#and it’s so damn hard to find good ones too

[littelovelunette]

reader begging sevika to put a baby in them...

Shimmer And Silence G!P

Contains smut, breeding, biting, nipple play, impregnation, mentions of drug and addiction, blowjob

Sevika has always been hard headed and never gave into your desires too quickly but she never understood if it was for the best or not.

Shimmer often made her cranky and violent from time to time and being her wife, you didn't like that she made herself get high on the drug so damn often due to her loyalty and work for Silco.

It hurt, because despite wanting to settle down badly you could barely even imagine bringing the topic up to her because what if she didn't approve of your needs and had a Shimmer crashout.

Sighing to yourself, you made the bed as usual and got to doing the chores. You were used to your housewife routine by now.

You'd work at home and ensure she had a clean and cozy place to come back and rest, by the time she's done fighting for Zaun for the day.

You'd approach the topic again today and try to get her to understand that you wanted to settle down.

It had been 5 years you both were married together after all and in all honesty, whether Zaun got free or not life wouldn't pause so you both could settle and find happiness within the battles.

You finished all your work and took a shower, it was evening by then. Sevika was probably gambling after work, she'd be back soon. Maybe drunk, maybe not.

You put on one of your lacy white panties and the matching bra you bought along with it, slipping on one oversized t-shirt over the underwear, you didn't feel like wearing anything else for now.

The door opened and Sevika walked inside, “I'm home,” she called lazily, she didn't go to Last Drop which was a little strange.

Maybe she was just tired.

“Hi, baby,” you smiled and helped her take her poncho off, she walked to the bedroom after giving you a brief kiss, getting out of her clothes.

She laid down and you went over to her, sitting down beside her, “Baby, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sevika gave you a little nod to acknowledge your words and gesture that she was listening.

“I think we should start trying for kids.”

The silence sunk in the air around both of you. “Did you just say what I think you just said? Or am I mishearing things already?” Sevika asked, her tone a little condescending.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and responded, “I just feel that if we don't, y'know, I'm not getting any younger… I might not be able to even have children. We don't know what the future holds for us,” you placed one hand over her bigger one, rubbing your thumb over the calloused skin, “The battle won't pause so we can have children, please, this is the one thing I really want.”

Sevika stared at you for a while before sighing, shaking her head. “I don't think this is a good idea.”

Exasperated, you shifted so you were now on her lap, “Baby, please,” you said, cupping her face in both your hands as you sighed a little feeling her bulge against your clothed heat.

“You're a tease, y'know that?” Sevika slapped your ass, grabbing the lump of flesh and squeezing, “Fine, I'll give it some thought.”

“No, you always say that and then your mind changes,” you moved a little so her growing bulge could rub against the soaked spot on your panties.

“Just say it, you get off on the thought of me breeding you,” Sevika whispered in your ear, instantly catching you off guard. She grabbed you by your frame and shoved you down on the bed.

“Look, you even dressed up all pretty tonight,” Sevika smirked, raising the hem of the shirt to check out the underwear you had on.

“I just, I thought maybe there'd be a possibility,” you said, face growing hotter with the second.

Sevika tsked, “Bullshit, I bet you're so wet by the thought of me filling you up, filthy little whore having semen dripping from your holes because you can't even hold all of my load inside.”

Sevika's rough, thick fingers rubbed over your pussy, as if readying it for her massive cock. She pulled her pants down just enough for her cock to slap up against her stomach, precum dripping from the tip of her impressively massive shaft.

“Oh my…” you couldn't help reaching forward and grabbing her shaft carefully in your hands.

Sevika placed a hand over her hip, the mechanical arm holding you in place as you started sucking on the tip of her cock.

“Want me to suck you off?” You asked, looking up at her with those pretty puppy eyes and she nodded, guiding your head as you deepthroated her cock with years of experience.

Sevika gasped, fingers entangling themselves in your hair as you sucked her harder. You had to hold on to each side of her muscular thighs to steady yourself as you bobbed your head, the head of her cock slamming into the back of your throat every now and then making you gag and saliva messily ran down your chin giving you a further lewd expression.

Sevika, on the other hand, was having the time of her life. She used your head roughly to get herself off, shooting ropes of cum in your throat, forcing you to swallow it down.

Sevika smirked down at you as you pulled back, catching your breath from the ordeal and then she gestured to you to get on the bed. As you laid down, she undressed you, taking your shirt off, unhooking your bra and lastly pulling your panties down your legs. Sevika was being extra slow just for the sole reason of riling you up and getting you even more wet.

“Sevika, please, put a baby in me,” you began, “I need you to impregnate me, please, I need it.”

“Mhm? Do you need it?” Sevika mocked cock already aligning against your hole and going in with a single thrust.

Your eyes rolled back as she bottomed out and pulled right back out before slamming it back in, hitting that on sweet spot that back you scratch on her back and bite her shoulder.

Sevika loved it when you bit her shoulder like that, it made you wilder and she loved rough sex. Sevika started slamming her huge shaft into you, grunting from the strain of her muscles every now and then, “Gonna fill you up, gonna fill you up to the brim,” she mumbled under her breath, the headboard of the bed slammed against the wall and you were sure the neighbours would likely come down with a noise complaint.

You buried the thought down, crying as Sevika bit your nipple, pulling it with her teeth, “C-C-cumming!” You stuttered and a gush of liquid went over her length, making her eyes close in bliss but she didn't stop there.

She continued ramming into your pussy, her dick throbbing, “Gonna fill you up, take it, slut.” You gasped as you felt the warm semen fill you up, moaning loudly, legs and hands falling back onto the mattress.

You were gonna be a mother soon.

[writemekpop]

Cuffed | Mark Lee

Summary: Mark is the dumbest police detective you've ever worked with. What's worse, he's cold and awkward around you. One steamy night, you find out his true feelings.

Genre: Suggestive, Fluff, Police detective AU

Word count: >1k

You dangled the keys in front of Mark, who stared at them, his black eyes puppy-wide.

Ugh, you thought. Not this idiot again.

You made a driving motion with your hands. “Toot toot. You drive car.”

“Ah. Right,” Mark said, letting the keys fall into his palm rather than touch you.

You hated Mark.

You got promoted to police detective through bloody hard work. He got promoted because he was a man - and, you had to admit, his classical good looks and weekly blueberry muffins made him a favourite in the office.

“Let's just do this stakeout, alright?” you said, as Mark drove to the alley where you would be parked for the night.

As the hours passed, you started to get angry.

Mark would barely make eye contact with you, he shuddered when your hand brushed his on the camera… he was stiff with distaste.

“Look,” you said. “Let's have it out, yeah? What is your problem with me?”

Mark's eyes shot open, then he looked down. “Problem?”

“Yep,” you said, lifting his chin with one hand to force him to look at you. “You obviously hate me. So why?”

“I don't… I mean… ” Mark stuttered.

“Tongue-tied? Hmm?” you said, bitterly, pinching Mark's cheek. He stiffened, and a spark jumped inside you, so you didn't move your hand.

Instead, you cupped his cheek, then let your thumb graze over the shell of his ear. He was shuddering. You liked how nervous he was.

A light flashed in the corner of your eye. A car was approaching.

“Damn it,” you hissed. “Get down.”

You grabbed Mark's collar, and pulled him down, pressing your back to the seat so you wouldn't be seen. His face hovered inches from yours, his black eyes almost crossing.

Without meaning to, you noticed the feeling of his body against yours - light but full of energy, like a wire stretched to breaking point.

For a moment, there was no sound, and you thought you'd got away with it.

Then, you heard footsteps coming up to the car.

You cursed furiously. Suddenly, Mark stared straight into your eyes, his dark brows furrowed.

“I have an idea, okay?” he said.

You nodded.

And he pulled your face to his and kissed you.

Not a bad idea, you thought. A couple getting down to it in a dingy car park - it's believable.

Then all of a sudden, Mark was pulling you closer to him, his mouth meeting yours again and again, and you weren't thinking anymore. Mark gave everything to you in that kiss, sucking your top lip raw, like he wanted to erase the space between you. The stiffness in his body was gone, as he melted into action.

You were a little ashamed to hear a moan sound in your throat.

God, why should you feel guilty for this? You could never really get a twenty-something like Mark, even a stupid one, and you hadn't been touched in so long.

It was a very long time before you pulled back, and an even longer time before you realised what this meant.

Mark fancied you! It was so obvious now. You were way too old for him, but that still felt nice.

Mark leaned back, gulping as he patted down his chaotic black hair. Splotches of light caught the ripple of his Adam’s apple, and turned his skin a deep gold. His ridiculous blue suit was crumpled, and a hint of chest hair peeked out from his shirt.

You rapped the steering wheel. “Right. Um. They left a long…long time ago, right?”

Mark nodded.

“Okay. I'm going to… walk back to the station. Clear my head,” you said, and left the car, ignoring whatever Mark was about to say.

As you trudged back, you lit a cigarette with unsteady hands.

That kiss was just a blip. You and Mark? No bloody way. He had too much…. hope. He probably believed in world peace - and Santa.

You knew what would happen. Mark would meet some starry eyed girl with no violent ex husband or borderline drinking problem. They would have idiotically gorgeous children together, and you would hate-like their pictures on Instagram at 3AM.

That was what was right. That was the way things were meant to be.

Acid surged in your stomach.

Damn what was right. You wanted Mark - maybe you had for too long - and you were having him.

You strode into the near-deserted station, and saw Mark leaning in the corridor, sipping from a paper cup.

You walked towards him. “Why did you treat me like that?”

He gulped. “Huh?”

“If you - fancied me - why didnt I get any of your happy-dappy bullshit? Why weren't you nice to me?”

Mark smiled at his shoes. “You said niceness is for air hostesses and rent boys.”

“And I stand by that,” you said softly. “You're certainly not an air hostess.”

Mark whole face darkened in a blush. “I just… like you so much. I didn't want you to hate me.”

You brushed off his shoulders. “Yeah, well…maybe I like your nice side. Maybe I want the princess treatment too.”

Mark's grin took up his whole face. “You really mean it? Because I baked a batch of lemon bars I think you'll love. Ooh, and I know a great matcha place for our first date-”

“Dear lord,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist as you left the station together. You squeezed his butt, making him jump. “At least you've got one hell of an arse.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[sapphira-mydnyte]

♥ Fashion King Ominis ♥

Warning: Language & nothing more.

Summary: Ominis getting his revenge on his family in a way that was sensible earned him more than he ever bargained for, but for it, he traded nothing more than his own dark chains to their fate. He wanted to be the best at something, but standing at the top meant a lot to him for good reasons that his family hated the most.

Try as Tom Riddle might, he could NEVER compare to the style mile that his blond uncle walked. Even among the other pureblood families, he was the one that everyone tried to out-dress. From the Malfoys to the Blacks & even the rest of the Gaunts themselves, none ever took the crown from him when it came to fashion. His blindness didn't faze his sense of style either, but instead, enhanced it. What he couldn't see, he could feel & his wand showed him the rest in place of his failed eye sight. The Ministry held him to the highest standards of the magical world in terms of looking good & he took it in a full stride.

Ominis didn't need to be a dark wizard like his family, he needed his freedom & with the Sallows, he gained it. With them, his sense of fashion sharpened & the twins helped him every step of the way as they could. Anne, although sick, still put her best efforts into whatever he enjoyed wearing. Whether it was embroidery or simple stitching, she was happy in helping him. "For everything they've done to him, he is deserving of this chance! Ominis is, truthfully, far too pretty to be sitting at home. At least in this way, I can still help out, even if it's a little at a time." Sebastian was nobody's fool when it came to boots & coats either. He gave his all in this fight with his sister to get Ominis where he wanted to be & everything paid off in the end. Ominis won galleons in fashion shows & even dueling competitions alongside Sebastian as a teammate. "If my best friend is going to have his revenge in his way, then I'll make damn sure he looks as big of a badass as he needs to be. Nobody is taking Ominis down with us backing him... not even his own family."

Although he was still feared due to his family, Ominis was nice to everyone he had to be around, up until somebody said something disrespectful towards one of the ladies. He took up arms for the girls in the fashion shows that were having a hard time with any of the guys & they stayed by his side whenever he was around. The ladies found it funny when they were with Ominis as he broke the hearts of many men by having such a following of women. Jaws dropped, jealousy levels ran high & the other men stood no chance of winning a woman whenever Ominis was around.

Even the married men caught their wives looking at him! Unfortunately, for the married men, Ominis wasn't having their disrespect to their wives in what got said sometimes. He was cold & took no shit from any woman's husband when it came to how they got treated. "Disrespect her & I'll be the last thing you see! Learn to have some bloody damned manners & let her TRY to make you something nice like what I'm wearing! She deserves to try & I know she CAN do it, so stop being a jealous prick about her looking at me." With that line alone, he won the hearts of every female & kid & also shattered the heart of every grown man, married or not, in range. It wasn't often that Ominis raised his voice, but as the most sought after man in the fashion world, he made it clear that the women were to be respected since they took far longer to get ready for a social event than any man.

Of all the Gaunts, Ominis was more than an heir of Slytherin, he was the fashion king of their house & his legacy left quite a lasting impression upon the house. Although the house still held too much darkness within it, he inspired many to dress better at the least, but at best? Some within the house eventually did find that he was right all along about Salazar & dressed better for more than one reason. Eventually, style, manners & love flowed through the house, but it was a slow & painful process.

One lucky soul found one of the last portraits of this proud heir hidden away in a long forgotten shack for what seemed to be no reason. "No way! No bloody way! You're... you're one of the Gaunts." Ominis raised himself up with his long black cane, its silver shining in the sunlight that poured from the dusty windows as he turned towards the warm rays. He hadn't felt that warmth in so long that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like, but it felt good to him. The heat slowly sunk through his black coat, warming him for the first time in years, but at that moment in time... he was ageless... forever sealed in a picture frame. "That I am, although I hope you're not too frightened of me. I'm not as mean as the rest of my family." The young one's eyes finally found the name at the bottom & dusted it off, their jaw dropping as they read it out loud. "Oh my... you're not just any Gaunt. You're Ominis! The legendary fashion king of the entire house of Slytherin!" The blond let out a laugh, not expecting anybody to be so happy to find him.

"Who in their right mind gave me that title? I love it!" The young one that found him was astounded that he had a sense of humor & a fairly fun one at that. "My grandfather & he thinks its funny that his own father couldn't even match up to you." "Seriously? Who is he?" "You'd know the name since it's one of the 28 families. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy to be exact." Ominis turned to the one that had found him with a look of utter shock. "MALFOY?! Oh bloody hell, I was NOT expecting them to put one on me, but it's a far better title that the rest of my family. I'll have to give your grandfather my thanks for that one, and you are?" The young one couldn't have been more than maybe 21 to 23 if he had to take a guess. "Lola, Lola Malfoy, Draco's grand-daughter."

Happy anniversary to Hogwarts Legacy and thanks for creating who is my favorite character✨🐍

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Flustered

Jschlatt x afab!reader Summary: Schlatt can't handle the teasing smirks and lingering touches. Every touch sends his blood rushing and he can't stop thinking about you. Warnings: M!masturbating, Schlatt pining teasing, dirty thoughts, kinda objectifying of reader, sub!Schlatt vibes, swearing, public A/N: there will be a full part 2 with actual smut

"Hey big guy," you all but purr as you saunter through the doors to the studio with Ted trailing behind you, backpack hung low on your back, hands in your hoodie pocket as you smirk up at Jay.

He stands abruptly when he hears your voice, his heart stuttering as he smooths his shirt down, watching you walk in with that cool confidence you always hold yourself with. You have a mix between a smirk, a smile and a pout on your shiny lips that has Schlatt licking his own as he watches you glide over to him

"H-hey," he stutters out, feeling the flush rise up his neck as you stand on your tip toes, reaching your arms up and wrapping them around his neck to pull him down for a hug. He feels himself melt into you as he puts his arms around your waist, struggling to stop himself from clinging onto you as he's hit with the smell of your sweet perfume.

You plant a friendly kiss on his cheek, a light pink, sparkly stain left in it's place as he feels you smile against his cheek as you pull away, "how've you been?" you ask sweetly as you pull away, your hands trailing casually down his shoulder as you step back and smile up at him.

He nods for a while, way too long, as he just stares at you before he finds his voice, "yeah, good yeah, no good, good."

You laugh softly as your arms shift to his biceps, gasping softly when you give them a squeeze, "damn Schlatt, you been working out?" you ask as you raise an eyebrow at him as your lips part in a teasing smile.

He blushes hard, subtly flexing his arm in a way he hopes won't be too obvious, "a bit yeah," for you, he stops himself from saying.

"It'ss a good look," you say as you grin up at him, pushing your tongue into the side of your cheek in a way that has Schlatt's breath catching in his throat, his thoughts drifting as he stares at your parted lips, "how much are you lifting?"

"A bit," he shrugs coyly, as he forces himself to look away, "could lift you easily I reckon," he says, not really thinking about the words coming out of his mouth until he's said it.

"Go on then," Ted challenges with a sly smirk from where he's positioned himself behind the desk.

"What?" Schlatt asks, his brain catching up as he watches your eyes light up at Ted's challenge.

"Pick her up," he echoes as he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, laughing to himself at how flustered Schlatt is.

Schlatt wants to walk over there and deck him right now for even suggesting such a thing, but you're already popping your backpack on the couch as you smile happily, "we should do that thing the tik tok girlies are doing," you grin as you scroll through your phone, "the Sabrina carpenter song."

"I don't know that one," Schlatt says as he watches you, hoping he'll be able to escape this.

"It's easy," you say as you smile at him sweetly, waving Ted over and handing him your phone to film. You walk up to Schlatt and stand in front of him, back to him, so close he swears you can hear his heartbeat. You grin back up at him as you take his hands and place them firmly on your waist. He has to look up at the ceiling and take a deep breath to stop himself from thinking about how mcuh his hands dwarf your body. You explain it to him, and he barely listens, taking in something about picking you up when the song says something about tall guys.

You giggle excitedly as you nod at Ted, placing your hands over Schlatt's on your waist as the song starts to play. "Now," you say as you grin at the camera, and Schlatt takes a shaky breath as his grip on you tightens, hoisting you up and placing you easily on his broad shoulder. You squeal excitedly as you throw your head back and laugh, tucking your legs under Schlatt's arm and behind his back to hold yourself in place, clapping happily. Schlatt lets out a hearty laugh as he hears your excitement, his hand sinking into the soft flesh of your thigh in a way that makes him drool.

"Damn Schlatt," you laugh as you swing your legs, "I'll let you really toss me around next time."

The podcast goes great, as it always does when the guys invite you on, but it was one of the rare chances you got to see them all so there was no way you were going to leave so quickly. You had helped the guys pack up their gear, tossing it absent mindedly into Ted's, now full, truck, with plans being made for dinner.

"We'll call an uber," Schlatt says next to you as you look at the single seat left that's not being taken up by gear.

"Don't be stupid just get in dude," Ted says as him and tucker jump in the front too seats, "Y/N's tiny, she can sit on your lap."

He stiffens at the idea, eyes widening as he feels you look up at him from his side, arm brushing against his to get his attention, "unless you wanna be on top," you say as you grin sweetly up at him, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip as his breath catches in his throat, "but I reckon you’re too big for me to mange.”

He's not sure if you said it intentionally, but it sends a chill down his spine, as his mind drifts. Thoughts of you spread out seductively, fully on display for him as you say the words breathlessly distracting him as he stares at you.

You notice his continued stiffness as he stares down at you, and your expression softens, "hey," you say as you reach out to touch his arm, "I can sit on the floor, I don't mind"

"Oh no can do," Tucker calls out as he ducks his head out the window, "there's a giant fucking hole in the floor."

"Your car is a fucking death trap dude," Schlatt groans at Ted as he takes a deep breath and moves towards the car, "come on darlin'," he says, the blush deepening on his face as the nickname slips out, "it's not a long drive."

You settle onto Schlatt's lap and he rests one hand on the seat next to him, the other gripping the hand rest tight as he fights the overwhelming desire to hold onto you and pull you closer to him. Your hair brushes against his neck every now and again as the car moves, giving him a smell of your sweet shampoo as his eyes flutter shut briefly. The car's horrible suspension is doing him no favours, as he bites his lip to fight his groan every time you jostle in his lap.

