#interior design best of year

[snickerdoodlles]

Same anon: Pete's taste in decor doesn't improve as he figures himself out. If anything, it gets weirder.

(prev)

oh, absolutely! Pete is a funky lil guy and his tastes reflect that 😤👏 it gets worse even before he starts figuring himself out because Khun starts inviting him to craft nights again, because Pete's needs more PIZZAZZ in his life. Vegas puts his foot down on the kitchen jars having feathers, but we're talking sparkly kitsch to a whole new level. bedazzled lights. glittered vases. sequinned table runners. gold painted everything. nothing is of remarkable quality yet works bizarrely well with Vegas's luxurious velvet. Vegas is immensely irritated and delighted every time someone points this out, and takes it out on one (very delighted) Pete.

[nkdesign-works]

CONCEPT STUDY PHOTOGRAPHS: ©NAKAMURA KAZUNOBU DESIGN-WORKS e-mail to:nkazunobu@hotmail.com

[norrisainz33]

announcement || mv33

☆ summary: max and his private wife have been keeping a big secret

☆ pairing: max verstappen x private!nonfamous!wife!reader

☆ fc & warnings: amata alp & mentions of pregnancy

☆ requested: yes! thank you for your patience 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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maxverstappen1: glad you’re with y/bff tho i do wish you were here my love

ynverstappen: i wish i was there too. i hate having to miss your races

maxverstappen1: i know you do sweetheart but you’ve got big things to worry about right now 🤍

ynverstappen: i know i just wish you were here to worry about them with me!

ynverstappen: ugh i’m sorry i know you have no choice in the matter

maxverstappen1: don’t apologize liefje. i know this is not like the easiest time for me to be away! i will be home so soon so i can help take care of you

carmenmundt: y/n where have you beeeeeeen it’s been so long!!

ynverstappen: been very busy with work and with holding down the fort here in monaco!! i hope to be back at some races soon 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous girl i miss you

ynverstappen: i miss you too babes

yourbff: my baby

ynverstappen: my girl

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 11,849 others

f1gossip: during todays redline stream the chat was flooded with questions about the whereabouts of y/n verstappen who has been absent from the paddock for the past couple of months. while y/n is relatively private and we don’t usually get many social media updates from her outside of her interior design firm’s posting, she almost never misses the opportunity to support max on a race weekend let alone several in a row. max assured the chat that y/n was ok and that she was just taking some time to herself and that she’d be back in the paddock soon enough. what do you all make of this?

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user1: i’m so glad y/nmax are fine

user2: you could even hear her in the background at one point asking max what he wanted for dinner!! glad we are getting some crumbs

user4: omg ok good!! i thought that was her but couldn’t tell

user3: i was about to email her interior design firm to ask if she was ok thank god max updated us

user4: walk with me here guys…. what if we haven’t seen her bc she’s…… pregnant???

user6: oh my god you might be on to something!! they have been married for almost 2 years now

user7: no this is so believable!!! they’d make the best parents

user5: y/n’s ability to stay under the radar and unbothered is incredible

user8: y/n is the coolest wag i wish she was chronically online like so many of the others

user7: ugh fr!! i wish we could follow her on literally anything 💔

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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francisca.cgomes: are you redoing part of your house? is this why you’ve been so busy and i haven’t seen my best friend for WEEKS

ynverstappen: partially yes!! we are redoing the spare room. BUT you’ll see me this weekend for my party kiks

francisca.cgomes: and my god i can’t wait!! i miss you

ynvertsappen: i miss you too

landonorris: plans for what?

ynverstappen: idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

landonorris: liar!

maxverstappen1: they’re going to have the sweetest room 🤍

ynverstappen: yes they are 🤍 i’m so proud of how it’s turning out

georgerussell63: the 🤭 makes this feel like i’m on the outside of an inside joke

ynverstappen: you just might be georgie!!

georgerussell63: well what does that even mean

yourbff: i am brimming with excitement i can’t wait for you to tell everyone this weekend

ynverstappen: me too!! keeping this secret has been so tough but ultimately it’s been really nice to have something that’s just for me and max even if just for a short while

yourbff: no i totally get that y/n/n!! max has to share his life with the whole world so im sure it’s nice to have those private moments

yoursibling: i need you to facetime me when you tell carmen and kika bc they’re going to lose their minds

ynverstappen: oh i absolutely will

ynverstappen has made a post 🔒

liked by carmenmundt, iamrebeccad, maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, interiordesignbyyn and 201 others

ynverstappen: i’m so glad all my favorite people could come celebrate the news 🩷 baby verstappen due in january 🤍 mommy and daddy love you endlessly already 💙

view all 35 comments

carmenmundt: i can’t wait to be an aunty!!! best news ever 🤍

ynverstappen: and i can’t wait for you to be an aunty!! baby v is going to be so loved

carmenmundt: they already are!!

francisca.cgomes: can’t believe my favorite person in the world is going to be a mom 🥹

ynverstappen: love you kika 🥹

maxverstappen1: 💙🩷

ynverstappen: 😘😘

iamrebeccad: you’re going to make the perfect mom

ynverstappen: i really hope so 🤍

georgerussell63: blimey! i can’t wait to meet the little one!!

ynverstappen: only 3 more months!!

landonorris: uncle lando is reporting for duty

ynverstappen: baby v is going to love their uncle lan!!

maxverstappen1: baby v is already lucky to have you mate

alexandrasaintmleux: the most beautiful maman 🤍

ynverstappen: don’t make me cry again 😭

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by ynverstappen, redbullracing, charesleclerc, alex_albon, landonorris, and 765,248 others

maxverstappen1: grateful for moments like these away from the track. next week is race week again in vegas but for now, enjoy some family photos 🤍

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user1: my favorite couple maybe ever

user3: y/n sign of life!!

user4: sticking to my delulu and thinking he said family bc she’s having a baby

landonorris: see you all soon🤍

ynverstappen: see you soon lannyyyyyy

user4: he’s feeding into my delusions here…. bc why did he say you all instead of you both

user6: omg does this mean y/n will be in vegas????

ynverstappen: i love our little family 🫶🏻

maxverstappen1: me too gorgeous

user2: not me crying over this post?? the heart shaped pizzas sent me over the edge

redbullracing: looking forward to seeing you back on track!

ynverstappen has added to their story 🔒

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maxverstappen1: i have a tracker on your flight. i think the anxiety of you and the little one being on a plane without me is going to eat me alive

ynverstappen: we will be ok maxie i promise!! im on air max, it’s safe here

maxverstappen1: it is but also i’m not there so it’s not as safe as it could be

ynverstappen: my sweet boy, take a deep breath. you have quali soon

maxverstappen1: yes yes yes i’m breathing deeply

francisca.cgomes: well thank GOD i need you in the paddock

ynverstappen: pls come stay in rb hospitality w me

francisca.cgomes: for you i will just don’t tell pierre

charlesleclerc: on a scale of 1-10 how stressed is max

ynverstappen: 16

redbullracing: we can’t wait to see you!!

iamrebeccad: yayayayayayya!!!!!!!

ynverstappen: 😘😘😘😘😘😘

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by landonorris, ynverstappen, redbullracing, carmenmundt, charlesleclerc, and 754,984 others

maxverstappen1: for all of you wondering where y/n has been…. needless to say we’ve both been a little busy getting ready to welcome baby verstappen. only a few more months till the little one makes us a family of 3 🤍

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user1: best news ever!!!!

user4: i knew it!!! omg 🥹

charlesleclerc: congratulations mate! i am so excited for you both

maxverstappen1: thank you charles 💙 baby v is so lucky to have an uncle like you

user16: im violently sobbing over this interaction you don’t understand

redbullracing: having a mini rb20 made for baby v as we speak

ynverstappen: oh gosh admin no

maxverstappen1: admin yes!!

redbullracing: uh oh awkward

landonorris: yayyyyyy!!!!!!!! i can’t wait to babysit!!

ynverstappen: you’re going to be the best babysitter ever

user7: she is glowing

user9: max and y/n are going to make the most beautiful parents

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 11,849 others

f1gossip: here to share a recap of max’s first interview since announcing y/n’s pregnancy mere minutes after qualifying. he said he wanted to announce it before sunday because y/n was absolutely adamant about being in the paddock for vegas and there was no hiding her baby bump at 6 months. max said “i can’t wait to be a dad! it’s honestly something i’ve been dreaming of for years and i’m so grateful to my beautiful wife for giving me the greatest gift.”

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user2: this is by far the happiest i’ve ever seen max and i am crying

user4: i love max and y/n so much i cant

user15: the way he talked about their baby ??? he already loves that little one so much

user18: i think having a baby is healing his inner child

user3: i love love love love love these 2

user19: crying screaming throwing up

user20: project verstappen!! lfg!!! next wdc champion incoming

user5: her refusing to miss another race is so real of her

user8: thank god she’s gonna be back in the paddock max needs her luck

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs always appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[bayetea]

frank and nico during the frazel wedding reception

frank: so uh... I guess you're my brother in law now

nico: yeah.

frank: that's pretty cool. I kind of always wanted a little brother

nico (deadpan): I'm 60 years older than you

frank: or an older one,

nico (mildly disappointed that he didn't laugh): well. just don't be a useless husband to my sister

frank: I'll try my best

nico: don't try your best, just do it

frank: you're right. I promise that I'll be good to her

nico: and don't be alarmed if ghosts show up at your house sometimes

frank: what. w-why

nico: wedding gift

frank: oh...... will any of them be interior designers? we're not good at decorating

nico (mildly pleased that he's playing into the joke): no they're evil

frank: I guess we shouldn't have put evil ghosts on the registry

nico: wait till you see what I'm getting you for your birthday

frank: it's like we're brothers already...

[designacademy]

How to Choose the Right Interior Design College?

Making the decision to become an interior designer means embarking on a creative adventure. For a bright future, you must select the best interior designing colleges in Delhi that will take you along the successful route of your profession. Several institutes provide various design programmes. This will make deciding on the greatest institute that meets your ambitions a little more difficult. But don’t worry; we have a fantastic alternative for you. Continue reading this blog for a thorough guide on how to pick the finest interior design college, allowing you to make an informed decision and lay a solid basis for your future.

Six Points to Consideration while Selecting an Institute

Define Your Goals and Specialisation: Before beginning your search, consider your professional objectives and the precise field of interior design that interests you the most. Interior design spans a wide range of disciplines, including home design, commercial design, sustainable design, and others. Understanding your interests can assist you in narrowing your selections and locating universities that specialise in your desired field.

Accreditation and Reputation: When selecting the best interior design course in Delhi, accreditation is a vital thing to consider. Accredited colleges follow industry standards and verify that their programmes exceed educational criteria. Investigate reputable accreditation bodies for interior design, such as the best college in Delhi Design Academy, which is staffed with a team of professional interior design experts who work hard to build a course structure that includes both practical and theoretical knowledge of the interior design field.

Curricula and Course Offerings: Carefully study possible colleges’ curricula and course offerings. Look for a well-rounded programme that combines theory and practical practice. An interior design programme must place a heavy focus on studio-based learning and hands-on experiences. Consider whether the institution provides specialised courses or emphases that are relevant to your interests.

Faculty and Industry Connections: The faculty’s skills and experience are critical to your education. Investigate the credentials and professional backgrounds of the interior design.

Department’s Professors and Teachers:- Brilliant Professors with industry expertise at Design Academy may give significant insights and mentorship possibilities. Furthermore, institutions with strong industry contacts can provide internships, networking events, and job placement aid, which can considerably improve your career chances.

Resources:- Visit the campuses or take virtual tours to get a sense of the facilities and resources available at the college. For practical instruction, a well-equipped design studio with cutting-edge equipment and software is required. Access to a library with a large selection of design resources, workshops, and design laboratories may also considerably enhance your learning experience.

Internship and Job Placement Assistance: Look into the college’s internship and job placement assistance options. Investigate whether they have collaborations with local design companies or businesses since this might give important internship chances during your study. Furthermore, when you’re ready to join the job market, a specialised career services department that offers résumé creation, interview preparation, and job placement aid may be quite advantageous.

Conclusion

Selecting the best Two years Interior Design Diploma in Delhi from a reputed college necessitates a careful evaluation of a number of aspects, including specialisation, accreditation, curriculum, faculty expertise, resources, alumni success, and industry contacts. Take the time to research and visit various universities, asking as many questions as you can. Finally, choose a college that is a good fit for you.

Source URL — https://traininginstitutesouthdelhi.blogspot.com/2023/06/how-to-choose-right-interior-design.html

[heirofnight]

it's the shadows, pt. 2

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 4.9k

summary: after a drunken night with your bffs rhys, cassian, and azriel - one where you'd admitted to thinking azriel would be the most capable in bed (and az admitted to using his shadows on his partners lol) - the inner circle takes a vacation to a secluded cabin in the woods. and azriel's main goal is to show you what his shadows can actually do in the bedroom. part two of it's the shadows.

warnings: this is smut ok. pure smut. p in v smut. shadow smut. read at your own risk, ok.

a/n: OK highly requested part 2 to this series. first time publishing smut, pls be nice. but let me know what you think!!! enjoy <3

read part one here

azriel had a deep, dark secret.

a tidbit of information that he'd tried his best to ignore for the first several years after initially meeting you. now, he was far passed the point of acting as though it didn't exist - like it didn't drive him insane.

how could he? when you looked at him like that, when you made him laugh like that, when you'd outwardly flirt with him like that, when you'd all but crawled into his lap in the sitting room after he'd admitted to utilizing his shadows in less than innocent ways.

no, azriel was truly fucked, and his dirty little secret was threatening to crawl its way up his throat and launch itself from his lips.

he wanted you, bad.

since that drunken night a couple of weeks ago, azriel's want need for you had multiplied, had split in half and quadrupled and was now flowing through his veins as if it were his own blood. his brain was foggy, he was distracted, and all he could think about was you: your voice, your smile, your laughter, your lips, your scent. gods, your scent.

he felt like a lost puppy, trailing after you as though you'd lead him to salvation.

that salvation just happened to be between your thighs.

he'd become more in tune with you, your daily routine. he somehow was now able to pick up on your lingering scent, even if you'd left your preoccupied space hours earlier. he'd known you were there. and he'd sought you out in every situation he could. he longed to be next to you. during breakfast, dinner. during any meeting rhysand held that involved the entire family. while you baked in the kitchen alongside nuala and cerridwen - he was there. glued to your side.

he'd wondered if you'd noticed. the two of you were close to begin with, so perhaps you hadn't picked up on his increased attachment. regardless, you didn't seem to mind.

he'd picked up on your heartbeat changing when he drew near, and one time, he'd made a risky move - grazing your knee under the dinner table with a firm, scarred hand. he'd definitely noticed the change in your scent then - the aroma of your sweet arousal enveloped him almost immediately. he'd had to excuse himself from the meal earlier than normal after that.

he'd almost lost his shit and devoured you on the dinner table in front of his entire family, instead.

so when rhysand had declared that the entire family would be taking a weekend vacation, azriel's heart had almost torn through his chest. he'd get to be even closer to you, in a secluded location, with uninterrupted proximity.

rhys had recently purchased a gorgeous cabin on the opposite side of the city - it was perched on a high hill within the forest, and boasted views of the snowy mountain ranges that stood proudly alongside velaris.

the term cabin was a stretch - while the vacation home was a wooden structure, immensely cozy, and had cabin-like interior design, it was definitely on the more luxurious side. which came to no surprise, since it was rhysand's purchase, and the male loved extravagant things.

regardless, it was perfect. and azriel couldn't wait to take advantage of this much-needed vacation - one that included you, and an opportunity to get you alone.

you were obviously interested, he knew that. you'd alluded to it for years. and after he let it slip that he often let his shadows loose while bedding his partners, you'd fought to reign in your composure.

what he didn't know, though, was whether or not you were interested in him. beyond a sexual escapade. beyond two friends who were attracted to each other acting on impulse. actually interested - in loving him, all of him, and allowing him to do the same.

because that was azriel's deep, dark secret: he was in too deep, was falling over himself for you.

however, if sex was all you wanted, azriel would comply. he'd have you in any way that you'd allow, and he'd be damned sure to worship you in ways that would leave you absolutely ruined.

you'd all arrived to the cabin as dusk was painting the sky in pinks and oranges. his family shuffled through the large wooden front doors, and azriel felt the tension and stress escaping from each of his friend's tightly-wound muscles as though they'd left the qualms of reality outside in the snow.

not azriel's, though. his pent-up tension could only be released in one way in particular.

you'd set your bags down in the threshold of the designated living space, your head on a swivel as you peered upward - taking in the surroundings of the opulent cabin.

"this is why i'm friends with you, rhys," you'd joked, pushing your hair over your shoulders, "the perks are just too spectacular to pass up," you laughed this breathy little laugh, and azriel felt his spine tingle at the sound.

rhys chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded you, "careful, y/n," he tutted, his violet eyes watching cassian as he began to fumble with the large fireplace in the corner of the room, "before i use my other high lord perks to order you to sleep in a tent outside," he bantered, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge.

you placed a dainty hand to your chest in mock offense, shuffling closer to azriel for protection. "you would never," you balked, spine straightening, "az would never let that happen, right, az?," you turned towards the shadowsinger, giving him a look of pure innocence.

azriel faltered for a moment as he met your gaze, but he caught himself quickly. "right, sweet," he almost cooed, using that nickname that set your heart running at full-speed. he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder in solidarity, turning towards rhys. the high lord was watching you both with a look of pure, knowing amusement.

"well, lucky for you two lovebirds," rhys began, pointer finger gesturing to the snowy evening beyond the large glass windows, "the tent in question is big enough for two," he waggled his dark eyebrows, huffing out a laugh.

azriel's cheeks tinted only slightly at his words, his mind immediately overcome with visions of all the compromising positions the two of you could end up in. alone. in a tent.

before az could fully recover from that revelation, you'd stunned him with your next statement.

"perfect, i'm sure az and i would have no issues keeping each other warm," you mused, voice low and playfully suggestive. you wrapped your hand around his large bicep then, hmphing quietly to drive your point home.

rhys barked out a laugh at your words, shaking his head before retreating to help a grumbling cassian with the fireplace.

azriel felt warm. too warm for the snowy environment you'd found yourselves in. your words set an inferno blazing within his chest and limbs. his instincts screamed at him to carry you to the nearest bed and have his way with you, once and for all. but instead, he cleared his throat, looking down at you with pink cheeks and ears.

you looked up at him expectantly, a sweet grin splitting your cheeks.

he heard you mention something about going to find your rooms, and he dazedly watched you grab your belongings before sauntering up the stairs. but azriel was frozen in place as if cassian had superglued his boots to the wooden floor.

he would not survive this trip.

feyre and elain had provided dinner for all of you, and after taking your seats at the cozy dining table that looked over the snow-capped mountain range in the distance, you all began to eat. it was a peaceful, warm family dinner. everyone was so relaxed, so happy to be amongst the company of loved ones.

azriel had taken his usual place next to you, just as he always did. different environment, same habits. you'd smiled up at him as he took his seat, and he'd silently begun to fill your plate with food before worrying over his own.

you'd reached over as you realized what he was doing, placing a hand on his muscular thigh. "hey," you whispered affectionately, so only he could hear. "you don't have to do that," you smiled, meeting his gentle eyes with a sweet gaze of your own.

his skin was on fire at the contact you'd graced him with, and he gave you a small smirk.

"i want to," his deep, rough voice rasped. and you felt your stomach lurch at the tone.

and so, he served you. and you let him.

as dinner progressed, you'd found yourself absent-mindedly moving closer to azriel's side. at one point, you all giggled endlessly at an overly-animated cassian as he told a story from the past - and when you leaned into azriel in a fit of laughter, your head resting on his shoulder, he'd made a move. he'd wrapped his left arm around the back of your chair, around you. he'd pulled you further into his warm side. and then he'd reached down, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. you'd peered up at him then, eyes full of adoration.

he met your eyes, and although he couldn't see himself, he knew his honey gaze was reflecting the very same feeling.

his lips lowered then, whispering right against the shell of your ear, voice low, "which rooms did you choose?," he questioned, nodding his chin towards the floor above the both of you.

you smiled softly, whispering back, "the one right next to yours," he watched as your stare traveled between both of his eyes, down to his full lips, and back up to his steady gaze. his heart rammed against his ribs.

he reached over to your lap, rubbing a thumb along the back of your hand tenderly.

"just so you're aware, i always sleep with my door unlocked," he spoke against your ear once more, the statement laced with undertones you quickly picked up on.

you hummed against his cheek, pulling back to catch his eyes, "noted," you said pointedly, sending him a flirtatious wink through your long lashes.

he was sure, in that moment, that he needed you more than he needed his next breath of oxygen.

hours later, azriel was sprawled on top of his bedding, eyes cast towards the ceiling.

the entire house had since made their way to their own rooms, settling in for the evening, and he briefly glanced over to the large windows that made up the entire left wall of his space.

the onyx sky looked like velvet, and azriel lost himself for a moment as he stared out at the smattering of stars that looked as though they'd been placed with precise care throughout the heavens.

the sound of a door clicking shut, followed by slippered feet tiptoeing from the next room over, broke through his distracted thoughts.

he immediately tensed up - it was you. this was actually happening.

the doorknob began to twist, the sound so quiet, he had to focus his eyes on the fixture to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

slowly, the door creaked open, and there you stood: in a black lace, silky nightgown that hit the tops of your thighs, your hair unbound and cascading down your chest, and a matching robe haphazardly falling from your shoulders.

you looked ethereal.

azriel audibly swallowed, and he didn't even remember standing up and crossing the room in long strides, but when he blinked, you were standing right before him - all twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks.

you smirked up at him - you were so confident, so sure. he huffed out a small laugh, raking his eyes down your body in a way that was absolutely not subtle.

"well," you spoke quietly, cocking your head as you studied his expression curiously, "i have to say, azriel. it took you long enough," you scoffed playfully, stepping closer to him.

he hummed, placing scarred hands on your shoulders before slowly sliding them down your arms, your robe dropping to the floor as he did so.

"if you've been wanting this as badly as i have, why didn't you just tell me?," he whispered, voice sultry as his hands traveled down your skin.

you pursed your lips, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. it all felt so familiar, so normal. as if you'd both done this song and dance countless times before. the way the both of you intertwined and came together so effortlessly had azriel's head spinning.

finally, you spoke, "maybe i wanted to refrain long enough to see if you felt the same way," you considered, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, "maybe i wanted to make you work for it," your voice lowered, looking up at him from under your lashes.

azriel felt his knees threaten to buckle, and he closed his eyes before releasing a long, slow breath. he had to take his time with you, he refused to lose control this quickly.

but gods, you were making it hard.

and you knew it, too. you'd set your sights on breaking him down bit by bit, thrilled by the prospect of seeing cold, stoic azriel shadowsinger lose every bit of his composure at the hands of lust.

you preened, nipping and kitten-licking along his jaw so slowly, azriel began to feel dizzy.

"enough," he commanded, voice hoarse. he removed your hands from where they were hooked around his neck, holding your wrists together with one large hand.

"enough," he repeated, eyes darkening. "you've driven me absolutely insane for years, y/n," he spoke, voice made of gravel. "how amusing was it, hm?," he pushed you towards his bed slowly, each step punctuating his words, "to drive me mad the way you have, on purpose," he spat.

your knees hit the back of his mattress, and before you knew it, you were spread out on top of his soft sheets. you let out the tiniest whimper, a noise so obscene, azriel almost groaned out loud.

he sent a tendril of shadows darting towards your body, watching closely as they bound your hands together, resembling handcuffs made of smoke.

you grinned unabashedly at the sight, your eyes flicking from your hands and back up to his hardened gaze, "you really do use them, then," you stated, referring to the inky strands that were engulfing his body.

he looked like the angel of death coming to claim you.

he grinned at this, a sight that would be terrifying if it weren't so damned sexy.

