make it)

It was supposed to be a peaceful Sunday morning for Minho—his one precious day to lounge in sweatpants, sip coffee, and enjoy the rare luxury of a slow, uneventful routine. He had even entertained the idea of making you breakfast before you left for work, something simple yet thoughtful. But fate, as always, had other plans.

A sharp knock on the door disrupted his rare moment of domestic bliss. With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself away from the stove, glancing warily at the pan on low heat. As he shuffled to the door, half-asleep, he wondered who could possibly be bothering him on his sacred day off.

The door creaked open, revealing Felix, one of his students, standing there in all his youthful glory. A textbook was tucked under his arm, his expression bright and hopeful.

“Professor Lee!” Felix greeted, his tone unnaturally chipper for a Sunday.

Minho blinked slowly, still processing the intrusion. “Felix? What are you doing here?”

“You said you’d help with my essay on Sunday,” Felix reminded him, his tone tentative but insistent.

Minho racked his brain, piecing together fragmented memories from office hours. “Right…” he muttered, groaning internally. He vaguely remembered agreeing to it but hadn’t expected Felix, the popular, gossip-loving, poster-child of charm, to actually follow through. “Yeah, come in.”

As Felix stepped inside, his eyes scanned the space with open curiosity. It was his first time seeing his professor’s home, and it wasn’t what he expected. The cozy, lived-in atmosphere seemed at odds with Minho’s perpetually serious demeanor in class. His attention was quickly snagged by a pair of stylish, feminine glasses sitting on the coffee table. Girlfriend? Felix wondered, tilting his head.

Before he could dwell on the thought, the distinct sound of heels clicking against the floor made him freeze. A moment later, you emerged from the hallway, dressed sharply for work. Felix’s eyebrows shot up, his thoughts immediately scrambling for an explanation. You blinked, just as surprised to see someone new in the living room. “Oh,” you said, your tone polite but slightly off-guard. “Hi.”

Felix, now officially overwhelmed, managed to blurt out, “Hello”, he said, before his gaze flickered back to the coffee table, then to you, as he didn’t know how to address you.

No way, he thought, it’s the doctor who came on news for saving a K-pop idol, from almost death.

“Minho!” you called, turning your head toward the kitchen. “Is this one of your students?”

Felix, his curiosity reaching critical levels, edged closer to the source of your voice. Peeking into the kitchen, he found Minho by the stove, a pan in hand. Smoke curled lazily upward, and the sharp scent of burning food filled the air.

“Minho,” you said, stepping into the kitchen with an incredulous laugh, “are you burning food again?”

Minho startled, nearly dropping the pan. “I’m not burning it! I’m… enhancing the flavor,” he argued, his tone defensive.

“Enhancing?” you repeated with a laugh. “Minho, cooking is about creating something edible, not staging a kitchen fire. It’s amazing how often you mix those two up.”

“I was trying to make you something before you left for the hospital,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed but reluctant to admit defeat.

Your playful smile softened at his admission. Gently, you reached over to turn off the stove. “That’s sweet, but maybe stick to teaching literature instead of culinary experiments.”

Felix, lurking just out of sight, stared wide-eyed as you roasted him. The banter, the easy familiarity—it all added up. They’re married?

“Go sit down,” you told Minho, nudging him out of the kitchen. “I’ll make something quick before I leave.”

Minho grumbled under his breath but obeyed, brushing past Felix on his way back to the living room. Felix hurried to take a seat, trying to appear nonchalant, though his mind was racing.

When you passed through the room moments later, coffee in hand, you offered Felix a warm smile. “Nice meeting you. Don’t give him too hard of a time with your questions.”

Felix nodded mutely, watching you leave. The moment the door shut behind you, he turned to Minho, who had returned with two glasses of juice.

“Professor…” Felix began slowly, his voice thick with disbelief. “Is she your wife?”

Minho raised an eyebrow as he sipped his juice. “Yes. Why?”

Felix blinked rapidly, struggling to reconcile this new information. “No reason,” he mumbled, though his expression betrayed his shock.

Moments later, you returned to the hallway, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. Minho met you by the door, leaning casually against the frame.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll try,” you replied, a familiar warmth in your voice. You both knew it was a promise you likely wouldn’t keep.

Felix, still reeling from the day’s revelations, hovered awkwardly nearby. As you stepped outside, he called out suddenly, “Have a good day, Mrs. Lee!”

You froze, the unexpected title catching you off guard. It wasn’t unpleasant—just unfamiliar. Slowly, you turned, offering Felix a polite but flustered smile. “Uh… you too,” you managed before hurrying to your car.

Minho chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe as he watched you leave. “Mrs. Lee, huh?” he mused aloud, mostly to himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I like the sound of that.”

Felix, now thoroughly overwhelmed, buried his face in his hands. Sundays, he realised, were never as peaceful as they seemed.

Minho shook his head, walking back inside. “Come on, let’s get to your essay before you start narrating this like a drama.”

The next day at school, Felix did exactly that.

Felix leaned forward dramatically, hands splayed wide as he began recounting his Sunday adventure to a growing crowd of curious students in the cafeteria. His voice, filled with excitement, caught the attention of several nearby tables, each eager to hear more.