Your jumper is baggy on you, but bunched up around your waist as you sit down, giving him a perfect view of your ass pressed against his lap. Your soft hips and round ass settle on his thighs perfectly as you lean forward, trying to reduce the amount you're sitting directly on him, but just showing yourself off in the process. If he wanted to, he could slip his hand under your short, tight dress and Ted and Tucker would be none the wiser. He could slip his hand up your thigh, and completely cover the soft globe of your ass with his hand. He could slip his hand around your thigh, between your legs, cupping your mound in his firm palm. He could easily touch you, feel the fabric of your panties getting wet as he man handles you, feeling the lace of your panties - no, satin.

The car lurches around the corner and Schlatt brings one hand down to grip your hip tightly when he feels you slipping off his lap, the other hand going up to his mouth where he bites his knuckles to stop the moan that threatens to spill out as your hips grind back against his hard cock. He prays you can't feel it.

"Jesus Christ," he groans quietly as he bites down on his lip, hand fisted tightly around his cock as he strokes himself hard and fast. He had all but sprinted into the restaurant the second you got off his lap, yelling something about you guys getting a table as he dashed inside and into the bathroom. The second the stall door was locked behind him he was clambering to undo his belt, just enough to pull his cock out as he immediately started stroking his length.

He was rock hard, so close to finishing already from how good you had felt pressed up against him in the car, the image of his hands around your waist as your ass pressed into his lap fresh in his mind. He releases his cock for just a second, spitting on his hand to lube himself up as he strokes himself urgently.

He bites back a groan as he tips his head back against the wall, breathing short and ragged as he imagines how good it would feel to actually be inside you. He'd sit there and let you sit that pretty ass back onto his lap, sinking your pussy down on his cock as you rode him.

A harsh bang on the door of the bathroom causes him to jump, hissing as he grips down harshly on his cock still in his hand. "Hurry up in there man," an impatient voice calls out as he fumbles around to get himself back in his pants.

He's blushing red hot as he leaves the bathroom, brushing past the man as he does, grumbling about learning some fucking patience as he makes his way through the restaurant, to where he sees Ted's head poking over a booth.

He slots in next to him, across from you, heart fluttering as he watches your concentrated face read the menu. You chew your lip gently as your brows furrow as you decide what you want, he picks up his own menu to stop the overwhelming urge he feels to reach over and gently tug it free from your teeth.

The conversation is light and easy as it always is when the four of you get together, conversation flowing as you all eat and catch up, without the camera's rolling. Schlatt can't help the guilt he feels at his own internal struggle, feeling his cock twitch in his pants every time you so much as breath too heavy.

The way you throw your head back and laugh, your pretty nail extensions wrapped around your glass, your sweet, concerned stare every time you notice he's zoned out and is staring blankly at you. It's all too much.

Fuck that guy, couldn't wait 5 minutes before banging on the door.

"Let's get a photo," you say sweetly as you smile over at him and Ted, turning to look at Tucker who nods beside you, "I'll flag down a waitress."

"Nah it's fine," Ted says as he reaches over for your phone, "I'll take it."

He takes your phone from you and swivels in the booth, back facing you and tucker as he holds his hand out to take the selfie, kinda awkwardly moving around to attempt to get you all in the shot. "Go sit next to Y/N, Schlatt," he says as he zooms the photo in a bit, "I can't see you."

Schlatt shuffles over to the other side of the booth, squeezing his large frame in beside you as the three of you squish up against each other for the photo. He sees you beam at the camera next to him, shifting forward so him and Tucker aren't crushing you as much, casually resting a hand on his thigh to be more comfortable.

He forces his body to stay relaxed at the light touch of your hand to his outer thigh, willing himself to just smile and look normal. He ignores the warmth he can feel, or thinks he can feel, through his jeans as he stops himself from thinking how good it would feel if your hand just drifted over more.

Ted take the photos and nods happily at them as he looks them over, sliding the phone back across the table to you, as he tells you to go through them. You're not sure if it was you or Ted, you think it must've been Ted given where he's sitting, but the jug of water that was sat calmly on the table, goes tipping over and tumbling to the floor at your feet, it's contents now drenching your chest, stomach and lap.

The boys all frantically stand up to help clean up as you just sit there shocked, Ted scrambling to attempt to catch the jug, while Tucker is immediately on the hunt for napkins. Schlatt however just stands there, staring at you.

The water has saturated the jumper you were wearing, the fabric now wet and clinging to your chest underneath it in a way he can't help but stare at. It leaves little to the imagination as it hugs the globes of your tits under it, begging him to reach out and grasp one in his hand.

You let out a huff of a laugh as you watch Tucker fling napkins at you to pat yourself dry, choosing instead to just pull the soaked jumper off and hang it on the booth behind you. You seemed to move in slow motion, pulling the jumper off as you smiled up at Ted as he apologised again, shaking your hair out when your head's free from the hoodie.

He's actually gawking now, open mouth staring as you sit there in just your dress, still a bit damp but not nearly as bad. It hugs your body like a second skin, a cute little light blue thing that has him thinking anything but innocent thoughts. His cock twitches in his pants as he wants to get on his knees right now and beg you to keep going, desperate to get just a flash more of your skin.

He's so fucked.

He had insisted on getting an uber back to his hotel, he couldn't handle another trip with you on his lap like that. It had been torturously long, his cock straining against his pants as he nearly ran through the lobby into the elevator, shedding his clothes the second the door shut behind him.

"Holy fuck," a whimper escaped his lips as he gripped his phone tightly, eyes glued to the screen as the light lit up his face in the dark room. His body was vibrating with pleasure as he stroked his cock, slick with lube as he tugged himself up and down in firm, long strokes.

He was a year deep in your Instagram, a dangerous place for him to be when he was this worked up for you, but god he just couldn't help himself. It was his favourite picture of you, the third image deep in a carousel of you and your friends at the beach. You were wearing a bikini that left so little to the imagination it made him fucking drool to get his mouth on you. You were crouched down, squatting, as you gazed down at the camera, domineering, predatory. God he would fucking kill to have you look at him like that.

"P-please," a shaky moan escapes his lips as he speeds up, increasing the pressure on his thick cock as he runs his slick hands from base to tip, hips stuttering as they chase his hand each time it moves back up. He feels drool leak from his mouth as he stares open mouthed, in awe at your pictures, letting it run down his chin and drip down his neck, not willing to look away from your photo for even a second.

Your gorgeous thighs on full display, he can almost feel them still under his palm where he picked you up earlier. He wants to suffocate between them, feel them clench around his head as you sit on his face, rocking your hips back and forth on him as he runs his tongue through your folds. Fuck he can imagine how good you'd taste, his eyes fluttering shut as he drops the phone onto the bed, another moan ripping from his lips.

He wants to feel you everywhere, your nails running down his soft stomach, your legs on either side of his, your wet pussy rubbing on his cock. He wouldn't even care if he never got to fuck you, just the feeling of your skin against his would be enough.

Just the thought is enough to have him throwing his head back as he yells your name, large hand pumping his thick cock rapidly as his hips stutter in pleasure. "Oh god yes," he groans as he pushes his head back into the pillow, white hot pleasure ripping through his stomach as he cums all up his torso and down his hand.

He lazily pumps his cock as he reaches blindly for his phone, his hand moving languidly as he works himself through his orgasm, eyes opening slowly to get one last look at you.

His eyes snap open and his hand leaves his cock as he sits up abruptly, staring in horror at the photo he's been jacking off to. A year old, buried deep in your Instagram. Was that like already there?

He’s freaking out about it for the rest of the week hoping to god that you didn’t notice. There’s a justifiable reason for liking a post that old isn’t there? He was drunk, or high maybe? It popped up in his feed randomly?

Fuck this was the end of him.

He had been refreshing your socials and chats with him religiously since the incident, as he has dubbed it, wanting to know if you say anything at all that means you know. He prays you’ll be merciful and save his embarrassment.

He’s filming the next Chuckle episode with Ted and Tucker, but they can all tell he’s a million miles away. He blames it on being tired from Chuckle week when Ted asks, but the blush on his face and the way his eyes dart over to his second screen every few seconds give him away.

When the new Instagram photo from you pops up he physically fumbles with his shaker cup, hearing it clamber to the floor as he tries to hide his nerves and focus on Ted.

It’s no use though, he has to look. His mouth runs dry as his eyes lock onto the picture of you, another bikini pick, that same bikini, clearly taken in a studio somewhere. You’re leaning back against a wall, legs outstretched in front of you, eyes gazing up, half lidded, as the camera leans over you, a seductive smirk on your face. Fuck it’s like you’re staring right up at him.

“I see you lurking, don’t be shy," the caption reads. Oh god he’s so fucked.

“Jesus Jambo,” he stutters out in his best attempt at sounding fake angry, “shit guys I’ll be back, fuck sorry gotta sort this out.” Before Ted can get a word in he’s leaving the call, fumbling with his pants as he turns his webcam off.

He hisses when the cold air hits his hard cock, immediately spitting on his large palm and wrapping it around himself. He pushes down the anxiety he feels at doing this so close to his webcam, he’s too desperate to care. He stares at your picture as he strokes his cock hard and fast, he hasn’t got long, he has to get back to recording. God you look so enticing like this, thick thighs on display, tits hugged by the flimsy fabric of your bikini top. Fuck he wants to get his moth all over you. He wants to kneel between your thighs, hoist you up against that wall as he runs his tongue all over you. He wants to make you drip for him, he’d die happy if he got you even as half as hot as you get him.

The sound of a discord call rips through his headphones and he silently curses Ted as he stills his hand on his cock. He opens his eyes wirh a heaving breathe only for it to catch again when he sees your picture on his screen. You’re calling him.

Oh fuck.

He answers it with shaky hands, brain hazy as he forgets about his cock, exposed ans rock hard as he scoots into the desk to hide it from you.

“Hey there handsome,” you beam when you see his face pop up, flushed and sweaty. Bingo.

"H-hey," he stutters back, stomach clenching as you grin at him, "what’s up?"

"Not much," you shrug, chewing your lip to hide your smirk, "just been posting some photos, did you see them?"

Your innocent question and big eyes staring into him through the camera makes his cock drip precum, twitching for his attention as he shakes his head.

"No?" You hum as you look away briefly, hiding a small laugh as you rub your thumb over your lower lip, "well I’m sure you’ll like them."

He just nods, dumbly, obediently almost. He can’t form words, too busy thinking about your pretty lips and how much he’d kill to feel them against his own. He’d lay there and let you use him for hours for even a second of them stretched around his cock.

"Listen," you purr, interrupting his dirty thoughts, "are you free next Tuesday?"

He shakes his head as his brain fires back up at the question, focusing back on you, "Tuesday?" You nod as you type away at your computer, “uh I think so? Why?” He asks.

"I’m gonna be in New York," you hum as you turn back to face him, your teasing cascade dropping for a second as you smile, almost shyly at him, “It would be really nice to see you… just you.”

[morgana-larkin]

Alright, here's part 5 of 'Just Tired'. I have to say that I was very happy and surprised that someone asked me when this was coming out and it made my entire week so I want to thank whoever sent that! I just have to that in this part, shit gets real. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I seem to have reached my limit of amount of links I can add to a post so I'm splitting up my Melissa fics. I'm splitting up the one shots and the series fics.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Just Tired - Part 5

Warnings: Manipulative relationship, swearing, two small masturbation parts

Words: 2.6k

You look down between your legs and see a mess of red hair as she eats you out. You feel all the sensations she’s giving you and you can’t help but moan out her name.

“Melissa, right there.” You say breathlessly and she looks up at you and you both lock eyes. You feel as you get closer and closer to an orgasm, you’re right at the edge. Melissa goes to do one more suck on your clit and then your eyes snap open. 

You look around, breathing hard and realise that you’re in your room. Once you regain your senses you notice that it was your alarm that awoke you from your very pleasant sex dream of you and Melissa. You honestly didn’t know that you’d be having sex dreams about her but she’s just that captivating to you, who knew you’d like stubborn fiery women but it honestly doesn’t surprise you. You shut off your alarm and then you feel wetness between your legs and sigh. You get up and hop in the shower. You bring back memories of the dream and give yourself an orgasm in the shower.

“Second orgasm I’ve had to give myself because of this woman.” You mutter to yourself as you try to control your breathing. You then quickly get ready, grab your things as well as your helmet and head out the door.

Melissa is lying awake in bed, she didn’t get much sleep last night as she realises that she might be developing a crush on you. She hears her alarm go off and she quickly goes to turn it off and then goes back to staring at her ceiling for a couple minutes. She then gets up and goes in the shower. She lets the hot water pour over her and she takes a few deep breaths. Even though she might be developing a crush, she can never act on it as she’s married to Joe, even if she’s slightly tempted to act on it.

She then starts trailing her hand down in between her legs and finds her clit. She starts circling it and she lets out a moan at it feeling so good, better than if Joe was doing it. Melissa closes her eyes and feels how good it feels, how she feels her orgasm building quickly. She leans on the shower wall and keeps feeling the pleasure build until she’s right at her peak. Suddenly you flash in her mind and then her orgasm rushes through her. She takes a few seconds to catch her breath and then she realises what happened and she covers her mouth.

“No no no. I can’t have feelings for someone else.” She mutters and grabs her hair. Then a few tears stream down her face and she covers her eyes with her hands as she cries for a good minute “It’s just all the compliments, it’s just nice to hear them, that’s all. I love Joe and I’m his wife, and that’s the way it is.” She mutters and then a thought comes to her. “The damn bastard who hasn’t given me a compliment since I married him.” She says and throws the bar of soap at the wall out of anger. “If you won’t give them to me then I’ll get them somewhere else.” She says as she calms down. She then finishes her shower, gets ready and gathers her things before she hears a knock at the door.

“Hey Mel-” You start to say before you see her outfit. She’s wearing her iconic black leather pants and a green shirt that may be too inappropriate for school.

“Cat got your tongue?” Melissa says with a smirk. 

“Don’t you think that shirt might be too low for school?” You ask her and she shrugs.

“I’ve worn it to school before.” She tells you and then she winks at you before she walks to her car. “Come on, let’s go.” She says and gets in her car.

“It might be too low for school but it looks really good on you.” You tell her after getting in and she smiles at you. 

“Thanks hon.” She says and then drives you both to work. “So what have you got planned with your kiddos today?” She asks as starts driving to school.

“Oh so much fun. They’re gonna do a family portrait, whatever that looks like to them and they’re gonna present it to the class.” You say excitedly.

“That does sound like fun, and what would your family portrait look like?” She asks and you look at her.

“Oh, I’m not doing it, I’m not a great artist.” You tell her and she can tell there’s something more.

“Not all the kids are either but they’ll still have fun doing it, so can you.” She says and you look down and Melissa glances at you. “You don’t have to tell me about your family but if you want then I’m all ears and maybe I’ll even throw in one question that I’ll have to answer.” She says and you look at her.

“What question?”

“Whatever question you want to ask me.” She says and you look at her.

“You said maybe, so that’s not a certainty.” You say and cross your arms.

“Alright, you can ask one question that I have to answer if you tell me about your family.” She tells you and you think about it.

“Ok deal.” You say and hold your hand out. She quickly shakes it when it’s safe to do so. “My family wasn’t great.” You start with. “They’re religious and they didn’t support me when I came out. They tried to get me to be straight, to be normal, but I kept fighting with them everytime. The day I turned 18 I moved in with a friend and went to school to be a teacher. I was able to make enough money to move here with that roommate and I never heard from my parents after I left them.” You tell her and she quirks an eyebrow.

“And after all that you’re still…sane?” She asks and you chuckle.

“I’m able to be myself, that’s what keeps me sane. If I’m not able to be myself then what’s the point of being me?” You say and Melissa looks everywhere but at you for a good 30 seconds as she thinks about what you just said. 

“That’s a good point.” She finally says and you hum.

“Ok, now I get to ask my question and I know exactly what I want to ask.” You say and turn to her. “You might not like it though.” You add and she gives you a weird look.

“Alright, what is it?”

“You said you married Joe because you love him, but why are you still married to him when he doesn’t treat you as he should?” You ask her and she furrows her eyebrows and her jaw drops.

“What?” She asks.

“Do you really not see it?” You ask her and she stops at a red light and looks at you. 

“See what?”

“Out of everything you’ve told me and what I saw on Saturday, he’s not nice to you.” You tell her bluntly and she looks away as the light turns green.

“You’re wrong, he loves me.” She says and she gulps.

“Is that what you keep telling yourself?” You ask, really pushing it as she turns into the parking lot of the school.

“What are you really asking me?” She tells you angrily.

“Why are you married to someone who doesn’t treat you like a queen?” You ask plainly and her eyes widen in shock. “You’ve told me he doesn’t touch you, apologise when he should, or even compliment you.” You add and you see her continue to just stare at you in shock. “You never told me he doesn’t compliment you but with the way you take compliments when I give them, I figured that part out myself.” 

“I don’t need all that stuff to have a happy marriage.” She simply says and then gets out of the car and you follow her.

“Melissa, I might be overstepping… a lot, but what I saw on saturday, it looks like…well, like manipulation.” You say to her face and she looks in your eyes and sees no lies.

“What? I’m not being manipulated.” She says and looks taken back.

“That friend I mentioned who I moved in with when I turned 18, she was in a manipulative relationship without knowing it but another friend of hers found out and helped her and she told me all about it.” You say and she sighs. “It’s easy not to see it because manipulators are good at making the victim think they’re in a loving relationship.” You tell her and she walks away from you and into the school.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you for the rest of the day.” She tells you as you catch up with her. “Got it?” She asks and points a finger at your chest.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped but I’m worried about you.” You tell her.

“Worrying about me and having some sort of crush on me are two very different things.” She tells you and continues walking to the break room.

“What makes you think I have a crush on you?” You ask her and she looks at you, rolls her eyes and scoffs.

“You’re very obvious, kid.” She says and then enters the break room.

Everyone else is able to sense some sort of tension between you and Melissa as soon as you both enter but everyone is smart enough not to bring it up, due to two of them fearing Melissa and the other one thinks it’s too early to be solving anything right now. Barb ends up stopping you in the hallway after you bring your kids to the caf and she drags you to her classroom.

“Barbra, what is it?” You ask her as soon as she closes her door.

“What is going on between you and Melissa?” She says, straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You tell her and she gives you a look that says ‘really?’ “Ok, I may have said some things to her on the way to school that maybe I shouldn’t have.” You say and don’t look her in the eye the entire time.

“What did you say to her?”

“May have mentioned she might be in a…manipulative relationship.” You tell her and look down. “I saw her and Joe on Saturday and it was so clear that she’s in one.” You defend yourself and you hear Barb sigh.

“She is in one.” She confirms and you look at her.

“What?”

“I’ve known her since the very start of her marriage with him.” She says and sits in her chair. “I tried to get her to see it but she’s stubborn and she kept defending him.” She tells you.

“How do we help someone who’s in one, especially when they don’t know it?” You ask her and she looks at you.

“From what I read, drop hints and hope they’ll figure it out.”

“I just dropped the biggest hint of all by telling her plainly and she still can’t see it.”

“Give her time, Melissa is smart but incredibly stubborn and I know it’ll be on her mind. You planted a seed in her mind.” She says.

“I planted a seed but she doesn’t want to speak to me.”

“People in these relationships get defensive as they don’t want to see the truth. She’ll forgive you one day.” She tells you and you sigh. You then get up and open the door and see Melissa there about to knock.

“Melissa!” You say in shock and her jaw drops and just stares at you. Barb looks at the door and sees the two of you just staring at each other for a few seconds.

“I came to see Barb.” Melissa tells you softly and you nod before you walk around her and go to the break room.

“I guess it’s advice day today.” Barb mutters as Melissa watches you walk away. “What is it, Melissa?” She asks her and Melissa snaps out of her trance and goes into Barb’s classroom.

“I saw you weren’t in the break room so I brought your lunch and I want to talk to you anyway.” Melissa tells her and hands Barb her lunch. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Y/n said the craziest thing to me this morning. She said I was in a manipulative relationship with Joe.” Melissa says and scoffs before looking at Barb.

“And what’s the issue?”

“Well it’s crazy, I think I would know if I was being manipulated, much less my husband.” Melissa says and paces around the room.

“Do you even know the signs of manipulation?”

“No, what for?”

“How would you know you were being manipulated if you don’t know the signs?” Barb asks her and Melissa freezes.