"oh, sweet," he ground out, lowering himself over you so that his hands were braced on each side of your head, "you have no idea," his voice was low and full of carnal promise.

your breath hitched as his words, and you watched as he sent another tendril towards your throat. it wrapped around your neck effortlessly, much like it had that one drunken night several weeks ago. but this time, you knew the circumstances were different.

"i cannot wait to worship you," he drawled, eyes dragging down your lithe body. you could see the lust swirling within his gaze - his pupils were blown, his breathing was ragged.

you breathed out a moan of pure need, and his eyes snapped back up to your face. another shadow darted from his side, slowly working the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. the same shadow pulled the silken garment down until your breasts were fully revealed to him - your nipples already painfully hard.

you needed him to touch you. somewhere, anywhere.

he let out a quiet grunt at the sight of you, reveling in you being laid bare for him.

"fuck," he grumbled, voice already hoarse with need.

leaning down, he wasted no time in sucking your left breast into his warm mouth, lavishing your nipple with licks, and sucks, and small bites. you began to writhe beneath him, and that's when azriel learned just how much you loved to have your nipples played with. breathy moans tumbled from your lips, and azriel almost lost his shit at the sound.

he began to slowly grind his still-clothed lower half against the edge of the mattress, low, erotic groans trickling up his throat and falling from his mouth as his tongue continued its ministrations. he'd glance up at you every now and then, and every time he caught the look on your face - mouth agape and eyes twisted shut in pleasure, he'd have to drag his aching cock even harder against the bed beneath him.

just when you thought it couldn't possibly get any better than his mouth against your aching breast, azriel upped the ante.

you'd felt another strand of shadow dart towards your right nipple, it's cool, ghosted touch swirling around the sensitive skin.

"oh, gods", you moaned, your hips beginning to buck and grind against his lower stomach. the scent of your arousal had overtaken his senses, and his eyes rolled back each time he inhaled greedily - he couldn't get enough. you were everything, everywhere.

the shadow continued to flick and dance across your right nipple, pinching and twirling around and around, back and forth. you'd tilted your head back, and you knew you could climax from this feeling alone if azriel kept it up for much longer.

"now, now, sweet," he abruptly pulled back from your chest, halting his actions. the other shadow that was swirling across your nipple had darted back to its master's side, too.

you whined quietly, jerking your head forward to meet his stare in utter disappointment.

"don't be a brat," he tutted, biting at your nipple once more in reprimand. you arched your chest to meet his mouth eagerly, and he grinned wickedly at the action, a devastating dimple peeking through as he did so.

"i said i was going to worship you, my love," his deep voice sounded like pure sex, "and i intend to do so," he pulled your nightgown completely down your legs as he spoke, discarding it to the floor.

he returned to hovering over you, tugging your lower lip into your mouth greedily. he hummed at the taste of you, before he began pressing kisses down your throat, your chest, your stomach, and down to your thighs.

you moaned quietly, spreading your legs open for him, giving him space to ravish you as he pleased.

but azriel had other plans.

he pulled his shirt off over his head, wasting no time in completely discarding his own clothing.

his thick cock sprung proudly from the confines of his pants, already leaking from the tip. your eyes darkened at the sight, and you felt your pupils dilate as he absentmindedly wrapped his large hand around his length, squeezing once to offer himself some relief.

he let out a groan from deep in his throat as he did so, and he couldn't stop himself from pumping his fist once, twice.

"i won't be able to hold myself back from you for much longer," he confessed, his voice strained.

"then don't," you whispered, the feeling of pure lust so strong, it almost made you tremble.

"i want to watch for awhile first," he grunted, eyes traveling over the length of your naked body before him. he granted himself one more rough stroke of his cock, large veins bulging along the shaft.

your eyebrows knitted together, head spinning.

"watch?," you asked, eyes glued to the hand he'd wrapped around himself.

he smirked knowingly, watching as a lone tendril of shadow darted from his side to between your legs.

you barely had time to react, barely had time to catch your breath before azriel's shadow began absolutely torturing you, in the best way possible.

it swirled between your legs, running along your clit in counterclockwise motions that felt so good, you couldn't control the sound that left your mouth in response.

your head was thrown back against the mattress once more, breathy moans growing louder as you felt it slide inside of you, fucking into you as it continued to tease your clit. its cool sensation against the heat of your center made your thighs shake uncontrollably.

you felt your hands slide towards your chest, needing to touch yourself, play with your nipples. you longed for azriel's mouth to return to your skin, missing the feeling of his warm tongue against you.

you heard azriel tsk from where he stood in front of you, practicing as much restraint as he could muster. he'd continued to tease himself every now and then, when he absolutely couldn't help himself. he'd grip his cock firmly, squeezing once. or he'd slide a hand down his shaft roughly, his hand slick from his own precum.

before you could open your eyes to see why azriel had reprimanded you, you'd felt the cool brush of shadows against your wrists once more. they'd bound your arms together, holding them above your head.

you whined, writhing as the shadow between your legs continued to drive you to the edge. and azriel stood, watching, eyes heavy and cock throbbing.

"az, i can't-", you moaned out, breathing ragged. "i'm going to cu-", you started, but were cut off.

"no, you aren't," he spoke, stepping closer to you, "because you aren't allowed to," he strained, voice cold and rough.

a moan tumbled from deep in your throat, and you finally looked up to find his eyes once more. he stood right next to the edge of the bed, watching the shadow between your legs with such intensity, it forced a shiver to wrack through you.

"look at you," he mused, voice taking on a softer tone, "i haven't even touched you yet, fucked you yet," he grunted, squeezing his cock once more. "you've already made such a mess," he drawled, awestruck.

"i can't wait to feel you," he met your eyes as he spoke, and you felt yourself careening straight for the edge you were warned to stay away from.

"az," you moaned, trying to clench your thighs shut, but his strong hand reached down to force them apart. "you have to make it stop, i can't-," you whined helplessly.

he abruptly called his shadow back to his side once more, and you cried out in frustration at the absence of touch where you needed it the most.

"come here, sweet," he commanded, voice gentle. you sat up slowly, the shadow he'd adorned your neck with tightening ever-so-slightly as you did. it made you dizzy, but you did as you were told.

"put the tip in your mouth," he demanded, pushing his throbbing cock in your direction.

you did as instructed, wrapping your lips around the leaking tip eagerly. you gazed up at him from under your eyelashes, and a groan from deep within his chest tumbled from his lips.

"lick," he strained out, grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging your mouth back.

you slowly stuck your tongue out, making a show of swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. your eyes rolled back erotically at the taste of him, and you flicked the tip of your tongue against him several times - trying your best to push the male to the point of losing his restraint.

it worked. azriel snapped.

a primal growl left his throat and before you knew it, you were pushed backwards on the mattress once more. he grabbed your thighs greedily, shoving them apart before aligning himself with your soaked entrance.

"i can't control myself with you, y/n," he whispered into your neck, sucking harshly against the skin, "i won't be able to be gentle," he warned, biting at your shoulder so hard, you could have sworn he broke skin.

"then don't," you repeated your earlier words back to him.

"when i've fantasized about this," you added, wrapping your legs around his strong waist, "i cum the hardest when i think about you fucking me," you whispered against his ear, lighting the fuse inside him that would cause him to explode - just like you wanted.

"fuck," he groaned, his movements becoming urgent as he reached down to line himself up with you once more. "fuck fuck fuck," he rushed out, and then he thrusted into you with one hard movement.

you both moaned in tandem, the feeling of him stretching you out one of pure bliss. azriel had to rest his forehead against your shoulder to prevent himself from absolutely losing himself, losing control. his whole body tensed in restraint, his hips bucking involuntarily as he tried to give you a moment to get used to his size.

and fuck, was he huge. pain sluiced through you, and he stilled his movements once he was wholly inside of you. your pussy clenched around him once, and he huffed out a breath against your skin.

"don't do that," he grunted, grabbing a fistful of sheets from where he was braced above you.

you smirked, the pain finally giving way to soul-shattering pleasure. you clenched around him again, on purpose this time. "or what?", you whispered into his ear, challenging him.

he growled, pulling out of you completely before he thrusted all the way back in roughly.

"brat," he sneered, and then he was completely unwound, fucking into you with no control over his movements.

moans left your mouth with no abandon, no concern for who may hear you in the surrounding rooms. you panted, whined, pleaded.

you said his name in breathy moans that often made azriel have to stop for several seconds, or else he'd end up finishing way too soon.

"fuck, you are divine, sweet," he grunted against your lips, his forehead resting on yours.

you moaned into his mouth, biting at his bottom lip.

at one point, he'd flipped you onto all fours, drilling into you from behind. that shadow around your neck tightened, another shadow holding your arms and wrists behind your back. you felt the edges of your vision blur as your pleasure continued to reach new heights.

azriel was so close, so, so close. this position had made you impossibly tighter. he used every ounce of control he could muster to last as long as possible, the feeling of you wrapped around him was euphoric. every single fantasy he'd had about you had never come close to this.

as he felt himself drawing nearer to that edge of no return, he pulled out of you momentarily. you groaned at the feeling of being empty, but he'd only smirked and lightly slapped your ass in response.

he sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling you onto his lap gently. you straddled him, and as you lowered yourself down, you took every inch of him with newfound ease - as if you were made to take his cock.

he grunted, watching himself disappear inside of you with blown out pupils. his skin was slick, his curls stuck to his forehead. he looked delicious, you couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

"you feel so fucking good, az," you said on a breath. a moan left your lips as you lifted yourself up slightly, just to slam back down against his lap.

he grabbed your hips, taking your nipple into his mouth greedily. "keep saying shit like that, y/n, and i'm going to fall in love with you," he mused, grinding his hips against yours.

you moaned out his name, grinding your own hips down to meet his.

"oh yeah?," you urged, grabbing his shoulders as you began to ride him - swirling your hips as you bounced. "in that case, you look so, so pretty, az," you hummed, sucking onto his bottom lip, "so pretty when you fuck me," you nuzzled your nose against his, jutting your hips against his for emphasis. you reached up, daring to touch the top left corner of his flared wing, right in that spot that you knew would drive him wild.

azriel dug his hands into your hips, bucking wildly as he took over, fucking up into you from where he sat. he was always a sucker for praise, you knew that. and now, you were weaponizing it.

"fucking gods," he growled, his shadows encompassing you as they swirled through your hair, across your nipples, down your back and arms. the added sensation had you throwing your head back, meeting each rough thrust of his with your own.

your moans became almost constant, and he felt you growing even tighter around him as he became relentless with his movements. it was rough, his movements stuttering.

"let go for me, my love," he murmured, pressing kisses into every bit of skin he could reach. "i need to feel you," he urged, breathing ragged.

you nodded in response, pressing your forehead against his.

"my pretty y/n," he praised, licking your bottom lip messily.

and shortly after, you were coming undone around him, letting out a cry of his name that absolutely was heard by every member of the house.

azriel spilled into you, finally letting himself come completely unwound whenever he felt you pulsing around him. it seemed to never end, and he let out breathy whines and grunts as he rode his high, his cum leaking from between your legs in the most vulgar way.

you fell against him, the both of you breathing heavy. he wrapped his arms around you, then his wings, feeling so content and satisfied and whole.

and he was sure that he'd actually fallen in love with you.

"shit," you finally breathed out, completely exhausted.

"i knew you were the best in bed," you huffed out a laugh, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

azriel laughed, running a hand down the back of your hair affectionately.

"only for you," he whispered, kissing the side of your neck.

a/n: ok so. i need a cold shower after this. pls let me know what you think, i'm half asleep and have never published smut. for all of you that wanted a part 2, i hope you liked it! i'm nervous. ok love u <3

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 4 (use whole signs)

🌟 Moon in 4th is one of my favourite placements. These people usually have a good career, like an emotionally fulfilling one. They won't stay in a job that doesn't make them happy. Their mom can help them choose a career or give them interview tips.

🏮Mars in 2nd house people are so lucky when it comes to earning money, it's like, they get a new money making opportunity just when they're on their last penny. They're also not afraid to get their hands dirty and are willing to do almost anything, very hard working people. They're also the ones managing all the money in their family.

🌟 Mercury in 8th house people are the ones with a "sexy brain" like the WAY their mind works, are so good at analysing arguments and coming up with the best possible solution. Good debating skills. These people have great manifestation skills, I have a list of 100 + incidents, it's honestly a little scary. Can also develop clairvoyant abilities if they work on it.

🏮I haven't met a single non religious, Sun in 9th house person in my life. Even if they're not that religious in their younger years, they will be when they get older. Always willing to help others even when they themselves are suffering, my mom has this, and.....it pisses me off so bad. The "put your own oxygen mask on first" advice is for you all. Stop helping people, be selfish, it's not your duty to make everyone else's life better. My mom doesn't listen, but maybe you all will.

🌟 Venus in 11th house is a placement that's really good from a business perspective. They're great at negotiations so that's helpful. They won't like doing a regular 9 to 5 job as it will suppress their freedom and creativity. They will open their own business pretty early on in life, in like late 20's or early 30's. Great architects and interior designers. I remember when I made the architecture and astrology post, a lot of people had this.

🏮I haven't seen anyone talk about this, but moon in 6th house people can be really good leaders, they're very helpful and kind and their ability to understand emotions makes them extremely likable. They have more of a people oriented leadership style. They focus on building strong relationship with their group members or employees. Also, why are you all always sick 😭? Prone to anxiety and stress and this leads to body pain and digestive issues. Please put your health first.

🌟 It's really funny how ALL my friends, every single one, has Venus in 1st. I would say that rather than us being pretty, we're just very likable. Even if they're introvert or shy, they have a communication style that makes other people want to talk to them. It's just an aura thing, tbh. Also, they're huge people pleasers and will do their best not to offend anyone, like even if a person is being annoying, they won't say anything. (Mars in 1st can change this)

🏮 Jupiter in 2nd house is not good for marriage but great for career and friendships. I know people with this who are still in contact with their pre school friends. Their friends will help them in their career as well. They're intelligent but they think they're not, and this makes them lose a lot of opportunities. Need to have a little bit of courage to succeed in life.

🌟 Sun in 12th house people probably had a painful childhood (more so than others), if mercury is with sun in 12th, then they write poems to express this pain. They're good writers, and can be lyricists, authors, script/play writers, etc. these people are physically weak. Might also not know who they are, as in, not aware of their own personality traits.

🏮Saturn in 12th house people lack confidence when they're young, but become more confident as they get older and learn to get out of their comfort zone. These people have better luck outside of their homeland. This is a good placement if you want to become a psychologist as it gives you the ability to properly analyse those with mental disorders. They also look aloof most of the time. This is another placement that is good in terms of writing skills, many famous authors have this (those who write sad stuff)

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[joemama-2]

somethin' sweet

synopsis: you own a five-star renowned restaurant that is extremely hard to get into. business is great, the customers love it. everything is as perfect as can be. that is until a harsh food critic leaves you a bad review. you're stuck with a dilemma, let this one review overcome you. or.....fuck him so he can change it. tags: smut, sort of public sex, vaginal penetration, oral, gojo is kind of mean and annoying, praise, degradation, doggy, missionary, cunnilingus, dividers by @cafekitsune word count: 6370

The one time you’re not here, the one time you actually listen to everyone’s complaints about taking time to yourself because you overwork way too much. The one time you use your PTO to vacation to Bali for a week,

A distinguished critic visits your restaurant. 

You stare down at the screen in your hands, having not at all prepared for this news to be brought on you as soon as you enter. Its words stare back at you, taunting you almost. You’re half tempted to throw it across the kitchen, but that would be another expense added to your list of supplies you needed to buy for the upcoming month.

“What day did he come?” you ask as your pointer finger scrolls the screen, reading more of the nasty review that was left.

“A Saturday. None of us even knew he was coming.” Mayra, your head sous chef, replies. The rest of the staff stands around. Some in nervousness, anticipation, and even anger at the predicament. “We sat him on the top. Even made sure he had the whole floor to himself.”

The top floor, strictly reserved for distinguished guests who waited on your month long reservation list, or for those who would simply buy it out for the night. Your top floor is constantly raved about in the media, sometimes for its lavishness and other times in jealousy. Long story short, the top floor is for the best of the best.

And they gave him that.

But it seems he didn’t care for that at all.

“If you’re in the mood for a culinary adventure that feels more like a misadventure, look no further than Lovely Haven, the so-called “fusion” restaurant that blends American comfort food with Italian classics. Unfortunately, the only thing they seem to have fused successfully is disappointment and confusion. The result is a dismal failure that feels like a cruel joke on the palate, this is what happens when culinary confusion collides with utter mediocrity.

Let’s start with the decor—an odd mix of rustic Italian charm and the kind of neon signs you'd find in a questionable diner. It’s as if someone couldn’t decide whether to create a romantic trattoria or a roadside burger joint. The atmosphere is confusing, much like the menu.”

You scoff as you read this part to yourself. The decor? The decor was one of the things almost every customer raved about. Its bright lights mixed with sleek and stainless furniture was the epitome of success. Going as far as bugging your interior designer for days, even weeks on end, to get it down to the T. 

Secondly, mediocre? How dare he? You’ve been in the culinary arts for over two decades now, and so has your staff. You were very nitpicky and quite a perfectionist when assembling your employees for your place of solace. Your 5-star Michelin restaurant, yes, 5-star. It only took two years to achieve that goal, which placed you as the quickest growing restaurant in your area. And he’s treating it like you’re nothing but a simple Applebee’s or Chili’s. 

The balls on this man.

“Now, onto the menu—a dizzying array of choices that reads like a desperate attempt at creativity gone horribly awry. The lasagna burger is a prime example of this misguided ambition. It arrives as a soggy monstrosity, with layers of pasta and a sad, overcooked beef patty that would make even the most forgiving diner weep. It’s a culinary abomination, devoid of flavor and entirely forgettable.

Then there are the “famous” Alfredo fries, which manage to be both an insult to fries and Alfredo sauce. The dish is an affront to all things Italian and American, featuring limp, greasy fries drowning in a thick, tasteless goo that resembles some sort of industrial paste. It’s a disgrace, and I genuinely questioned whether anyone in the kitchen had ever tasted actual food before.”

By this point, your grip has tightened on the Ipad, jaw clenching and brows furrowing. This man, he really, really was an asshole. Disrespecting your hard-working kitchen staff was a low blow that you took personally. “How long did it take to get his food out to him?”

“Twenty minutes, Y/N.” Luke, one of the managers, replies. “I timed it and made sure it was prepared before the other guests who were dining.”

So not only was he being treated like a princess, but the other customers, who probably got there before him, received their food after he was served. All for the sake of him not reviewing your restaurant’s “unkempt timeliness”.

You continue to read the last few paragraphs while your stomach twists and turns.

“Service, predictably, matched the culinary catastrophe. Our server was inattentive and seemed more interested in their phone than in providing any semblance of hospitality. Drinks took an eternity to arrive—warm, naturally, because why would you expect cold beverages at a restaurant?

Dessert? Oh, you mean the “Tiramisu Sundae”? It’s a ghastly creation that defies logic, featuring layers of sad, mushy sponge cake drowned in what could only be described as a failed attempt at chocolate syrup. The entire dish is an insult to the beloved Italian classic, tasting more like a punishment than a treat.

In conclusion, Lovely Haven is not just a failure; it’s a disgrace to the culinary arts. If you value your taste buds and your sanity, steer clear of this pitiful excuse for a restaurant. Save your money and your appetite for a place that actually understands food. You deserve better.”

The silence that follows is harsh, awaiting a potential outburst from you. You lift your head and swivel around to glare at the group around you. “Who served him?”

Hesitance replies back, some of your staff looking down as though the ground seems more interesting than your death glare. It isn’t until you ask the question again, in a firmer tone, does Mayra respond. “Susan.”

Jesus christ. 

As if things couldn’t be worse, who’s bright idea was it to decide that the slacking employee serves your distinguished guest. The one person who has been trying your presence since she was hired. “Where is—”

You’re disrupted by the kitchen door opening, the problem herself walking through with earbuds in and of course, scrolling on her phone. As she looks up and sees the numerous amount of eyes on her, her steps falter. Confusion sparks through her expression, but as soon as you step forward, it begins to click.

“You’re thirty minutes late, I put you on opening because you said you couldn’t close anymore.” You don’t even have it in you to lighten your tone, eyes narrowed and voice clipped in annoyance, frustration. “Your performance has been lacking for months now, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Ever the brat she is, her arms cross. “I’m a busy college student, I have other priorities and things on my mind unlike the rest of you.”

“And I understand that,” you snap back.”But there is a difference between having other priorities and simply not caring. You don’t listen, you show up late, and you’re using your phone while you’re on the floor. Do you understand how extremely disrespectful that is?”

A moment of silence passes as she seems to formulate what to say in her mind. “I jus—”

“You’re fired.” you cut her off. “Your last check will be deposited within 24 hours, do not come back and if you do, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

Luke and Mayra, along with your other manager, Ren, sit next to you in your office. Computer screen displayed in front of you four while your fingers type away. Mayra glances at your focused expression before back at the screen. “Do you really think he’ll reply back? Critics don’t usually come to review a place for a second time, especially one they strongly advised against.”

“I don’t care,” you murmur, eyes not straying from the email you’re drafting out. “Out of the seven years we’ve been operating, we haven’t had a single bad review. And now, this entitled ass thinks just because he gets paid to eat and critic, he can ruin our reputation.”

Ren sighs, hand lifted to his forehead. “Y/N, it’s okay. One bad review doesn’t and won’t define us.”

“Besides, he’s known for being harsh, he does this to everyone,” Luke adds on.

“Even more of a reason for me to do this. I will not allow him to openly disrespect our hard work and dedication like this.”

The three around you give one another a knowing look, right before you click send on the email.

“Hello, Mr. Gojo. 

My name is Y/N L/N, I’m the owner of Lovely Haven, a place you recently reviewed. After reading your honest review, I am extremely upset and apologetic for the food and service you received that day. That is not at all what we strive for, and again, I sincerely apologize. 

If you would accept, I would like to set up a second visit for you. We are closed on this coming Friday, due to the holiday, but I’d love to personally serve you myself and answer any and all questions you may have regarding Lovely Haven and its history.

Please respond back as soon as you have a moment. Thank you again.

Kindly,

Y/N L/N”

“Hello, Ms. LN,

I appreciate you reaching out to me. I’ll come around 8am on Friday. Thank you.

Sincerely, 

Gojo Satoru”

You;ve spent the better half of the past two hours setting up and making sure everything is perfect. You’ll be damned if you have a rerun of last time, especially on your watch. Your staff insisted you don’t handle this alone, urging for at least two cooks to be present. But you refused.

Lovely Haven is your business and creation, your heart. So in a way, you feel as if it’s your job as the owner to make this all right. If anyone can serve this man, it’s you. 

You’re dressed formally, hair up (in case he tries to complain about hair in his food). Wearing a simple black dress, modest enough as it reaches your knees. It’s tight, but not too tight. You’re wearing small black heels to match, gold jewelry complimenting the attire. 

The clock inches towards 8 and you, for some reason, find yourself feeling oddly nervous. Maybe it’s the anticipation or anxiousness for a second try. Your stomach curls, almost like you’re a lovestruck high schooler seeing her crush in the hallways. Sweaty handles fiddle together in front of you while your eyes dart from the watch on your wrist and the glass front doors.

Either this man had a penchant for being late, or you somehow mixed your days up and he’s not coming today. Dramatically, you check your phone and let out a sigh of relief when you see it’s Friday. Okay, good. Then he’s really just late.

Well, not exactly late. But he said he’d get here at 8, it’s 7:57. Usually people don’t get to places at the time they said, because if he came at 8 exactly, that is late. You should always show up at least five minutes before your estimated arrival time, at least that’s how you thought.

No, that’s how most normal, responsible adults thought.