"Guys, listen up," he said, flashing a grin. "You won’t believe what I saw at Professor Lee’s house yesterday."

A few students glanced at each other, intrigued, as Felix's words hung in the air. He leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to keep everyone hanging on his every syllable. "So, I went to his place for some essay help, right? And the first thing I notice when I walk in is this super cozy vibe. You know, soft lighting, a hint of fresh coffee... real domestic bliss. But then—then, I spot these feminine glasses on the table."

Hyunjin, who had been lounging back in his chair, rolled his eyes. "What’s so weird about glasses?" he asked, unimpressed.

Felix raised a finger, signaling that this story was about to take a turn. "Wait for it. So, as I’m trying to figure out who’s glasses they are, out walks this stunning woman. She’s in full professional attire—like, the whole deal. She’s walking like, like a CEO walking into an important meeting. And guess what? She’s his wife. Dr. Y/N. The surgeon."

Hyunjin blinked, his expression shifting from indifference to shock. “His what?” he practically shouted, hands flying to cover his mouth as his eyes widened.

The murmurs of disbelief spread like wildfire among the crowd, each person leaning in a little closer, straining to catch every word.

"You’re making this up," Jisung said skeptically, shaking his head as he crossed his arms.

Felix smirked, leaning back in his seat with an air of triumph. "I’m not! They’re so romantic, it’s almost nauseating. I’m telling you, it’s like one of those cheesy rom-coms. He even tried to cook for her."

"Professor Lee? Cooking?" Hyunjin scoffed loudly, half-laughing in disbelief. "That man lives off convenience store meals. There's no way he was cooking anything decent."

Felix leaned in closer, lowering his voice for effect. The group went quiet, eager to hear the juicy detail. "He burned it," he said, his face full of mock sympathy.

The table erupted in laughter, the absurdity of the image painting a perfect picture in everyone's minds.

"But that’s not even the best part!" Felix exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat. "No, no. The best part is how she roasted him. And I mean roasted him. And then, do you know what he said? He said he was trying to make something special for her before she left for work. I mean, come on—imagine that. Your husband burns breakfast out of love for you. Isn’t that just... romantic?"

Jisung couldn’t help himself and muttered, "That doesn’t sound romantic. That sounds tragic."

Felix ignored him, continuing with the fervor of someone who had just witnessed the most entertaining drama. "And the way they bantered? Oh my god, guys, it was like something out of a rom-com. She laughed at him, and he got all offended but secretly pleased—it was like watching this whole love story unfold before my eyes. You would think they had a love marriage, not some arranged one."

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued now. "Wait, they’re in an arranged marriage?" he asked, trying to wrap his mind around it.

Felix nodded solemnly, as if he were revealing some deep, hidden truth. "Yeah. But you’d never know. The way they looked at each other, the way they interacted—if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were madly in love."

By now, half the cafeteria was hanging on Felix’s every word, the whole campus’s girls were there(for felix’s charm) of course.

And, as expected, the rumors began to spread like wildfire. What started as Felix’s casual recounting of a Sunday visit quickly turned into a full-fledged mystery. Everyone was dying to know more about Professor Lee’s mysterious wife—and, more importantly, if they could have a glimpse into this romance that Felix had so dramatically described.

…

Minho was halfway through grading essays in the faculty lounge when his colleague, Chan, approached him with a mischievous grin.

“Hey, Minho,” Chan started, plopping down in the seat across from him.

“What?” Minho asked without looking up.

“So… I heard some interesting things about you and your wife,” Chan said casually, his tone laced with amusement.

Minho froze, his pen hovering over a student’s paper, Felix’s. “What things?”

“Oh, nothing major,” Chan said, feigning innocence. “Just that you’re apparently head over heels for her, cooking her breakfast and all that. Burnt, of course.”

Minho’s eyes traveled through the paper in his hands and it clicked. “Felix.”

Chan laughed. “So it’s true?”

“Partially,” Minho muttered. “He came over to the house for essay help and caught us in the middle of a normal morning.”

“Normal?” Chan raised an eyebrow. “Apparently, you’re living in a K-drama.”

“Don’t start,” Minho groaned.

Chan grinned, leaning forward. “Come on, though. Is it true you tried to cook for her?”

Minho hesitated before muttering, “I might have… attempted.”

Chan burst out laughing. “Wow, you really are whipped. I didn’t think you had it in you, Minho.”

Minho shot him a glare. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure it’s not,” Chan said, smirking. “But, honestly, it’s nice to see you so… happy. You’re usually such a grump.”

Minho rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he picked up his pen and went back to grading(maybe unfairly) , pretending not to notice the smug look on Chan’s face.

As Chan got up to leave, he clapped Minho on the shoulder. “By the way, I think Felix might be your biggest fan now. Watch out, or he’ll start writing a romance novel about you two.”

Minho groaned, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Meanwhile, you were eating lunch with your colleagues, when a message from Minho popped up.

Minho: Felix told half the campus we’re madly in love. You: We’re not? Minho: That’s not the point. You: It’s not a bad rumor to have, Professor Lee. 😉

Minho stared at the screen, shaking his head. Felix might’ve been overly dramatic, but maybe the kid wasn’t entirely wrong.

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