“Hang on, it sounds as if you’re on Y/n’s side in this.” Melissa tells her.

“Melissa, there’s no sides here, we’re just looking out for you to make sure you’re happy.” Barb tells her carefully.

“Well I am happy so there’s no need to look out for me, unless you're so unhappy in your marriage and you’re looking to take down a happy marriage to make yourself feel better.” Melissa snaps and then storms out while cursing in italian. 

Melissa ends up not speaking to anyone for the rest of the day and blatantly ignores you while she drives you to her place. Whenever you try to talk, she turns up the music and sings, you just gave up after a few attempts and looked out the window.

“Get your damn bike and you can bring yourself to work tomorrow.” She tells you while not looking at you and then enters her house while slamming the door.

You let out a sigh before you go get your bike from the backyard. You roll it out, put on your helmet and then ride home. Melissa watches you from the window as you take off on your bike and she lets out a breath before she throws her sunglasses across the room in anger.

“For fuck sake!” She yells out before she just collapses on the couch. She was starting to open herself out to someone and they’re just trying to tell her what to do. She then thinks that you never told her to do anything, simply stating a worry, Barb too. Why would they both be worried she’s in a manipulative relationship when she’s not? Then she remembers what Barb says about signs and she gets her phone out. She then googles what the signs are in a manipulative relationship. “This will definitely prove I’m not in one and it’ll show them.” Melissa mutters as she clicks on a site and reads them out loud. “Gaslighting, passive aggression, silent treatment, love bombing, guilt tripping, isolation, threats, with…withholding affection, triggering insecurities, confusion, lying and blaming, blame shifting, frequent apologies to the manipulator.” She reads outloud and then she looks into each of them. 20 minutes later she looks up from her phone with a few tears running down her cheeks. She then stand up, grabs a pillow and begins to hit the couch with it over and over again. “SON A FUCKING BITCH!”

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta 

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[necromancerbunny]

I’ve got a secret, can you keep it? || #1

summary: Aaron corners you at your parents’ anniversary party to tell you what he wants.

warnings: age gap, dbf!Hotch

If your parents knew what thoughts are plaguing your mind every time you look at Aaron at their anniversary party, they would lose their marbles. But how could you not think about him? How could you not think about the way he looks at you from across the room, how much his expression softens when he’s talking to you? The signs are there, you’re just unsure if you’re decoding them right.

It’s probably the age difference that makes you so uncertain, prompting you to wonder if he would even want something from you. Aren’t you too young? Aren’t you too naive? Why would he want you? Still, the way he looks at you always pulls a dreamy sigh from your lips. Just one chance. All you need is one chance to find out what if.

There’s something about him that keeps pulling you in, that gravitational field forged from his quiet confidence, from the way he acts so nice and polite despite being the unit chief of one of the FBI’s most prestigious teams. And those eyes? And that rare smile? They haunt you in your dreams. Oh, those dreams…

“I need your help. It’s an emergency,” you hear your cousin’s voice a mere second before his fingers clasp around your wrist to pull you away from the terrace door.

You love Liam, he’s only sixteen, but he’s dating his first proper girlfriend now, so he can be pretty lost sometimes, and he doesn’t feel like asking for his parents’ advice. So, you became the person he turns to for a few wise words, which is kind of funny considering you haven’t dated anyone properly in a while.

Despite your love for this kid, your attention often slips away during the conversation, because you know Aaron’s eyes are watching you closely, putting a sweet pressure on you by making it hard to focus on your relative. When you dare to throw a casual glance in his direction, as if you were just scanning the room without looking for anyone or anything, you see that damn smug smirk on his face.

Suddenly, your cousin’s phone starts playing his favorite song, his girlfriend’s name flashing on the screen. He looks uncertain, but you want to take this chance to get rid of him. With a kind, supportive smile, you tell him to be a man and talk to her, tell her why exactly he doesn’t feel like introducing her to his parents just yet.

With a sigh, you head to the backyard, following the path that leads you to your parents. Not because you want to have a chat with them, but because Aaron’s there. He’s busy explaining someone to a woman you don’t know, but you can see that look in her eyes, that smitten look with those sparkling eyes that tell you what she wants from him. He doesn’t seem to notice, or rather he’s just good at hiding his emotions.

It’s jealousy that’s clawing at your heart, leaving an ache behind you don’t want to feel, so you flash a smile at your mother who’s watching you with curious eyes, then take a step back to leave the group. But your body freezes before you could walk away, because you suddenly feel his hand on the small of your back. When you look at him, you see the way the corner of his lips curl into a barely visible smile.

No one seems to notice, not even that woman who’s still watching him with those wide, doe eyes. You can’t help but wonder how long that might last, because you instinctively bite your lower lip when his fingers spread on your back. He’s gonna be the death of you, but god, wouldn’t it be the sweetest possible death?

“I’m sorry, do you happen to have some painkillers? I can feel a headache coming,” he suddenly says, giving your parents an almost awkward smile. Your mother tells him they have some in the master bathroom, but when she puts her champagne flute on a table behind her, he’s quick to speak up. “No, it’s your night, I’m sure your daughter knows her way around.”

It takes a second to register what he just said. He wants you to go with him, he wants you to join him on this trip into the house. A part of the house that is usually off-limits to the guests. Panic fills you, but you manage to take a deep breath to calm your nerves. It’s just an innocent request, he surely doesn’t have some ulterior motive. And if he did, then what? That’s what you want, after all, isn’t it?

Before you know it, Aaron leads you toward the house, passing through the crowd in silence. There aren’t any curious looks, no one seems to wonder what you’re doing there together, because you’re an adult, and he’s just a family friend. A recently divorced and stupidly handsome family friend, someone you have very, very indecent dreams about.

God dammit.

When you reach the master bedroom, he closes the door behind you and stops. You turn back with a questioning look, but he’s just standing there, brown eyes observing you curiously. Gulping, you decide it would be for the best if you just moved on to the bathroom to get what he asked for, so you don’t have to face him. The way he’s watching you? That’s pure torture. It’s like he wants to say something, but he’s hesitating, as if something was holding him back.

You find some Advil in the bathroom, but when you take the box from the shelf, you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. “I don’t really need that,” you hear him say, so you turn around to see what he wants then.

Aaron’s smile reaches his eyes, making you melt on the spot. No wonder that woman was all over him, who in their right mind wouldn’t be? Sometimes you can’t help but think about what he must be like behind the scenes, because there has to be something, a reason why Haley left him. You heard the story from your parents, but you never dared to ask him about that.

“But you said–”

“I know what I said, but that was a lie,” he informs you casually. When you give him a questioning look, he flashes a smile at you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

At first, you just stare at him, mouth agape. But then your brows furrow as you take a deep breath, preparing to ask the stupidest question you can think of. “Nothing. Why do you ask?” you wonder out loud.

There’s a beat of silence before he steps closer to you. “Dinner. I have a reservation for eight, so I’ll pick you up half an hour earlier, okay? Wear something nice.” When he sees that you froze from the suggestion, he lets out a quiet chuckle. “You’re so beautiful when you’re confused,” he says as he reaches out to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

A secret relationship with Aaron Hotchner is like a rabbit hole. You dive in, following the flow, and only hope things would work out in the end. But damn, isn’t it the best thing ever? He’s nice, handsome, confident, and did you mention handsome?

Yes, you’re screwed.

[petew21-blog]

Grey's Swapatomy pt. 2

“Damn, Doctor Grey. You really surprised me”

Lexie: „What’s wrong with you today? You’re acting weird.”

Richard: „What? Was the sex bad?”

Lexie: „No!!! Oh god. I didn’t mean it like that. It was great. You are great. Ehhh. You just seemed way more interested in my body than normally.”

Richard enjoyed Lexie’s nervous behavior and intended to tease her more: „You think I am not interested in your body?”

Lexie: “No! Of course you are. You are a straight guy and we have had sex MANY times before. I just felt as if you were exploring my body a bit more than usual. Anyway. I think I will have to go.”

Richard: „There is enough room under these sheets for both of us. We still have time before we have to leave for work.” He gave her a seducing smile and winked at her.

Lexie just laughed nervously and left the room half naked.

Richard felt amused. Making Lexie nervous after having sex with her in Mark’s body was really satisfying. He didn’t even know before that Mark was in a relationship with her, but that doesn’t matter now. There was a rock hard thing under the sheets he had to take care off before leaving for work.

Richard threw off the thin layer covering his massive hulking body. Richard was astonished by the way this new white body performed during the sex. His new dick was bigger than his own and much more sensitive. He grabbed a hold of his rod and started jerking furiously. He couldn’t get enough of this body. It was so full of energy and the libido! Richard felt as if he could fuck anything or anyone!¨

After spewing the cum all over his large torso, he headed out to the shower.

He loved the hair, although grey, on his head. He was such a DILF as the young people would say nowadays.

He loved the hairy body. The confidence. The charming face in the mirror. His freaking everything.

After spewing the cum all over his large torso, he headed out to the shower.

He loved the hair, although grey, on his head. He was such a DILF as the young people would say nowadays.

He loved the hairy body. The confidence. The charming face in the mirror. His freaking everything.

As he stood in the shower, he looked at his hands. His million dollar hands that were now experts in plastic surgery. Richard was far from being a professional in plastics, but he was a hell of a general surgeon.

He felt the hot water pouring all over his new stolen body. It all felt so right. “I am not coming back. I am Mark Sloan from now on and forever.”

Richard made up his mind. Mark tried to contact him several times, but Richard made sure that he was blocked on every number and through every contact he had. The NEW Mark, Richard, moved thousand miles away from Seattle to start his new life.

12 years later

Richard, or Mark Sloan as people knew him, was now in the top of the general surgery. He was on the cover of magazines. Made millions of dollars through marketing and his accounts on social media. But it didn’t feel right anymore. Richard felt as if his life was all about money now. He could have sex with anyone, but he felt as if the people were in it for the money, not for his persona or charm. He missed that. He stole this body to feel young again, not to be a businessman. Maybe he had to go through this to find out that he didn’t choose right the first time.

Richard also gave lectures at the medical university. That’s where he found Andrew, a handsome young man that showed promise, but was too lazy to become a great surgeon. The young man was a few weeks away from completing the university, but Richard knew that this young man was in it just for the money.

He found his address in the university database and decided to give him an offer that he would be definitely interested in. And if not, Richard would take his life anyway, one way or another.

A request from inbox: That Richard Webber and Mark Sloan swap was amazing! Could you possible do a continuation /sequel to it? Really excited to see what goes on with the new Mark Sloan!

Part 1:

[bbybhr]

"A fighter" sevika x fem reader angst

Summary: If there was a soul mate for everyone, sevika would think "and was sure" there's none for her. people,they are connected by their scars their pain and how they could heal one another. People see the broken pieces and offer what they have in exchange for what they want and sevika had nothing to give and plenty to get. she was so broken that the scars on the surface, were the surface. and one should reach out too deep to find a sign of her and only than to try healing her. and sevika wouldn't be that cruel to anybody. that was until you came along and sevika found herself for the very first time...wishing for something selfish...something entirely hers

Sevika is a fighter. not that she likes it or she gets off on it but she is one simply because there's the need for it. she needs to be one, silco needs her to be one, the nation of zaun and all of the people of undercity, needs her to be one...so she became one...and to hold that title she is required to be tough, to man up and forget her weakness...to avoid weaknesses and lately you're becoming one.

she needs to keep her distance from you and she was telling herself that from the day she met you. But somewhere along this mission she failed. somewhere between the beautiful smile you gave her everytime you saw her and the sweet little voice of yours telling her "good morning sev" every morning. Somewhere in the way your beautiful eyes shine everytime she talks to you and somewhere when she felt that tingling feeling inside of her heart after seeing you.

And frankly she thought she could do it. She thought whenever she absolutely had to, she can just cut you off for the greater good. That's what being in the top of the chain of power requires, so she would do it. I mean how hard could it be, she could just forget about all of that there was and get on with her life, with the plan big enough to save thousands of lives... at least she tells herself that before thinking of you and drifting off to sleep.

Why she doesn't do it now?she just simply wants another taste...everytime she tells herself that. she only need one more good morning, one more worried look whenever she shows up beaten, one more time of having you clinging by her side when she's fixing her arm, one more time seeing you looking at her with awe when she wins in card games.

And every time she repeated that sentence that "just one more time and I'm done" it's a fucking lie. she's becoming addicted to you and everyone can see it except herself.

Everyone knows they're not to mess with you and it's showing on their attitude towards you. creep wouldn't dare to look at you in a bad way and the meanest people who won't give a damn about anything bite their tongue before anything bad about you leave their lips because they know better to mess with sevika and getting their shit rearranged.

And that was what encouraged you to take the first step and ask her to have a dinner with you at your place. Because although sevika seemed interested enough for someone like her more than enough you knew she wouldn't take the first step or at least she wouldn't use her words for it, so you would get stuck in between a lot of nothings. So you asked her...

And when you did so your heart was in your throat, you could feel the coldness and numbness creeping up your fingers and toes as you played with the hem of your clothing. daring to only take one breath per second.

Sevika on the other hand was stunned. what did she do to make it to this second, standing infront of you, noticing how you were more dolled up compere to the other times and how you were trying to distract yourself from her gaze and avoiding it with all your might and even though it was just a few seconds, she felt like she's missing it...she's missing how your pupils dilated at the sight of her and how your eyes would tremble everytime it was forced to hold her gaze more than mere seconds.

"Sure why not"

She was fucked...not because she said yes...because she didn't even thought of saying no and it would only become harder and harder with every and each passing day. knowing you was both a blessing and a curse because the more she got to know about you she fell more onto the depth of loving you more.

Everytime she got to wrap her hands around you when you were sleep, easily pulling you in her embrace. breathing at the nape of your neck welcoming the most beautiful dreams that she never had she would fell lower.

When she would wake up seeing your messy hair tickling on her neck and chest while sun shining on them made them a little bit lighter she would fell lower and lower.

When she kissed that very kissable lips of yours taking in your lipstick from them and painting them with a flushed redder look that she adored so much she would fell lower and lower and lower.

And when she would make your face blushed make your body get cover in a thin sheet of sweat, quivering underneath her with sweet sweet moan skipping you lips, calling her oh so beautifully she would fell lower and lower and lower to the bottom of that pit.

And than she hit the ground.

When silco warned her about how she was growing too clumsy too much eager to get back home before getting the job done. how she's losing the sense of survival, how she's failing as a fighter a warrior.

And it hit her, the bottom of that pit the end of the days she was living for herself...

She came home that night,trashed, wasted. stumbling on her feet, eyes seeing two for one and stomach burning with dread and alcohol, struggling so long to put the keys in the keyhole that you heard and opened it at last...when she thought of that she was glad that it was you that came to the door that night opening the door her for the last time...she had plenty of time to open that door by herself to an once again empty house.

"Sevika... are you okay? what happened?"

You called her and her ears despite her drunken mind picked up on the sound, devouring everything you gave, every call you create. placing them in the back of her mind, safe from the chaos.

"Get out"

She rasped out as she stepped in, voice hoarse from all the unnecessary yelling and cussing and drinking. she quickly get done with that, ripping of the bandage like she always does. she didn't spare you a look as she made her way to the kitchen grabbing another bottle.

"What do you mean?"

You were shocked to say the least not knowing it's just drunk talking or she's fucking serious right now you. frown in shock a rare sight.

"Do I have to repeat it now"

She said with a calmness in her tone that was far away from the mess unfolding within her. she slammed the bottle down on the counter, turning to look at you with her gray eyes, drowned in emotions so much you couldn't even see anything in them.

"Get out of my life"

She continued, taking an step forward.

"Get all of your bubbly shit all the hope you're trying to put on me all your sickening love and get the fuck out"

You looked up, wide eye feeling like someone dumped hot boiling fucking water all over you your lips moved without any sound coming from it.

"What...what do you mean...where is it coming from...did I do something?I swear to god I didn't"

You sound...desperate voice shaking and body trembling. you could feel the coldness creeping up to your fingers you could feel your heartbeat in your throat but you weren't playing with the hem of your clothes anymore, only thing playing was time with the both of you.

"Stop it"

She cut your voice

"I'm tired of it...I'm tired of you taking my life trying to fix things that I built under pressures that you have no fucking clue about...get out I'm done playing this game"

You didn't know how you left how you put everything you could in a bag sobbing as you close the door fat tears coming down your cheeks sevika didn't know how she could bare the sound of your cries that night and you didn't know how you're going to live from now on...and so did sevika.

[wchswift]

🌺 “let’s have a baby!” *b spits out food* “a what now?” with Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Thank you

🩷

─── telling logan you want a baby

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you tell logan that you want a baby with him.

contents! fluff, domestic life, established relationship, talking about having a baby.

notes: It was supposed to be shorter but when I saw it I ended up stretching the plot more than planned lol. thanks for the request anon 💜

The cabin was warm, the smell of home-cooked food filling the air as the fire crackled in the corner. It was a simple life, but it was theirs. Logan sat across from her at the worn wooden table, one hand lazily curled around a beer while the other stabbed at his food. He looked relaxed for once—broad shoulders loose, jaw not clenched for once, the habitual storm behind his eyes calmer than usual.

Perfect time to drop a bombshell.

She stabbed her fork into a piece of food, twirling it between her fingers. Casual. Relaxed. Then, with the same tone she’d use to suggest a movie, she said—

“Let’s have a baby.”

Logan didn’t freeze. He didn’t tense or give you one of those intimidating stares. No—he did something better.

He choked.

One second, he was biting into his steak, and the next, he was coughing violently. A rough a what now? escaped between wheezes, his hand pounding against his chest like that would somehow help.

She bit back a grin, completely unfazed, and took a casual sip of her drink. “A baby, Logan. You don’t know what a baby is? Want me to explain it to you?”

Logan shot her the flattest, most unimpressed look in existence. If looks could kill, she’d be six feet under.

She just grinned, meeting his glare with ease. “You heard me. Let’s have a baby. A tiny human. Yours and mine.”

“Darlin’, that’s not exactly somethin’ you just drop over dinner.”

She snorted, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, yeah. I figured I’d skip the dramatic lead-up and just say it.”

Logan muttered something under his breath, then leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He grabbed his beer and took a long, slow sip as if alcohol might somehow help him process what was happening. It didn’t.

Finally, he set the bottle down with a thud and looked at her, expression unreadable. “And you’re serious?”

“Very.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He was silent for a moment, eyes searching hers like he was trying to find some crack in the statement—some sign that she was messing with him. But there was nothing. Only that damn steady, patient look of hers.

Logan let out a slow breath, shifting in his seat. “Jesus, princess,” he muttered.

She grinned. “So… that’s a yes?”

He shot her another look.

“That’s not a yes.”

“Nope.”

“But it’s not a no,” Logan grumbled and went back to eating, clearly hoping she’d let it go. She didn’t.

She rested her chin on her hand, watching him like she could see the wheels turning in his head. “You’re thinking about it.”

He scoffed. “I’m eatin’.”

“You’re eating and thinking about it.”

Logan shook his head, focusing way too hard on his plate. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me,” she teased.

Logan didn’t look up. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it.

And just like that, she knew. He might not have said yes, but he hadn’t said no either. And for Logan, that was as good as an answer.

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so impossible after all.

The conversation didn’t come up again.

Not while they finished eating. Not while they cleaned up. Not even when they settled into bed, the soft hum of the wind outside filling the comfortable silence between them.

But Logan was still thinking about it.

Lying on his back, one arm folded under his head, he stared at the ceiling. His mind ran over the idea like a blade he wasn’t sure was sharp or dull—wasn’t sure if it’d cut him open or just sit heavy in his hands.

A kid. His kid.

The thought should’ve scared the hell out of him. Maybe it did. But it also… didn’t. Not the way he expected.

He glanced to the side.

She was asleep, curled into the blankets, her breathing soft and even. Peaceful. Unaware that she’d just completely rewired something deep in him with one damn sentence over dinner.

Logan swallowed, gaze lingering on her face.

He’d had a lot taken from him in his life. A lot of people, a lot of memories, a lot of time. But here she was, asking him to have something. Something real. Something that wasn’t just fighting and running and waiting for the next bad thing to hit. He was still afraid, afraid that his kid would be like him. A mutant.

But maybe… maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Not if it was with her by his side.

His chest rose and fell with a slow breath.