Maybe he’s not normal. Can’t be if he gave you a one star and brutal review. He’s probably just trying to be different from the rest. And you hate people like that. Shitting on something that is actually good, whether it be a show or movie, simply because everyone else says it's good. And the fact that he’s known for his low reviews is even more infuriating. 

There’s no way every place he visits is below three stars. It has to be his taste buds, they’re probably—

“Good morning.”

You snap your head up, completely lost in thought that you didn’t even notice, let alone hear the dreadful man walk in. Already not off to a good start. A smile finds its way on your face, hand held out, to which he shakes. “Good morning, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gojo. I’m Y/N.”

He nods, a small smile reciprocated back. “I figured.”

Is it just you or did he tone sound almost condescending? And that smile on his face seems like he’s the type to think he knows it all. 

Nope, don’t do that. 

Pulling your hand away after what seems like a longer than usual handshake, you step aside and motion towards the array of tables. “Well, why don’t I show you to your table?”

“Yeah, why don’t you?” he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks, raising a thin, white eyebrow as if to silently urge you to start walking. You hold back an eye twitch, turning around and walking to the area you set up specifically for him.

He’s following behind you as you walk, the heels of your shoes softy clanking against the ceramic tile. As you glance back, you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes quickly raise up to meet yours. Like he was—

“I apologize for not being around last time, I was on vacation.” you say, cutting off your own train of thought that you won’t entertain.

“Ah, no worries. Where did you go?” His pace matches your own now, walking side by side as his arm barely brushes against your bare skin. “Somewhere nice?”

You chuckle lightly and nod. “Yes, I went to Bali. It was quite lovely. The people were very welcoming and the food was absolutely delicious.”

A hum. “Better than this place, I hope.”

That comment. God, that comment. And the fact that he’s hiding it behind his sickeningly sweet smile, a tilt to his voice like he’s joking but not actually joking. You’ll pray for the former. “I can assure you, Mr. Gojo, both residences of food are exquisite.”

You two get to the square table prepared for him. A crisp, white linen tablecloth across the surface, that creates a clean and elegant contrast that elevated the rustic charm. At the center, a simple yet striking centerpiece emerged—a small terracotta pot filled with fresh basil and rosemary, their vibrant green leaves offering a delightful aroma that whispered of Italian kitchens.

Polished silverware gleamed in the soft light, laid out neatly on either side, ready for the culinary delights to come. An elegant, crystal wine glass on the side. Cloth napkins, folded into intricate designs, rested atop his plate. The dual flickering candles in small glass holders cast a warm glow over the table, creating an intimate atmosphere that you hoped would help catch his eye.

Finally, a menu card that displayed the special dishes you had prepared just for him. You took the time out of your day to make this specifically for today, crafting your menu for a man who probably didn’t think twice about it was not on your 2024 bingo card.

He takes his seat as you stand in front of him, placing the menu closer to his reach. “Here we have a variety of our best sellers and limited editions. Just for you, Mr. Gojo.” Your smile gets a little harder to keep up as he lazily sits back in his seat, scanning the menu with his sharp, blue eyes.

“Interesting,” he observes, even flipping it over. He glances back up at you. “The stuffed arancini, is that good?”

“Delicious, sir.”

“Okay,” he looks back down at the menu. “Then I’ll get the Buffalo Cauliflower Bites for an appetizer, plus the Bruschetta Trio. Oh, and to drink, I want one of your craft mocktails.”

So he asks for your opinion, and doesn’t even order it. “Of course, Mr. Gojo.” You don’t write it down, having already committed his order to memory, due to years in the food industry. “I’ll get started on that right now.”

With one more smile, you turn around and head to the kitchen. As soon as the doors close, your face hardens with irritation. Walking around to grab the appropriate ingredients, grumbling to yourself curses. Sure you’ll make his food and smile at him, doesn't mean you won’t be a brat about it behind closed doors. 

The minutes Gojo spends alone, he’s meticulously counting them down. Eyebrow raised as he eyes the kitchen doors and the arms of the small clock. Leg crossed over the other with his arm resting on top of the back of his chair that he;s currently tipping back and forth with the stability of his foot. 

After about three minutes, you greet him with his mocktail, setting it down. “Here you go, sir.”

“Finally, I almost died of thirst, you know?” He huffs a small chuckle and he sips from the straw. You want to grimace as he swishes the liquid around his mouth, head tilting in dramatics. He’s acting like it’s mouthwash or something. As he swallows, you do your best not to focus on the bobbing of his Adam’s apple.

What do you think you’re doing? Checking him out right now, seriously?

“How is it?” Your voice raises a tad, either in nervousness or a way to calm your suddenly rapid beating heart. 

“Not too bad, a little sour for me.” He comments, tongue coming out to lick across his bottom lip. “What’s in it?”

“Basil lemonade and berry spritz, Mr. Gojo.” 

“Satoru,” he corrects you, eyes rolling while his hand waves around dismissively. “Stop calling me ‘sir’ and all that, makes me feel old. Besides, this is supposed to feel comfortable isn’t it? Don’t force yourself with the formalities.” 

Well, that’s a small breath of relief. You simply nod. “Of course, Satoru. Then you may call me Y/N.”

“Was already gonna do that.”

“Right.” 

A small pause follows, hands awkwardly fiddling behind his back. You didn’t even realize it before, but the way he stares feels really invading. Especially with how bright his eyes are, you’re starting to feel naked under his gaze. Like he can sense it, he grins boyishly. “The appetizers?”

You nod again, quicker this time, clearing your throat. “Yes, coming right up.”

And once more, you leave him be while you finish up his food. The bruschetta trio, a classic tomato and basil, roasted red pepper and feta, with wild mushroom and truffle oil topping, served on toasted artisan bread. This dish is loved among your regulars.

And the buffalo cauliflower bites which are spicy, crispy cauliflower tossed in buffalo sauce, served with a side of creamy blue cheese dressing. Perfect for customers with a higher spice tolerance, craving that explosive taste in their mouths.

Holding the two white, glass plates with ease, the doors push open by your back as you walk back over to him. “Bruschetta and the cauliflower, Satoru.”

He doesn’t waste time in taking small, careful bites of each platter. Humming in thought as he does this. It takes a couple minutes before he speaks, using the cloth to wipe at the corner of his mouth. “The mushroom is quite bland, the bread is too hard. And the blue cheese doesn’t go well with the bites.”

Each word is like a punch to your gut. He’s really just finding every little thing to pick at, isn’t he? Lips pursing, your eyebrows raise in faux consideration. “I see, I can remove the dressing for you, and I’ll serve you a softer piece of bread.”

Your hands reach out to take them away, just as his moves into frame. Your fingertips brush against the back of his hand. “No need to take them away, just stating facts.” His smile never seems to leave and each growing second, you feel more and more tempted to wipe it off his face. He gently pushes your hands away, interlacing his fingers together. “Do you expect replacements to suddenly wipe my memory clean? Why should I have to rely on you giving me a replica of what I ordered, when the original piece should’ve met my expectations?”

A little caught off guard by his sudden questioning, you gulp and clear your throat. “Well, if something is not up to par for my guests, it is my duty to replace that with something that is.”

“Sure, but I’m asking why it wasn’t perfect the first time.” He leisurely sips from his mocktail. 

A small, but forced laugh leaves your lips. “We do try our best every single time, Satoru. Being perfect has proved hard when everyone has different tastes.”

“So you just give out generic food and hope for the best?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

Your brows begin to furrow at his nonchalance, lip barely quirking down into a frown. “I’m sorry, but our food is not generic. We serve with love and dedication.”

“Love,” he repeats in a mocking tone, picking at the bites with his fork. “This was made with love?”

He’s really getting on your nerves now. “Yes, it was. If you do not like it then I can remake—”

“I’ll take the balsamic glazed chicken,” he cuts you off. “With the alfredo fries. You’re talking about remakes, right? Then make those fries good this time. Thanks.” 

You can’t help but stare down at him, the nerve he has is beyond rude. His demanding nature contrasts with your helping one. But, you stay resolute in your politeness, mumbling a small ‘of course’ before disappearing back into the kitchen. 

It’s a disaster, truly.

A hard, long, infuriatingly annoying disaster. 

Every platter crafted with delicacy and carefulness, he sets aside with calmness. Claiming how the littlest of little things was wrong or how it tasted bad. He even makes a couple snide comments about where you learned to cook from and they should be ashamed.

No matter what, however, he conceals his comments with those stupid laughs you’ve started to despise. 

Like it’s funny to him how much you’re failing to please him. 

Sweat threatens to trickle down your forehead, using a spare towel to dab at your face. Your hair has started to become a tad unkempt, having to constantly push stray pieces of hair out your face and even grabbing at your hair in frustration. This is probably your own fault for setting this all up, but never did you imagine it would turn out like this.

His table is filled with a variety of plates and dishes stacked unceremoniously on top of each other to make room for the next one.  

Throughout it all, he watches your struggle in silent amusement. Everytime you turn around to stomp back into the kitchen, he gets a clear, nice view of the way the fabric of your dress tugs around your ass, legs sleek with whatever lotion you decided to put on.

Your perfume fills his nostrils as you come back to him, to which he feels more and more motivated to bring you down and just stuff his face into the crook of your neck. Or the middle of your plump thighs that have just been calling out to him like a siren.

Satoru would like to think he’s a man of self control, but you’re really pushing him, and you’re not even trying. 

He’s being purposeful with his actions just to keep this entire visit long. Just so he can keep checking you out and biting his lip as he inhales your scent. Just so he can have the ample amount of time to force down the boner he has from under the table.

And well, because he’s really, really looking forward to dessert.

You breathe out a heavy breath, one of exhaustion as you present him with yet another platter. He laughs to himself as he takes a bite.

“Meh, too soggy.”

That’s it. “I’ve given you everything on the menu.”

“Oh, have you?” His head tilts innocently. 

Your teeth grit. “Yes, I have.”

“Well, that’s a bummer. You really shouldn’t have had such a limited variation.”

“It’s not lim–”

“Dessert, right? That usually comes after the main course.”

“......yes. What would you like?” You’re forcing your words out by now, hands twitching as they threaten to grip his pretty throat. 

Wait, pretty?

Jesus christ, can you stop thinking that right now?

“Hmmmm, let’s see here.” As his eyes scan over the desserts listed on the menu, a frown, or a pout, makes way onto his lips. You close your eyes for a second, counting from one to ten and back. “Is this it?”

“Yes.” 

“I have to say,” he lowly whistles. “none of this looks very….appealing.” As he looks back up at you, there’s a small glint in his expression. One that almost causes you to shiver, for some reason. 

Is he playing with you now?

“Nothing?” You ask, arms crossing over your chest. “All of that is what guests order the most.”

“Well, I’m not some regular schmegular guest, now am I?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s standing, one hand stuffed into his pocket while the other meekly points to you. “So, what do you say? You gonna give me something I actually want?”

A small huff escapes from your lips, now longer having the strength to hold back your irritation. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh cmon, don’t give me that.”

“Give you what?”

“That.” He juts his chin in the direction of your scowl. “Do you usually frown at your customers?”

“I frown at men who take my kindness for granted,” is your response, eyes narrowing. “Also, you have been nitpicking every single thing I’ve given you. You’ve been extremely rude about it.”

“Rude? Is honesty rude now? I thought you wanted my honesty.”

“There’s a stark difference between the two.”

“Really?” He leans closer, face teetering on the line of too close as his point finger just barely skims across your forearm. “Mind enlightening me?”

Your breath almost hitches, skin feeling all too warm. You peek down at his finger before back to his face, heart beating faster than normal. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What’s it look like?” He counters. 

“Like you’re trying to flirt with me.”

He barks out a laugh. “Trying? No honey, I am. Why, do you like it?”

“No, I don’t like being flirted with by rude and random men.” You reply, tilting your chin up. “Especially you, sir.”

His grin widens. “Cute. But you know what I don’t like?” As he steps closer, you’re forced to step back. “No dessert.”

His finger travels up your arm, your shoulder, then stops at your jawline, head tilting as his breath fans your cheek. “So, what else can I eat?”

This is stupid. So stupid. Dangerous. Idiotic. Out of character. Anything that means bad. 

Is this really all for a good review by some asshat who takes joy out of making people's lives harder? Or are you  actually enjoying it? 

You feel disgusted at the situation, angered and infuriated that you’ve fallen into his trap. You want to curse out to whatever gods that may be watching and demand why you couldn’t hold back. 

Either way, you’re not the only one who couldn’t hold back. 

Your breath hitches, a broken string of whines leaving you as the flat of his tongue runs through your slippery folds. His hands on your thighs keep you grounded in place atop the table, because your hips keep twitching up in need of more friction. 

You can’t even see his face as it’s so far buried into your wet pussy, practically stuffing his face with it. But god do you feel him. The tips of his hair tickle your inner thighs. His low moan reverberates through you, making you shiver and tingle with excitement. 

“A—ahh….!” Your hand finds a place on his hair, pulling as your head tilts back with another moan. “F—fuck…”

His lips smile against your skin, pulling away for a second to look up at your blissed out expression. His face is coated in your juices and you haven’t even came yet. “Pretty good, might be the best thing I’ve had today.”

As he goes back to ravishing you, his tongue slips into your aching hole. Which causes your back to arch up, a higher pitched whine leaving you. “Tad salty, very sweet.”

His comments feel degrading almost. But with the way your thighs threaten to close around his head, pushing his face closer to your cunt, he has a feeling you like it. 

It’s electrifying and confusing at the same time. You’ve never been one with hookup culture, you’re not a virgin either but this is on a totally different level. Here you are, letting him tongue fuck you in the middle of the empty restaurant in which you were supposed to be serving him. 

Technically you are still serving him.

He urges your hips closer to the edge of the table, spitting harshly against you as he delves back into giving you the best eat of your life. 

His tongue alternates between your hole and clit, giving both equal attention while his fingers knead the plush skin of your smooth thighs. Your toes curl in your heels and you feel so close. 

You can practically taste it on your tongue, not even mindful anymore of the noises that you’re making. Too engrossed in the utter bliss of the way his mouth sucks and licks at your folds. 

You don’t even know you’ve finished until he’s come back up, licking away your release that’s plastered to his pale skin. Left panting and staring up at the dangling lights that feel blinding. 

What brings you back down to Earth is the soft clanking of metal. Your head whips down just as he’s unbuckling his pants, eyes blown wide. “W-what are you doing?”

He simply looks at you, shrugging with nonchalance as his belt comes undone, button and zipper next. “Gonna fuck your pussy, what else?”

You scramble to sit up, but he’s faster. Holding your legs open, leaning his face closer. “What? Don’t wanna?”

“I—I shouldn’t. I mean, we shouldn’t.”

“Pfft, why not?”

“Because this wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“But it has,” he tugs his slacks down, giving you full view of the raging boner nestled under his black boxers. His hand reaches to give himself a few strokes. “Haven’t been this hard in a long time.”

You feel your release ooze down onto the tablecloth, hole feeling empty as it clenches around air. All you can do is watch him jerk himself, gulping as you lick your lips. “This is….really wrong.”

Yet it feels so right. 

His lips touch the side of your neck, kissing and sucking a small mark into your skin. You tilt your head for him, arm coming up to hold around his neck. Chest heaving up and down. “I’ll fuck you good, I promise.”

Your eyes are instantly drawn down to his leaking cock as he pulls it out. Long and thin veins decorating the length with pre-cum leaking out the head. Trimmed with a small white bush of pubic hair at his base. It looks pretty. 

He huffs out a breathy laugh, titling your face up to him, lips meeting. His lips are soft and plush, melting into it. He keeps his hand on your nape so he can deepen the kiss, tongue invading your mouth like a snake. 

Spit dribbles down the corners of your mouths. All the while he’s teasing your entrance with his cock. 

“Ngh!” You pull away, face scrunching and mouth agape. 

“Mm, like that?” His tip runs up and down your slit, smearing his pre into your folds and around them. The sight is lewd. “So wet, just from my tongue too. How many guys make you finish from just eating you out?”

Out of all the times he tries for a conversation, does right now have to be one? “N-none…”

He hums. “So I’m the only one? I like that.”

He finds your hole, just barely pushing in. Your nails claw at his shoulders, whimpering into his ear. “S-shit, just wait a second…”

“For what?” His voice is husky, brows pinched together. The warmth from your cunt practically enveloping him whole. 

You croak out something unintelligible. For a few seconds, you two stay frozen like this. But that’s cut short as he slowly begins to slide deeper. “Shit, stop squeezin’ me.” He grunts.

All you can offer is a weak “I’m not” before being cut off by a breathy moan, one he replicates with you. He moves in deeper and deeper, until he’s finally buried to the hilt in your warm pussy. It’s big, bigger than you’ve ever taken. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

His fingers dig into your hips while your nails into his shoulders. 

Practically feeling his cock twitch within you, you have to hold back squeezing around him even more. But it just feels too good not to. It makes you feel full. 

As he begins to move, he’s whispering dirty praises into your ear.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Who knew you had such good pussy.”

“Look at you, sucking me in like a good little whore, huh?”

“Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had.”

Each word he emphasizes with a quicker thrust. The silverware clanks around you, some even falling to the ground. The table creaks and the cloth crumples up. “W-wait….slow…ngh!” 

“No slow,’ he patronizingly laughs, his gaze darkened as he looks at you. “Going fast, you’re gonna take it too. ‘Cause you’re a desperate little thing, aren't you?”

You whine out, biting down hard on your lip you’re surprised you’re not drawing blood yet. He takes this as an invitation to devour your mouth once more. The kiss is harder this time, more sloppy. Seems sloppy is his thing.

Before you know it, he manhandles you to flip over, ass high in the air while his hand forces your back down into an arch. “Just like that. Stay still and I’ll let you cum again.”

With this new position, he’s able to hit spots you didn’t even know were there. All you have to hold on is the cloth of the table, balling them into your fists while he mercilessly pounds into your pussy from the back. His balls hit your clit in a repetitive motion that damn near causes you to see stars. 

Noises and mumble words fall out your mouth like water, the side of your face being pushed down into the hard surface. His hand twirls and tangles in your hair before giving it a hard tug back. 

“Mngh!”

With one hand on your hip and the other in your hair, it gives him all the reigns to perfectly fuck your squelching hole, pace unforgiving. And what’s he doing the whole time? Laughing. That asshole is laughing.

Either at your state or the fact that you fit so perfectly snug around his cock like a ring.

It’s like he’s moving on autopilot, just one thing on his mind. Fucking you like your his fleshlight he keeps in his room. “Maybe I should’ve come here sooner—fuck—could’ve had this pussy all to myself even sooner.”

He groans, head tilting back as a familiar sensation bubbles in his stomach. “Ah, god…fuck.”

“D-dont cum!” You half-heartedly shout, body trembling in preparation for your second release of the day.

“Hah?” he huffs out. “You tell a guy who’s fucking a pretty pussy he can’t come? You’re crazy.”

“Ah….hah…!” You mewl out, squeezing around him.

He curses under his breath, hips stuttering. A warm feeling erupts deep within your cunt, causing you to whine. It makes your whole body feel as if it’s on fire, thighs shaking. Your cum mixes with his own, dripping down the backs of your thighs in a disgusting manner. You’re left panting for air

He spends a good time watching it all happen, and as he pulls out, seeing your hole twitch and tremor around air almost starts to make him hard again. He leans over, hot air hitting the shell of your ear, his voice low and husky. “Up for more?”

Monday, 9am.

Incoming message from 

Mayra: 

Check your email, forwarded you something.

You groan tiredly, fingers fiddling with the bright screen of your phone. Clicking on the wrong app a couple times before opening your Gmail. You press on the email from Mayra, an attached link.

The link leads you to a familiar site, embarrassment painting your features as you read.

“After a rather lackluster first experience at 'Lovely Haven,' I was pleasantly surprised by my second visit. Walking into the restaurant felt like stepping into a cozy embrace, with the ambiance perfectly set to spark a little magic. The soft music and intimate lighting created an atmosphere that made everything feel just a little more exciting.

Let’s talk about the food. I started with the savory starter, which was a perfect balance of flavors. Each bite was a tantalizing tease that had me eagerly anticipating what was to come. Then came the main course, which was cooked to perfection and bursting with flavor. It had just the right amount of kick, leaving me wanting more and more.

 I decided to try their special dessert this time, and let me tell you, it was absolutely divine. Each bite was a burst of flavors, rich and decadent, just how I like it. The way it melted on my tongue was nothing short of a culinary revelation. I might have lingered a little too long over that dish—can you blame me? It was like savoring a sweet secret that just kept getting better.

But let’s not forget about the service. The owner was not only charming but also incredibly attentive. There was a delightful chemistry between us that made the evening even more enjoyable. She made sure I was well taken care of, adding that special touch that turned a simple meal into something unforgettable.

If you’re looking for a place that offers more than just food—something that tantalizes the senses and leaves you feeling revitalized—I highly recommend giving 'Lovely Haven' a try. Just be prepared for some delicious surprises that might have you coming back for seconds (or thirds!). I certainly will!"

a/n: first smut piece kind of. if there's typos, pls overlook them, i was very tired and in heat. sorry if it's not very slhow burn :( but i hope you all enjoyed. thank you smmm <3

[joonsytip]

Withering for You || Seungcheol - Part 1

Pairings: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, CEO! Seungcheol au, Husband! Seungcheol au, Wife! Reader au, Music Teacher! Reader au, Arranged Marriage au, College Sweetheart au, Exes to Lovers au

Synopsis: When you are arranged married to the man, whose heart you had broken years ago, even dreaming about mending things seems next to impossible when he has been holding grudge for all these only to return it to you tenfold.

Warnings (specific to this part): Seungcheol is the biggest meany, crying, profanities, everyone is hurt and sad, everything is on rocks, mentions of infidelity (doesn't happen to though)

Word Count: 6.5k

Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao (idk how I'd survive without you) <3

A/N: I'm back after a break, thanks for being patient.

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

You see his face everywhere. He's on every billboard accross the city, on every magazine's cover page or the advertisements shown on giant LEDs.

Since the CEO of Choi Enterprise, unarguably the continent's best interior designing company, stepped down, the position was acquired by his son, Choi Seungcheol.

The enigmatic, quintessential, charismatic Choi Seungcheol. Who also happens to be your ex. Who's also the man you're on your way to meet. Make it make sense, you both have given a nod to your families to meet up for the prelim talks of marriage.

Your parents had been nagging you constantly to settle down and for every match they brought in, you wouldn't even blink an eye to reject the person. When asked the reason to their surprise, you always had some valid points to add in the books of rejection.

So when one afternoon you received a call from your father, surprisingly, requesting you to get home from earlier, you had never expected to see both of your parents distressed about a match that came in. When they slid the photo to you across the table you froze.

It was a picture of Seungcheol, his face wearing an expression everyone would take for being a lookup but somehow you felt his eyes were strained mockingly at you, as if he took that shot only for you.

"W-What does this mean?", the first question, when you are finally able to tear your eyes from the photo.

"Your matchmaking profile somehow got to the Choi's and they agreed to meet for talks--"

You're cutting off your mother, "No way Seungcheol would be agreeing to do this."

"It was Seungcheol.", your father's statement stuns you, "For what I've heard is it's only Seungcheol, who had agreed on this."

It took you a whole week to decide on it. A whole lot of contemplation and hesitation before you made up your mind to go for it. Roles reversed, your parents were hell bent on not letting you meet the Choi's because frankly they were no stranger to your past with Seungcheol's.

So now here you are, along with your parents standing in front of the 'Ritz Esplaza', one of the subsidiary hotels owned by the Choi's, the most exquisite one in the country as well.

When you had made up your mind, you had also mentally prepared yourself for all the attacks you knew you are going to face because no way Seungcheol is doing this with the motive of actually settling down with you happily. But since fate has given you another chance, you'd definitely try your best to hold in that man who holds onto your heart.

"Are you sure?", asks your father, concern evident in his voice. You give him a firm nod and walk into the building. Your anxious eyes watch you pass the floors one by one inside the elevator until it's your stop. When the door opens, you take a deep breath and walk out.

When was the last time you saw Seungcheol? Was it the day of graduation? Maybe it was at a party hosted by a common friend? Or was it the day you tore him apart? You couldn't remember clearly.

Seungcheol is people magnet. He's pleasant on eyes and he is the most sought after bachelor of the country.

As soon as you enter the lounge, you are lead into the executive room. And as soon as you step in, everything fades away except for the pair eyes on which your gaze locks.

Time has definitely done good to Seungcheol. The pictures don't do justice to how beautiful he actually is. You let your eyes linger on him. You notice the puffiness of his cheeks is now gone, his nose and jawline being sharper, his build strauter, physique drool worthy but what about him hasn't changed are his eyes. He has still those beautiful deep eyes those carry the entire universe in them.

But those eyes which had love filled in them for you once, are now looking at you condescendingly.

Awkward smiles and glances are exchanged before everyone takes their seat. As easy as to decipher it is, none of the parents are okay with this predicament. They can't comprehend why their children would put themselves into such a thing, a marriage without love but despise, hatred and pettiness.

No one makes an effort to initiate the conversation and as you sit anxious under Seungcheol's unwavering gaze which starts to creep onto your skin. When enough, you stand up, a loud screech of your chair erupting the air and look into his eyes as you say, "I want to have a talk with you in private."

Seungcheol smirks, eyes making a sumptuous roll as he gets up without a word and walks towards another room, having you follow him.

You enter, closing the door behind you. Seungcheol sits on the couch, unspeaking. As silence looms over again, you understand that Seungcheol doesn't have an ounce of interest in striking any kind of conversation with you.

Before unsettling thoughts could engulf you once more--

"Why did you agree to marry me, Seungcheol?"

The said man's lips curl up in a smirk as his snark respond comes to bite you, "I didn't agree. I chose to marry you, Y/N."

You shudder under his presence yet once more tonight.

"Why?", comes out your strained voice with a heavy question that you both know loomed since the beginning.

"Why are you here?", he questions back, "You could have said no. I believe no one has forced you to be here", he snides, "No one could ever force a manipulative woman like you."

There's an answer that's at the tip of your tongue which you don't want to let out because you know it would hold no value to Seungcheol.

"Let me guess?", he rubs his chin as if thinking, "For status or for money, maybe both? Habits die hard afterall."

Your ability to speak is snatched from you and it's a given that Seungcheol certainly won't stop degrading you anytime soon. But that's what, you know, you're mentally prepared but also you're not.

The same Seungcheol who'd have once fought the whole world for you, has become the person who'd slice you down with the thinnest thread mercilessly.

You agreed to marry Seungcheol because you think life has given you another chance to set things right.

Seungcheol agreed to marry you just to make your life miserable.

"Are you on IUD?", he asks off track and you gape at him shocked.

When you don't answer he continues, "I can book you an appointment whenever you're free this week to get it done."

Your whisper of a meek 'why' is met by another snarky response, "You surely know why. The major one accounts as your devotion to me as a wife."

Honestly, when his secretary who's also a close friend to him showed Seungcheol your profile on a matchmaking app, his mind squared on making a sick joke just to test your audacity. Never did he thought that you actually be willing to even meet him. Again, you are shameless and greedy, he knew that, so was he really surprised?

Seungcheol with every nerve in his body is trying to test your temper and patience. He wants you to admit defeat, wants you to scratch that ridiculous idea of marrying him because he knows how pathetic of a living being you are. He knows you for the real you.

You with every nerve in your body are, will try to make this work. To mends things, to love once again. You too know Seungcheol for the real him, so you're adamant to make this marriage work.

"Book me an appointment on Wednesday.", you say confidently, "And we're going to have the wedding, Seungcheol."

"Oh well, I'm aware of your determination", Seungcheol says with a tinge of annoyance, "But, take it as an warning, I'm not gonna let you have it smooth. I would be your husband only on the papers and in front of the cameras.", the smirk finds it's way back on his lips, "You'd just be a trophy wife for showcase, you'd only be someone to warm my bed. You get the status, fame and money but...", he stops all at once.

You finish it for him, "Love. I'll gain your trust. Consider it as my redemption, my repentance to the wrong I did you. I'll make it right, I hope you'll find it in yourself to love me again."

Seungcheol's face contorts as if he has heard the most ridiculous joke ever. As the memories of past continuous to become vivid in the back of his mind, he decides to leave the room, leave you behind.

He promises himself to never let you breathe peacefully, he promises he'd make you beg him for divorce within months of wedding. As the corner of his eyes gets wetter, he promises, he'd pay you back all the heartbreaks you had given him.

As soon as the wedding is finalized, a dedicated PR team of the Choi's releases the statement, rather an announcement of what everyone is calling as the 'wedding of the year'.

Your father too runs a company which was build solely by him, but on scale, your and Seungcheol's families nowhere collided in the terms of riches. Maybe the social circle would allow both the families to gather under a hall sometimes but that was rare and the Choi's had been entitled to the top tier.

So people are curious. Curious about who's the  country's most eligible bachelor getting married to. Who are you? How are you getting hitched to Seungcheol when there are the richest of heiresses lining up to getting linked to the Choi's? The whole nation is curious and everyone is trying to dig up information on you two.

However, the PR team is always a step ahead, so before the announcement was made, any source of information that could have caused any sense of discomfort or a scratch on either of you and anyone linked to you both was suppressed, rather buried.

"I can't believe she agreed to do this."

"She's basically digging her own grave."

You eyes move back and forth as the two of your best friends converse about you in your presence, also ignoring your presence.

"And to think Seungcheol wouldn't even allow us in the wedding... He'd kill us as soon as his eyes would land on us..."

"Imagine not being able to attend your best friend's wedding..."

"Mingyu, Eunsoo, stop.", you say calmly, "I'm already stressed enough, so please stop."

Mingyu gets up to take a seat beside you. He doesn't speak, just strokes your hair. You lean onto his shoulder closing your eyes.

"Does Chan knows about it yet?"

You jolt up and sit straight at Eunsoo's question.

"No. He's overseas for sealing a deal.", you tell them, "Also, mom & dad already raised their hands up, so I'll have to inform him myself."

"Well goodluck honey, knowing his temper... it's just worries me.", Eunsoo adds solemnly.

You three sit on silence for some moments before Eunsoo speaks up again, "I'm still skeptical about this whole thing. I mean you both met and made things clear with Mr. Choi but I don't trust that man, knowing what he's capable of doing."

"He is no threat, Eunsoo.", you affirm, "And that is why I agreed to this marriage."

Mingyu who has been listening to the conversation quietly, speaks up taking your hands into his, "Y/N, I can understand why you are doing this. But we know that he's gonna make it so hard for you, not his fault though, he's been scarred.", his hands now lifts up to caress your cheeks, "What I'm trying to say is, if you're going into it then go for it wholly. Don't be defeated, conquer it. Don't give up easily, like last time. Don't let the love of your life go when you got another chance."

You nod wordlessly hugging Mingyu and Eunsoo takes the chance to wrap herself around you both.

Seungcheol laughs in disbelief as he looks at his reflection in the mirror. He thinks that it's a dream, him being about to marry you, the woman he loathes the most. He's sure that it's a nightmare.

He's only doing this wedding with revenge on his mind. With the only motive to make you suffer, to humiliate you.

He's uninterested about the whole wedding thing, which shows. When you had the audacity to ask him to accompany you to the clinic for getting IUD on, he had blurted out a no before hanging up the call. When you had the audacity one more time to ask him to accompany you to meet the patisserie for finalizing on the wedding cake he had declined you then as well. Everytime you asked him to meet to decide on something, he would produce some snarky remarks while rejecting your proposal.

When you see Wonwoo waiting outside your house once again, you roll your eyes.

"I can do it all by myself.", you said unimpressed, crossing over your arms, standing infront of the man, "Just go. I'm tired of explaining people that you aren't the groom."

"Cheol doesn't trust you or your choices at all, neither do I.", Wonwoo says with all menace in his tone, "Plus being his secretary, I'm bound to follow his orders."

Wonwoo as said by the man himself, is Seungcheol's secretary as well as one of his closest friend since university. He was close to you as well once but now he, like his friend, loathes you equally.

You sigh when Wonwoo opens the car door. Another long day you think because Wonwoo has a habit of nitpicking and you're sure the two of friends scheme a strategy everyday to test your patience and defy you as much before stepping out for the day.

Another long day, you think.

The only time you manage to get Seungcheol rather it's Seungcheol informing that you both have a photoshoot together for a magazine. He meets you for an hour to go through over the script that you are supposed to lie through when asked about.

How did you both meet? Same University then lost contact at some point. Is it love marriage or an arranged marriage? Arranged turned love marriage. How did you both fell in love? You both met at a Gala and sparks reignited, then a whole lot of dates. Who proposed? You did, because during one cozy movie night when Seungcheol promptly danced with you on 'Somewhere we belong', you realised where exactly you belonged.

During the shoot, the proximity is what chokes you both. The lovely dovey act, flirty looks and touchy poses had you both, mostly Seungcheol feels suffocated.

Because you want it to be real but Seungcheol wants none of it.

You already know, so during the breaks and slot gaps for costume changes, you try not to be in the periphery of his vision. Which really doesn't work because the whole team is gushing how beautiful of a pair you are and keep on trying to push you two into proximity as much as they could. The shoot goes well, so does the interview because you believe everyone bought the lies you two fed.

When the magazine is released, you two instantly become the trending topic of the nation. You both are literally anywhere and everywhere. People are stanning, people are jealous, people are feeling the love.

It's new for you because your family have always tried to avoid the spotlight and for the Choi's, spotlight is almost an eternal part.

Your phone within your hand rings and you freeze. Taking a deep breath, you recieve the call. There's an ominous silence, no one speaks.

"Hello, Chan?", you speak, deciding to terminate the wait. You hear a shaky breathe then a sigh.

"I'm sorry you had to know this way.", you whisper into the phone sadly, "I didn't know how to tell you."

A beat of silence again before Chan speaks, "There's no way stopping this, ain't it?"

You shake your head knowing he won't be able to see it but Chan gets it nonetheless.

"I'm returning.", he informs, "Get me at the airport on Thursday? That's the earliest flight I could avail."

Concern washes over you, "You don't need to Channie. I know how much work is important--"

"Not more than you.", Chan cuts you off, "Nothing is more important than you. See you soon."

"See you.", you echo before hanging up.

Your chest becomes heavy, suddenly everything feels uncertain. There's a turmoil within that makes you wanna run. Runaway from everything.

But you can't. And you won't.

You call Seungcheol assuming he won't pick up as what he usually does. So after five rings when you're about to hang up, his voice reaches you from the other side.

"What?", he says and you could figure that he's tired.

"Are you free tomorrow?", you ask him hopefully, "Just to remind you, tomorrow's afternoon slot is booked for picking our wedding attires."

"I don't see why we need to go together. You go pick your dress, I'll go pick mine when I feel like.", Seungcheol reasons.

You expected exactly that, so you sort to pleading, "Please, it's my request. I haven't requested you the other times but please please just this once. I beg you.", you end up blurting out in a breath.

"No.", he flatly denies.

"Please, just for tomorrow. Promise I won't pester you again. Please Seungcheol."

He seems to contemplate for some moments before making up his mind.

"Fine.", he says and hangs up.

A wide smile splits on your lips, as you do little fists in air in pure joy. It's so important for you because you want Seungcheol to be the one choosing your wedding gown because once he wanted to do it.

"When we get married, please let me choose the wedding gown.", Seungcheol says with a fond smile, "You'd look so gorgeous in all of them, making it difficult for me."

You wrap your hands around his arm as you ask amused, "Why do you need to do it if it's so difficult?"

He looks at you with all the love in his eyes. He tucks the stray lock of hair behind your ear as he answers, "Because it'll be a privilege to fall for you again and again."

You bite your lips to stop the tears that pool in your eyes when he kisses you the next moment.

Next morning you wake up to Mingyu and Eunsoo both blowing up your phone, just to convince you to let them join you to the boutique and you angrily huffing out a 'that's a given! ofcourse you both would come!'

But the catch is they'd both come after Seungcheol leaves because they both have a fear of their dear lives.

It's afternoon and you're calling Seungcheol because you're in the botique waiting for him and he's late. Seungcheol is punctual, it's weird not having him present here already the moment you reached. He isn't picking up the calls or responding to your texts.

It's been half an hour already, you're anxious as you try to not let the ominous thoughts consume you. Suddenly you hear some commotion outside of the fitting room and expect that it's Seungcheol who'd walk in.

You're disappointed when you see Wonwoo. Your eyes search behind him though in anticipation but no one comes in.

"Where's Seungcheol?"

Wonwoo senses the distress in your voice and it should give him the satisfaction but this time it doesn't.

"He can't make it.", Wonwoo says as he avoids eyes contact.

"Why?"

"Something important came up."

"What exactly, Wonwoo?", you ask gritting your teeth, "What can be more important than this?"

Wonwoo clears his throat, looking everywhere but you, "Jiah is returning from Australia today and she wanted Cheol to pick her up."

Your heart drops. Ofcourse out of all days Jiah would return today and at this time. That trust fund woman would do anything in her will to stop this wedding. Jiah is Seungcheol's best friend who's in love with him and everyone knew except Seungcheol and it was tad obvious. You both never got along for obvious reasons.

And though you're aware but it still hurts to see Seungcheol choosing Jiah over you.

Wonwoo never got along with Jiah as well because she's plain irritating and judgemental and all other bad adjectives one could think of.

"You can go Wonwoo. I'll do it by myself.", you fail to say it firmly, your voice cracks.

He really feels bad as he sees you trying to compose yourself. He wants to console you, wants to say he won't be a pain in ass today but you beat him.

"Please go.", you sound so defeated that Wonwoo doesn't find it in himself to defy it and walks out quietly.

You sit on the couch for some moments. Too early to be heartbroken you think, it's only the beginning and you're prepared to go hell and back to win over Seungcheol again.

Not spoiling your mood further, you quickly call Mingyu & Eunsoo who are sad to hear about Seungcheol not making it but also more than happy to come over to choose your wedding gown.

You certainly aren't the one who needs comforting, not when both of your best friends are almost bawling their eyes out in happiness each time you try a gown and show them.

The wedding date closes in and you wonder if Seungcheol even remembers it because he's absent and his absense is loud.

Your parents are actively participating in the preps but with unwillingness because they want you to be happy and they aren't sure if Seungcheol is the key to that.

So is Chan. He's stressed, worried and in rage for you, because of you.

"Why him?", Chan asks, "How can you even think of linking yourself to that family?"

You sigh, a long discussion ahead you're sure of that, "First of all, Seungcheol had nothing to do with all that. Second, I love him Chan, do I really need another reason?"

Chan scoffs, "But he hates you. And knowing how petty he always has been, I'm scared for you."

His voices quietens when he says, "You won't deserve any of it. I don't wanna see you hurt."

Your eyes get teary and you're hugging Chan. When his arms wrap around tighter you whisper, "I need to try Chan. Let me be selfish this one time. When things get rough you'll be the one to know. I know I always got you, my baby brother.", you smile pulling away.

"Whom are you calling a baby?", Chan huffs, his nostrils flaring dramatically but he returns the smile, "You always have me. I'm just a call away."

You nod, "So what are you getting me as wedding gift?"

"What made you think I'm gonna get you a gift?", Chan retorts, "No gifts since you're marrying that jerk."

You slap arm and he groans, "That's not how you  address your brother in law!"

Chan gags at the mention and next he's getting his head locked between your arms.

"I go out of the country for two months and come back to you committing blunders.", Jiah scowls at Seungcheol.

The man in question doesn't seem to pay much attention as his eyes trace over the words in the document.

"Cheol, are you even listening?", Jiah hits the table surface with both her hands, demanding attention.

Seungcheol sighs and lifts his gaze to look at her. He then leans back and looks up at the ceiling as he speaks, "This is what is supposed to happen after all, isn't it?"

"Are you crazy?", Jiah howls in disbelief, "This was never supposed to happen, she was never the one for you as you claimed, which turned true and goodness it was such a great riddance unless you decided to bring that pathetic excuse of a human back into your life, nonetheless you're marrying her! You should--"

Seungcheol's glare practically shuts her up.

"I have work to do", he states plainly, "It's late, go home."

Jiah gets up and walks upto him. She places her on the handle of the chair and leans to run her hand over his chest.

"I could be such a good wife to you.", she whispers leaning in further, "Our statuses match, we've known each other since childhood. We compliment each other so well Cheol--"

Seungcheol holds her hands to remove them off his chest and turns his face to the other side.

"You're my best friend Jiah. I do love you but it has been always platonic."

Seungcheol was unaware of Jiah's feelings till late, until one night at the product launching party she had too many drinks which made her surprisingly courageous to confess her actually feelings for him. Seungcheol was shocked but being a gentleman he was, he had fully sobered up Jiah before rejecting her. Since then she has been open about her advances, never missing any chances.

Jiah fumes, her gaze is fiery, "So could marry a woman who cheated on you but you wouldn't marry your best friend?"

Seungcheol is ticked off at the mention of past, there's an instant burning in his chest as those painful memories flash at the back of his mind.

"We're done with the same discussion.", Seungcheol gets up and grabs his coat. He walks off and turns back when reaches the door, "I'm going to marry Y/N because I have some scores to settle with her and no one can stop the wedding from happening."

"I have been working on this piece for the last three months and almost got it done", Seungkwan pauses and looks at you with somewhat dull eyes, "But it's not giving me that satisfaction."

You could feel the hesitancy from your comrade and that worries you as well. Seungkwan is your friend from academy days. You had joined a music academy because of having a knack for musical instruments. That's when the realisation had gnawed on you that you'd rather do music and that's where you met Seungkwan who comes from a well established family as well. You had decided not to pursue the family business but rather pursue music. Though your parents were disappointed but they'd never compromise with your wishes so gradually they embraced it. Thanks to Seungkwan who had played a major role in convincing your parents as he had gone through that phase before you did.

Now you both are co-founders of the 'Melodease' music academy. You have always believed Seungkwan to be an prodigy, there are very less instruments that he doesn't knows of or can't play. But he masters in playing piano and your instrument, coin it as coincidence, is cello which goes best with Piano. You both complement each other well, the trophy cabinet in your academy says it all.

The academy is curated by the both of you with passion and care. The faculties, the students as well as the other staffs, all see you both with utter respect.

"You know you could directly ask me to dive in instead of saying these same lines everyday.", you roll eyes and hear a dramatic gasp.

"Stop over reacting, diva.", you speak out as soon as you see him open his mouth.

The diva in question just pulls a neutral expression like a switch flipped and gets straight to the point, "I need you to incorporate your part and well I'd suggest you to work towards the bridge. Just an opinion though, take your time and come up with something."

You nod and ask him, "Do you have to take anymore class today?"

"Nope but I do have to be somewhere today.", Seungkwan quickly adds, "So I'll be on my way now."

Your face falls and it doesn't go unnoticed by him. He steps closer and pays your head fondly, "Sorry Y/N, I'd have skipped it if I could but it's really important."

You squint eyes, "I didn't even say anything."

Seungkwan laughs and turns to collect his belongings, "And since when did you have to speak it out loud for me to get you?"

After Seungkwan bids you goodbye for the day, you pull out your phone and call Seungcheol knowing he won't pick up, unless you call him a minimum of five times. Still that isn't going to stop you so you're calling him and much to your surprise he picks up after a ring.

"I want to meet you.", that's the first thing you say.

"Why?", he asks monotonously.

"You'll know once we meet."

"Fine, meet me at my house in an hour.", he says and hangs up.

"So what did you want to talk about?", Seungcheol asks twirling the glass of wine between his fingers.

Your hands are laid flat on the door to ceiling windows, your eyes trace the busyness of the city that settles at the pit.

A long sigh escapes your lips before you speak, "We're getting married in two weeks."

Seungcheol doesn't respond.

Eyes still trained on the view infront, you say, "Do you really want this marriage, want it as much as I do?"

"I do want it and you very well know why.", Seungcheol scoffs, "And I very well know you want to marry me for my fame and status. You can feed people with all that you love me nonsense, I'll buy none of it."

You let out a bitter chuckle, "Marriages are not meant for revenge, Seungcheol. If we're gonna do it, let's do it right or not do it at all."

"Backing out was never an option, Y/N.", Seungcheol sets down the glass and walks up to you. Standing beside you now, his gaze strains on you. His octave drops as he speaks through gritted teeth, "I'll make you go through the hell that I have been through for all these years because of you. This marriage...", he snickers, "will never mean anything to me. I'll...", he closes you off between the window and himself, "I'll make you divorce me. You'll beg me to free yourself from this so called marriage."

You shudder under his presence as tears keep pooling at your eyes.

"Hope you'll have a change of heart.", you say through tears, "I hope you'd give us a chance."

Seungcheol infuriates upon hearing you, he punches the window glass but you don't flinch.

"Too bad, what you're hoping for would never be true because I know you too well.", and suddenly he backs up.

An ominous silence follows.

Too early to get heartbroken, you repeat again in your head as you grab your clutch and walk out his study, walk out of his house.

It's the big day and you know that nothing is alright but one thing that keeps you at bay is knowing how much Seungcheol wants this marriage to happen, the reason maybe completely different to yours, you can bet on not being left alone at the altar. Seungcheol won't bail out at least.

With all sorts of anything but pleasing thoughts, you are sitting in front of the vanity. Unarguably the wedding of the year, all the influential people of the country as well as from overseas would be gracing their presence. And that's where you are loosing it.

You have never liked the spotlight, always avoiding it. Still you were known well in the society not because of your family business, not as your parents daughter, rather as a musical genius and you are proud of it.

The thought of all those curious, envious and judging eyes that would target you as soon as you walk down the aisle is enough to make you sick.

There's a knock on the door and through the mirror you could see the source that would actually make you sick, Jiah walking in.

Before she could even speak, you cut her off saying, "Lend me a hand.", as you grab your beautiful wedding gown.

Jiah, though agitated, does as asked and when you're stood on your feet, you smirk at her.

"Oh you poor little thing, couldn't stop the wedding after all.", you tut, feigning sadness.

"Do you think your marriage would be relevant?", she fumes, "Seungcheol would never love you."

"Just because you got away with what you did years ago, don't assume you'd get away this time.", you threaten her, "Years ago your plan of breaking us up worked but for what?"

"You will--"

"Even after breathing on his neck for years, you couldn't do shit honey. Seungcheol is marrying me.", the smirk on your lips returns, "Oh and I have been wanting to do this for long since no one's here, I'll spare you some of your non existent prestige and do it now."

And before Jiah could comprehend you slap her hard across her face, strong enough that she stumbles to the side.

"How dare you!", Jiah screams holding her cheek.

"What are you gonna do?", you snicker, "complain to Seungcheol? Sure, go ahead and see if this could stop the wedding from happening."

You take your phone and walk to her, holding it up for a selfie which comes out nice, meaning you look beautiful.

"Get lost now.", you say going back on your seat, "I've wasted enough time on you my special day."

"You'll regret it, Y/N! Seungcheol would never be yours.", she snaps and utters some more nonsense but when you don't lend an ear to any of it and she stomps out.

Mingyu, Seungkwan and Eunsoo walk in some moments after Jiah walks out and you could see their comical expressions through the mirror.

"I have recorded all of it.", Seungkwan says proudly.

"Send it to us", Mingyu says and who is Seungkwan to deny it.

"I recorded what you did as well", Seungkwan says to Eunsoo.

"And what did you do?", you ask turning to look at her.

"Oh nothing she just tripped and fell down because I extended my leg when she was walking past me.", Eunsoo relays casually but you could see how proud she is.

You just smile and sit quietly. Your friends catch on to the mood shift and immediately aid you the comfort. Only after ensuring you're feeling better they leave to check on some arrangements.

It's almost time you think, the uneasiness that has settled at the pit of stomach never goes away.