Then, wordlessly, he shifted closer, his arm slipping around her. He pulled her against him, pressing his lips to her forehead, lingering there for a moment.

“Yeah, alright,” he muttered against her skin, voice low, rough, barely a whisper.

She stirred slightly, shifting into him, but didn’t wake.

Logan let his eyes close. Relaxing with the choice he's come to.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

taglist: @namikyento (if you want to be added let me know <3)

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS PLAYING THEIR OWN GAME

scout: scout would give every class a shot. he really likes playing as soldier— a lot of no think just click. he tries to stay away from playing himself as a class, feels weird to him. goes out of his way to spycheck. no spies will ever get past him. once there’s more than two on the opposing team he switches to pyro. his taunt menu is FULL. has a couple australium weapons.

soldier: soldier will play himself because it’s no think mouse one. finds it humorous that it’s much easier to rocket jump in the game than it is in real life. market garden pro. he’ll occasionally play medic, but he will switch classes the second someone calls for him more than once and leave the team down a doctor. be appreciative of the medigun or suffer and die. will not switch his layouts, ever. even if you beg him in chat.

pyro: pyro will also give every class a shot; but they focus on playing spy. one of those players who would obsessively watch “how to play spy” youtube videos so that they can take what they learn and catch the enemy spy more in actual battle. catches the spy when he’s sure he was undetected. undetected by all but one. they also… really enjoy playing spy. don’t tell anyone. they fucking hate that spycicle though. won’t use it on principle. really cute cosmetic layouts.

demo: demo will also opt for his own class. it’s fuckin… hard. he doesn’t enjoy playing himself. he blows himself up more often in that damn game than he wants to admit. likes the mann vs machine game mode. sometimes plays heavy to no think w + m1. also really enjoys playing pyro! if he doesn’t want to suffer playing himself he opts for an “easier” class; but he’s pretty dedicated to playing his class and getting better at it.

heavy: y’all know if he’s not playing himself he’s gonna play his doctor. all of his class layouts are god tier though. good weapon layouts. the best cosmetics. got australium everything. too embarrassed to get the burly beast cosmetic. even more embarrassed to admit other medics with that cosmetic fluster him. he can’t even look at them. a very aggressive battle engineer. heavy playing engineer is a spam of “dispenser going up!” “sentry going up!” “teleporter going up!” “packin up!” “i’m moving this!” “movin out!” “let’s do this TEXAS STYLE”. his sentries are never in the same place for more than a minute before he’s forcing the team to push ahead again. taunt menu full of kill taunts. it’s so funny when it works.

engineer: hands down a sniper main. if only to kick sniper’s ass and gloat slightly if they’re playing together. he’s actually pretty good! has considered installing cheats, but it’s better to be good and piss people off to the point of accusing him of cheating. it’s only happened once. he doesn’t play himself, he would actually rather do his job at that point. stock layout, no cosmetics, no text chat available for this user. sometimes he’ll switch to scout for some more “dynamic” gameplay, but he’s not particularly good at the classes that have to be directly in the action.

medic: yes he does have the burly beast cosmetic, why do you ask? gives generous attention to all classes, even himself! decent, if a chronic overextender. KD ratio is fucked up but has insane damage output. he likes to play with heavy, but he won’t play his own class. they’re the real thing. sometimes heavy will ask, and he’s nice enough about the request he’ll oblige, but he’s not the best when medic plays his own class, so he’s more tempted to say no more often. some of the most frightening layouts imaginable. make no sense. people are screaming at him to change, he’s got voice chat muted. he’s always having a good time when he plays because he literally doesn’t focus on chat.

sniper: snipes will play other classes until engie gets too big for his britches and gets one too many headshots on his own class. then he’s absolutely switching over to sniper and he’s fucking destroying the entire server. fuck you, dell conagher. you have officially ruined the game for everyone in the server. he’s gotten kicked from multiple games being accused of cheating. and he’s not cheating, he’s just better. a prolific spy killer. if snipes is playing and engie’s pissed him off enough to switch, it is a bad day for every enemy spy. it’s almost instant. he sees the pixels of a cloaked spy in the corner of the map from the corner of his scope and he’s already predicted where that spy went and got him. he never has less than a five killstreak on the board at any given point in time.

spy: spy isn’t playing anyone but himself. and it’s why he doesn’t get better on the field while everyone else has found other, more creative, better methods to do their own jobs. he’s got one serious loadout, and one joke loadout. no cosmetics. whatever loadout he decides to play, he’s pissing everyone off on the team. he’ll focus down razorback snipers on the enemy team until they’re screaming at him to switch classes. he will purposely type in chat “no”. has only spy exclusive taunts.

[xylatox]

Finally getting to read the other fics of this event!!Another Raya fic and it's Choi Beomgyu no less, going to fight for my life (bias wrecker Gyu 😭). I am of course, very excited.

Writing this sentence after I fixed up the review and holy moly, I'm sorry it's so long!

I absolutely love a good red string au, it taps into my romantic side so bad. The rules are simple: the second your eyes meet theirs, a delicate crimson thread will wrap and tug around your ring finger, stretching across, tied to the one who is destined to love you. — like this is exactly why I love this trope, to be destined to have someone to love and receive love from in such an unconditional way just puts me at ease.

The universe doesn’t make mistakes. And yet, your hands remained... stringless.— of course for right now that isn't the case for reader :( but I'm looking forward to how this will unravel.

How does love do that? How does it make someone shine like they’re carrying sunlight beneath their skin? Like just standing beside the right person is enough to set them alight? — I feel like Raya took my thoughts here, especially the first line😭 like how does love do that. I've always seen love where it seems more one-sided, falls apart later down or doesn't seem to exist in hard times, so I've always wanted/wondered of the existence of such an unconditional type of love.

"That's… weird, right?" The first girl tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. "I mean, we sat through those lectures together. Didn’t the studies say most people find their soulmate before twenty-five? That’s what the records say." — that's so, uncalled for😭 like as reader said she's just pointing out a fact but damn, maybe I'm a bit to sensitive lmfao.

Raya's change in POV will always be my favorite transition and I will die on that hill. It brings back memories of The Last Safe Place which was ironically also an idol!Gyu fic. I love that without fail, amidst the business, Gyu always wishes to meet reader, it's so sweet.

I love that the doctor reassures reader and the concept of there being therapy for things like this warms my heart. Lee Heesung cameo omg I did not expect this (so I love with him ugh). It's so disheartening tho that the reaction to idols having soulmates seems possible and that hurts, like theyre people too yknow?

“Come on, Y/N.” She grabs your arm, shaking it dramatically. “Look at me. I have a soulmate, and I still thirst over Tomorrow X Together.” — I love Da-hee so much, she's so real for this. I do love that reader isn't a MOA though, it somehow makes her future bond with Gyu even sweeter. And the fact that reader unknowingly picks Gyu's picket😭😭😭 they are so destined and her getting his photocard further solidifies it I'm going to fucking sob.

A tall man—easily the tallest—moves toward your section, waving with an easy smile, deep dimples carving into his soft-looking cheeks. It reminds you of bread. The warmth of it is infectious, and before you even realise it, you're waving back, grinning at someone whose name you didn’t even know this morning. — Soobin :(((( I'm going to sob this is so cute, it makes me so excited

And they have the bond ugh😭😭😭😭😭I'm going to throw up😭😭😭 — Everything else fades. The crowd, the shake of Da-hee beside you, even the music that was supposed to be loud. All that’s left is the pull—a red thread stretching between, searing itself into your vision, blinding in its intensity—demanding to be seen. — oh my god ugh.

I love that this POV change goes a bit before the moment and we see the boys thoughts on everything pertaining to soulmates and how hard it is for them as idols to deal with that considering society's response.

God, I love Gyu's entire reaction to them being soulmates, it's so endearing. Thin, and so impossibly red. A string stretched between, glowing faintly under the stage lights. He looks down at his hand—at his ring finger— it's tied there. His eyes trace its path. To you. His chest tightens. — this is so cute and I love how it makes him nervous for the concert now :(((.

He waves again, but this time, it’s for you. Directly. You tilt your head, hesitant, and then—an unsure wave back. It’s so small, so subtle, but it makes him smile. His grin spreads before he can think twice. — this is so cute I'll pass out. Him and reader are so cute your honor, I love them do much like the interactions are so cute I genuinely have no other words.

Love that Soobin kinda realizes something was up in the moment and ahhh :((( Gyu asking him I'll cry. I love that Da-hee is that supportive if a friend that she's so moved to cry for you (like same) but it's so endearing how much their friendship means to them.

Their first interaction:(( I feel so damn soft—"So, uh, hi?" Beomgyu says, and it pulls a laugh from you. His heart stumbles over itself at the sound, warmth blooming in his chest. It’s ridiculous, really, how easily you affect him.—god they're so awkward I love it :(( I think they're so cute I want to keep them in my pocket. I just love the idea of them not knowing anything about each other especially since ready wasn't a fan before so it feels so much more genuine.

The message he sends her after😭😭 I was wondering the significance behind the 315 roses and then I just fucking sobbed oh my god, may this kind of love find everyone😭 I'm so giggly lol, I love how cute Gyu reacts when she sends him a message during live God this is adorable.

Yall really do love causing me pain huh? Some people really are insane like, going that length to harass Gyu's soulmate??? Like he's glowing and happy let them live :(( The angst has fully kicked in and the only thing I feel is sick but best girl Da-hee coming to the rescue, she's such an empathic friend I actually love her so much, she's such a well written character.

I actually love how it was discussed from Gyu's perspective with everyone. Like their manager assuming reader asked him to choose when she in fact rather sacrifice the relationship for his job shows how much she loves him and the fact that he would trade it all for her is so heartwarming. "Because your words could never hurt me as much as your leaving does." — may this love find us wtf. I've been told before that my words will push people away (even if I'm being honest with no intention to hurt) and often times voicing your opinion or just trying to do the best for others comes off differently to them, but I hope everyone is able to receive a response like this in their life. To be loved really is an amazing thing.

Trying to go out my comfort zone this year and comment on smut because I always get shy/embarrassed but oh my god —Beomgyu's eyes never left yours as his fingers found your hand, seeking the place where the string was tied. The red thread appears, and he lifts it to his lips. A kiss—featherlight, reverent—pressed against the place where destiny tied you to him. — this is absolutely everything.

“I love you,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—"I'm sorry it took this long." — Raya, I AM GOING SO INSANE RN, running laps in my head rn.

He's so reassuring to reader too, that's so hot oh my god. —Because now, in his arms, with his lips claiming yours over and over, only pulls away when breathing becomes a necessity—his forehead pressing against yours for a fleeting second before his mouth finds yours again, as if letting go for too long might break him, you realise the truth—it was foolish of you to think that pushing him away would solve it all. — brb crying my eyes out again.

The moment I saw the title of the fic oh my god, my chest tightened, I gasped and a tear fell. I always love when titles are integrated into fics with significance like this.

I love that they met each others parents and reader and Da-hee met the members it's so cute, and reader using Gyu's nickname that his dad used omg crying.

Maybe in another world, the sky is burning, the world is ending, an apocalypse, and he still falls in love with you. Maybe in another life, he is a man undone, a husband who shatters more than he mends, but even then, he would spend eternity piecing himself back together just to be worthy of you.— Raya this caught me so off guard that I am sobbing so hard, a reference to The Last Safe Place and The Slow Surrender, you are absolutely insane oh my god.

This was so good Raya omg😭😭 I will always be so happy that ive read every fic you've published thus far and I always love to see how you'd grow with each fic and you never fail to surprise me, I absolutely loved this.

RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

Sitting at parties surrounded by lovers, a silent third wheel at movie nights, the friend holding the camera at weddings—your hands are always... alone in the spaces where others are full.

Were you an error in the grand scheme? An anomaly? A glitch in the unforgiving script? Or maybe, he simply doesn’t really… exist.

That’s how you ended up here, standing beside your korean-pop-obsessed friend who practically dragged you out and swore you’d love the show. It all became a blur when your eyes met his.

He’s on stage, gripping the mic impossibly still, staring down back at you like he feels it too.

He shouldn’t be real.

warnings: red-string au, strangers to lovers, reader is two years older, normal society norms, waiting, anxiety, doubts, sasaengs, insecurities, hasty decisions, drunk-in-love beomgyu. pov switching. everything written is a work of fiction. let me know if I missed anything.

smut-warnings: MDNI, explicit-descriptions, missionary, fingering, oral!fem receiving, dom beomgyu.

wc: 20k — playlist.

notes: fighting both my delulu and my demons while writing this. 😭 Might just be the fic I enjoyed writing the most—I hope you love it just as much! so glad to be part of this beautiful event. a big thank you to @killa-1009 for beta reading this. ilysm.

1/5 part of the valentine event with talented moas! see the full masterlist here.

If fate promised you something so certain, how could you not long for it?

Since childhood, you’ve heard the stories. The way people speak in hushed voices, weaving fate into riddles, how somewhere out there, it's waiting—a single red string, unseen until the exact moment it’s meant to appear.

The rules are simple: the second your eyes meet theirs, a delicate crimson thread will wrap and tug around your ring finger, stretching across, tied to the one who is destined to love you.

You watched it happen to everyone else. From playground giggles in elementary school to whispered confessions in high school hallways, to late-night talks in college dorm rooms. You listened as your friends spoke about finding their own soulmates, the feeling—the pull, the process. It's everywhere. In the way, your parents fit together like pages of the same story. On the way your younger sister—still so new to the world found her match.

When you’re told your whole life that destiny is waiting for you, how could you not ache for it?

The universe doesn’t make mistakes. And yet, your hands remained... stringless.

And now you wonder if it did—with you.

"One, two, three, smile!"

You press the shutter, capturing the way they look at each other. You lower the camera, but they don’t even notice—they’re too caught up in their own little world, whispering sentences only they’ll ever understand. They laugh, eyes soft, bodies leaning in just a little closer.

How does love do that? How does it make someone shine like they’re carrying sunlight beneath their skin? Like just standing beside the right person is enough to set them alight?

And why, no matter how long you wait, does that light never seem to find you?

There are days you curse it—this cruel design, this aching uncertain certainty. You tell yourself it would be easier not to know, to live without the quiet hope that somewhere, someone is meant to find you, or that fate had already written your name beside someone else’s.

And then there are days you fear it.

What if they don’t want to find you? What if that’s why you’re still alone? What if they got it wrong, skipped over your name, and he simply… doesn’t exist?

You're an anomaly. A glitch in the well-made script.

You lost count of how many times you wished it was never made this way. That love shouldn’t be a promise. Yet in the deepest hours of the night, you found yourself—gasping, trembling, and sobbing to your palms. The feeling of—

How can you miss someone you've never met?

You want to reach for a hand you’ve never held. You long for a voice you’ve never heard, a scent you’ve never breathed, a shadow you’ve never chased. And more than anything, you wish you had a name to whisper, to give you hope.

You swallow, forcing a smile as you turn back to the couple. "Congratulations," you say, "It’s a beautiful wedding."

"Thank you, Y/N!" Ha-rin squeals, practically glowing as she steps forward to hug you. "And thank you for being our photographer—I know you must be busy."

"You’re welcome," you reply, adjusting your camera strap. "It’s what I do, after all."

Ju-won steps in then, reaching for Ha-rin’s hand like he can’t stand even a moment of space between them. "Thank you, Y/N," he says, his eyes never straying far from his wife.

They were your high school classmates. You remember the day they met—first year, first morning, when their eyes met across the classroom, and just like that, the red string appeared. They grew together, from awkward introductions to effortless friendship, and now, here they were, husband and wife.

A picture of everything the universe had promised them.

Ju-won leans in, pressing a kiss to Ha-rin’s cheek like it’s the first time, like they haven’t spent years by each other’s side. The look in their eyes is so easy, so full of love, that you have to look away.

You can't look.

"Uh, I’ll get some drinks," you say, forcing a smile that feels as out of place as you do. You don’t wait for a response. You just turn, your heels clicking against the polished floor, head spinning as you try to count how many weddings you’ve attended this year.

Or no. You’ve lost count.

Everyone you grew up with—your friends, your classmates—have already found their soulmates. Most are married now, some already raising children.

Your heels dig into your feet with each hurried step, but you don’t slow down. You just keep moving, past everyone. You know exactly where you’ll end up. The same place you always do.

Alone at the sidelines.

You grab a drink, bringing it to your lips a little too quickly, hoping the cool burn will settle the unease twisting in your stomach.

"Hey! It’s been a while!" A voice cuts calls out, familiar—but not familiar enough. You turn to see a girl skidding towards you, her face vaguely recognizable. A former classmate? A clubmate? Someone who once sat next to you in a lecture hall?

"How have you been?" she asks, taking a drink for herself.

"I’m fine, thanks," you reply, forcing an easy nod before taking another sip.

A second passes, and then another girl joins the conversation, breathless with laughter. "Beom-seok finally let me go," she teases, tilting her head toward the man across the room—her soulmate. "The guy’s obsessed."

"Of course he is," the first girl grins. "He’s your soulmate." She swirls her drink before adding, "Mine just got back from overseas. He’ll see me tomorrow once he’s in the city." And there it is again—circling back to the same topic, the one you can never take part in. You nod, offering a small smile, pretending to listen.

Because what is there to say when everyone else has something you don’t?

"Y/N?" Your name pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Did you meet yours yet?" The question hits like a slow, squeezing ache in your chest.

"No," you say, reaching for another drink. It's embarrassing that everyone knows you're empty. "I haven't."

"That's… weird, right?" The first girl tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. "I mean, we sat through those lectures together. Didn’t the studies say most people find their soulmate before twenty-five? That’s what the records say."

There’s no malice in her voice, just matter-of-fact. Like she’s pointing out a statistic, saying out what’s already been made painfully clear to you. it’s the same tired reminder, the same unspoken question: what’s wrong with you?

You’re used to it by now.

"Yeah," you say, unwilling to argue. What’s the point? Your mind slips back to those reckless high school days—the days when older girls, too cool and too cruel, mocked you for not having a soulmate. You remember snapping back, pretending their words didn’t sting.

Later, the tears came on the bus ride home—carving rivers down your cheeks as you sob. Strangers offered tissues, soft words, awkward kindness, but none of it could stitch you back together. You remember your mother's words after seeing her home. To stop them from hurting you, you have to accept all of yourself.

But how do you accept the whole of you, when it doesn’t even feel like you have all of you?

From the corner of your eye, you catch the second girl nudging her. "Don’t mind her, Y/N," she says quickly. "She doesn’t always think before she talks." Then, after a beat, she adds, "Have you tried dating in the meantime? You know, while you're waiting?"

You blink at her, taken aback.

"I mean, it's not like it’s cheating, right? Since you haven’t met them yet."

You set your drink down, your fingers suddenly cold. "Why are you suggesting something you wouldn’t even do?" Your voice is calm, but it makes her shift uncomfortably. "Or did you? Does your soulmate know?"

Neither of them speaks. Guilt in their expressions. You don’t wait for an answer. You're done for tonight.

It’s time to go.

You turn away, not bothering to look back. No one needs you here—your part is done. Your role here is over. You pull out your phone, quickly typing out a polite apology to the bride before slipping it back into your pocket.

The drive home is silent, and the buzz of the engine is the only company you have. Your hands grip the wheel a little too tightly, your thoughts drifting despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. When you finally reach your small apartment, you step out, clutching yet another wedding souvenir in one hand a meaningless token of a night that wasn’t yours to celebrate.

You lock the door behind you and lean against it blinking, exhaling shakily. "I guess today wasn’t the day either," you murmur to no one in particular, wiping away the single tear that managed to escape. "What's taking you so long?"

No matter how often you whispered this question, it never hurt any less.

"What's taking you so long?"

Beomgyu groans from under the covers, trying to burrow deeper into the warmth of his bed. The sudden tug of his blanket makes him blindly reach out, attempting to grab it back. "You shi—"

"Beomgyu, you're the last one. We're all almost ready to go," Soobin says, adjusting his belt in the mirror. "Look at this little child."

Beomgyu stretches with a dramatic yawn. "I'm up, I'm up," he mumbles, sitting up sluggishly and blinking against the light. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, feet landing on the bedside table. Soobin shakes his head but doesn't stick around—his job is done. Beomgyu is finally awake.

Minutes later, Beomgyu trudges into the living room, hair a mess, voice still deep with sleep. "Are we eating there?"