"Aren't you marrying the love of your life? So what's with that long face?"

Your lips curl up instantly on hearing your brother's voice.

"You got Mom and Dad worried", Chan says lightly, "They sent me saying that it's looking like you're a moment away from breaking down."

"And what if I am?", you say looking down.

"Then cancel the wedding.", he says in a beat with utmost seriousness.

"But you won't do that. I know how strong willed you are.", he continues, "You'll get through all of it.", he caresses your back, "And you know if things get hard, you have us, always."

"Always.", you acknowledge and hug him.

"Let's get going lovely bride, it's time.", Chan says helping you get up and you hook your arm within his. He walks to the gigantic door where your father is standing.

When Chan tries to hand you over to your father for the walk, you don't unhook your arm and your father gets you so he's beside you, with your another arm hooked within his.

The door opens and the three of you walk in. People who know you, know that you are beautiful are taking in how breathtaking you appear to be. People who are seeing you for the first time are starry eyed. People who were unsure, envious are starting to accept that you do complement the nation's heartthrob, Seungcheol.

Your gaze grazes as you walk by. You shake your head at your mother softly when you see the tears falling from her eyes. Smile wide when Mingyu behaves like a puppy wagging his tail as he's beaming with Eunsoo trying her best to keep him at bay. You urge to roll eyes get stronger when Seungkwan mouths you something scandalous and in the next moment goes back to wiping his imaginary tears.

You had saved him for the last gaze because you knew once he's in your sight it, a gaze off from him would be impossible for you. And finally you look at him, your groom, the man who you'd call your husband, Seungcheol.

Not letting the disappointment get to you when you don't find him looking at you already, you reach the altar smiling.

There's an impeccable tension between Seungcheol and Chan and before any one of them could snap your father hands you over to Seungcheol and ushers off quickly with your brother.

It's nothing embarrassing you think, as you gape at Seungcheol. You never thought you'd get to see him this close, get to touch him again. He's close, so close that your heart is thumping. Your fingertips graze lightly as they are wrapped around his arm. You breathe in his scent that you have known so well.

Seungcheol is smiling as if he's so happy. That's enough to fool people but not you. You notice how all those smiles are not quite reaching his eyes, how he's tapping his foot, a habit of his when he's unmindful.

There's a strange vision in his eyes when he looks at you. He even suppresses the urge to roll his eyes when you take the vows. It irritates you but you have to have patience of a saint if you wanna conquer. It's not like you were not warned.

Once all the rituals are done and you are announced as husband and wife, the crowd chants for you both to kiss. You are so sure Seungcheol would find a way out and never kiss you--

Suddenly you're grabbed by your hips and before you can react, you are being kissed, kissed hard by Seungcheol.

You as in whole short circuit but the screaming crowd alerts you back to your senses and as you start to kiss him back he pulls away with smirk.

You cock your brow as you pull him forward by his bow tie and steal a quick kiss leaving him flabbergasted.

Seungcheol smiles leaning in and through gritted teeth he says,

"Welcome to hell, my wife."

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

[chloeangelic]

the paper salesman

Brother's best friend!Jim Halpert x f!reader Rating: 18+ My masterlist I Max's masterlist

Summary: You spot your childhood crush at a birthday party and end up in his room together.

Warnings: Smut, AU where Pam does not exist, alcohol, oral (f receiving), handjob, semi protected PIV, creampie, squirting.

A/N: Well, well, well, if it isn't me and my froggy friend @macfrog back with another fic. But this time, it's not satire - this one is actually serious, and we are taking full advantage of everyone's teenage crush on season 2 Jim.

Word count: 6k

You pick at the edge of your wine glass, nodding along as the sound of your brother’s girlfriend talking about work turns into a low, buzzing sort of hum, indistinguishable from the other voices in the room. It seems that turning thirty was the catalyzing event for your older brother’s birthday parties to turn from all-nighters at clubs to barbecues at his new house. The attendance changed too — what used to be a crowd of girls in tight, short dresses has been replaced by a landscape of coworkers and childhood friends that he has reconnected with over the past year. 

There’s a couple people singing karaoke by the TV across the room, and although neither of them are singing in tune, you cheer them on as you half-heartedly listen to your future sister-in-law’s story. People are scattered around in groups of two, three, or four, chatting amongst themselves against the tapestry of multicolored string lights and framed photos. You can’t imagine your brother had much to do with the interior design choices, and assume Stacie took him to the department store and filled a shopping cart with lights and lamps and frames that would make the living space for two thirty-year-old men a little less bland and sterile. 

But still, despite the obvious decorative touch of Mark’s girlfriend around the room – you can’t help but wonder which parts were chosen by his roommate.

Jim Halpert – your brother’s best friend for as long as you can remember. Six-foot-something, polite and awkwardly charming. Lingering on your front steps to walk with Mark to school, backpack slung over one shoulder, or waiting patiently in the kitchen doorway while your brother finishes eating dinner, a basketball sat in the ‘c’ of his elbow. Making a whole lot of nothing conversation with your mom about school, about how his brothers were doing, growing bashful when she’d bring up girlfriends.

He’s five years older than you, but that ten-year-old ghost of yourself would sit twirling the fork in her fingers, mindlessly dragging mashed potato around her plate. Watching the way he’d toss the flicks of fringe from his eyes, cross one foot over the other as he answered every incessant question of your mother’s with the dutiful respect of a well-raised boy. Your crush was obvious back then, easily spotted by her whenever Jim stayed for dinner. You’d look away, bite back your smile and try to stifle your laugh at his jokes, hoping he wouldn’t notice. That little crush stayed with you, despite the boys you went on to date in high school, and the ones you slept with and tried to get serious with in college to no avail. Every time you came back from the holidays, Jim would inevitably show up for dinner one day, and you would revert back to that shy ten-year-old, sitting in the same seats as you did back then. 

You watched him become a man in front of your eyes, and by the time you started getting physical with your first boyfriend, little thoughts began to weasel themselves into your mind about Jim. It was entirely inappropriate, and that curiosity should have directed itself exclusively to the boy who had taken you out to the movies, to prom and to homecoming, but you wondered what Jim looked like shirtless, you wondered about his experience, about the size of his cock. One weekend in your freshman year of college, with nothing else to do but to visit your parents, you tagged along with Mark to his basketball game, and sat on the bleachers with your eyes glued to Jim, to the sweat that darkened his jersey and the undeniable bulge in his shorts. He came up to say hi after, his brown hair drenched with sweat as well, looking at you through stunning green eyes as he asked how school was going. You made him laugh with a story about a professor, and the sound of his chuckles echoed in your mind the rest of the night. He had moved out of his parents’ house by then, and started working as a salesman at a paper company in town. 

He still works there – as far as you know, at least, based on what he told you the last time you saw him, picking him and Mark up from their high school reunion two years back. 

Mark had drank a little too much and had needed Jim’s steady arm around his shoulder to direct him to your car. You swallowed down the butterflies which quickly took flight in your stomach as you watched the two figures stumble towards your Honda, the taller of the two lending you a small smile as he slotted your brother into the front seat. You kept your composure right up until he closed the front door, and then you sped all the way home with your heart racing and your blood pumping.

“Some people are just allergic to receiving help,” Stacie announces, yelling a little over the screeching of the karaoke mics. She’s rambling to one of Mark’s coworkers – Hal? Sal? – about one of her co-workers, some new kid fresh from college who can’t work the printer by himself and refuses to let her show him.

You’re about to get up for a refill when a weight slides onto the couch by your side, nudging you with a sweatered elbow.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he mutters, and when you turn, your breath catches at the sight of those familiar green eyes and flicks of brown hair.

“Hey,” you reply, fingers awkwardly lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear. You feel a heat flush into your cheeks and pray it doesn’t show in an embarrassing dewy glow to Jim. “Cool party. Karaoke’s a nice touch.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, giving you his signature smirk. His voice is so deep, a little husky even, as he sits close, “It’s an easy way to keep the guests entertained without me having to do much of anything, or your brother, for that matter.” 

You hum in response, reluctantly annoyed that Mark is already at the front of his mind when he sees you. “Are you still working that paper job?”, you ask, raising an eyebrow and hoping that your nerves don’t come across, that he’ll simply consider you as flirty to everyone if your attempts don’t land.  

“Yeah,” he says, nodding, picking at the label of his beer bottle for a moment. 

“Salesman of the year?” 

“Well,” he chuckles, his head tilting to the side, a little unsure, “Maybe sometimes.” Is he embarrassed? Shy? You watch his eyes as they flicker up and scan the room. “What are you up to these days?”, he asks when his eyes land back on you, flaring open for a split second before they settle on yours. 

“You know,” you shrug, eyes looping once around the room, “Working, the usual.” You feel your chest tighten with an urge to come up with something more fucking interesting than work. Your fingers hooked behind your ear again, you sputter, “Got my hair done last week.”

Jim smiles, reassuringly so. “Yeah,” he says, nodding, “I can tell. It looks good. I like the, uh –”, he points a little haphazardly, “The way you styled it. Suits you.”

“Thanks,” your cheeks swell in a genuine smile, averting his gaze as the compliment seeps into your skin. You twirl the stem of your glass in your fingers, and Jim knocks a knuckle against the rim.

“You need a top up?”, he asks, standing up.

“Yeah, actually,” you reply, taking his hand when he offers it and pulling yourself to your feet.

You follow him through to the kitchen, dodging the erratic arm movements of some guy chittering to Mark about stocks, and over to the fridge. You lean your hip against the counter, watching as Jim carefully refills your wine and slides it back across to you.

You take a tentative sip under his watchful gaze, and raise your eyebrows, nodding subtly in approval as you swallow, “This is pretty good. What’s a guy like you doing with decent wine in his fridge?” 

He lets out a nervous laugh and looks around, takes a sip of the glass he poured himself. “I actually got it for a, uh- a date, a couple weeks ago,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks, looking out through the dining room, “She said it was good so I figured I’d get some for tonight.” 

Oof. A tinge of jealousy makes your stomach curl, and you take another large sip, forcing it down as you think of what to say. You can still hear the out of tune melodies from the living room, though the silence between you and Jim drowns out the noise. “What did you do?”, you ask, hoping you can mask your jealousy with a sneaky tone. 

“Took her to dinner a few times, walked around a bit, came back here and had some wine.”

You want to gag, just a little bit. “And how come she’s not here tonight then?”

“Didn’t really, uh– didn’t really work out, so…” 

“So you’re just sitting here day in and day out with her wine in the fridge, waiting for her to come back?” 

Jim breathes a laugh, pushing the air from his cheeks, “Alright. Wow. That one stung.”

You giggle, taking a step closer, “I’m just messing with you,” you say into your glass. Each splash of alcohol over your tongue filling you with more courage.

He tilts his head, eyebrows cocked, “Tell me about your love life, then, up on your high horse.”

You stifle another girlish giggle, using it to mask your reaction to the awkward question. Your love life – if you could even call it that – has been even more miserable than Jim’s sounds. Messages left on read, painful first dates with jocks still stuck in their high school eras, with uptight career men who only cared to talk about themselves, or with guys who had weird hobbies and left you to pay the bill for a date they asked you on.

You’ve gotten good at avoiding the topic with your mom, turning it instead into conversation about Mark and Stacie, framing it into a question of, When are they thinking of getting married? Having kids of their own, right, Mom?, but standing in front of the one guy you’ve been shamelessly crushing on since you were ten years old – it becomes a little harder to divert.

“Uh,” you mumble, the rim of your glass balanced on your bottom lip, “I’m – I’m just taking some time to myself right now, you know? Focusing on me.”

He grins, almost gleeful. Electricity pulses through your veins. “Nice save,” he tells you, tipping his glass towards you, “I hear what you’re really saying.”

“Oh?” 

“Yep,” he says, matter-of-factly, “You also got dumped at Red Lobster.”

You snort, then apologize, closing your eyes and trying to stifle your grin as you try to collect yourself. “Red lobster,” you clear your throat, “That’s pretty bad. At least it wasn’t Chili’s. And I would know, cause I got dumped at Chili’s.” 

The two of you keep it together for a few moments, looking at the floor, until you meet each other’s eyes and burst into laughter, having this absolutely pathetic little thing in common. The sound of his laugh makes your chest flutter, the sight of his smile and his hand running through his hair. He wipes the tears from his eyes as he looks at you, and you bite the tip of your tongue, trying to halt the uncontrollable giggles that make your stomach hurt. 

When you’re composed, a couple more swigs of wine down your throat, you settle back against the counter and say, “So. When’s the tour leaving?”

Jim’s eyebrows lift, “The tour?”

You nod, “House tour. Mark hasn’t shown me around yet. The most I’ve seen is your downstairs bathroom.”

He scoffs. Pushes off from the counter, the wine in his glass splashing, “He’s a terrible host. C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

Your heels click along the tile floor as you squeeze between bodies, heading for the hallway where Jim pauses. “Bathroom,” he says, nodding to the door right by the stairs, “But you already knew that.” He steps back against the wall at the first step, holding a hand out to usher you up first. “Ladies first,” he says, smiling genially.

You snort, but waltz by his body, holding onto the handrail as you climb the stairs carefully, the alcohol mixed with your shoe choice making it a dangerous feat. Jim’s close behind, footsteps slowly echoing your own, and you can’t help but think of the tight, short skirt of your dress, the way it hugs your thighs, the placement of his gaze as he wanders up behind you.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you look around at the assortment of doors, waiting for Jim to tell you which room serves as the first stop. You can sense him right behind you, slightly to your side, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him looking down at you, swallowing slowly. “Mark’s room,” he says, nodding to the right and waiting until you look up at him before he takes a step over and opens the door. He lets you peek inside, look around until you nod and step back, before he urges you forward, towards another door. 

“Upstairs bathroom,” he remarks, and you give the room a similar examination, noticing the streak-free mirror. 

“Looks… clean,” you say, as if there’s anything better to say about a typical bathroom. He gives a muttered thanks in return, then points to the last door. 

“And that’s my room.” 

“May I?”, you grin, then step fully inside, looking around at his bed, his dresser, and finally, his desk. You sit down in the office chair and give it a test spin, before your attention is caught by the art on the wall. “What’s this?”, you ask, while he steps in as well, hesitating for a second as he looks at the door, opting to leave it open before he comes over and sits down on his bed. 

Jim’s head wobbles as he searches for an answer. “It’s – well, it’s – you know. It’s…a print that I…liked.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“Not a clue,” he responds, quick as a bullet. “I saw it at a yard sale – thought it went with the colors of my bedsheets. That’s how interior design works, right?”

You smile, “Sure. You’re no Stacie, but – sure.”

Jim nods. Your eye is drawn to the dip in the bed where he sits, the weight of his wide frame on the mattress. His open thighs, his elbows resting on his knees, wine swirling as he slowly rocks the glass. He slowly lifts it to his lips, taking a sip without breaking your stare.

You cross your legs by instinct. Your skirt rides a little higher. Jim glances down, and then straight back up. You can feel your blood thrumming through every limb, every part of your body sensitized and alight. It doesn’t help any when he stands from the bed and wanders over, towering over you as he looks at something on the desk.

He reaches over your shoulder, and you can smell his cologne on his sweater, sharp and fresh, a hint of something sweeter. He pulls a photo frame from the shelf behind you and turns it around.

“Graduation,” he says, and your eyes are drawn down to the cheesy grins of him and your brother, donned in black mortarboards and sweeping gowns.

You nod, pretending you’re paying attention. But he’s so close that his jeans rub against your bare legs, so close that you’re staring up just to meet his eye. Your palms begin to perspire, his voice turning into a blur as he points to a couple other frames, photos of people you didn’t recognize in places you couldn’t quite place. The rest of your wine is downed in a single sip, the glass carefully placed behind you, on the surface of his desk. 

Jim seems to have finished recounting memories to you, but he doesn’t move. Stays stood over you, his own drink forgotten on the floor by his bed. A silence falls between you – but not the thick, awkward kind of silence you’re used to around guys. It’s lighter, it’s breathable. It swirls around your limbs like the fluttering feeling in your belly, wraps tightly around them and pushes you to your feet, the back of Jim’s chair rocking against his desk.

You’re eye-to-eye, your chest pushing gently against his. He glances down to your lips, wet with wine and the dabbing of your tongue, and then back up. He leans in, curving around your shoulders to set the photo frame still in his hand back on the desk. When he straightens up again, your hands find his chest.

You stare at one another, seemingly a thousand words exchanged between your soft, drunken gaze and his – and yet, none of them pass your lips. There’s a weight on your waist – Jim’s hands either side of your body, squeezing the tight fabric of your dress. You tilt your head, moving closer, lips parting. And he leans in.

He kisses you, slow at first. Your hands lift to cup his jaw, steady yourself on the weight of him. All of your past selves begin to bubble to the surface, each one lighting your skin, pulling on every nerve. Jim feels warm, his lips wet and sweet from the alcohol. Your nails sift through his hair, tugging gently as he pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth. He groans lightly, seemingly as hungry for you as you are for him, holding himself back, handling you with a care and gentleness you hope he might set aside. You’ve wanted him for so long and you’ll let him do anything, you want all of him, you want him to ravage you and fuck you until you stumble down the staircase and until you can never look your brother in the eyes. 

There’s a smashing sound from downstairs and a squeal, followed by a chorus of disappointment from the other guests. It splits the two of you apart, bumping teeth as your lips disconnect. You’re both panting, hot breath occupying the space between you. You can feel the hardness of his bulge pushing against you, and your arousal building, spreading to the tips of your breasts as your nipples harden. He’s huge, you can already tell, and you swallow around a lump in your throat, trying not to think of how long it’s been since you felt a man inside of you. 

Jim smiles, still holding you close to his body. Your hands wrap around his wrists, and you lean into him again to whisper, “I think we should close the door.”

He nods, and steps back to let you by. You close the door slowly, letting it thud into place as quiet as you can, despite the obvious chaos happening downstairs. When you step back towards him, his eyes are on yours, hands reaching out to pull you closer, one around your waist and one around the nape of your neck, letting you melt into his hold while he locks his lips with yours. You hope he can’t feel the rapid beating of your heart or the dampness of your skin, letting your hands fall to the edge of his pants and starting to fumble with the button. 

You start to unzip his jeans while he walks you back towards his bed, licking into your mouth and nibbling on your lower lip. You slip a hand down over his clothed cock, carefully palming it and feeling the girth and contours against your skin. He lets out a slight grunt at your touch, moving his hand down to squeeze your ass cheek through your dress, his large hand grabbing your flesh and kneading it with the aggression you’ve been hoping for, just a hint of it coming through in the firmness of his grasp. 

He reaches the bed as you draw your hand out of his pants and dip your fingers behind his waistband, feeling the goosebumps spreading across his skin, grabbing hold of the stretchy fabric and lifting it up, over his erection, pulling it down alongside his pants to see his cock hanging free, flushed and wet at the tip. You bite his lip before you pull back to look, and can’t help a whimper escaping your throat as you brush your fingertips along his length. It feels endless, long veins bulging out that you trace with your nails. He's so thick, wide at the root, all the way to the tip. He can't possibly fit inside but you clench at the thought of him trying. Another pearly bead of precome spills out from his slit at your touch, and with his hands still grasping your neck and the meat of your ass, you gently rub the pad of your thumb over this head, feeling the slick slide of his spend beneath your finger, then wrap your hand around him, fingertips not even close to meeting, and stroke him slowly.

Your breaths are shallow, rapid, and when you feel your mouth start to water at the sight of his cock sliding through your hand, Jim pulls you back in to kiss you, grunting and groaning while your hand slides rhythmically up and down, making him throb with arousal. He moves his hips, fucking into your grasp with hushed moans that send your head spinning, your cunt pulsing.

Jim begins to peel the dress from your shoulders, slipping the fabric down until your breasts are exposed, the chilly edge of the air hardening your nipple. He pauses, watches the rhythmic movements of your soft, supple tits as your hand pumps up and down, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. His fingers dig deep beneath the ruffled fabric, tugging it lower and lower until he’s lifting your hips, disturbing the lace of your panties as he discards the dress to the floor.

You pause as he strips the sweater from his shoulders, tossing it to some corner of the room before he’s back on you, the slick tip of his dick leaving sticky trails on your lower stomach.

“You’re so, so good at that,” he murmurs against your lips, sentence broken in two by another hot, wet kiss. Your eyes roll at the taste of him, the strength of his tongue against yours, the hunger with which he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and sucks, letting it go only to fill your mouth with himself again. You push at the edge of his jeans and boxers, bunching them up in your hands and tugging at them until he takes over, bringing you with him while he takes them off, leaving him bare and you in only your little scrap of fabric you call your panties. 

He pulls you in as he sits down on the bed, placing you on his lap, letting you wind your hips, dragging the silky lace of your thong up along his hard length while you lick across his tongue, while you swallow his saliva and feel the ridges of his cock bumping against your clit. At the sound of your whimpers, he picks you up in his arms, lays you down on his bed, and settles between your legs, leaving wet kisses up and down your neck, trailing down to your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth and licking it slowly. Your back arches, the slick of your arousal beginning to seep out into the panties he teases with his fingers, hooking them under the thin straps and slowly pulling at them as his lips trail down between your tits, slowly over your stomach, reaching the very top of your mound before he drags the straps over your thighs to reveal you for him. 

You open your legs and Jim presses into the underside of your thighs, pushing them wider. His eyes focus on the sight of you, spread open in front of him, his tongue lifting to run along his lips. You sit up on your elbows, glossy eyes watching as he leans in, a trail of kisses dotted along the seam of your thigh, until his lips are hovering over your throbbing cunt.

“Jim,” you whisper, sifting your fingers through his hair, moving it from his face.

He looks up and you share a glance, a message sent wordlessly from your eyes to his. A smirk pulls across his lips, reading your mind instantly. He lowers his jaw and his tongue drags a long, soaking stripe up your slit.

Your grip tightens in his hair, head thrown back to the blue sheets. Your throat catches a lewd moan before it has a chance to cut through the air, exposing you both to the guests downstairs. Sorry, you whisper, but he shakes his head. “You don't have to be quiet,” he reassures, leaving his gaze on you as he leans back and gives your clit a few wet licks, kicking up your sensitivity and making you clench. He must be able to tell, because just as you tilt your head back into the pillow while he kisses and licks at the part of you most sensitive and needy for his attention, he pushes two fingers into your pussy, stretching you gently as he curls them. He presses into a spot so tender you can't catch the moans spilling out between your lips, begging for more when you're already so close, having fantasized about this for years – his tongue on your clit and his fingers inside of you, softening you for the inevitable stretch of his cock, so much thicker and longer than you could imagine, big and hard and bound to let you feel him tomorrow.

He begins to suckle, swirling his tongue until you grip his hair and moan that you're close, so close, and he releases you from his mouth, still sliding his fingers slowly in and out, moving to place kisses to the inside of your thigh. You let out a huff, and hear a faint chuckle from between your legs, licking and kissing at your skin, right beside your outer folds, close to where you need him. 

Another wave of arousal crashes through you when he makes contact with your clit again, a wet drag of his tongue making you whimper and pull at his hair harder, trying to keep him right where he is until he lets you come. Jim pulls around your clit, lips sucking and tongue flicking as his fingers pump in and out, winding your orgasm like the tide withdrawing, only to let it crash forward in a flood of pleasure.

Your back arches, breath freezes to nothing in your throat until your climax passes, washing over you in heavy, shuddering ripples. You pant, your chest heaving as you look down at the smile on his face, the evidence of your satisfaction glistening on his lips.

Jim pushes himself up from the mattress, knees planting firm between your open legs, fisting his cock over you. You blink the room back into focus slowly, feeling the bed dip by your ear. He settles on top of you, looking down to guide his cock to your needy and spent sex. His tip presses against your hole, sensitive and soaking, and he glances back up. 

“Jim?”, you whisper, chest heaving when you feel the subtle intrusion at your opening.

“Yeah?”

“I want you inside me, I want you to fuck me.” 

Mhmm, he teases the tip around your entrance, lets the thick head of him slide up to your clit before he glides back down, gently pushing in, a tiny little bit of pressure, not enough to make you wince but groan instead, hating and loving how he teases you. Another push, his tip lodged inside, stretching you open further than you thought possible, while your pussy drools down his shaft, sucking him in and covering him in your wetness. He grunts quietly, not immune to the wet, warm clutch he’s sinking into, inch by inch, while you wrap your hands around his jaw, looking into his bright green eyes, lids hooded, breaking the eye contact to glance down at where he enters you, letting out a breathy moan when you suck him all the way in and he reaches your cervix. He hisses when he retracts, gliding out so slowly, covered in your shiny slick. 

You arch your back when he reaches the end of you again, leaning down onto his elbows so his lips can press into your neck, kissing you like he has all the time in the world, little licks to your skin while he glides out and presses back into you, letting you adjust to his size, making space for himself and soothing you as you’re overwhelmed by him. Your legs come to wrap around his waist, tilting your hips slightly upward to let him reach deeper, moaning his name and incoherent curses, grabbing the back of his neck and his broad shoulders, feeling your clit rub against his pelvis, bringing you closer so slowly you barely notice it happening. 

You lower your arms, slipping your hands under his and lacing your fingers. Your knees bend, resting against his ribcage. With each brush of his hair against your clit, he moves faster, thrusting harder, pushing deeper. Tiny yelps leave your mouth the more he fucks you, the more the bed rocks, the headboard knocking against the wall. Your head turns, moaning delicately into his ear as he sucks on your skin.

“I know,” he whispers against your pulse, “You feel so good, sweetheart. So tight around me.”

“Jim,” you’re whining, gasping for air each time he pushes all the way in. You let go of your grip on him and drape your arms over his shoulders, fingers toying with his hair, slowly dampening with sweat. Each glide of his cock inside you ends with a sweet bite of pain, his tip hammering roughly into the edge of your cunt.

His teeth graze the sensitive skin below your jaw, leaving behind marks you’re silently hoping will still be visible in the morning. His hands travel downward, taking hold of your waist and lifting you up to his body like you weigh nothing at all.

“Here,” he says, slipping out of you, thick white thread dribbling between your pussy and his cock. He motions for you to sit up, beckoning you with a flick of his fingers. “Come here, put your feet on my calves.” You oblige, planting each foot behind his thighs as he kneels. “Now lay down, just relax,” he coos, wrapping both hands around your waist to pull you up into a bridge, letting you dip your shoulder blades onto the sheets. He lifts one hand away from your side and guides his cock back into you, giving a few slow strokes with his palm, pushing gently on your stomach. 

Then his hands grip your hips tightly, he pulls you back onto him and gives you a moment to stabilize before he fucks into you even deeper than before. Your tits slide up and down your chest with every single one of this deep thrusts, and you watch his eyes as they stay glued to your body, his mouth hanging open, panting, grunting, digging his fingers into your flesh, trying to hold back while you squirm and writhe, moaning and whimpering, not giving a fuck who might hear it, trying to keep his name out of your mouth in case someone needs to use the bathroom next door. 

He pounds into you, hitting the softest, most tender spot inside of your body, your head rolls back on his pillow, tiptoeing the line between pain and pleasure, feeling him in your stomach. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, fuck, fuck,” the words are forced out of you just as a warm stream of liquid squirts out of you, drenching his groin and making him groan. Your orgasm is so intense you nearly howl, feeling more and more of your arousal dripping down his shaft and spurting onto his pelvis, soaking the sheets beneath you, getting wet and sticky with your come and his sweat, watching his hair stick to his forehead while he continues to fuck you, needing every last drop of your climax. 

You’re fucking spent, but he won’t relent quite yet, flipping you over and onto all fours, yanking you back by your hips. He enters you from behind and you groan in satisfaction, needing him right there, just like that, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head. His hand twists in your hair, wrapping it around his palm and tugging at it while he grunts, rough and loud in your ear, nearly drowned out by the lewd smacking of your ass against his hips. 

Your hand dips between your legs, fingers rubbing messy circles around your swollen clit, thinking how many times you’ve dreamt of this exact scenario with your fingers buried inside, bringing yourself to the brink of orgasm by the mere thought of Jim. And now, feeling him, the tug on your hair, the ache between your legs, the hoarse cries jumping from your throat.

“Not gonna last much longer,” Jim grunts, wet slaps cutting between his words, “Fuck, sweetheart, that feel good?”

“Yes, Jim,” you whine, your hand jerking with each meeting of his hips on your ass. Come dribbles down the seam of your thigh as you feel your second high begin to wind, white heat flooding downwards. “So – fucking – good. Ah, I want you to come inside me.”

“You sure?”, he pants, holding on by a thread. 

“Yeah, I – I’m on the pill.” 

Jim pulls you upright by the hair, flush against his stomach, and places his hand over yours to rub your clit together. You lean your head back against his shoulder, body freezing as you come for him again. He groans when you pinch around him, movements becoming sloppy.

“Oh – oh, fuck, I’m – I’m coming, I’m coming,” he moans, lips pushing hard into your neck as he twitches and then stills, and you feel the warm spurts of his come deep inside. The two of you groan, strangled and drawn out, collapsing on the bed with his arms around you and his cock softening inside. You listen to the sounds of the party downstairs, the two of you trying to catch your breaths, and he kisses along the back of your shoulder, brushing his thumb back and forth where it rests over your waist. 

“What are we gonna tell Mark?”, he asks.

You pause for a beat, then turn your head to him, “We’re telling Mark?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve wanted it, I’ve wanted it. I don’t want this to be a one time thing, I want it to be more than that, so at some point–”.

“More than what?”, you respond, your heartbeat returning to its heightened state earlier in the night. 

“More than just sex.” 

“Oh.” 

“I’m really into you,” he whispers, “I didn’t know if you felt the same way about me but it seems like you do, so–”. 

You shift around to face him, push his sweat damp locks away from his face and look into his eyes. Shy heat floods your face as you smile at him and nod carefully, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“You wanna go back downstairs?” he asks, fingertips ghosting down your spine before he reaches your thigh and hooks your knee over his leg, “We have Islands in the Stream on the karaoke machine, I know you like that song.” 

“Sure… In a bit.”

[fratttymatty]

Southern Shift

(All characters are 18+)

Maddox had never been much of a believer in magic. Sure, he’d seen the viral videos, heard the wild stories, but he figured they were all some sort of elaborate hoaxes or clever editing tricks. His life had always been a straightforward one: an 18-year-old guy from a fairly progressive city on the coast. He was used to being who he was—a proud gay man, confident and comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t fit in with every crowd, but that was fine by him. He had his friends, his passions, and a future in design and art lined up after graduation.

But when a strange e-mail showed up one Wednesday evening, everything Maddox knew about his life was thrown into chaos.

It came from a source called TrueVision Enterprises, a company he’d never heard of, with a subject line that read: "Your Destiny Awaits — Experience a New Life." Curiosity got the best of him. What could possibly go wrong?

It was a poorly-written message, vague but cryptic. “Ever wonder what it’s like to be someone else? To experience a life you’ve only imagined? Click here to find out.”

A grin spread across his face. Who wouldn’t be intrigued? Maybe it was a prank. Maybe it was a scam. But it was better than staring at the same four walls all night. So, against better judgment, he clicked the link.

The screen went black for a moment, then flashed with a blinding light.

When Maddox opened his eyes, everything had changed.

It wasn’t just the environment—though the suburban neighborhood around him looked radically different from his usual cityscape. No, it was something far deeper, more visceral. He felt it in his bones, in his muscles, in the very way he was standing.

Looking down, he saw the first signs. His body had undergone a remarkable transformation. Gone was his lean but soft physique, the figure of a 5'11" city guy with a slight build. In its place was something else entirely: a lean, toned build with defined muscles in his arms, chest, and legs. His body felt stronger, like he could throw a punch without thinking about it, or lift heavy things without breaking a sweat. But what really caught his attention was his height.

He blinked, staring down at himself. He was taller. Not just a little taller, but by a significant amount. Maddox used to be 5'11", but now, standing at 6'3", he had a commanding presence. His legs stretched out longer than he remembered, and the new height gave him an imposing posture. He’d never been the tallest in his group, and now he towered over everyone, even the people around him who seemed much bigger and broader than he remembered.

His new height felt natural, like it had always been this way. But it also made him feel powerful, larger-than-life in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

He glanced at the house around him. It was large, a two-story place with wide windows, a white picket fence, and an immaculately-kept lawn. The interior was similarly pristine, and the smell of fresh wood and leather filled the air. This wasn't his apartment. This wasn’t anywhere he recognized. But something about the space felt... familiar, as though it was his home now.

He staggered, momentarily disoriented, and made his way to a nearby mirror.

What he saw almost made him fall over.

A stranger stared back at him. His face was familiar, but only in the way you recognize a reflection in a window before you really focus on it. His hair—blonde, curly, and wild—was cut into a mullet that reached just past the top of his neck, the ends flaring out like a halo of unruly curls. He didn’t remember ever styling his hair that way, yet the new version of himself seemed to suit it effortlessly. The loose curls framed his jawline, drawing attention to the newly defined muscles there.

His eyes, once a sharp hazel, had turned a lighter shade of blue. His expression was different too—stoic, even smug, like someone who knew exactly who he was and had no time for nonsense.

Then he looked down at himself, taking in his outfit. A plaid, button-up shirt—tight across his chest but still comfortable—clung to his muscular frame. He wore a worn leather belt with a large, shining buckle, a pair of jeans that fit just right and boots that seemed made for walking through dirt. And of course, a tan, weathered cowboy hat sat perched on top of his head.

Everything about his appearance screamed “redneck,” yet it was as if he'd always been this way. As if this transformation was simply an outward reflection of who he was now.

He stared at his reflection, utterly speechless, before hearing a voice from behind him.

"Adam, honey, come on down here! Dinner’s ready!"

He froze. Adam? That wasn’t his name. His name was Maddox.

But when he tried to say it—when he opened his mouth to speak—it wasn’t "Maddox" that came out.

"Yessir, mom," the new voice said, gruff and confident, with a drawl he didn't recognize. It was his voice, but it felt... wrong.

Before he could think further, his feet carried him toward the stairs. Every movement felt more natural, more instinctual. He didn’t have to think about walking anymore; his body just moved.

The moment he stepped into the kitchen, he was greeted by two older figures: a tall man with a thick beard and a sun-worn face, and a woman with perfectly-coiffed blonde hair and a warm, motherly smile.

"Adam, you hungry, baby?" The woman—his new "mother"—asked in a thick Southern accent, as she placed a plate of fried chicken and mashed potatoes on the table.

"Yeah, looks good, mom." His voice was smooth, authoritative, and familiar. It was like he had always talked this way.

The man, his new father, patted him on the back. "Atta boy. Gotta keep up your strength if you’re gonna help me with the truck this weekend."

Adam nodded, suddenly feeling an unfamiliar rush of excitement at the thought of working on a truck. "Sounds good, pops."

His father gave him a knowing look. "Glad to hear it. Gotta be ready to defend this house. Keep it in shape." There was a pause, and then a sly smirk crossed his face. "Though, I gotta say, I’m more worried about that little gay friend of yours. What’s his name again? Cody, right?"

Adam’s heart skipped. Cody was his best friend. But the way his father said it—the sneer in his voice—felt wrong. His thoughts tried to resist, but the tug of new instincts, of new feelings, pushed him to respond in a way he would have never before.

"Yeah, Cody’s a nice guy," Adam said, his voice dripping with casual disdain, "but man, he’s just… different, y’know? He’s always talking about stuff I don’t care about, like his art or whatever. He’s not really my kind of guy. Dude’s all wrapped up in his feelings and thinks he’s some kind of big thinker. He’s just not built for the real world."

Adam laughed and shrugged, the words flowing out like they were second nature. It felt good, somehow, to say it out loud. The Maddox part of him—the part that would’ve fiercely defended Cody, that would’ve fought anyone who insulted him—seemed like a distant memory.

His father chuckled, clearly approving. "Well, I’m glad to hear you’re making better choices, son. You don't need someone like that holding you back."

"Exactly," Adam said with a grin. "I’ve got enough on my plate, worrying about football, work, and, you know, my future. Guys like Cody? They just complicate things."

The following day, Adam found himself at a school that seemed to be from another world. The high school was old, with large wooden bleachers in the gym and the faint smell of tobacco in the air. Kids in cowboy boots and trucker hats roamed the halls, and there was an air of casual arrogance in the way they all carried themselves.

When he walked into the classroom, heads turned. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, but now, standing at his new, imposing height of 6'3", Adam felt like he belonged. He loomed over the students around him, towering above them with a sense of superiority that felt right, even though it was still so new. His height made him feel like the guy everyone respected—or, if they didn’t, they at least stayed out of his way.

"Hey, Adam," a guy called from the back of the room. He had a thick jaw and a cocky grin. "How’s it going, man?"

"Good, bro," Adam replied, easily slipping into the role of the guy everyone wanted to hang out with. The guy who didn’t care about anything except his truck, his friends, and his future. A life of simple pleasures, uncomplicated by anything like "progressive politics" or "diversity."

But the most striking change came when he spotted her in the hallway. Emily.

She was the cheerleading captain. Blonde, athletic, and with a smile that lit up the entire school. Adam hadn’t expected to feel such a strong pull toward her, but as he watched her walking toward him, he felt his chest puff out with pride, the feeling of possession he didn’t quite understand.

"Hey, Adam," Emily called, giving him a wink. She wore her cheer uniform—tight, short, and red—and looked every bit the picture of what his new life was supposed to be. "You ready for the game on Friday? I’ve got your back, big guy."

"Always," Adam said, his voice dropping an octave. He felt confident, even cocky, as he walked toward her, putting an arm around her waist as they headed to class together. She was his girlfriend, after all, and that was just the way things were now. The idea of a different reality, a different version of himself, felt so distant.

By the time school ended, Adam was fully in his new life. Football practice had been intense, but Adam had breezed through it. As a starting wide receiver, he was the star of the team. He felt invincible on the field, his new body moving with strength and agility. The other players had all been high-fiving him, slapping his back, calling him "the beast."

And as for Emily? She was always by his side, chatting him up with that sweet, familiar smile. They talked about the weekend plans—probably a party at Brad's, a bonfire down by the lake—and Adam felt perfectly at home.

When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Adam had only one thought: This is my life now. He was Adam, the 6'3", football-playing redneck with a cheerleader girlfriend and a world of opportunities at his feet.

The old Maddox, the artist from the city, was gone.

And Adam? Adam was everything he’d ever needed to be.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

A Daughter's Plan

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): Pure Fluff. Single Dad. Girl Dad energy. Terry's POV. Low angst.

Summary: Terry Richmond is a lonely single dad caring for his ten-year-old daughter, Pilar. When Pilar's mother re-marries and moves overseas to start a new job and family, the pre-teen thinks her dad needs to find someone for himself, too. Unbeknownst to Terry, his clever daughter has her sights set on the new neighbor, Allegra, who might be the perfect match.

Word count: 7,481

"Isn't she pretty

Truly the angel's best

Boy, I'm so happy

We have been heaven blessed"

Stevie Wonder—"Isn't She Lovely?"

Terry Richmond heard the familiar rolling sound of his ten-year-old daughter's skateboard crossing over into the cul-de-sac of their gated townhome neighborhood. He could always pick out the unique sound of her board's ka-kump, ka-kump, ka-kump rhythm compared to her school buddies as they raced each other home.

Pilar always did a few kick flip tricks by Mr. Rhea's property before she jumped the curb and circled past a speed bump near Mrs. Purdue's home. While hand sanding a rocking chair, that he made for his pregnant sister, Terry paused.

He didn't hear Pilar's skateboard anymore.

Her crew of three friends whizzed past his open garage door toward their homes, but Terry didn't see his only child roll up to greet him with her angelic smile and chaotic energy. He lifted his protective goggles and wiped his hands on his work apron. Still no sign of her.

He strode out of the garage to take a peek and he noticed her lingering by their mailbox, still wearing her protective helmet and staring across the wide street. A furniture van blocked the driveway of the townhome facing across their property. A Black woman in her late twenties or early thirties directed two burly movers to carry a brand new sofa covered in plastic through her front door. The cute bob and conservative pastel colors of her sweater and pencil skirt had him guessing she was a teacher, or worked in corporate.

He glanced at Pilar who kept her dark brown eyes laser-focused on the recent addition to their quiet corner of the world. She chewed on her lip and rolled her board back and forth with her left foot. The new neighbor bought the house of Pilar's best friend since kindergarten. Little Leslie Gardner left Ville Broussard, Louisiana a year ago, and her old house stood empty for nine months until the For Sale sign finally came down three months ago. Terry knew that Mr. Gardner put a pretty penny into renovating the place before putting it on the market, and the expense of the renovation drove the price up.

The woman across the street probably spent over two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the two-bedroom property. Pilar pretended to dig in the mailbox, knowing he had already gotten the mail, and stared at the woman. From that distance, he couldn't tell if Pilar was still upset about Leslie moving or if she was upset that a stranger was moving into her bestie's old home.

"Pilar," he called out.

His daughter looked his way, and so did the woman across the street.

Whoa.

Terry never got a full view of the neighbor before. He always caught sideways glances or the back of her head. But the full frontal turned out to be something else. She looked like a gorgeous Black Barbie doll. He peeped her figure a few days ago when she first showed up in form-fitting pale green sweatpants and a matching hoodie. The fall weather brought out the layers, but she must've ignored the forecast because she walked around double-cheeked up in sportswear not designed for cooler temperatures.

Miss Neighbor turned her attention back to the interior of her home and Pilar ambled over, carrying her skateboard. She pulled off her skateboard helmet.

"Hey munchkin," he said, ruffling her thick two-toned curls pulled back with a light blue scrunchie. From the roots to just above the tips, Pilar's hair was dark brown. The ends had turned their annual summer-in-the-sun reddish brown that matched her skin tone. She looked exactly like his oldest sister Brianna and had her spirited personality, too.

Pilar's down-turned lips reflected a little 'tude.

"I don't see any kids," Pilar said.

She sounded bummed.

"Checking out the neighbor, huh?"

"She's pretty. Do you think she's pretty, Dad?"

"She is very attractive."

"Very?" Pilar said with a smug grin.

"Don't read anything into that."

"We should go say hi."

"She's busy with furniture. Let her get settled in."

He guided Pilar into their home through the garage, and she dumped her board and helmet by the dinette table. She washed her hands in the kitchen sink and he pulled a PB&J sandwich on a plate and a Capri Sun from the fridge, placing them on the table for her after-school snack.

The landline rang, and he answered it.

"Hi Terry, is Pilar in yet?"

His ex wife's voice sounded perky and happy.

"Yeah, hold on.'"

He carried the cordless from the living room into the kitchen and handed it to Pilar.

"It's your mom."

Pilar's face brightened, and she chatted away on the overseas call. Terry returned to the garage and began sanding the armrest of the rocking chair. He swept sawdust on the ground and closed the garage door after he finished.

Back in the kitchen, he rinsed his hands. An uneaten sandwich remained on the kitchen table without Pilar in sight. He looked in their living room and didn't find her there.

"Pilar?"

Terry climbed the stairs to the second floor and found his daughter weeping on her bed, her face buried in a yellow Big Bird pillow.

"What's wrong?"

He sat his big body on her twin bed, and she shook her head on the pillow. He laid a hand on her back.

"Babygirl, what is it?"

"Mom isn't coming back for Christmas. She eloped with that man in Italy and they plan on flying me out there for a boat cruise instead of coming to the lake like she promised. They'll have a big party in place of a wedding in Rome next July."

Pilar never addressed her new step-father by his name, Bryson. It was always "that man" despite her mother dating him for two years. Bryson was east coast respectability. A Black Archon Boulé with a prestigious prep school background and long family money. The complete opposite of Terry's country boy/military roots. He drove a 2015 F-250 truck and drank beer. Bryson drove a 2025 Jaguar and sipped Chardonnay.

Yolanda leveled up to the Black bougie life she always wanted. Terry knew in his heart that Yolanda would never be happy building a life with him. They were both twenty and naïve, getting married the moment they found out Pilar was conceived. He quit college and joined the marines to support them. Yolanda worked as a flight attendant after their daughter was born, so Terry stayed the primary caretaker, training other marines and not deploying out of the country.

Yolanda wanted more out of life than he could provide financially and asked for a divorce when Pilar turned six. Both their families had been shocked when she granted Terry primary custody of their only child. Yolanda wanted to travel the world and her career let her do that. She eventually settled in Atlanta, working for Delta. Pilar adjusted to being shuttled back and forth for holidays and summers.

Then Bryson popped up, freeing Yolanda from the working class. He was older, established, and child-free. Also very generous with his money.

Terry had made arrangements to send Pilar abroad for a lavish wedding the following summer as her mother's flower girl. She and Bryson had planned to spend the Christmas holiday with the entire Richmond family so that they could all meet the new man who would be connected to them through Pilar. Christmas was going to be the rare treat of being with both her parents for a holiday. The Richmond clan had reserved fancy cabins by a lake for a week and planned on turning it into a family reunion of sorts. Yolanda offered to arrange her Christmas plans for the reunion so Pilar wouldn't miss out on seeing all of her cousins from all over the states. Now she eloped and switched up on their child three months in advance.

Terry kept his anger in check in front of Pilar. He'd call Yolanda when his daughter was back in school and give her a smooth cuss out. He offered to switch Thanksgiving for Christmas because it was important for Pilar to experience a big reunion for the first time on his side of the family.

Pilar turned her head from the pillow. Big, wet eyes stared at him. Her bottom lip trembled and his heart squeezed in his chest. His daughter was the light of his life. Watching her expectations crumble hurt his soul. Pilar came first before anything, and that was the difference between him and Yolanda. Their daughter became a secondary consideration with her. His ex wasn't a terrible person. He loved her once a long time ago. She was ambitious, energetic, pretty, and gave him a perfect child. Yolanda just wasn't cut out to be a mother saddled with the responsibility of putting her daughter's emotional needs first. To Yolanda, whisking Pilar off to Rome probably sounded like giving her child the best in life. Bryson was an American Express Exec for their Italian branch and lived in a lavish home with staff and chauffeurs. Yolanda shopped, dined, and played tennis every day in luxury. She wanted Pilar to experience that lifestyle. In his own way, Terry wanted their daughter to have that chance, too. But without pulling the rug from under Pilar. She set her heart on having them all together for once since their divorce.

"Tell you what…I'll talk to her and try to convince them to come for Christmas."

"She said the cruise is their early honeymoon and they want me to go so we can bond as a new family. I already have a family!"

Pilar buried her face in his chest, and he stroked her hair.

"How about we go to Cholly's Burgers for dinner and you can mope over a double cheeseburger and a big chocolate malt?"

Pilar sniffled and wiped her nose.

"Okay, I'll go…but I can't guarantee that I'll feel better."

"Deal," he said.

He left her alone in her room and went down to the kitchen and put her sandwich and juice away. Checking emails on his smartphone, he spent the next couple of hours watching TV and then ironed Pilar's clothes for school. He showered and called his daughter down for their dinner trip. Outside, their new neighbor carried some things from her cream-colored Mercedes S-Class in the driveway.

"Excuse me," the woman called as Pilar jumped into his truck's passenger side.

"Yeah?" he called back.

"Hi, I'm Allegra…new neighbor…um, can you tell me what day the trash and recycling go out?"

"Thursdays!" Pilar called out.

His daughter had her head stuck out of the window with a big grin on her face.

"Yeah, Thursdays. They normally roll through around eleven a.m.," he said.

"Great, thanks."

"I'm Terry, and this is my daughter, Pilar—"

"Are you married? Have kids?" Pilar asked.

Allegra smiled politely, holding a small box. Her eyes bounced from Pilar's to his, then back to Pilar.