The entire room turns to look at him.

"You woke up late, and that’s the first thing you care about?" Yeonjun teases, shaking his head with a laugh.

"Well, I didn’t eat last night," Beomgyu grumbles.

"Oh?"

"Liar," the maknae pipes up from the couch, casually applying lip balm. "You literally snuck out to eat."

"You snitch," Beomgyu gasps, feigning betrayal. "I didn’t raise you to turn on me like this!"

"You? Raise me?" Kai scoffs. "Soobin hyung’s the one who raised me, what are you talking about?"

Soobin smirks and chucks Beomgyu’s towel straight at his face. "Exactly. Now go shower, you idiot."

Laughter erupts around the room as Beomgyu groans, trudging toward the bathroom. "Shower quick, hyung," Taehyun calls out.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Beomgyu’s slightly damp hair clings to the back of his neck. He hadn’t had time to dry it properly before they rushed out of the dorm—there was no room for delays today. A broadcast for their comeback. Another promotion. His stylist would handle it in the green room anyway.

They pile into the van, the usual quiet settling over them. Despite being fully dressed and ready, exhaustion hangs heavy. One by one, his members drift off, heads resting against windows, bodies slumped in their seats. Only Kai remains awake, lost in his own world, music pulsing through his earphones. The maknae was so engrossed on his phone, obviously texting with a small smile on his face.

Beomgyu sighs, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, his breath slightly fogging up the window. Today would be a long day. Rehearsals, performances, a challenge video, taping. He missed this. He missed MOAs. The rush of the stage. The high of performing. And then—

Oh.

The van slows at a red light, and his gaze drifts absentmindedly to the sidewalk. His chest tightens.

A couple walks by, laughing, hands intertwined, completely lost in their own world. The way they move together, effortlessly in sync. In love. Content. Happy. He stares longer than he should.

He can't look away.

His throat feels tight as the van lurches forward again, pulling him out of his thoughts. He blinks hard, shifting in his seat. The image stayed, pressed into the back of his mind.

All four of his members had already found theirs—their soulmates. The one they could lean on when the world became too loud. Beomgyu was happy for them, of course, he was. He remember how he was when Kai blushed when he met his soulmate recently, right after his 23rd birthday.

Everyone teased the maknae relentlessly for weeks.

Beomgyu had been too busy his whole life, training since he was just a kid, running full speed toward a dream. His mind is busy to the point he sometimes forgets it. He does not mean to. It's just that—he never let himself dwell on it for too long. Pushing it aside became second nature, the same way he’d forget to eat when he was too busy, too distracted.

But every year, without fail, when the room dimmed and the birthday candles in front of him, his wish was always the same.

His soulmate.

It didn’t matter how many years passed or how much he achieved—when the glow of those tiny flames danced in his eyes, it was the only thing his heart whispered.

Beomgyu exhales shakily, his fingers curling into his hoodie. a quiet sigh slipping from his pouting lips.

Where are you?

The stark white walls of the hospital room loom over, mocking your awkwardness.

"There's nothing wrong with you, dear," the woman in front of you says, her lab coat lending a sense of authority to her words. Her voice is gentle, reassuring, but it barely soothes the unease twisting in your chest. "Soulmates do tend to find each other early, statistically speaking. But that’s just a pattern, not a guarantee."

You swallow hard. The lump in your throat stays put. "Is there… any chance this is a mistake?" Your voice is quieter than you intend, fragile in a way you hate. "That someone could go their whole life without one? That—" you hesitate, your chest tightening, "that I’m just… meant to be alone?"

Something flickers across her face—pity, maybe. You’re not sure. "I’ll look into it, I promise," she says after a moment. "I know twenty-six feels late, and I know it’s frustrating. But… trust in destiny a little longer. If you want, I can also recommend a therapist. I know the pressure can get to you."

Her words are meant to be comforting. They only make the weight in your chest heavier. You shake your head, managing a quiet “thank you” before slipping out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you.

“How was it?” Da-hee’s voice reaches you before you even look up. She’s already on her feet, eyes scanning your face, searching for an answer. “What did they say?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” You sigh, walking past her. “I told you I should not do this.”

She huffs, crossing her arms as she falls into step beside you. “You never tried it,”

Your best friend doesn’t argue anymore, following you to the counter in silence. The cashier barely looks up as they say, “That consultation is $120 total, plus taxes, bringing it to $145.86. Card or cash?”

You catch Da-hee reaching for her wallet, but you gently push her hand away. “Don’t,” you murmur. “This was for me.”

You hand over your card. A quick swipe, a faint beep. And just like that, you’re down nearly $150 with nothing to show for it but a sinking feeling in your stomach.

That much money for a consultation. A conversation. No treatment, no tests, nothing tangible. Soulmate doctors are expensive. Too expensive. And health insurance? Useless. They don’t cover something as rare, as unquantifiable, as soulmate problems.

Because to them, it’s not a real sickness, proving that you are—once again—the outlier.

Perfect.

“Come on,” you say, nudging your still-guilty-looking friend. She follows you out of the hospital, quiet and pouting.

At the car, she pulls open the driver’s side door. “Let me at least drive?” she offers, voice softer now.

You chuckle at her persistence, shaking your head before tossing her the keys. “Okay.” Sliding into the passenger seat, you reach for the radio, as she pulls out of the parking lot.

"Let's hang out at your place," Da-hee says, and she grins as she sees you nod your head.

Music played softly through the speakers, blending with the casual flow of conversation. The air is light, and easy—until your car rolls past a towering black building.

HYBE.

Funeral wreaths. Trucks. Massive banners.

Your brows furrow as you take it in, the sight so jarring that it silences you for a beat. The road ahead clogs with slowed traffic, people lingering to gawk at the scene.

“What the fuck?” Da-hee mutters, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, eyes darting across the scene. The traffic slows as more people crane their necks to look. You do the same, stomach twisting at the sheer scale of it. "This is insane."

“What’s going on?” you ask, still trying to piece together the meaning behind it all.

She exhales, lips pressing into a thin line. “Lee Heeseung. An idol,” she starts. “News got out that he recently went out with his soulmate.” Her voice dips, sadness flickering across her face. “And now… now, people want him out of the group.”

Your stomach twists. “What?”

You strain to read the bold, angry messages plastered across the banners:

GET LEE HEESEUNG OUT OF HYBE.

APOLOGIZE, LEE HEESEUNG.

EXPLAIN THIS, LEE HEESEUNG.

ENHYPEN IS NOW ONLY SIX.

IDOLS WITH SOULMATES ARE NOT IDOLS.

The messages feel suffocating, each one worse than the last. Then you see it—one of the trucks, its LED screen flashing an image like a public execution.

A man, young and striking, caught mid-laughter as he eats ramen with a girl beside him. She’s smiling too, her expression warm, content. The matching caps on their heads make them look like any ordinary couple, but the grainy, long-lens quality of the photo gives it away. Someone had been watching. Someone had been waiting to expose them.

Your stomach turns.

“It’s worse when so many fans are… young,” Da-hee murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “Most of them are stringless.” She says the last word carefully like she doesn’t want to offend you.

But you almost hear what she isn’t saying.

Stringless people can’t understand the soulmate bond. And when it comes to idols, that misunderstanding twists into darker. As insane as it sounds, they feel entitled. Possessive. Like their devotion should be enough. Like an idol’s life—who they love, who they belong to—should be theirs to control.

It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?

The car inches forward, and your eyes drift back to the scene outside. Security guards push against the surging crowd, their faces strained. The banners wave wildly, like battle flags in a war meant to punish.

You swallow hard. “I don’t get it.” You don’t know him. You don't need to know him to know the injustice of it. “Why treat him like he committed some kind of crime? He’s meant to have someone. He’s a person, not—” You gesture vaguely at the protest, frustration bubbling up. “Not their property.”

Da-hee sighs. “That’s why idols who are caught with their soulmates—especially the ones who confirm it, get cancelled. Fans turn on them. They lose everything.” She shakes her head, voice laced with exhaustion and resignation. “It’s sad that they have to hide it.”

The thought of society hating someone just for loving who they’re meant to love makes your chest feel tight. How could something meant to be beautiful turn into this?

You guess your own situation isn’t the only cruel, unfair thing in this world.

The two of you make it back to your apartment, settling in for a movie with a bowl of popcorn between you. The glow of the TV flickers across the room, a comfortable silence stretching between you—until Da-hee suddenly squeals, nearly knocking the popcorn over in the process.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, shoving the popcorn bowl off her lap as she scrambles to her feet. “OH MY GOD.” She starts stomping in place.

You glance at her, unimpressed. “I want to wipe that ridiculous grin off your face.”

She just giggles and shoves her phone in front of you. “Joon bought me VVIP tickets. I’m going to die.” She pumps a fist in the air, bouncing on her toes like a kid who just won the lottery. “And there’s two. He can’t go—oh my god. Please, please, I am begging you to come with me. It’s next week! That sneaky bastard didn’t even tell me he bought them ages ago.”

You hesitate, already feeling the excuse forming on your tongue. “I don’t think—”

“Come on, Y/N.” She grabs your arm, shaking it dramatically. “Look at me. I have a soulmate, and I still thirst over Tomorrow X Together.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “That’s a long-ass name.”

“They’re my babies,” she says, clutching her chest like she’s been personally blessed by the gods. “You’ll love the show, I promise. And maybe—you’ll be like me. While you wait for your soulmate, it’s harmless to fangirl a little. OMG, what if you become a MOA? That’s my dream. Imagine us going to cafés with photocards, buying merch, collecting albums—”

“Okay, first of all, they are grown men. Not babies.” you cut in before she spirals. You know from experience that once she starts talking about her fangirl life, she never stops. “Anyways, okay, I’ll go. But don’t expect anything.”

Da-hee lets out another excited squeal before launching herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck and squeezing way too tight.

“You won’t regret this!”

You already do.

It was your turn to trail behind Da-hee like a lost puppy, weaving through the sea of fans decked out in carefully coordinated outfits. Everyone is well dressed. So prepared. Keychains and accessories dangled from their bags, the sound of clinking metal filling the air.

"Look at them," Da-hee suddenly stopped, pulling out her phone. You followed her gaze to the massive banner hanging outside the arena.

TOMORROW X TOGETHER

They... didn’t look bad.

"My husbands," Da-hee sighed dreamily spinning turning to you with wide eyes. "Let's take a selfie!"

Before you could protest, she yanked you in, holding her phone high. The two of you posed—her grinning ear to ear, you looking like a reluctant daughter humoring her overexcited mom.

At the ticketing section, an attendant handed you both event wristbands and ID laces. You're about to shove yours into your pocket, but Da-hee looped it around your neck like a medal.

“So you don’t lose it,” she said firmly.

You sighed, adjusting the strap as you followed her toward a merch booth. Fans swarmed the display, eyes gleaming as they scanned the shelves stacked with albums, shirts, and accessories.

"Everyone's so hyped," you muttered, glancing around. "I can see a lot of Da-hees here."

"Of course they are," Da-hee said ignoring your last comment with a dramatic sway of her hand. She skimmed the display. "This comeback is a masterpiece."

You frowned. "What are we even doing here?"

"You need a picket." She says. "And don’t even think about saying no. I’m still heartbroken you refused the lightstick, so at least take this. We’re gonna be right at the barricades, you can’t just stand there empty-handed. Pick one."

You groaned, "Fine."

Your eyes sweep over the options, scanning each face printed on the glossy boards. You won’t say it out loud—not yet—but you’ll admit it now. They’re all… ridiculously handsome.

And one of them stands out.

Soft brown eyes. A small, almost knowing smile. Something about his face makes your breath hitch. "Uh..."

Da-hee leans in, brow furrowing. "What are you picking? Wait. Are you okay? Why are you so red—"

"I'm not," You quickly pointed at the picket, avoiding her stare like your life depended on it. "This one."

A slow, mischievous grin spreads across her face. "Oh-ho." She turns to the waiting merch seller, smiling some more.

"One Beomgyu, please."

You followed her... once again.

You didn’t have much of a choice. But this time, your steps felt… lighter. Movements are less reluctant than when you first arrived.

You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was the way the heat had finally eased, the golden glow of late afternoon settling over the pavement. Maybe it was the way MOAs—total strangers—smiled at you like you belonged, their warmth making you feel strangely at ease. Maybe it was the fact of not hearing the word soulmate even once. That you don't feel the odd one out.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was the picket you now held carefully in your hands.

You didn’t know how it happened. How you went from teasing Da-hee about her obsession to clutching a piece of laminated paper like it meant something. But the more you looked around, the more you understood.

It wasn’t just about the idols printed on banners or the music playing faintly in the background. But also, it was about them. These people who glowed with excitement, who found joy in simply being here, in loving unapologetically.

You were sceptical of it at first, seeing the front of HYBE last week. The protest. But just like everything, you saw it. The good side of being a fan.

How they shined—not only because of who they adored, but because of how they adored. How happy they were to love, and to share that love with everyone around them.

And somehow, standing here among them, you felt a little brighter, too.

"Where are we going now?"

"MOAZONE," Da-hee answers without hesitation, pulling you toward yet another booth. The concert doors won’t open for another thirty minutes, but she’s on a mission. The funny thing is—she doesn’t really need to drag you anymore.

Something has settled in your bones. You’re going to see this through, stay until the last song fades. And maybe—you’ll find yourself here again next time.

"It’s a booth where you can pull a concert-exclusive photocard," she explains further, eyes shining with excitement.

You nod, letting her lead the way. The line is long. When it’s finally Da-hee’s turn, she gasps, then squeals so loudly people around her chuckle. "Yeonjun!" she cries, clutching the card to her chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. "I got him!"

Then, it’s your turn.

A row of face-down cards is laid out before you. You don’t think too hard about it—you just point to one.

The staff hands it over, and when you flip it, your breath catches.

"You got Beomgyu?!" Da-hee shrieks, bouncing on her toes beside you. You barely hear her. Because there he is.

Elbow propped up, chin resting on his hand, that same small, knowing smile—only this time, it’s wider.

Fucking hell.

Da-hee grabs your arm, shaking you. "Girl, you are officially a Beomgyu magnet. I'm unfriending you if don't start liking them,"

Beomgyu.

Beomgyu. His name loops in your mind, over and over. And for some reason, it fits. His name suits him.

You tried your best not to break a smile. "Come on,"

If you had told yourself a year ago that you’d be here—crammed into a packed venue, surrounded by screaming teenagers—you would’ve laughed. Hard.

And yet, here you are, laughing. Not at the absurdity of it, but with it. Caught up in the moment with Da-hee, the crowd’s energy vibrates as hundreds of voices chant their names.

“It’s soundcheck first,” Da-hee leans in, her voice barely cutting through the noise. “Then the main concert.”

You nod, still grinning. “Okay.”

Then, the opening notes of a song play through the speakers. The crowd erupts. “Oh my god!” Da-hee shrieks, “It’s Deja Vu!”

The five of them step onto the stage. It’s a blur—lights flashing, voices screaming. Your heart pounds against your ribs as the music swells, wrapping around you like something alive.

It’s beautiful.

A tall man—easily the tallest—moves toward your section, waving with an easy smile, deep dimples carving into his soft-looking cheeks. It reminds you of bread. The warmth of it is infectious, and before you even realise it, you're waving back, grinning at someone whose name you didn’t even know this morning.

Then, the song begins to wind down. And that’s when you see him.

Beomgyu.

His steps are slower than the others, like he’s taking his time, scanning the crowd with careful eyes. You tell yourself not to look. Not when he gets closer. Not when that strange, restless nervousness twists in your stomach. You clench your fists and stare at the ground. Why? Why does this feel so overwhelming?

Around you, voices grew. The energy shifts, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. You look up, unsure.

The mic is at his lips, his voice singing into the melody—until suddenly, he stops.

All because his eyes meet yours.

Everything else fades. The crowd, the shake of Da-hee beside you, even the music that was supposed to be loud. All that’s left is the pull—a red thread stretching between, searing itself into your vision, blinding in its intensity—demanding to be seen.

On stage, he stands impossibly still, his fingers gripping the mic like he sees it too.

It can't be real.

“We're trending again,” Taehyun says, flopping onto Beomgyu’s hotel bed with a sigh. “What the hell?”

Beomgyu leans back against the headboard, “How much time do we have?”

Taehyun checks his watch. “Practice is in… oh. Hours.” He exhales, shaking his head in awe. “This is actually happening. A sold-out stadium, Beomgyu. Can you believe that? Remember that tiny, run-down building we used to train in? The cracked floorboards, the growing mushrooms?” He laughs, eyes distant.

“When Yeonjun used to sneak his soulmate in, trying to show off like he was already famous? As a trainee. And now—now, we’re here.”

Beomgyu snorts. “In that practice room, too. I still don’t know how his soulmate put up with that. Or how Yeonjun didn’t get kicked out.”

“Yeah. They just couldn’t let go of each other.” Taehyun laughs, shaking his head. “And I don't think Big Hit will let go of him too."

It had been one of the first rules drilled into them during training—no soulmates. No... searching. And if they already had one? They had to tell them. Have the conversation. An agreement that would turn everything into a secret.

Soulmates were inevitable, unstoppable. Beomgyu still remembers the contract in his hands, the way he read every word over and over, heart pounding. As if somewhere in the fine print, there was a clause that might hurt his soulmate. In the end, he signed.

If he ever found his soulmate, no one could know. Not until everything was over. In other words, disbandment.

"I'm missing her like crazy these days."

Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away. He just shrugs, tossing things out of his suitcase—a hoodie, a toothbrush, whatever his hands find first. He had noticed how restless Taehyun had been, the way he kept his phone glued to his hands, typing, hesitating, typing again. But what was there to say? What could he do about it?

The others were good at pretending. Hiding. The quiet hotel meetups, the stolen hours between schedules. But if Beomgyu was being honest, he could count on both hands the number of times any of the four had actually been with their soulmates since debut.

The fear of getting caught kept them all in line. Not just by the company, but by the fans. The horror stories weren’t just industry rumours—some were ancient, some recent.

If this doesn’t work out, I don’t know if I can take it. Taehyun had said that once. This career was everything. He wasn’t going to risk it. He wasn't ready. And Beomgyu understood. Everyone understood. He could already picture the protest trucks outside the company building if anyone ever slipped up.

"You heard anything from Heeseung?" Taehyun asks, his voice careful, his fingers tightening around his phone. Beomgyu knows him well enough to catch the shift—the way his mind drifts, went from missing his soulmate to remembering the latest scandal in their world.

Heeseung, the newest idol thrown into the fire.

He, who got caught with his soulmate.

"Yeah," Beomgyu says, swallowing. "He's okay, but… his soulmate is taking the worst of it."

Taehyun stills. The thought of his own soulmate being dragged into something like that—starts to burn at the back of his mind. What if it were her?

"Hey, don't overthink it," Beomgyu says because he sees it. He sees it in all of them. The quiet way they carry it, that they aren’t supposed to want. In their world, the idea that you should be free with your soulmate is just that—an idea. Or maybe worse. A peril. A risk too big to take.

He remembers Soobin crying once, blaming himself for wanting this life—this job. And how, in the end, the only person who could calm him down was his soulmate. The same person the company treated like a liability. Yet, the only one with the power to bring their leader back to himself.

The irony.

He also remembers the night he sat with his dad, asking him how he knew Mom was his. He had tilted his head, recounting their encounter, before he said one thing that stuck with him.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Beomgyu used to cringe at that. Now, he wonders if he'll ever get the chance to feel it.

“Did you see everyone? Insane.” Yeonjun says, eyes wide as they sit in the salon-like chairs. “They’ve been out there since last night.”

Kai glances at him as much as he can without moving his head, his makeup artist carefully blending eyeshadow. “Yeah, I saw them. MOAs are bundled up out there, and it’s freezing. It's worrying me.”

"I feel like I'm about to throw up. I'm nervous,"

Playing a stadium—a sold-out one, this is the dream. The one every trainee chases, the one Beomgyu used to stare at the ceiling imagining, too afraid to believe it could ever be real. And yet, here it is.

His mind pulls him back to the past. The long nights, the aching muscles, the quiet sobs muffled into his pillow. The moments of doubt, the voices—his own, the other's—telling him he wasn’t enough. He remembers how hard they worked. How hard he worked. How many times they shared one meal because they couldn't afford another one. And still, somehow, they held on.