"I'm not married. No kids."

Pilar whipped her head around to look at Terry. He ignored her.

"Have a good evening," he said.

He climbed into his truck and started it up.

"You're really not good at finding a date, Dad."

"What are you talking about, little girl?"

He backed out of their driveway and headed toward the main road that led to the highway.

"A single, beautiful woman with a fancy car asked you about trash day. She could've called her realtor or looked it up online."

"We were right there in front of her. It's quicker to ask a neighbor. That woman is not looking to date people she lives around. Besides, she saw me with you, so she'll think I'm married with a family already."

"She'll know pretty soon that it's just you and me."

"I don't think most upwardly mobile Black women are interested in men that already have children nowadays."

It took them twenty minutes to arrive at the burger joint, and Pilar's mood lifted considerably. They talked about her upcoming soccer game and she slurped down her chocolate malt content with life once again.

Back home, he washed and braided her hair in two cornrows, tying it down with a black satin hair scarf so he wouldn't have to do her hair in the morning. Their evening bedtime routine went off without a hitch and he allowed her to watch a cartoon before she went to sleep in her room.

The next couple of weeks were normal in the Richmond household. He'd ride his bike in the morning to take Pilar to school, following behind her as she skateboarded ahead of him with her classmates. Later, he'd ride his bike over to check on the restaurant he invested in. He spent a few days with his financial advisor and moved some money around that he received from a police settlement. His current financial status allowed him to enjoy not having the worries of steady employment until he found something he wanted to do. He put funds in stocks that did well, paid off the townhouse, and Yolanda's monthly child support covered the rest for Pilar. His woodworking kept him busy during the afternoon while Pilar was in school. But once she was home, he went straight into daddy mode. Soccer Dad duty, carpooling to games, checking homework, cooking and cleaning, fixing things at his parent's house and running their errands…they all filled his time.

Once a week he went bowling with friends and drank at bars, chasing a little tail, but not really trying to catch much. His three older sisters rotated keeping Pilar with their kids so he could have some adult time. The last few "dates" he had were with single moms who complained about their ex-husbands or ex boyfriends. He thought one woman named Michaela would be a long-term situation, but she reconciled with her boyfriend and moved to Dallas.

After a Saturday soccer practice, Pilar came to him and asked if she could bake some cookies for a school party. It was nearing Halloween. He pulled out some easy to bake pre-made Tollhouse cookie dough from the freezer. All Pilar had to do was place the small chocolate chip cookie dough squares onto a baking sheet and use the stove timer to keep them from burning.

He kicked up his feet to watch the news and when the stove buzzer went off, he trotted into the kitchen to make sure Pilar didn't burn herself by taking them out of the oven with the oven mits. She only baked a dozen.

"Shouldn't you bake more for your class?" he asked.

"It's a potluck, so people are just bringing whatever to share."

After they cooled, she used a spatula to scoop them onto a decorative plate of pumpkins and fall leaves. He covered them with plastic wrap.

"Maybe you should put them in some Tupperware," he suggested.

"No, this is good."

He left her to handle her party business.

Terry didn't think anything about the cookies until three days later when Allegra showed up at his open garage door. His electric sander and earplugs prevented him from hearing her approach. He turned toward the street and almost jumped, not expecting someone to be standing near his truck watching him. Shutting off the sander, he pulled out the earplugs and stared at her with his goggles on.

"Sorry to startle you…Terry…right?"

He nodded.

"I came over to bring you back your cookie plate. That was such a thoughtful housewarming gift. I ate every single chocolate chip cookie. Perfectly gooey in the center the way I like! The note you wrote was really sweet, too. Thank you so much."

"I'm sorry?" he said in confusion.

Terry pushed up his goggles. Allegra handed him the plate that wasn't empty. On it were slices of banana bread. He looked at the baked goods, then back at her.

"To show my appreciation for the cookies…I just made it last night. I didn't put nuts in it because I don't know if anyone in your family is allergic to nuts."

"No, we aren't."

"I'll remember that."

Allegra's pretty eyelashes curled over naturally, and her lips had just enough red lipstick to give her plump lips a rosy tint. She was dream girl material, and the cut and style of her bob reminded him of something the old Black starlets wore in the sixties, but it looked contemporary too with a soft flip on the ends. Terry became lost in her face and she seemed equally lost in his, her gaze never leaving his eyes. That was one of the physical traits that women always said they loved about him. The green, lion-like eyes. She looked up at him and their size difference was quite obvious. She was petite-chic, the cut and color of her clothes making her seem taller far away. Allegra was shorter than his ex wife. He felt like a big giant standing next to her. She smelled so good. Her perfume hinted at jasmine in the summer.

"My daughter and I will enjoy this. Thanks for bringing it over with the plate," he said.

Allegra smiled and his chest caved in. Was it possible for her to be even more attractive with a smile on her face?

She glanced around his makeshift workshop.

"Woodworking? You do this for a living?" she asked.

He stepped aside to let her see the dining cabinet he built for another neighbor.

"Actually, it's a hobby of mine."

"Hobby? This is true craftsmanship."

He touched the side of the cabinet.

"I learned it from my dad and kept at it in highschool."

"If I paid you, could you make me a couple of custom bookshelves?"

"What type of wood?"

"Not too expensive."

"I can make some maple wood shelves and stain them to look expensive.'

"I like your way of thinking. When I get the time, I'll measure my walls and let you know what I need."

"Still settling in?"

"My god, I haven't unpacked all of my boxes. I'm still eating takeout because I dread unpacking everything in my kitchen. My new job keeps me busy and I'm usually too tired by the end of the day. I should be unpacking right now, but I have to leave for an event soon."

She sighed and pushed back a flipped curl on her forehead.

"I better let you get back to work. Again…thank you for the sweet welcoming gesture."

Allegra left him alone in the garage and he watched her walk back across the street to her place. She had a little sway in her hips as she walked in her well-fitted navy blue dress pants and structured white button-down shirt. The light pink cardigan sweater tied around her shoulders was such a classy touch, along with her chunky blocked-heeled pumps.

He looked down at his dust-laden ripped jeans and brown work apron. Not too shabby, but he almost wanted to spruce up. He took the plate into the kitchen and checked the time. Pilar would be there in half an hour. He wanted to know what she wrote in that note to Allegra.

Running a hot shower, he cleaned his body and stared at his reflection in the mirror afterward. Time for a fresh line-up. His facial hair looked a little ungroomed. He took time to shave and then changed into better jeans and a fitted long sleeve shirt. He waited at the front door, peeking out of the screen.

Allegra stepped into her Mercedes wearing a pastel coral cocktail dress with an upswept hairdo, looking like Diahann Carroll with a smidgen of Grace Kelly. She drove off to wherever she needed to go and he imagined how breathtaking she'd look, stepping into a crowded room with all eyes on her beauty.

Ka-kump. Ka-kump. Ka-kump.

Pilar glided onto the sidewalk near their house and headed for the garage.

"I'm right here," he said.

She looked at him through the screen. He opened it and stepped outside. Folding his arms over his wide chest, he gave his daughter a questioning look.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked.

Her friends Caleb, Trudy, and Aisha waved at her and kick-pushed their skateboards toward their houses while yelling hello to him.

"You baked those cookies for Miss Allegra. Not a school party."

Pilar gave him a sheepish grin.

"What did you write in the note?"

"I just said something like…welcome to the neighborhood. Enjoy these homemade cookies. Then I put your name on it."

"Just my name?"

"Yes."

"She brought the plate back and made us some banana bread."

"Ooh!" Pilar said, rubbing her hands together. "My plan is set in motion."

"What plan?"

"Dad…c'mon. Miss Allegra is the best-looking woman around here. I think you should ask her out on a date."

"I don't need my ten-year-old setting us up."

Pilar put a hand on her hip.

"Well, Auntie Brianna and Auntie Sloane said she's gorgeous and they think you should get to know her. She might be your perfect fit."

"How would they know? They've never seen her."

"I snuck a picture of her on my phone and sent it to them."

"Why the sudden interest in getting me to date?"

Pilar's gaze dropped to the ground.

"No reason. She's new and you don't go out as much anymore."

"That's because I have to take care of you. You're my priority. Dating can always come later."

He stepped aside and let her come in with her skateboard.

"It was a nice thing you did…giving her the cookies," he said.

Pilar grinned.

Terry was an adept father and took pride in keeping a meticulous home, and his child put together well when she exited the front door. Two weeks before Thanksgiving, Pilar started coming home from school with wildly disheveled hair. Even if he put protective styles in with twists or high buns with little curls framing her face with cute tendrils, his daughter returned looking like her head went through a blender.

She'd claim it was the weather. Bad rainfall, or the wind messing it up, but for ten school days, she rolled back home with her hair every which-way, rubber bands busted, barrettes missing, and knocker ball hair bobbles vanished into thin air. She'd roll through, and each time, their neighbor Allegra would be outside collecting her mail. Pilar would wave and say "Hi!" really loud and Allegra responded in kind before stepping back into her house.

He assumed she wanted her hair out, craving to wear hairstyles like her older girl cousins. Rather than make a big deal about it, he started putting a headband on her.

One Saturday afternoon, Pilar played outside on the curved part of the cul-de-sac with her friends, kicking a soccer ball into Caleb's two netted goal posts. A typical loud day of children freely running around screaming and playing in the street. Pilar rocked a bushy 'fro and had the loudest voice out of the bunch.

He kept an eye out for them while watching a football game by leaving his livingroom shades open. Snacking on some chips, he turned his head to check on the action outside.

He quickly ducked his head down low.

Allegra played outside with the children.

Terry hid behind the couch and secretly watched Allegra interact with the neighborhood kids doing soccer ball tricks with her knees and sneaker'd feet. She kicked the ball to Pilar and his daughter charged her, heading for a goal post. Allegra wasn't shy about her defensive moves and easily swiped the ball away from his daughter, kicking it with a curved arc into the opposite goal post. All the children squealed in delight and high-fived her. She stepped aside to let the children continue their boisterous match up.

Terry's back ached from being hunched over spying. Pilar spoke to Allegra for a long time, ignoring her friends, and her bouncy energy kept a smile on the woman's face. Allegra glanced toward his open window and Terry dropped to the floor, hiding his body.

He waited five minutes.

"Why are you on the floor, Daddy?"

Pilar stood above him with a quizzical expression. She'd come in the house through the garage door.

"Stretching my back out," he said.

"But you're on your stomach."

"Can I help you with something?" he said, standing up.

Outside, Allegra stood watching him through the window.

"I asked Miss Allegra how she kept her hair so pretty and she told me her hair care routine. I'm coming to get a pen and paper for her to write it down so you can take care of my hair."

"What? I know how to take care of your hair! I've been doing it since you were born."

Pilar grabbed a Bic pen and tore a piece off some junk mail envelope sitting on the coffee table.

"Daddy, please. Work with me here. I've been looking raggedy for two weeks to get her attention. She finally asked about my curls and I asked about her hair."

Pilar dashed out the front door before he could stop her. She handed Allegra the pen and paper. Terry became flustered. His daughter pretended to be unkempt to fool a grown woman into having sympathy for him.

Allegra scribbled on the paper outside and he felt exposed for something that wasn't true. Pilar ran back into the house through the front door and handed him the half envelope. Most of what Allegra listed, Terry already had in his bathroom for his daughter.

However…she wrote her phone number down, too.

"Boo-ya!" Pilar said, flinging her fingers open like an explosion going off.

"Come into the kitchen with me," he said.

Pilar followed him.

"Sit," he commanded.

He stuffed the half envelope in his back pocket.

"Pilar…babygirl…I know you mean well, but please…stop the antics."

"But Daddy—"

"I mean it."

His voice went down an octave, his baritone sounding harsh. Pilar ran from the kitchen table and stomped loudly up the stairs. He closed his eyes in frustration and waited fifteen minutes before going upstairs.

Pilar cried on her bed. Her loud bawling startled him.

"Munchkin…I'm not mad…I just…you don't have to do this."

"I do!" she wailed.

He sat in his usual spot and let her get her emotions out. She eventually calmed down to gaspy shudders and sad moans of pain. He brushed her hair back, and she threw her arms around his neck.

"I don't want you being alone. Mom married somebody and now she gets to be happy. I want you to be happy, too, Daddy."

"Munchkin, I am happy. I have you…grampy and grandma, your aunts, my friends—"

She shook her head against his neck.

"It's not the same as having someone for yourself. I'll grow up and go to college and you'll be here by yourself. Everyone in our family has someone. Grampy has Grandma, Auntie Brianna has Uncle Mitch…Auntie Sloane has Uncle Kenny. Even Auntie Monique has her boyfriend Gordon. I'm scared for you, Daddy. You're such a good, kind person and you deserve what Mommy has."

Pilar burst into more tears and his eyes grew blurry. He wiped them and pulled back from his daughter.

"It's not your responsibility to worry about me. My job is to worry about you, hear me?"

Pilar kept crying. Her nose ran, but she nodded at his words.

"When the time comes for me to find my special someone…it'll happen. Naturally. Understand?"

"Y-Y-Yessss," she blubbered.

He kissed her forehead and used his thumbs to wipe away warm tears.

"Can I tell you something that will make you happy?"

"O-O-Okayyyy," she choked out.

"Your Mom and 'that man' agreed to change their plans back to coming out for Christmas. And, I don't have to trade Thanksgiving."

"For real?"

"For real. In fact, Bryson urged your mother to reconsider, and he rescheduled the cruise for next year. He's not so bad, huh?"

Pilar sniffled, and her swollen red eyes pained him.

"I guess not."

"Let's make a deal, okay? You don't worry about hooking me up and just enjoy being a little girl with a happy father."

"Are you happy?"

"I am. I have you and a very full life. Promise. Go wash your face and get back outside with your friends."

"Okay, Daddy."

She jumped off the bed and ran to the hall bathroom. He went to her bedroom window and peeked out from the blinds. Allegra went back into her home. He pulled the scrap of envelope from his back pocket and stared at her phone number.

Saturday afternoons were usually Terry and Pilar's time to decompress and watch movies together. Sometimes there was a slumber party with her cousins at their house or one of his sister's. But on this particular Saturday, it was football fever on the flatscreen TV with his buddies while Pilar was at her grandparents' house.

Terry had plenty of pizzas and beer, and his sound system blasted the play-by-play of the game. He enjoyed the company of his buddies, all Black men with families, and very little free time except for the small moments of respite at Terry's place. The Steelers beat the Commanders and the guys talked shit, then they played his AuxGod Hip Hop Edition game. He rapped his ass off while playing Nas's "One Mic" on his smartphone and got his friends hyped to share R&B music. They all howled when someone messed up playing the wrong songs based on cards they pulled, thinking they had the perfect jam. Good clean fun.

The afternoon wound down into late evening and he cleaned up pizza boxes and empty beer cans. His friends bumped fists and gave each other dap as they left out the front door. Rain started falling, and he noticed Allegra pulling into her driveway. The late hour had him guessing she had a night out again. Her job didn't keep her from a busy social life. He often caught sight of her coming and going on the weekends. One time, another car brought her home and stayed overnight in her driveway.

He waved his friends away and pulled out his cell to call his father.

"Hey Junior," his father said.

"Hey, Pops. How's it going over there?"

"Good. The girls are playing and your mama is letting them stay up late to watch some Godzilla movie on Amazon Prime."

"I wanted to say goodnight to Pilar."

"No problem, hold on…Pilar! Your Dad is on the phone!"

Terry waited for his daughter, and soon enough, her voice rang in his ear.

"Hey, Dad."

"Being good?"

"Of course. What time are you picking me up tomorrow?"

"After you get back from church."

"Aw man. You can't get me early, so I don't have to go?"

"I had to suffer through it. It's your turn now."

"But they take forever. Even God goes to sleep by the time that preacher gets done."

"Hey, don't blaspheme, and don't you two keep Grampy and Grandma up too late, okay?"

"We won't. Night, Dad!"

Terry swiped his smartphone and noticed Allegra's car lights were still on. She hadn't left her driveway. He guessed she was talking on her cell phone.

His house smelled of cigars, pepperoni, and Budweiser. He finished cleaning up and sprayed the dining room with air freshener. Rolling his neck muscles, he climbed up to his bedroom. His blinds were open, and he checked the street again.

Allegra stood near her car in the rain looking up at the sky. She stuck her tongue out, tasting the droplets, and spun around in a circle with her arms outstretched. He smiled. She looked like a big kid having fun.

The rain drenched her hair, and she swiped it back, her tresses turning into slick ringlets. The playfulness she exuded cracked something open inside of him. Maybe Pilar was right. Maybe he did want someone to share his life with. He and Allegra barely exchanged enough words in passing for him to sense that she would be open to going out for a coffee or dinner. She never got back to him about the bookshelves, and he never called her phone number to ask about the hair care products she suggested for Pilar.

His confidence in asking women out had waned that year. Each time he thought he might want to spend time with a woman, schedules didn't match up, or he didn't feel that pull to pursue a relationship. The spark wasn't there. Part of him was afraid to put his heart back out there. His ex, Yolanda, had been a heartbreak he finally let go of two years ago. It frightened him into not wanting to be vulnerable with another woman again. Romantic love was for the brave, and Terry was not feeling brave anymore.

But Allegra?

After shaking her arms, she finally went inside her house, not caring that her snazzy outfit was soaked clear through to her skin. He looked at his dresser. The envelope with her number sat next to his hairbrush.

He texted her number.

Hi, Allegra. This is your neighbor, Terry. I was going to pick up some lumber at Home Depot tomorrow and wanted to know if you were still interested in getting bookshelves made? No rush to answer. I'm always going there every other week. If you changed your mind, that's cool, too.

He sent it off, and seconds later, she rang him up.

"Hello?"

He sounded breathless.

"Hi…Terry? It's Allegra…from across the street. Got your message."

"Oh, great. Sorry for texting so late. I was about to turn in and wanted to ask you before I forgot and left tomorrow."

He winced. His words came out in a rush of nervous energy.

"I do want the bookshelves made. I've been so busy I just never got around to measuring anything. Could you come by tomorrow before you leave and take a look at my floor space? You'd have a better idea of measurements than I would."

Terry stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes turned into saucers.

"I can do that. I've got to pick up my daughter from church tomorrow at one. I can drop by with my digital tape measure before then and then go to Home Depot."

"Can I go with you? I'd like to see the wood you're considering besides the maple you told me about."

"Uh…sure."

"What time should I expect you over here?"

"Let's say ten?"

"Great, see ya then."

"Goodnight."

He hung up, stunned.

She wanted to go with him to the Depot?

"So, what do you think? Two shelves here and then two more in my office room?"

Allegra watched him make final calculations on his phone. He surveyed her living room set-up one more time to ensure efficient use of her space. They'd spent a good twenty minutes upstairs in her stylish office and he made a quick sketch on his notepad of the shelving unit he could make for her in there. She would pay for the wood and any extra supplies he needed, and he insisted on doing the work for free.

The layout in her house was roomy and leaned toward a mid-century modern styled interior. She liked rich and luxurious wood furniture with mustard yellow and avocado-colored accents. Her home fit her personal style the way he imagined it would. It had a timeless quality. He told her a little about the family that lived there before she bought the place, and the conversation meandered into her own hobbies of painting and gardening. She showed him her patio space in the back and he offered to build her plant containers to grow her favorite flowers. Those were easy to put together and would be cheaper than her buying them pre-made online.

He learned that she had been a highschool soccer star, and that talent landed her a full-ride scholarship to Brown University where she almost landed a spot on the Olympic team. But a skiing accident ruined her shot. She still liked to watch the game and play occasionally.

Allegra worked from home mostly as an In-House attorney for a legal firm with document heavy cases, thus the need for bookshelves to hold all her law books. She did contract reviews, legal research, and dealt with a lot of intellectual property research for her clients.

Terry listened to her talk about herself, and her warm personality gave him the courage to open up about himself. Of course, he bragged about Pilar, and on their way to Home Depot, he pointed out places of interest to her.

"I always wanted to live in a small town," she said. "I grew up in New England, but my grandparents were from here, so I had annual trips for holidays and always liked it. Now that I can work remotely from home, I put stakes in the ground and live here full time. Getting away from the east coast has been a relief. This place makes me happy."

"We love it here. Excellent schools, nice people who look out for each other."

"It's just you and Pilar?"

"Yep. My ex remarried and moved to Europe."

"Co-parenting overseas must be rough."

"Yolanda…my ex…she recently moved there. It's going to be a change for sure. I'm used to Pilar flying a quick hop to Atlanta. Now, she'll have partial summers there and I don't know if I can handle her flying so far away where I can't get to her fast, y'know?"

"I had to do it when I was young. My parents divorced when I was twelve. I hopped from Boston to England to stay with my dad and his new wife on my school breaks. My mother was a nervous wreck at first, but you adjust."

"I hope so. I try to be stoic for Pilar, but I know I'll be in shambles when she flies out there next year."

Allegra laughed and the sound of her voice so close comforted him.

"I'll help talk you down when those nerves kick up," she said.

They walked up and down aisles at the Home Depot, and since he was a regular, the workers there were quick to help him because he didn't waste time. Terry explained the different type of wood options and they compared prices. He did his best to keep costs down for her, and she went along with whatever he thought was best. She'd seen his work output and trusted his skills.

He loaded up the truck bed, and they swooped over to his grandparents' church to pick up Pilar. His daughter's eyes widened when she noticed Allegra sitting in the truck. She ran past Terry and chatted with Allegra. He soon introduced his parents to her, and they invited her to attend a church service in the future.

Pilar hopped in the seat behind Allegra, and he drove them back to their home.

"I'll unload this and start working on your shelving units tomorrow," he said.

"Great."

Pilar watched them interact. She wore the goofiest grin on her face.

Allegra took off across the street and he watched her leave along with Pilar. When she was outside of earshot, Pilar grabbed his arm.

"You hung out with her?" she enthused.

"We talked about her bookshelves."

"So you went inside her house and spent time with her, right?"

"I did."

"Isn't she cool? She plays soccer, and she likes monster movies…"

Pilar stopped gushing about Allegra.

"I forgot. You told me not to interfere."

"I might've been wrong about that," he said.

Pilar's face lit up.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I like her. She's really nice and smart."

"My work here is done," Pilar said.

She skipped into the house, and he unloaded the truck.

Making bookshelves and planter boxes was the beginning.

Next came inviting Allegra over for football game gatherings with his family.

He introduced her to his oldest sister who gave birth to a baby boy, her first, and he watched Allegra nervously hold the newborn with trepidation in her eyes.

"You got it…just hold his head like this and keep him close to you…yeah, see, you got it," he said.

Terry's new nephew was a little chocolate drop.

"He's so tiny and adorable," Allegra said.

All of his sisters liked her, and his mother took the grand gesture of inviting her to join them on their family Christmas trip. Allegra looked genuinely receptive to the idea, but she already had plans to fly out to Boston to spend the winter holiday with her family. Terry felt bummed about it and realized that he was catching feelings for her.

He kept their budding friendship platonic, but by the following spring, it was clear to everyone around them that something was blooming past friendship. They hadn't been physical with each other yet, not even kissing. He liked the slow, easy pace. It gave him time to know her before jumping into anything serious, especially since he had Pilar to think of.

His daughter was crazy about Allegra.

He was too.

As time ticked on and it grew closer to the time that Pilar would have to fly overseas, his anxiety spiked. He was not planning on attending the celebration. His former sister-in-law, Zarah, was going to fly the long distance with Pilar to Rome.

The day his daughter was to leave, he paced in his living room, going over Pilar's packing list several times. Allegra hung out with him, reassuring him that all would be well. Zarah was on her way in a Lyft to pick up Pilar. They all thought it best that he say his goodbyes from home and not go to the airport.

"Go to the restroom one more time before you leave," he told his daughter.

Pilar ran upstairs to her bathroom.

"I'm going to put the roast in the oven for our dinner tonight," Allegra said. "Be right back."