He knows he earned this, and fought for it with everything he had. But standing here now, bathed in the price of it all, it still doesn’t feel real. He stares at his hands once his stylist is done with his eyes. There’s something else tugging at him, a strange feeling that’s been lurking since morning.

What it is, he can’t quite say.

Beomgyu's eyes sweep over the big space. The kind of big that makes his head spin if he thinks about it too much. In a few hours, this place will be much packed. He’s been—on stages just like this, under lights just as bright but somehow, it still knocks the wind out of him.

It's soundcheck. He likes it because, with the lights up, he can actually see everyone. It was one of the rare moments he could see faces. He likes it as much as the offline fan signs. They move through the set, running back and forth across the stage, but his feet keep pulling him toward one side—like an instinct.

Beomgyu likes looking at MOAs. It feels good. Familiar, almost. Sometimes, he even recognizes a face— it was a feeling like a reminder of home, a classmate from school, someone he’d seen before. And then there’s the simple joy of it all. The way someone’s face brightens up because of him. It never gets old. It never stops making him happy, too.

But then, he notices one weird thing.

It’s strange. He’s right here. He could understand if you were looking at another member—fans have their favourites, after all. But you’re not looking at anyone. You're staring at the floor?

You’re not looking at all.

He tilts his head, trying to see better—to get a curious glimpse, and suddenly, his whole world shifts. His heart slams to a stop. It’s so sudden, so overwhelming, he almost stumbles forward, yanking him toward the barricade. "What?"

And then—you move, as if you heard his thoughts.

Just the slightest turn of your head, your face lifting, eyes locking onto his. He stops breathing. His fingers go numb around the mic. Everything slows, softens, blurs at the edges until there’s nothing but this moment. Just the two of you, staring.

The closeness of Beomgyu makes the crowd shift, bodies pressing closer—but you don’t move. You just stand there—still, steady—while the rest of the world shifts around you. Like the last grain of sand in an hourglass, holding on as everything else rushes past.

He swears he would’ve stayed like that forever—frozen, staring, lost—if not for the firm hand on his shoulder. A small tug. He blinks, the spell breaking just enough for reality to slip back in.

"Beomgyu? What's wrong?" Soobin. His leader gives him a look of worry and urgency, and that’s when he hears it, the music. He closes his agape lips, and clears his throat. The song is still playing. Right. He’s supposed to be—

But then his gaze flickers back to you.

It’s nothing, he tells himself. You’re just so so pretty. That’s all. Maybe it was your eyes or your hair or the way you did it. It was just fucking cute. It doesn’t mean anything. And—

His breath falters. He sees it.

He hadn’t noticed before. He had been too busy looking at you. Too caught up in the moment that he missed it entirely. Something all of the members have. Something Beomgyu had waited for his whole life.

The thread.

Thin, and so impossibly red. A string stretched between, glowing faintly under the stage lights. He looks down at his hand—at his ring finger— it's tied there. His eyes trace its path. To you. His chest tightens.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Soulmate.

You’re his. After everything—after all this time—

He finally found you.

The dressing room is a blur of movement, stylists rushing, last-minute adjustments being made, and voices overlapping but he just sits there. Staring at the floor.

He’s dressed. He’s ready. He should be used to this by now, the pre-show jitters, the nervous energy that always sits in his chest before he steps on stage. But—his soulmate is out there. Somewhere in the crowd. And the thought grips him so tight it almost hurts. What if he never sees you again? What if you’re gone before he can find you?

Your face lingers in his mind, vivid and haunting. The way the lights hit your dress, the way you looked at him—it knocked the breath right out of his lungs. He was completely unprepared for it. You were so beautiful that he almost forgot what he was doing.

He’s never been shaken like that before. Not in his personal life. Not as an idol. Not in school, at the company, on stage, meeting seniors, at award shows—never.

Waiting for the music queue, he finally lifts his head.

Muscle memory takes over. His body knows what to do. He’s trained for this, conditioned for it. Every movement, every note, every expression—it’s muscle memory now. His instincts take over before his thoughts can catch up. This is his life. His career. The one thing he chose, out of everything he could have been. How many people in the world get to do this? To stand under those lights, to hear thousands of voices calling his name, to live a dream most wouldn’t even dare to chase?

Would he trade it all, just to see you again?

His feet move—before he can stop them, despite his thoughts, his heart pulls him stronger toward your section. It's a force beyond his control. When he finally sees you again, it feels like a miracle. You’re still near the barricade, still close enough that he doesn’t have to search.

He keeps up, waves, and makes faces—things for MOAs, things he’s done a thousand times before. But his mind isn’t on them. It’s on you. And you’re just standing there again, frozen in place like you don’t trust yourself to move.

He waves again, but this time, it’s for you. Directly. You tilt your head, hesitant, and then—an unsure wave back. It’s so small, so subtle, but it makes him smile. His grin spreads before he can think twice.

Got you, beautiful.

He pumps his fist in an exaggerated show of triumph, like he just won a game only the two of you are playing. He watches as your eyes go wide, and if the lights weren’t so blinding, he swears he’d see the warmth rising to your cheeks. He fists his hand, trying to hold back from reaching out to you.

He crouches, and the fans around you surge forward, eager to be seen, but you don’t move. And then, he sees it—your eyes kept flickering downward, tracing the thread again and again, like you were making sure.

Yet you see it perfectly too.

You smile—small, hesitant, like you’re not sure this is really happening. Then, as if on impulse, you lift your hand, forming a careful, uncertain hand heart.

He doesn’t even wait a second before returning it.

His eagerness made you laugh. A breathless, disbelieving kind of laugh. He can’t hear it, not over the noise of the crowd, but he sees it in the way your shoulders shake, the way your eyes crease at the corners. His chest aches.

You're even more beautiful when you laugh.

He tosses a few kisses out into the air, but he gives his last kiss, the last one to you. You hesitate for only a second before sending one back. His response is instant—dramatic, ridiculous—clutching his chest like you’ve just shot him straight through the heart. He stumbles back, clutches at his clothes, so completely gone for you.

It’s meant to be a joke, but it isn’t.

Because you do have his heart, don’t you? And the strangest thing is, he doesn’t even know your name. Has never heard your voice. But right now, none of that matters. Maybe he’d stay here forever if he could, but the next song cut through the air, pulling him back to the present. His feet move, leading him away—away from you.

Before he joins the centre, just for a second, he looks back. A second to meet your eyes again, to make sure you're watching him.

And you are.

"Hyung," he breathes out.

Soobin turns, both of them standing still as stylists tug their sweat-drenched shirts off, replacing them with fresh ones.

But Beomgyu isn’t thinking about the show anymore.

He’s looking at Soobin. Waiting. Searching for the right way to ask without anyone else catching on. He doesn’t want them to hear. Doesn’t want them to know.

Not yet.

Soobin frowns slightly. “What? You've been looking distracted since earlier. Are you okay?”

“Your soulmate…” His eyes flicker down. He hesitates, searching for the right words. The right way to say this. "At—Tokyo? How did you…?"

He doesn’t need to finish the thought. How can the older forget the only time he managed to sneak his soulmate backstage? Soobin stares at Beomgyu. The latter's face is practically screaming his questions. How did you do it? How did you get them backstage? How did you make it happen?

Beomgyu has to see you. In front of him. Next to him. Because what if you disappear? What if he lets this slip through his fingers, and suddenly—you’re just gone? And what if this is his only chance?

The room moves around him—zippers, voices, fabric rustling—but all he can hear is his own ragged breathing. He moves his eyes. And there, watching him is their leader who knows him better than anyone—with that equally knowing look on his face.

"Let's talk. Just the two of us."

Beomgyu is your soulmate.

The boys just disappeared backstage, their song still ringing in your ears, but your hands won’t stop shaking. Your chest is tight, your throat burns, and there’s a sting at the corners of your eyes.

You're not a mistake. He’s here. He saw you.

His eyes, his smile. The way he moves, the faint dimple that appears when he does. The thought is too much—it makes your knees weak, and forces you to grip the barricade to keep yourself upright.

"Girl, I swear Beomgyu kept looking over here," Da-hee says, nudging you, completely oblivious to the storm unraveling in your chest. Then she catches sight of your face—at your trembling fingers, at the way you can’t seem to catch your breath.

“Y/N?” Her voice softens. “What’s wrong?”

The words leave your lips before you can even think. "I saw my soulmate."

Your voice shakes, barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. Her eyes go wide. "Wait, what? Oh my god—where is he? Is he a MOA? Is he—”

She doesn’t even get to finish the thought before she freezes.

It clicks.

Then, slowly, her face shifts—from confusion to shock to absolute disbelief. The finding out, then the realising. She stares at you, her mouth slightly open, her hands hovering in the air like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Oh my fucking god.” Her hands fly to her mouth, like she needs to physically stop herself from screaming. Then she grabs her hair, like that’s going to help her process this.

“Is he—is Beomgyu—” She cuts herself off, whisper-shouting now, eyes darting toward the stage, toward the place where he just was. “Is that why he kept coming back over here?”

Her grip tightens on your arm, searching your face, waiting for you to confirm what she already knows. But you can’t say anything. All you can give is a small nod.

Minutes pass. The music swells and fades, song after song drifting through the speakers.

Da-hee stays by your side, rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispering reassurances you can’t fully process. At some point, you catch her sniffling into her hands, wiping away her own tears.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years of friendship, of growing up together, of knowing each other better than anyone else ever could. She’s seen every version of you—the messy, the broken, the parts of you even you struggled to accept. She’s cried with you, cried for you, carried your grief like it was her own. Even after finding her own soulmate, she never left you behind. Never made you feel like you were missing something, like you were less.

And now—now she’s the reason you’re here.

She’s the reason you met him.

You think of every birthday candle she ever closed her eyes for, every whispered wish she made on your behalf—because she believed that if two people wished for the same thing, the universe had to listen.

And maybe she was right.

It doesn’t matter if he never speaks to you. If the lights were too bright, if the crowd was too big, if he never even saw the thread at all.

It doesn’t matter. Because you saw it.

And that means you were never a mistake. Never some error in the grand design.

He exists.

Da-hee squeezes your hands, grounding you as a woman in staff uniform approaches. Her eyes lock onto yours, scanning your face, your outfit—like she’s confirming, making sure. Then, she stops directly in front of you. “We need to check some information on your tickets.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. You’re not stupid. You know what this is. You know they wouldn’t say it outright, not here, not in front of all these people.

“I—I have a friend with me,”

The staff member hesitates, studying you for a beat too long. Then she nods. “She can come with you, but she’ll have to wait in the holding room.”

You turn to Da-hee, and she’s already looking at you, her eyes wide and glassy. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she forces a wobbly smile.

Let's go.

You’re going to meet Beomgyu.

The walk was terrifying. Your hands clench tighter with every step, nails digging into your palms, but it does nothing to steady you. Every passing glance burns into your skin—people sneaking curious glances—staff members, crew, people who know exactly why you’re here.

Da-hee had to stay behind in the outer lounge. Now, it’s just you and the staff member leading you deeper into the backstage hallways. The air is thick, suffocating, and you force yourself to breathe through it.

Then she stops. A white door stands in front of you. Dressing Room is printed neatly on a sign, but the words blur as your mind spins.

She knocks. Opens it.

Panic rushes in. What if he doesn’t want this? What if he only let you come here to reject you—to tell you, to your face, that even if the universe says you’re meant to be, he doesn’t want you? What if—

The thought vanishes the second you see him.

Beomgyu.

He’s mid-step, like he’s been pacing. He removes his hands from his face, his eyes widening just slightly before he clears his throat. “Come in,” he says, voice softer than you expected. It’s meant for the staff member, but his gaze never left yours.

The staff steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. Heat crawls up your neck as you force yourself to move, hyper-aware of the way he’s watching every step.

“You have 60 minutes, Beomgyu,” she says before closing the door behind you.

Beomgyu stares at you, and you stare back.

For a moment, neither of you move. Just standing there, eyes locked, as if the world has paused just for this. To anyone else, it might look awkward—but you can't look away as he does.

Your eyes traces over his face, bare and fresh like he just washed up. The soft curve of his cheekbones, the freckles and moles scattered like constellations—proof that the universe took its time with him. Perfect in a way that makes your chest ache.

He blinks, and your eyes catch on his lashes—delicate, dark, fluttering against his skin like something out of a dream.

How can someone be made this perfect?

The question lodges itself in your throat, and before you can stop it, your vision blurs. Tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away. You don’t even know if he wants this yet—

"What’s your name?" Beomgyu asks, his voice quieter than he expected. He watches the way you blink, the slight parting of your lips like you hadn’t expected him to speak first.

His hands curl into fists at his sides. The urge to reach out—to cup your face, to feel your skin—is overwhelming. But he holds himself back.

Beomgyu has never considered himself the kind of person to take the first step. But not this. Not with you. He wants to start a conversation, anything—to get you talking, to hear your voice, to know you.

"Y/N." The sound of your voice stills him. It settles in his chest, not as something new, but as something he swears he’s always known—like a song he’s heard in a dream, waiting to be remembered. His lips twitch into a small, almost dazed smile.

Your voice is so pretty, he thinks. So pretty that it hurts.

He repeats your name, slower this time, rolling it over his tongue like he’s memorizing the way it feels to say it. And when you smile—just the faintest curve of your lips—his own smile widens into a grin.

"So, uh, hi?" Beomgyu says, and it pulls a laugh from you. His heart stumbles over itself at the sound, warmth blooming in his chest. It’s ridiculous, really, how easily you affect him.

"Did you come here alone?" he asks, trying to steady himself.

"I was with a friend," you say, and his eyes flicker—just for a second—to your lips before settling back on yours. "She’s outside."

"Hm." Beomgyu nods slowly, as if letting the thought settle. Then, slowly, he reaches out—his palm open, facing up, an unspoken invitation for you to give your hand out.

Your breath catches. Hesitation flickers for just a moment before you place your hand in his. Beomgyu feels warmth creep up his neck the second your skin meets, a flush he hopes you don’t notice. His fingers curl gently around yours, testing the weight of your hand in his own.

"Come on," he says, his voice softer now. He tugs you forward—careful, gentle, afraid he's hurt you in any way if he pulls too hard. "You should sit. You must be tired from standing out there."

"I could say the same," you murmur as you both sink into the couch. Beomgyu turns slightly toward you, his knee brushing yours, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. His thumb traces absentminded circles against your skin. "You danced and ran around the stage all night," you add, tilting your head at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and a little breathless. Your eyes drift around the room—clothing racks, scattered bags, the quiet remnants of a space that had been buzzing with energy just minutes ago.

"Yeah, I was pretty tired," he admits. Then, after a pause, softer this time, when you look at him again, he’s already staring. "But not anymore."

Beomgyu takes in everything—your lips, the way the light catches in your eyes, the soft of your hand in his. He doesn’t even think before he speaks, before the thought that’s been looping in his head since he first saw you finally slips past his lips.

"God, you're so beautiful."

Beomgyu watches as your cheeks flush, the warmth creeping up your skin like the slow bloom of dawn. He knew—you were his soulmate. Fates stitched together long before this moment, yet nothing could have prepared him for the way you looked right now. He never imagined that watching you blush under his words would feel this intoxicating.

"You’re the one who’s beautiful," you murmur, barely above a whisper. The words feel foreign on your tongue, yet true in a way that unsettles you. You clear your throat, trying to mask the way your heart stumbles over itself, but Beomgyu only tightens his grip on your hand.

You wonder how you even got here. This morning, you woke up with no idea that by evening, you'd be sitting across from your soulmate, flirting like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He chuckles—Beomgyu has heard the word beautiful more times than he can count. It’s been thrown at him in passing, whispered through screams from fans, printed in glossy magazines. But somehow, from your lips, it sounds different.

The next few minutes passed in easy conversation. Beomgyu had already pieced together bits of your life—you were only here because Da-hee dragged you along—he’d been hoping to meet her too, if only to thank her.

He knew you worked a corporate job, that photography was your escape. That you were two years older than him, a fact that he immediately latched onto, whispering noona in a teasing lilt just to see the way you’d roll your eyes laugh and swat his arm. But the truth was, he didn’t want to call you that. It was your name he wanted to say. He felt like he’d already spent a lifetime missing it, and now that he knew it, he never wanted to stop saying it.

You had learned things about him, too. That he’d loved music since he was a kid, that he picked up a guitar before he fully understood its chords. That he was cast as a trainee before he even hit the climax of his teenage years, and that six years had passed since he debuted. Things you could have easily searched online, or you could have read every article, and watched every interview, but nothing made your heart flutter quite like the way he told his own story.

The contrast between your lives was undeniable. Maybe that’s why it took so long for fate to push you toward each other.

While you were drowning in homework, he was in a practice room, chasing a dream. While you sat through lectures and worried about exams, he was in a studio, recording songs that would echo through stadiums. While you cried over a failed job interview, he stayed up until dawn, running through choreography again and again until his legs gave out. Your society—were parallel lines moving in different directions.

But sitting here, watching him scrunch his nose in laughter, none of that seemed to matter. Two people from different worlds, felt like it had faded into one—just by being next to each other.

He hadn’t once let go of your hand for the past hour.

"No, I just—I didn’t know where else to put it, so I stuck it there." You fumble for an excuse, cheeks burning as Beomgyu grins at you. He had spotted the photocard of him tucked into the back of your phone case, and he hadn’t let it go since.

“And it was random,” you add quickly, feeling your face heat up. “You have to randomly pick it.”

The truth is, Beomgyu knows. He knows it was a random selection. He knows you’re flustered. And he loves it. Loves the way you try to explain yourself, loves hearing you ramble, loves the way your face heats up under his stare. And to be honest, if it had been another member’s face staring back at him, no matter how petty it sounded, he also knows he wouldn’t have been too thrilled about it.

He’s in deep.

"Beomgyu, it's time to go." The same staff member says, pulling you both back to reality. You didn't even hear the doors opening. Her eyes flicker to your joined hands for a second, but she doesn’t say anything—just turns and steps outside.

You glance at Beomgyu, and he’s pouting. "We’re flying to Japan tomorrow morning, Y/N."

"Oh." The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. You just met your soulmate, and by morning, he’d be gone. "Okay."

You stand up, expecting him to do the same, but he doesn’t move. Your hands dangle between you because he still hasn’t let go. "Beomgyu?"

"I’ll see you as soon as I get back, okay?" His voice is softer now, like he’s trying to find the right words. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable for a moment, before he finally stands. He squeezes your hands gently. "It won’t be too long."

"Alright… we have each other's numbers, so… text me."

"Just know your phone might be buzzing non-stop,"

"Got it." You roll your eyes, smiling. "I’ll survive."

"And wear warm clothes—it’s winter."

"You too."

"Eat on time."

"You’re the one doing concerts. I should be the one saying that."

He ignores your deflection, pressing on. "Sleep well. Lock your doors properly. You live alone, so it’s dangerous. Don’t go out too late. And if you do, call me, okay? Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t go out too late at all. Please—make sure you don’t—"

He doesn’t get to finish. Before he can say another word, you reach up, sliding your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into a hug. His words cut off instantly, replaced by a soft inhale—like he hadn’t breathed since he started speaking. Your heart squuezes over itself at his endless concern, spreading through your chest. Blinking rapidly, trying to push away the tears threatening to spill.

For the first time tonight, Beomgyu lets go of your hand—only to wrap both arms around you, one firm around your waist, the other reaching up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

"I’ll see you soon, Beomgyu," you murmur.

You feel him tilt his head slightly before pressing a fleeting, warm kiss to your temple. "I’ll see you soon."

Elevators terrify you. It scares you because it feels like everything could come crashing down at any second. Why would you trust something that rises so quickly—too fast?

It can't last, doesn't it?

You feel him snuggle to you more, and you chuckle, pressed against him, his scent, his arms around you, holding you safely—his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, as if whispering that the fall you fear will never come.

Elevators terrified you.

You wish you could have captured Da-hee’s face when she saw you walking over with Beomgyu beside you, his hand resting firmly on your back. Her eyes widened, mouth slightly agape, before she shot you a knowing look.

Beomgyu offered her a quick thanks, the paper bag with your heels swinging from your hands, and you stood there in the fresh pair of sneakers he’d somehow found in your size—because he wanted to. His eyes met yours for just a second longer before he turned to leave.

The second you stepped into the parking lot, Da-hee lost it. She let out a squeal so loud you had to clamp a hand over her mouth, laughing as she practically vibrated with excitement. "What just happened?!" she whispered against your palm, her eyes sparkling.

That night, as soon as you got home, your phone rang. His name lit up the screen.

It took only a second before answering.

It was awkward at first—neither of you really knowing what to say—but before you knew it, you were talking about everything and nothing, voices laced with exhaustion but neither willing to hang up first. He was leaving in a few hours, and you had to be the one to convince him to sleep, reminding him—more than once—that he had a flight to catch.

You had just curled up in your blankets when your phone buzzed again. Dozy, you reached for it, thumb swiping across the screen.

Choi Beomgyu I’m sorry for making you wait. I promise we’ll make up for all the time we lost. Sleep well, beautiful.

Even as sleep pulled you under, the smile on your lips never faded.

You wake up to the relentless ringing of your doorbell. A groan slips past your lips as you burrow deeper into your blankets. It’s Sunday. No work. No alarms. Just sleep—at least, that was the plan.

The doorbell rings again.

With an exaggerated sigh, you drag yourself out of bed, doing the bare minimum to look somewhat presentable. Your hair is probably a mess, your face still puffy from sleep, but you don’t care. Whoever decided to disturb your well-earned rest better have a damn good reason.

You glance at the clock on your way out. Oh. It’s not even early—it’s almost 1 PM.

Squinting against the bright light as you crack the door open, you’re met with a sight that instantly wakes you up. A delivery man stands there, arms full, holding the biggest bouquet of red roses you’ve ever seen. The sheer number of petals is overwhelming, a deep sea of crimson spilling over the edges of his grasp.

"What—" Your brain struggles to catch up, and then it clicks. Beomgyu. He asked for your address yesterday.

"Y/N?" The man confirms, struggling under the bouquet.

Your eyes widen. "Damn, just how many are in there?"

"Three hundred and fifteen roses," he says, barely holding onto the mass of flowers. "Please sign here."

Three hundred and fifteen. You’re smiling as you take the pen from him.

You stumble slightly, still half-dazed as you carefully set the massive bouquet down, trying not to crush a single petal. Your fingers tremble as you reach for the small card nestled between the roses, your heart already beating a little too fast.

315 months of not being with you. This won’t make up for it, but I hope it makes you happy.

You inhale sharply. Your chest tightens. 315 months. He counted. Beomgyu counted the exact number of months you’ve been alive—how does he even think like this? Tears prick at your eyes before you can stop them. He’s ridiculous. He’s thoughtful in a way that completely undoes you.

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’re running. Not walking—running. Because suddenly, every second without hearing his voice feels like a second wasted.

Your fingers fumble as you dial his number, pressing the phone to your ear. It barely rings once before the line clicks open—like he had been waiting for this call all along. “Beomgyu—” your voice comes out uneven, breathless.

He chuckles softly, “So… I take it you liked it?”

It’s already 3 PM.

Somehow, you lost track of time, carefully splitting the bundle into smaller arrangements, placing them in vases around your apartment. Now, your living room and kitchen are drenched in the scent of roses—not that you’re complaining.

Beomgyu had stayed on the phone with you the entire time, talking about his morning, his voice in the background as you worked. That is, until someone called for him on the other end, reminding him he had things to do.

You sighed when the call ended. It's sunday, and his sunday is like the worst day of your week. And you're here, resting.

Now, fresh out of the shower, droplets of water still clung to your skin as you stepped onto the cool tile. A shiver ran down your spine as you grabbed a towel, pressing it to your face, inhaling the soft, familiar scent of fabric softener.

Dressed in cozy clothes, you curled up on the couch, remote in one hand, a bowl of yogurt and berries resting on your lap. Television played softly as you mindlessly scrolled through channels, enjoying the quiet.

Until your phone buzzed. You unlocked it, eyes immediately landing on the message.

Nut-job Da-hee. Girl! He's extra glowy today!! OMG <link>

You tapped the link, expecting a video to pop up, but instead, it directed you to download an app. You went along with it, quickly signing in and typing out a cheeky username.

The video loaded—Soobin and Beomgyu, in a hotel room. A small table sat near the camera, cluttered with food containers and drinks. Beomgyu was on the bed, lounging comfortably but still close enough to be part of the frame.

And Da-hee wasn’t exaggerating—he looked good. The black shirt fit him just right, his dark hair falling effortlessly, lips tinted a soft pink. A phone in hand, completely unaware of just how stunning he looked.

An idea sparked in your mind.

"It's not barley tea, MOA," Beomgyu laughs, shaking his head as Soobin insists otherwise. No matter how many times their leader repeats himself, the comments keep flooding in, doubting him.

"Choi Beomgyu really traumatized you, huh?" he teases, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"What do you mean?" Beomgyu argues, but Soobin is already moving on, reading a new comment aloud. "Barley tea is healthy,"

Just then, Beomgyu’s phone buzzes. He glances down at the screen.

My Y/N Live?

His back immediately straightens. Shit. You’re watching? He’s about to type out a response when another message pops up.

You look handsome.

Beomgyu presses a hand over his mouth, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He wants to—

"Beomgyu, MOAs are asking what you're doing," Soobin interrupts, his eyes full of silent curiosity.

"Nothing," Beomgyu says too quickly. "Kai sent a meme." He shifts closer to the camera, Soobin right beside him. With his phone in his hands, he types a message, fully aware that Soobin is peeking at his screen. They probably look ridiculous—both of them staring down at their phones while thousands of people watch.

You're watching?

A few seconds pass before your reply pops up.

Yes.

Beomgyu inhales, trying to focus as Soobin keeps talking. His fingers move instinctively.

I'm shy.

Why? You look good.

A pause. Then another message.

Wait, stop looking at your phone. Let MOA see you? Username: 315flowersmyass.

Beomgyu chokes on a laugh. His lips curl up as he locks his phone and holds it up to the camera, as if to prove he’s done. As if to prove that he followed your words.

"So cute," he sings, the words slipping out without thought. The chat erupts, MOAs spamming hearts and messages.

Then he catches it.

315flowersmyass kekekeke -

His grin stretches wider. He closes his face on the screen. "Hi, MOA." He giggles.

This—this is cute. He’s always enjoyed going live, but now he knows you’re watching, he discovers a love for it he never even knew was possible.

The live eventually comes to an end. As soon as it does, Soobin turns to Beomgyu with a knowing smile. "I'm happy you finally found her," he says simply. Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away—just smiles, warmth spreading through his chest. Then his phone buzzes.

He checks it, and the moment he does, a gasp slips past his lips.

It’s a picture. You.

A snack is held near your face, your expression relaxed. You’re in cozy clothes, looking effortlessly beautiful, breathtaking. The picture made Beomgyu wish he could fly back to you right there and then. Over his shoulder, Soobin leans in. "Is that her?" he asks, then grins. "She's pretty."

Beomgyu doesn’t look away from his phone as his lips curl into a smile.

"She is," he murmurs, almost to himself.

"She’s here."

Ji-an’s voice pulls you from your focus. She’s standing beside your desk, phone pressed to her ear, while you scan last week’s finance report. Your eyes flick over the spreadsheet, catching an error in a formula, but before you can fix it, Ji-an calls your name. "Y/N, there’s a delivery for you. They’re at the door."

"Oh," you murmur, pushing your reading glasses up the bridge of your nose. Contacts felt like too much trouble today. "Thanks."

As you stand, a familiar warmth spreads through your chest. Outside, the delivery man hands you a bouquet—this time, white roses.

You peek at the note while walking back, the click of your heels filling the space. Your way back to your desk by the window. The skyline stretches endlessly beyond the glass, a vast expanse of city lights and open sky.

Ow! I fell! Fell for you~ —bg <3

A laugh escapes before you can stop it—he's so silly. One of the things you realised recently.

"That's the fourth bouquet this month, Y/N," Ji-an muses, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "I know you just met your soulmate, but flowers every week? That’s next-level sweet. I’m jealous—mine isn't really a flowers kind of person."

You return her smile, "Yeah, he's the sweetest."

It’s been a month since you met Beomgyu. A single day—that’s all you had together. And yet, in the weeks that followed, he never let distance become an excuse. Even with his tour in full swing, miles stretching endlessly between you, he still found ways to reach you. A call in the middle of the night. A voice note filled with sleepy laughter. And these flowers—his way of saying, I'm here. I'm coming back to you soon.

Ji-an leans against your desk, eyes glinting with curiosity. "So… when do we get to meet him?" she asks, wiggling her brows. "You know the drill—everyone meets everyone’s soulmate. It’s basically tradition. At least one or two quick bond drinks a year, right?"

The playful edge in her voice makes your stomach twist. Because as much as you want to laugh along, to pretend that everything is as simple as it should be… you know the truth.

They can’t meet him. Your friends, your family—none of them can. Maybe not now. Maybe not ever. You don’t even know when you will see him again.

You swallow, forcing down the sudden tightness in your throat. The warmth you felt just moments ago, thinking about him, is now laced with something heavier.

"He's—he's busy," you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you. You glance at the bouquet on your desk, fingers tracing the petals as if they hold an answer you don’t have. "Maybe next time."

The day finally ends, and you’re grateful Ji-an didn’t push for more.

You clutch the bouquet a little tighter as you step into the elevator, the faint scent of roses lingering in the air. By the time you make it to the parking lot, exhaustion weighs on you—but then you remember.

You forgot to send a text. Pulling out your phone, you type: I’m heading home now.

The message sends, and a small smile tugs at your lips. Beomgyu is probably fast asleep by now, lost in a time zone opposite yours. He won’t see it for hours, but you text him anyway—because you can already hear his voice in your head, playful and pouty. You forgot to tell me again, he’d whine. Can you please let me know?

You’ve learned a lot from him in such a short time. How simple it is to make someone feel remembered. How easy it is to reach out. How even in the busiest moments, there’s always a second to say, I haven’t forgotten you.

Because that’s what he’s been doing for you all along.

You slip your phone back into your pocket, ready to head to your car when someone stops you. Your steps slow, brows knitting together as your scan lands on a girl—sitting right on the hood of your car.

Your car. She’s perched there like she belongs, fingers idly tracing patterns against the metal.

"Hey," you call out, keeping your voice even. "It’s not really polite to sit on someone else’s car, sweetheart."

Her head lifts, eyes locking onto yours with disdain, "Don't sweetheart me, you slut."

The venom in her words knocks the air from your lungs. Your breath catches, shock flashing through you as she stands. She’s young. Much younger than you.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" she snaps.

Your instincts flare—this isn’t normal. You take a step back, "Leave. Now. Before I call the police."

But she doesn’t move. Instead, she tilts her head, and smirked. "You’re Beomgyu’s soulmate, aren’t you?"

Your body locks up. How does she know? Your fingers tighten around the stems of the flowers, the thorns pressing into your palm. You want to speak, to deny, to do something, but the words won’t come.

Because you know—whatever you say next could make this worse.

She clicks her tongue, taking a slow step toward you. "Do this while I’m still being nice," she says, voice eerily light. "Stay away from him. Or I’ll destroy everything." She tilts her head again, a slow blink. "I’d rather see him ruined than with you, unnie."

She steps past you then, her shoulder knocking into yours just hard enough to make you stumble back. Your hands cold, heart hammering against your ribs. She doesn’t look back. Not until she’s a few feet away.

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

I’m heading home now.

Beomgyu rubs the sleep from his eyes, his fingers fumbling for his phone the moment he wakes up. Checking for your messages has become second nature—his first instinct, before he even fully shakes off sleep.

The corners of his lips curl into a soft smile as he reads your text. You remembered.

God, he misses you.

When he gets back, he’s not letting you out of his sight. He’ll beg his company if he has to—anything to steal just a little more time with you. He wants to spoil you, to show up with flowers every single day just to see that shy smile of yours. He’d buy you things you didn’t even know you needed, take pictures of you at every chance, make playlists for you, drag you into late-night game sessions just to hear you laugh and call him ridiculous. Love is effort. That’s what his parents always told him. He’d give it—all of it.

Maybe one day, he’d convince you to visit Daegu with him. Introduce you to his family, let his mom fuss over you, watch his brother tease him relentlessly. And Toto… Would you like Toto?

The thought makes him chuckle as he taps your contact and presses call. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. His smile falters.

Then, voicemail.

His brows knit together. He tries again. Straight to voicemail. The phone feels heavier in his hand now.

It’s the first time you haven’t picked up.

He’s in the van now. It’s been hours.

Beomgyu grips his phone, scrolling through his notifications, eyes darting to every new alert. His heart lifts for a second—only to sink just as fast when he realizes it’s not you. The screen dims in his hands, but he doesn’t put it down. He can’t.

"You still haven’t heard from her?" Soobin asked. He’s the only one still awake, eyes heavy but observant. Beomgyu hadn’t meant to make it obvious, but he’s never been good at hiding things—not to his members.

"No," Beomgyu mutters, shaking his head. His throat feels tight. "We always talk before she falls asleep."

Soobin exhales, tilting his head back against the seat. "She probably crashed as soon as she got home. Long day, maybe?" He keeps his tone easy, reassuring. "Just focus on later's concert. She’ll probably be awake by then."

Beomgyu nods, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, hyung."

Soobin claps a hand on his back. "Don't think about it too much."

Beomgyu did his best to push thoughts of you aside during the concert. He smiled, he sang, he danced—gave everything to the stage like he always did. But the second he was backstage, drenched in sweat and breathless from the high of performing, his hands were already reaching for his phone.

Still nothing.

Back at the hotel, Soobin and Yeonjun made sure he ate. He forced down a few bites, just enough to keep them from worrying. Now, fresh from a shower, exhaustion settles deep in his bones. His muscles ache, the weight of the night pressing down on him, but sleep won’t come.

His phone sits beside him on the bed. You’re probably asleep. He tells himself that. He should leave it alone.

But knowing doesn’t stop him from pressing call. It rings.

Once. Twice.

He’s about to give up when the line clicks.

“H-Hello?” Beomgyu stutters, his voice unsteady. No response. His heart pounds as he pulls the phone away, checking the screen just to be sure. The call is still connected. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Beomgyu.” The way you say his name makes his breath catch.

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” He hears you take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” His grip on the phone tightens.

"What is it?"

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” A pause. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

Beomgyu shoots up from where he’s sitting, running a hand through his hair, fingers pulling at the strands. He feels cold all over. His pulse pounds in his ears.

“Where is this coming from?” His voice is raw, edged dangerously close to panic. “What happened, Y/N?”

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” There’s a pause. A beat of silence that feels like a lifetime. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

His chest tightens. “Are you breaking up with me?” The words feel foreign in his mouth. His voice drops to a whisper. “Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

And then the line goes dead.

Beomgyu stares at his screen, his fingers frozen, his mind racing to process what just happened. His chest caves in, breath shaky as he stumbles back onto the bed. And then—he breaks.

His hands cover his face, shoulders trembling as it all crashes down on him. He had a feeling when you didn't answer his call. A whisper of doubt, an inkling of fear.

And now, it’s real.

4 AM, and Beomgyu still hasn’t slept. His eyes burn from exhaustion, but his mind won’t shut off. He’s been texting you, calling you—over and over—but every attempt goes straight to voicemail. At some point, your phone must have died, or worse, you turned it off.

He lies on the stiff hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s unfamiliar. Cold. But then again, when was the last time anything in his life felt familiar? Felt like home?

His phone dings.

He scrambles for it, heartbeat hammering, but before he can check the notification, an unknown number flashes across the screen. It’s stupid to answer an unknown call at this hour. Their managers had given them talks about it. But something—something in his gut—tells him to pick up.

“Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

“Beomgyu.” A pause. Then— “It’s Da-hee,”

His breath catches.

“She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you,” Da-hee says, voice hushed, urgent. “But I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

"Please."

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

You take another sip of whiskey, curled up on the couch, knees drawn to your chest. The tears won’t stop. No matter how many times you wipe them away, they keep coming, slipping down your cheeks, burning just as much as the liquor sliding down your throat.

Your thoughts won’t stop either.

Beomgyu.

He has everything—his dream, his career, a future so bright it could swallow you whole. He has the world at his feet. And you? You’re just… you. Not worth the risk. Not worth the detour. Maybe this was always how it was supposed to be. Maybe that’s why your paths were never meant to cross in the first place. You saw the consequence, felt it when you passed the Hybe building, that heavy reminder of the impossible divide between your worlds.

It should be enough. Enough that you got to know him, enough that he even knows your name. Enough that you get to see him on a screen. It should be enough.

But is it?

“Fuck,” you choke out, voice breaking. You press the heel of your palm against your eyes, as if that could stop the ache. “Just when I finally saw you… What a joke.” You shake your head, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. “The universe is a fucking idiot for ever thinking we were meant to be.”

You take another drink, and it burns.

“Y/N.”

You blink up, vision swimming, to see Da-hee standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face.

“I’ve been ringing your doorbell,” she says, stepping closer. “I used the spare key—why are you crying?”

You don’t respond. You just stare at her, eyes glassy, cheeks wet. She moves toward you, eyes flickering to the near-empty glass in your hand. You’ve been drinking for hours. You already called in sick to work—there’s no way you could function like this.

"Oh, honey," She sighs, reaches for the glass, and you don’t fight it. You let it go. "What happened?"

“Fate is already taking back what it let me borrow.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. She your holds your hand.

“What are you talking about?” she asks. “Explain.”

You swallow hard. Your throat feels tight, like every word is fighting to stay buried. But you force them out.

“A sasaeng,” you murmur, watching as Da-hee’s eyes widen in alarm. “She found out about me. She knows everything, Da-hee. Where I live, where I work, my family—everything.” You suck in a shaky breath, blinking back fresh tears. “And the worst of it, she fucking said she’s going to ruin Beomgyu.”

The moment the words leave your lips, your resolve shatters. You cry—like a child finally breaking after being scolded in front of everyone, holding it all in until no one’s around to see. Da-hee pulled you into her arms as you sobbed. You cling to her, hands fisting her sweater. “I have to let him go,” you choke out. “I can’t do this to him. To them. They don’t deserve this.”

Da-hee pulls back, her hands firm on your shoulders. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t have to do this alone. We can go to the police. We can tell Beomgyu—”

“And then what?” you cut in, voice hollow. “What can they really do? Stop her from telling the world? Keep every single person quiet? Even if she gets caught, the damage will already be done.”

Da-hee doesn’t answer. She just sinks onto the couch beside you, eyes shining with unshed tears, because she knows you well. She knows you too well—knows that the emotional version of you wouldn’t be able to hear her, not right now. Not until the sobs quiet down and the pain in your chest eases just a little. So, she just holds you.

Your phone screen lights up between you. Another call.

Beomgyu. He’s still calling. Still trying.

"I don’t think it’s best to answer it right now—"

But you don’t listen to Da-hee’s warning. Your fingers tremble as they hover over the screen. You have to end this. Now. While you still have the strength. Because deep down, you know—

If you wake up tomorrow, you might not be able to let him go.

“H-Hello?” He stutters on the other line, his voice unsteady. Your breath catches in your throat. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Everything. Everything is wrong.

“Beomgyu.”

I miss you. How can I go on without you?

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” You take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” You hesitate.

I’m not okay. I’ve been thinking about you, only you, and how my existence could ruin everything you’ve worked for.

"What?" His inhale is sharp, laced with the beginnings of panic.

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” You pause, fingers trembling. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, desperate to believe your own words. “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

I should be replaceable. And I shouldn’t be your priority. You press a hand to your mouth, as if you can keep the words from spilling out—keep the truth from bleeding through.

“Where is this coming from? What happened, Y/N?”

My heart is breaking. And you’re too far away to hold it together.

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” You pause, swallowing. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

Please sleep. And forget about me.

“Are you breaking up with me? Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

I want you more than anything. That’s why I have to do this. If I can save you from losing everything, I’ll do it. Even if it means losing you.

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

You press the end button.

The sobs rip through you, shaking your whole body and stealing the air from your lungs. You curl in on yourself, pressing your fist to your mouth, as if that could stop the sound, as if that could stop the pain. How can love be this cruel? How can the same thing that made you feel so alive now leave you feeling so hollow?

But this is for him. You tell yourself that over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer, like a desperate attempt to make it hurt less.

You’ll do this for him. Even if it destroys you.