He walked her outside of his home. When Allegra reached the sidewalk, she turned around to face him. For the first time, she slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him.

"You're a great Dad, Terry. Pilar is so lucky to have you…and so am I."

Terry locked eyes with her, and any fears he had about taking a chance on finding love melted away.

"May I kiss you?" he asked.

Her eyes twinkled like she'd been waiting her whole life to hear him say those four words.

"Yes, you may, Mr. Richmond."

He placed his forehead against hers first and savored the moment before the moment. Yes, he deserved someone for himself. His wily daughter had been so correct in her assessment of him. Forever grateful for Pilar's push to get him out into the world with the special woman in his arms, Terry lowered his head and kissed Allegra.

His full, lush lips were nothing compared to the soft place of comfort he found pressed against her mouth. Her lips coaxed a passion out of him he hadn't felt in years. He kept the kiss a little below chaste…she gave him a little teasing of her tongue to entice him for more later, when they would be alone. His grin broke their physical contact and the butterflies in his stomach told him she was the one to take a chance with.

He pushed a fluffy bang away from her left eye and Allegra glanced up toward his second floor. Terry followed her gaze, and they both glimpsed Pilar looking down at them from her bedroom window. She fist-pumped her right hand, and the expression she gave them was pure joy.

Her little plan worked.

Author's Note:

I wanted to write something fast and fluffy to put out the day after the horror of that anti-Black orange menace being put back in office by racist white people and their non-Black PoC racist minions. Black women need soft, joyful things to get us through. We all we got. Remember that.

[nkdesign-works]

The concept of my design works

Delicate light. A mist that receives light.

I would like to create a place where you can feel the presence of the air filled with haze and fog through artwork that seems to dance in the air. I also hope that the artwork will be as beautiful a shape as the flow of water and air. I try to design artwork that creates such a space through sculptural shape composed of primitive elements such as points, lines, and surfaces.

This is because the beauty of Japanese space is created by the shades of shadows created by the ephemeral and weak light. It is also the Japanese sense of beauty in space, as discussed by Junichiro Tanizaki in his “In Praise of Shadows”. This means that I am not designing for the purpose of manipulating the shape itself, but for the effect that the shape will have by manipulating the shape. I aim to design spatial works in such a way.

“Lines” that fill the space.

A hazy, misty existence created by countless “lines”. A “line” with a Japanese beauty that absorbs softly rather than repelling light strongly. The delicate artwork touches the light and vaguely depicts the appearance of the light to reveal the existence of the air that fills the space.

This is an art studio for Kazunobu Nakamura to create design.  The studio that designs spaces such as installation design and interior design. If you are interested in the art space I design, please contact me.

e-mail : nkazunobu@hotmail.com

photographs: ©NAKAMURA KAZUNOBU DESIGN-WORKS

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Seventeen and first dates (all members)

More like this on Seventeen Masterlist <3 Requests are open! Genre: FLUFF

→ Choi Seungcheol

“You do look like a fish” he says.

You and cheol were walking around in an aquarium as your first official date. You both have been really close friends for a while before you decided to finally give into your feelings and see where it goes with each other.

You couldn’t be happier, cheol really was the best thing that happened to you, even friendship wise. The sweetest boy.

“Look, that looks exactly like you” he points to ansilly looking fish through the glass.

You put you lips out and pout like a fish.

“Close your eyes; you look exactly like this fish behind you,”

You giggle at that, you’ve never been told you look like a fish and that made you laugh,

“let me take a picture” he says.

You stand at the glass, with your lips out and eyes closed. After two clicks you feel someone in front of you and a pair of lips, pecking yours.

“Hey!” You were fully red. It was your first kiss with him. It was playful and so sweet. Nothing like you imagined but a 100 times cuter, innocent.

“Sue me! I stole a kiss” he says running away from you while you chase him.

“Come back here”

→Yoon Jeonghan

“You can’t eat anything if you don’t catch anything!,” jeonghan tells you while you stand at this pool like area for fishes.

You and Jeonghan confessed quite mutually to each other that you liked each other. All your friends could see it, how you would kick your feet at his messages and how he would giggle at yours. You weren’t just friends.

“You’ll let your girlfriend starve?” You ask acting offended.

He pauses for a second and scans you top to bottom.

“Yes”

You playfully smack him while the fish catching turns into a competition about who catches more fish. At the end of the night you had 6 fishes you caught, and you couldn't possibly eat 6 fishes so you gave some away to the kids who couldn’t catch any.

“If this is how we were going to catch fish, I would’ve taken you fishing instead”

“I am somewhat of a master fisherman myself”

You giggle at the reference.

→ Hong Joshua

You’ve liked joshua ever since he transfered to you school in high school. He was your bench mate and it wasn’t a long time before you fell for his charm, he was a handsome boy with such a kind heart. You still had an umbrella he gave you to use.

You met him again at a reunion after years and the group of friends planned to go to an amusement park that weekend at the reunion.

Seeing him again, after years set you off with some feelings, all unresolved.

You reached the amusement park as a group but little did you know it was a set up and suddenly you and Joshua were left alone.

You ended up touring the entire park, you realised he was the same crazy shua you knew and liked. Everything he did made you laugh.

“Here!” He says and hands you a bracelet he won shooting at balloons.

“A souvenir from our first date” he adds.

You look up at him in surprise.

“First date?”

“Unless you don’t want it to be”

“No, of course, I like that”

“Good”

‘Our first date’ rang in your head the rest of the day.

→ Moon Junhui

This was the first time you had gone over to your boyfriend, Jun's apartment. He liked decorating his apartment and interior design, his apartment was full of decorative items, you went through them all. it was fascinating how much you realise of a person just by seeing how they decorate their spaces.

Jun had called you over for a home cooked meal that he was so confident about. He was so excited to make you this Malapot that he knows he makes the best. He wanted to almost show off to you and impress you with his food.

You were excited for the food too, just listening to him talk about it made you drool when you made the plan.

"Ah it's ruined" you hear jun's voice from the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" you walk over.

"Somethings wrong, it's not tasting the way it's supposed to" he says dejected. You go over and he gives you a spoonful of broth from the pot. It was quite flavourful.

"It's good Jun, what's wrong?" you ask again.

"It's good, not great, I can do so much better" he was very disappointed. He just wanted you to enjoy his food and like his food.

"I'll eat anything you make junnie" you say hugging his side while his eyes never leave the pot in front of him.

You force him to look at you.

"There's always a next time, I'm not going anywhere"

He finally smiles.

→ Kwon Hoshi

You were cycling with your boyfriend of 1 week, hoshi. You met at a fashion show and immediately clicked. You fell for his goofy personality and felt this urge to protect him from the world.

He asked you out first and you happily agreed. Both of you had some feelings some flirtatious text messages happening between the two of you.

But today you could taste blood, he was cycling way too hard and you couldn’t catch up.

He was a little ahead of you while you volunteered to crash in the grass to relax, you would’ve died if you went on for a little longer.

You were panting while the tiger came back to you to check if you are okay.

“Cycling is too hard” you say between laboured breaths.

“You have no stamina” he smirks suggesting something completely different.

It was your chance to chase him down for that comment.

“We’ll see” you blush but also respond sassily chasing him in the grass.

→ Jeon Wonwoo

Jeon Wonwoo, your next door neighbour that had taken a liking to you, has made it routine to pick you up from office everyday, so you could go back home together.

You were still unsure about dating him and he gave you all the time in the world to come to a decision.

You wanted to surprise him today, by agreeing to date him. You had spent a lot of time together and he was a sweet guy. You were just scared of something, past relationships weren’t exactly a flower path. He understood that.

You came out of your office building, to see wonwoo, hopefully your soon to be boyfriend, waiting at his bike.

“Did you wait for too long?”

He smiles. “I’ll wait forever, if its for you”

Maybe you don’t have to wait anymore.

You take a deep breath and take his hands in yours.

“Listen, I had to talk to you about something”

His body language changes and he’s almost nervous. You fidget with his thumb, very embarrassed and shy.

“Whats wrong?” He asks getting concerned at how you couldn’t make eye contact with him.

“I gave us a thought”

He visibly freezes. Like he’s preparing himself for anything thats to come.

“I like you Wonwoo, I know I’ve been scared but Im ready to get through that”

There is a glowing smile on his face. “I’ll treat you so well, I promise” his hand pats your hair. It makes you feel safe and reassured.

“So girlfriend?” He asks putting your helmet on you and buckling up for you.

Him calling you girlfriend sets your chest on fire.

“Yes, boyfriend” you squeak out, not used to this.

“Let me take you to the moon, our first date”

“I’ll go anywhere with you” you say softly, getting on his bike.

→ Lee Jihoon

Jihoon was a schoolmate first, your co worker second, he recommended you at the company you work at now. You became close with him being the only person you knew. Soon, this closeness turned into romantic feelings. You couldn’t get him out of your head.

You asked him out, you straight up told him, you like him and what he thinks about it. It was the first time you had seen him speechless. He took a minute to collect himself before he said “sure” and you started dating. Although his demeanour may seem as if he doesn’t care but you know he likes you too. There has been multiple times jihoon has gone out of his way to help you blend into your work and otherwise.

“Our first dinner in the studio” he said and it made you smile. You like when he says ‘ours’

“You never let me eat in the studio, how cone today you called me here”

His face turns red before he answers. “I thought it’ll be rude to have your girlfriend eat out while I work in the studio”

It was your turn to turn red. You mutter “cute” under your breath.

The power suddenly shuts down and the whole room goes pitch black. Jihoon steps out to see if its just his studio.

“I think something wrong with the generator on this wing” he says sitting next to you on the couch while you gobble up the food you brought for the both of you.

You hear him sigh and carefully lay his hesd on your shoulder.

“Are you tired?”

He shakes his head cuddling closer, you never took him for a cuddler but its like a cat, if a cat CHOOSES you to cuddle, you shouldn’t move. Thats exactly what you did.

You turn on the light on your phone and set it on the coffee table next to your food.

“Torch light dinner”

You hear him chuckle at that while you offer him some food almost feeding him.

You hoped the light never came back and this stayed like this forever.

→ Seo Myungho

You ran an art workshop where you met Minghao for the first time. You didn’t know what he did and who he was until you saw your pictures plastered all over the internet one day.

He was the first to say he likes you. You liked him too, he brought perspective to your life and you loved that about him.

You and him were at a library having a relaxed date but the thing is you suggested going to a library when you didn’t even read.

You look over at hao, sitting by the window completely immersed in his book, he looked gorgeous. You pick out a comic to read from the shelf. You were a bad reader, even comics bored you after a while. But since Hao liked reading you thought you can enjoy it too. You sat next to him on the couch he was at.

You flipped through the pages and almost got bored instantly.

“Trouble reading?” You hear a whisper next to you.

You look up, not being able to manage this front you put on to impress him.

This was the second time he caught you looking bored.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve never been a reader”

“Everyone’s a reader, you just haven’t found the right book yet”

He’s so wise and calm, he brings stability to your chaos. He suggested a book you might like and he was right, you were immediately hooked to the premise and discovered that you like the thriller genre that doesn’t let you put your book down.

→ Kim Mingyu

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

You shake your head no. Kim Mingyu was a random guy you bumped into at a coffee shop you frequented at. You madecthe first move and dared to ask his number.

Turns out he was the sweetest guy you had spoken to in 4 years. He really reset your brain and suddenly you just wanted to do everything in your power to see where things go. You felt an instant connection you didn’t want to let go of and regret later. You decided you’d go for it.

Kim mingyu comes back to your car, you and him decide to watch a screening of cars 2 in a drive in theatre. You have never been to one and he was excited to show you.

As soon as he opens his package of food, the air is filled with the smell of burrito. It makes you hungry as soon as it hits your nose. But you already told him you didn’t want any, and asking for even a bite felt criminal.

But you were subconsciously staring at his food.

“You’re staring y:n” he calls you out.

You immediately snap out of it and look away, muttering a quick sorry under your breath.

You see him dig into his package and pull out another burrito wrap.

“This is for you” he hands you a wrap.

“No, Im really fine” you defend yourself again, but you were so so hungry.

“I know what ‘im fine’ means y/n, it means you’ll get hungry when you watch me eat” he says smiling like the big puppy he is.

You can’t help but give in, you take a wrap from him smiling sheepishly. He really was the best.

“You eat so well, it could make anyone hungry” you say cutely while he gobbled up his burrito in literally 2 bites. It was insane to watch this man eat.

He pats your head softly.

“HEY! Burrito hands!” You squeal while he laughs.

→ Lee Dokyeom

You and Dokyeom were cycling in the park. It was one of your first dates. You had met him at a coffee shop,ordering something you also liked so he offered to pay for yours too.

Here you were on another date with the goofball. The original plan was to bicycle around the park and get some lunch at a picnic spot.

But, as with dokyeom, he fell off his bike showing off some ‘cool’ moves to you. Although he made you laugh but the fall looked bad. You ended up getting him some ice from the store to press on his wrist.

“This is very normal”

“What do you mean?”

"I was a very… curious kid, i’d put my feet out on the road as a car would pass, just to see how it feels” you laugh out loud at that. “That’s hilarious”

“At least this is making you hold my hand” he says looking down at your hands pressing his with ice while your other hand hold his wrist in place.

This realisation makes your ears go red.

→ Boo Seungkwan

“I can’t believe it” seungkwan exclaims.

You met seungkwan as a trainee and you had become fast friends. But life happened and you decided not to be a trainee anymore. You ended up going for artist management and becoming a manager.

Life had plans of its own when they assigned you to seungkwan and your friendship rekindled. This time the friendship took a step further and you started to love spending time with him laughing with him.

One fine day in the car you blurted out that you liked him while driving him to a solo schedule. To your surprise he reciprocated these feelings. You were the happiest girl that day.

“What what happened?” You ask. You and seungkwan had come hiking to a mountain close to his place.

“My pants tore”

You laugh out loud. “What a memorable first date” you continue laughing while he scurries to cover himself with his bag and a towel he had brought in his little backpack.

“What a story, ‘kids, your dad hiked so hard, his pants tore on our first date’” you laugh thinking about the anecdote you have now you can use. Its a funny story.

“You want to have kids with me?” He asks stopping what he did and looks up at you

You freeze at what had just come out of your mouth. You did not mean it like that but now that you think about it definitely sounded like you wanted to have his babies.

“Um..”

“Thats cute” he says and a sense of relief washes over you as you try to come up with something else to catch the subject STAT.

→ Choi Vernon

Vernon wanted to watch this scary movie and you liked him so much you just wanted to be with him. But you forgot how scary scary movies can become.

Half way through the movie you were flinching and just uncomfortable in your seat, it really felt like someone was going to grab your feet from under the seat.

Seeing you this uncomfortable, vernon casually decided to put his arm around you and cover your eyes for you while you covered your ears with both your hands to protect yourself from jumpscares.

This position automatically made you lean into him a little and it made you feel a million types of a ways. He smelled good was the only consistent thought.

“Are you okay?” He asks leaning into your ears and whispering.

It sent a shiver down your spine. You nod without being able to push out any words. You liked being this close to him. ‘The things you do to me Choi Vernon’ you think to yourself.

You could watch a thousand horror movies if this is how you watch it.

→ Lee Chan

“Its burnt!” He exclaimed looking at the marshmellow you decided to toast for yourself.

“Thats the flavour!” You defend. You liked slightly burnt marshmallows.

You and chan are childhood friends that ended up falling for each other. Your way of showing love was through constant banter.

One such banter, Chan ended up confessing his feelings for you and you found it so cute.

You move away to get some crackers for the marshmallows. As you come back you hear a scream.

“Whats wrong whats wrong?” You panic and rush to him. You see Chan holding his fingers out and hissing in pain.

You immediately take his hand to inspect.

You see that it was a little red, he probably burnt himself. You see him think for a second. He is going to say something funny, you knew that look on his face, trying to cook up a joke.

“I burnt myself so you’ll like me” he said dramatically looking into your eyes.

The lamest joke ever made you laugh so hard, only because it was Chan who said it.

[lqvesoph]

Right person, wrong time || LN4

lando norris x childhood sweetheart/ex gf!reader

summary: lando and reader haven’t seen each other since their break up 6 years ago, now at a grand prix where her current boyfriend is invited, they meet again

kind of like the "in a room full of people i know who i would run to but i also know who i would stare at the whole time"

masterlist | taglist

You really did hope you wouldn’t run into him today…

But standing opposite of the Mclaren hospitality and inside your boyfriend’s arm, you knew it was a lie. Because who are you kidding? The whole time you have been inside the paddock you looked around you, almost waiting to catch a glimpse of the curly headed McLaren driver.

But now you locked eyes with him from opposite of his teams home and all the emotions dared to come up.

Lando shook his head as if to escape the trance the eye contact with you had put him in and turned around, walking hastily back into the hospitality.

"Right, baby?", you heard your boyfriend Theo smile and felt his hand squeeze your hip. You tore your eyes away from the orange building and put a fake smile on your face. "You never were really into motor racing growing up? That was until you met me", Theo repeated, helping you with the conversation.

"Oh, yes totally! My dad is a huge fan but I rarely watched", you lied. "Of Mercedes, I hope", Toto Wolff joked, making you chuckle. "In fact, he is."

*~*~*~*~*~*

The sight of Lando didn’t leave your thoughts for the rest of the day.

He looked so much different. So much taller, broader and older.

Theo was off with a few team members showing him this years car while you stood back a little.

"Y/n, is that you?", an all too familiar voice asked behind you, making you turn around. "I thought it was you", George Russell smiled, opening his arms to give you a hug. "It’s been ages! I haven’t seen you since you and Lando-", George started talking but let his words trail at the end.

"Anyways, how are you? What have you been up to?", he quickly put a smile back on his face. "I‘m good, thank you! I just finished university", you told him. "Interior Design still?", George smirked, remembering what you had told him over six years ago. You chuckled and nodded. "Yes, Interior Design."

George had always been one of you best mates when you and Lando were together, you just clicked. But when Lando and you called it quits, you disappeared from the paddock, cutting off everyone and everything that reminded you of Lando.

You even stopped watching Formula 1. You tried to but when they showed a nervous small Lando before his first race in Australia, you started bawling your eyes out at the feeling of missing him.

You thought now, six years later, the memories and scars would have faded at least a little while, which is why you agreed to join your boyfriend when he was invited by Mercedes. But now being here, back in the paddock, the wounds still felt as fresh as on the first day.

"Darling, you have to see this!", Theo called, a huge smile on his face. George and you turned around. A frown creeping its way on George‘s face as he connected the dots, figuring out that the guy that had called you must be your boyfriend.

"Coming!", you called, giving George a smile and hurrying over to your boyfriend.

Seeing George reminded you of Lando and of memories you tried so hard to push away.

*~*~*~*~*~*

After Theo had excitedly explained to you the different parts of a Formula 1 car to you, you told him you need to get some fresh air and would be back in a few minutes.

Theo didn’t know about your past in this world, including Lando. You knew every little part of that damn car, you even sat in one when Lando tested the McLaren cars the year before he debuted in Formula 1.

You quickly walked down the paddock, breathing heavily at the thought of all those memories until someone called your name, making you stop in your tracks.

You closed your eyes until you felt a hand on your shoulder, sending sparks through your whole body.

"I can’t believe it’s really you", Lando whispered as you turned around.

Being this close, you could even see the dark stubbles on his chin, smiling at the memory of 17 year old Lando complaining about not being able to grow a beard.

"Hi", you breathed, not quite knowing how to act. Lando chuckled. "Hi."

"Uh- what… what brings you into the paddock?", he then asked, nervously fiddling with his fingers, a habit that he hasn’t broken in all those years.

"I‘m here with my boyfriend", you said, watching as hurt flashed before Lando‘s eyes and a frown sneaked on his face.

"Oh", he simply said, trying to play down the hurt he felt. "That‘s- uh great."

"You wanna come to the hospitality?", Lando changed the topic. And against your better judgment and your head screaming at you not to say yes, you nodded, making a relieved smile make its way on Lando’s face.

You tried to ignore the glance the two of you got when you walked passed the McLaren team members and up to Lando‘s driver room.

You hesitantly looked around the small room as Lando closed the door.

"So, what have you been up to?", he broke the silence, making you move your attention to the curly headed boy. "I- uh just finished university and we‘re moving to Spain this fall", you told him, still avoiding his eyes.

"Spain, huh? Where in Spain?", Lando continued, ignoring the 'we'. "Madrid." Your reply made Lando frown. "Why not Barcelona? You love Barcelona!"

"Well, Theo liked Madrid quite a lot so…", you said, making Lando huff. But you ignored it.

"How have you been?", you asked. "Good, uh, yeah. The car‘s pretty good and the team is just amazing", he smiled, but you could tell it was forced. "That‘s great!", you said, wondering why you even agreed to come to talk to him. In private. In a closed room. In his driver room.

A rather awkward silence settled over you until Lando broke it once again. "What happened to us?", he carefully whispered which made you close your eyes. You assumed this conversation would eventually lead to this point.

"We grew up, Lando", you replied quietly. "But why didn’t we grew up together?", he asked, looking directly at you. "We didn’t want the same thing anymore or more like we couldn’t have the same thing anymore", you said, still not looking at Lando.

You never had a proper conversation about what led to your break up. Maybe it was because you were too young and the pain of it overshadowed all the logical thoughts on how to handle it.

"I, for my part, was so happy for you. I knew this was all you dreamed of. But somewhere between summer and winter of 2018 we started to drift apart. You were busy and away quite a lot, and I‘m not entirely blaming you for that, I also didn’t really put in an effort and for that I’m sorry", you spoke softly, thinking back on your teen years.

"I‘m so sorry, darling. I should’ve made more of an effort, to visit home more often or to at least call", Lando apologized, fiddling with his fingers. "Me too, Lando, me too", you mumbled, feeling the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

"You were the person who taught me everything. Taught me how to ride a bike, how to have fun and most importantly how to love. But Lando we were kids, merely 18 years old. We both weren’t mature enough to actually hold that relationship. Hell, we weren’t even mature enough to talk about our break up", you spoke, your eyes on the verges of tears.

"But what about now?", Lando asked hopeful and reached for one of your hands, wrapping it in his.

You let out a painful laugh. "I‘m in a relationship and I love Theo, so much", you muttered. "Then why are you still in here with me?", Lando posed the question that you had asked yourself already, not daring to give yourself and answer.

"Because… a part of me will always love you. But sometimes that just isn’t enough", you whispered, pulling your hand away from Lando‘s and standing up.

Walking back to your boyfriend, all you could think about was the conversation you just had and if you had made the right decision.

You forced a half smile when Theo spotted you and opened his arms. "Where have you been, the race is almost starting", he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You know just wandering around, discovering the paddock", you lied, settling in your boyfriends’ arms and focusing your attention on the TV.

But without meaning to, your eyes immediately searched for Lando during the national anthem, your heart beating slightly faster when they showed the line up and even more when he overtook Max Verstappen to take the race lead after the first corner.

Still, you stood in Theo‘s arms till the end of the race, watching Lando up on the podium from afar.

masterlist | taglist

@im-an-overthinker @buendiabebeta @hungryhungariann @ohthemisssery @kenopsiababe @sawendel @enjoymyloves @ricsaigaslec @ravenqueen27 @temqr1 @leclerc16s @theamazingsimplethings-blog @coldmuffinbanditshoe @hotchnisscm97 @andtheworldiscrashingdownonme @moneymasnn @justme2042 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @pleasantducktimetravel @anthonykatebridgerton @lisannehus @hannahholland1811 @lighttsoutlewis @mydutchproblem @dan3avocado @alwaysclassyeagle @cocomiracle @allthisfortommy @soleilgrec @cheeryara-blog @person2345-blog @aquamariene-me @judespoision @sbgal @teti-menchon0604 @darleneslane @flower-name @mehrmonga @paolexsstuff @paolexsstuff @kiskso

[designacademy]

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