Da-hee wipes at her eyes, sniffling as she looks at you—curled up in the fetal position, your body tense like you’re bracing for impact even in sleep. She managed to get you into bed, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

She’d do anything for you.

Carefully, she tiptoes to the bedside table and picks up your phone. Her heart pounds. If anyone’s watching me, I’ll beg for forgiveness later. But right now, she comes first.

She types in your usual password. 8888. Incorrect. She frowns, thinking. You changed it? Then, almost without realizing it, her fingers move on their own. 0313. The screen unlocks.

Beomgyu’s birthday.

Da-hee lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. “You idiot,” she whispers, shaking her head. “You love him so much, and yet you’re willing to walk away. How can you be this selfless?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she scrolls through your contacts, searching for his name. Her thumb hovers over it for only a second before she types his number on her own phone.

You’ll be furious. You might never forgive her. But if there’s even the slightest chance this stops you from making the biggest mistake of your life—she’ll take that risk.

Someone has to tell him the things that you can’t.

The line connects, and Da-hee inhales. “She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you, but I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

She’ll prepare her apology later—more than that, she hopes Beomgyu will fight for you.

"I want to go home." Beomgyu’s voice is firm, but his hands are clenched into fists at his sides. His manager looks up from his laptop, brows furrowing.

The door bursts open. Soobin stumbles in, slightly out of breath—he must’ve run after him. Beomgyu doesn’t care.

Beomgyu already knows everything—Da-hee told him. Every sickening detail. And now, standing here, he has no idea how to fix this. No idol has ever come out of this unscathed. But none of that matters right now. His only priority is getting to you.

His manager sighs, already exasperated. “You’re flying back home in a few days, Beomgyu.”

“No,” he says, jaw tightening. “I mean now. I need a few days. To rest. To handle something personal.”

“You know your schedule is packed—”

“Then move everything,” Beomgyu interrupts sharply. He feels Soobin’s hand on his shoulder, hears his name spoken softly, but he shrugs it off. No one is stopping him from getting to you.

His manager sighs again, firmer this time. “We can’t do that.”

“You won’t even try?” His voice wavers between frustration and desperation. “You won’t even let the management know?”

“We can’t make last-minute changes like this.”

Beomgyu lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Of course.” He clenches his fists. All his life, he’s done everything they asked. Pushed through exhaustion, smiled through sickness, showed up even when his body begged him to stop. “I won’t follow you on this,” he says, voice steady. “I can’t do this. Not this time. If you won’t let me go, I’ll still leave.”

“Beomgyu, let’s talk about this when you’re calm,” Soobin says gently, patting Beomgyu’s back. “Please.”

Beomgyu turns to him, his eyes dark with frustration. “I love MOAs, hyung. I love all of you. They gave me everything.” His voice wavers, but he pushes through. “But Y/N… she is my everything.” His breath hitches. He can't even explain it properly. How badly he needs you. “You’re lucky. All of you. Your soulmates—"

“So this is about your soulmate?” The manager exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Don’t you see? She’s making you choose between her and your career.”

“No.” Beomgyu’s voice breaks, his chest tightens, and the lump in his throat is unbearable. “She’s not making me choose. She’s already choosing for me.” His next breath is shaky. “She’s leaving. Can you let your own soulmate leave?”

The room falls silent. Soobin watches him, stunned. He’d never seen Beomgyu like this before—this angry, this desperate. And the question stings the older.

Beomgyu turns away, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. Explaining further is useless. He’s already said everything that matters. Nothing is going to stop him now. When he steps into the hallway, he sees Yeonjun standing there, leaning against the wall.

He’s been listening the whole time.

Yeonjun immediately reaches out, tugging at his arm. “Yah, Choi Beomgyu, come on,” he says quietly. “Let’s talk with everyone.” Beomgyu exhales shakily. If there's anyone he owes an explanation. It's them. His brothers.

So Beomgyu told them everything.

About the sasaeng. About the threats. About how you were walking away to protect him. About how he refused to let that happen. And just like he knew they would, the four of them listened—not as bandmates, not as colleagues, but as brothers.

No one understood him better than they did.

They didn’t tell him to reconsider. They didn’t tell him to stay. Instead, they held onto him, arms wrapped tight, as if they could shield him from the storm that was already brewing. They prayed—not for him to change his mind, but for the world to understand.

Kai was the first to break. His voice barely above a whisper, “Is it really worth it… if the world doesn’t want us to have soulmates?”

It shattered something in all of them.

Beomgyu didn’t answer—not with words. Because what kind of world was it, where love had to be hidden? Where choosing your own heart felt like a betrayal?

With the help of his members, he managed to slip through the cracks, securing a last-minute flight. Now, as he sat on the plane, adjusting his mask, pulling his cap low, he caught his own reflection in the window.

Maybe it was time. Time to stop pretending. Time to stop hiding.

Because an idol in love isn’t supposed to be shameful. Because having a soulmate shouldn’t be treated like a scandal. Because loving you would never make him love his dream any less.

He just had to believe in MOAs. In the people who gave him everything. What he has with them, he treasures so much that the thought of baring his heart isn’t impossible.

And he would.

Completely.

He would trade it all, just to see you again.

The pounding in your head hasn’t let up, a dull, relentless throb that even the hot shower couldn’t wash away. You pop an aspirin, sighing as you press your fingertips against your temples, willing the ache—and everything else—to disappear.

Then the doorbell rings. Right. The food.

Dragging your feet toward the door, you barely think as you swing it open—then freeze.

Choi Beomgyu.

His face bare, a backpack slung over his shoulder. A car idles in your driveway, but you barely process it. Your eyes lock onto the messy strands of blonde peeking out from under his hoodie, his gaze searching yours. He looks at you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks.

“Y/N—” The door slams shut in his face before he can say another word.

Your breath stumbles. Your pulse pounds. The damp strands of your hair cling to your neck as you press your back against the door, fingers gripping the handle like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. Shit. He fucking looks good with his new dyed hair— wait. Don't think about that. What is he doing here?

“I’m parked out front,” his voice comes through the door, muffled but you hear it. “I just want to talk.” A shaky inhale. Then softer, “Baby, I’m here. When you’re ready, just open the door.”

His footsteps retreat.

You start pacing, your heart ricocheting against your ribs. He’s here. He came all this way. After everything you stupidly said. You hurt him yet—

The doorbell rings again.

You yank it open, “Wait, my ass—”

“Chinese takeout for Y/N?” The delivery guy blinks at you, holding up the bag.

“Oh.” You blush, embarrassed. You fumble for your wallet, signing the receipt with shaky hands. Your eyes keep drifting past him, toward the car still parked in front of your house.

Just like what he said. He's there.

The hours slip away unnoticed, morning fading seamlessly into afternoon. Every time you steal a glance through the curtain, he’s still there. Evening creeps in as you start making dinner. Without thinking, you plate portions for two. Your hands hesitate over the dishes, your heart heavy. When you check the clock, it’s 8 p.m. He’s been outside for twelve hours—silent, waiting.

Just like he promised. He never knocked again. Twelve hours. Your hands tremble as you turn off the stove. He must’ve just come from another gruelling day, looking like he’d stepped off a plane after hours in the air—rumpled, drained, and still without rest.

Why did you let him wait this long?

You don’t stop to think anymore. You grab your keys, shove your feet into your slippers, and head straight for his car, blinking back the tears that blur your vision.

He must see you coming because, before you even reach him, the car door swings open.

And there he is.

His hoodie is pushed back now, his hair slightly dishevelled like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times. His face is drawn, exhausted. His eyes—red-rimmed, heavy, like he’s been crying for hours. You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Come inside,” Your voice cracks, but you don’t stop. You just turn around and head back toward the door. You don’t have to look back to know he’s following.

He steps inside, his tall frame filling the space as you quietly shut the door behind him. Your apartment looks small with him around. When you turn, your eyes meet, "Beomgyu—"

You barely get his name out before he’s on you. He can't stop himself anymore. It’s how you looked outside, so effortless—your hair pinned up, the simplicity of your everyday clothes, and yet, you somehow seemed untouchable. He envisions a life with you, a routine, your soft smile waiting for him when he comes home, you looking like something angelic—his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body heat searing through your clothes. His lips crash into yours—hungry, desperate, like he’s been starved for you. His mouth moves against yours, claiming, taking.

His fingers thread through your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue slides against yours. His hands roam down, gripping, pulling, making sure you feel every bit of him. He grabs your wrists, lifting them, wrapping your arms around his neck as his lips move to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath ragged as he nips your sensitive skin. "I missed you," he murmurs. Another kiss—hotter, deeper, his body pressing your back against the wall. "I got fucking scared you'd never open the door."

His movements were hurried, frantic, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. In one swift motion, he lifted you, his steps unsteady as he carried you to the bedroom. Your bedroom. The air felt heavy as he laid you down on the mattress.

"I get it. I know you don’t mean it—that you really believe this is for the best." His voice softens, almost breaking. He presses his crotch to yours, eyes seeking yours. "But did it ever cross your mind what I want? What I think is best for me? For us?"

“I'm sorry,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt, your voice trembling as much as your resolve.

"I'll always forgive you." His hands moved to your shoulders, then slid down to your waist, pulling you to him. He grinds desperately to you. You never knew that lips could talk without uttering a word as he captures your lips again and again. "Because your words could never hurt me as much as your leaving does."

You surrendered to his touch, your body softening beneath him. Your hands gripped his shoulders for balance as he pressed you deeper into the mattress, which groaned under your shifting weight. You reached for Beomgyu’s lips, catching him off guard as you kissed him with everything you had, tongues colliding in a heated frenzy. His hand slid between your thighs, cupping your middle and sending a shiver through you. But even in the haze of his taste, a heavy guilt settled in your chest. "Gyu,"

"I need you, baby. Or I'll go crazy." His breaths were ragged, syncing with your every moan as his tongue tangled with yours. Your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer, urging him on. His body pressed against yours, grinding to yours, while his hands roamed over your skin, igniting every nerve he touched. His lips trailed downward, leaving soft kisses that melted into your flesh, a path leading straight to your core.

He stripped you of every barrier, leaving you bare under his gaze. His eyes shimmered with adoration and awe as they traced your body. You hadn’t realized how powerless you were against him until your legs parted, welcoming him. He's on top of you, looked at you like you were sacred, like you were his entire world.

Beomgyu's eyes never left yours as his fingers found your hand, seeking the place where the string was tied. The red thread appears, and he lifts it to his lips. A kiss—featherlight, reverent—pressed against the place where destiny tied you to him.

“It's going to be okay…” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. Tears pricked your eyes because you wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. His hands explored further, his fingers shakily reaching for your clit, pinching softly then roughly rubbing, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you were capable of.

"I'll fix it for us, for you." He looks at you—wanting to see every expression you make. He’s going to fuck you until you cum all over his dick and then he’ll do it again. Until you won't be able to think about leaving him anymore. He goes down further—kisses down and the smell of you is divine.

His face hovers and with his fingers he spreads you apart. He swallows—salivating. He sticks his tongue out, lightly licking your clit. You taste so—He buries his face in, tongue inside, hands on your hips. "Shit, you were really gonna leave me? And I was gonna miss this?" He groans, lapping up, sucking the arousal out of you. He moves up, nose bumping on your clit then he suckles more. His cock throbs with every taste of you, the way you melt against his mouth driving him insane. He feels you slick against his chin, but he doesn’t stop—doesn’t leave a single inch of you untouched by his warm, greedy mouth. It was as if your body had been crafted for his lips alone, flesh and heat meant to be devoured at his leisure.

When you tug hard on his hair, he groans against you, finally pulling back. His lips glisten as he moves up your body. He crashes his mouth onto yours, the kiss deep and hungry, and you taste yourself on his tongue—messy, desperate, a mix of him and you, blurring the lines between who’s devouring who.

“I love you,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—"I'm sorry it took this long."

"You feel so so good, don't ask me to stop, please." His touch was gentle even as his thrusts inside you grew more desperate. He cradled your head, kissed away your tears, and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m in love with you, Y/N,"

“I love you,” you replied, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist.

"Beomgyu, I— It was selfish of me—" You whispered his name and it made tears well up in his eyes. His hand gently pushed the damp strands of hair from your face, and he pressed tender kisses along your cheeks, your temple, and your jaw.

“Shh, no,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed the crown of your head. "None of this is your fault," he murmurs. "But you have to trust me now."

All the horrors inside you dissolve with every kiss he presses to your skin, each one stripping away the fear, the doubt, the self-imposed distance. He kisses you like he’s rewriting everything, like he knows exactly where every shattered piece of you belongs. As if he’s memorized the map of your ruin and decided, you were always meant to be whole.

And you let him.

Because now, in his arms, with his lips claiming yours over and over, only pulls away when breathing becomes a necessity—his forehead pressing against yours for a fleeting second before his mouth finds yours again, as if letting go for too long might break him, you realise the truth—it was foolish of you to think that pushing him away would solve it all.

It was foolish to ever believe you could ever live without him.

Waking up with Beomgyu’s arm draped over your bare waist felt like something out of a dream.

The second you tried to slip away, he pulled you right back in, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a sleepy rough hum. His grip was loose but unwilling, like even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to let you go. He filled your morning with lazy kisses, tangled limbs, and muffled laughter, his fingers tracing over your bare skin.

You could live a lifetime like this and still never believe it was real.

Now, you sit at your vanity, dressed for work, fastening an earring as Beomgyu, fresh from the shower, tugs on a clean hoodie. He catches your eye in the mirror and grins as he walks over. “What are you doing baby? Dolled up and all.”

“Drying my hair,” you say, “I’m actually early today. Da-hee is dropping by later too, by the way.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you.” He leans down, eyes flickering to the hairdryer on the desk. He picks it up, flipping it on. “I know how to do this.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh. I could probably do your makeup too.” He presses a teasing kiss to your cheek, making you giggle.

The warmth of the dryer was against your scalp as he carefully runs his fingers through your hair, drying it with surprising patience. His touch lingers even after the dryer clicks off, his fingers gently gathering strands of your hair.

“I used to braid my mom’s hair when I was younger,” he murmurs. “I want to do yours too.” You nod, watching him through the mirror, watching the way he looks at you with so much quiet devotion it nearly steals your breath. "It will be an honour to do this every day for you, you know."

And just like that, you fall in love all over again.

You sit in the passenger seat, your hair loosely braided—the proof that he wasn’t just bluffing. His fingers lace with yours as he drives, his thumb idly tracing circles against your skin. Every time the car slows at a red light, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you,”

He grins, that same cheeky, heart-stopping smile. "Love you more," he replies.

You let out a quiet breath, leaning your head against the window, watching the world blur past. But then—out of the corner of your eye—you see it.

And your breath catches in your throat.

Rain Lilies.

Flowers that shine the brightest in the wake of the storm.

It looks out of place. You remembered last night’s rain. It had come down in furious sheets, drowning the streets, washing everything away. The pavement is still slick, puddles reflecting the grey morning sky. And yet—there it is.

Small. Alive.

In the middle of a city that never stops, where people rush past without a second glance, too busy to care about a thing so insignificant, so easily overlooked—it stands, untouched. A quiet defiance against the cruelty that tried to take it.

It looks out of place, and it's beautiful.

If something this fragile can survive and still bloom—maybe, just maybe, so can you.

"Hyung!" Beomgyu’s laughter rings through the air as he runs straight into his brother’s arms. They embrace, laughing like they’re kids again, the older one attempting to lift him off the ground. Behind them, his parents rush to catch up, smiles stretched wide across their faces. The house, with its endless stretch of green, looks like out of a memory—soft, a paradise.

Beomgyu turns to you then, his hand resting gently on your back. His eyes soft when he speaks.

"Mom, Dad," he says, "This is Y/N."

You bow politely, but before you can even rise fully, his mother pulls you into a hug. "I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, dear," she murmurs against your shoulder.

When Beomgyu’s father steps forward, you feel your chest tighten. He smiles, and for a second, it’s like looking at Beomgyu in the years to come. His hug is just as warm, just as safe.

Lunch is a blur of laughter and stories, of hands brushing, of Beomgyu sneaking glances at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

His parents laugh along with your stories—the one about meeting his sweet members, and how Da-hee had begged to meet them in person. You describe her pale face, wide-eyed and on the verge of fainting the entire time, and how Beomgyu grew irritated every time Yeonjun jokingly flirted with you, insisting he should be your favorite.

But it’s the story of Beomgyu meeting your family last week that really gets them, how he’d been so polite, yet adorably nervous, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he tried to make the right impression.

His mom grins, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’ll have to meet them soon,” she says, already making plans in her head, as if you’ve always been part of the family. At some point, Beomgyu tells them you’ll be staying for the week. They are overjoyed, and Toto, takes an instant liking to you.

Beomgyu sits on the porch, it's evening now.

This deck—he’s spent years here—on this very step, staring out at the world, wondering when he’d find you. Wondering if he ever would.

His fingers tighten around the handwritten letter on his phone screen, the words waiting to be sent out into the world. His heart pounds. What if they don’t understand? What if this changes everything? What if—

Laughter drifts from inside the house, yours mixing with his mom’s, his brother’s. It was the only assurance he'd ever need.

He exhales sharply, thumb hovering for only a second longer before he clicks post. It loads. He doesn’t watch. Just locks his phone and sets it aside as the front door creaks open.

"You’re trying to escape me, cookie?" Your voice is playful, arms crossing as you step toward him. Beomgyu only grins, shaking his head at the nickname his father gave him. He slips an arm around your shoulders as soon as you sit down, pulling you while he presses kisses on the side of your head.

"Never," His fingers find yours, a new habit of his—thumb caressing over your ring finger. His thoughts slip to the diamond ring hidden in his dorm, the one he bought after a week of meeting you. He just needs to find the right moment, the right words. Because even now, after everything, you still make him nervous. The way his heart races when you walk into a room, how everything seems to stop for a moment when you look his way.

He meets your smile with one of his own. Would he ever be this lucky in another life? To find you, to love you—not by destiny’s design, not by some divine script, but by choice?

Even without a soulmate mark, even without fate—

It would always be you.

Maybe in another world, the sky is burning, the world is ending, an apocalypse, and he still falls in love with you. Maybe in another life, he is a man undone, a husband who shatters more than he mends, but even then, he would spend eternity piecing himself back together just to be worthy of you.

Beomgyu knows this much: no matter the lifetime, no matter the universe, he will love you. Again and again, without hesitation, without end. As if loving you is written into the very fabric of his existence.

His fingers graze your cheek, and you lean into him like you were always meant to—like the universe has been bringing you back to him for centuries. Your smile reaches your eyes, soft and certain. His missing piece. The better half of him.

Beomgyu looks at you, and to him, you are something that comes after the rain—the hush of the earth reborn, the golden light breaking through the clouds, the promise that even the chaos was worth it.

He can’t help himself. Not when you’re looking at him like that. Not when your smile is the only thing he ever wants to see.

So he leans in.

The phone sits forgotten, lighting up with messages—teary words, heartfelt congratulations, the world calling for him. But none of it matters.

Because right now, you are in his arms. Right now, he is kissing the soft of your addicting lips. And right now, that is all that ever was, all that ever is, all that ever will be.

THE END.

taglist: I love you @beombunni @lovingbeomgyudayone @virtaideen @hyukascampfire @fancypeacepersona @bamgeutori @lilbrorufr @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @xylatox @imlonelydontsendhelp @yunverie @baekberrie @soobabby @hyunelixbun @kejingken @blossommi @sumzysworld @tyunningstar @filmnings @channieismylove @frankghgr @missychief1404 @fatbixchwithanopinion @saejinniestar @brrytears @sbnslver @hoefororeo @pagelets @urlocal-moa @ewsnup @moagyuu @melmochii

[sugawhaaa]

SAN DRABBLE

🌙▪︎[Damn those eyes]▪︎🌙

Warnings//genre:: violence, knives mentioned, San is in love with you bc he's insane....

Pairing:: rich!San x fem!bodied!hitman!reader

A/N:: okay we got part two of the masquerade series and I think Yeosang will be next and possibly the last of this series 💪 I did have a Hongjoong one planned but idkkkk

Atz masterlist::🗡

Taglist:: @saddeneddimple @leo-seonghwa

🎧::

You were a hitman hired by a big shot of an internationally famous company. You were ordered to kill a man named Choi San. Why did the company want him dead? None of your business. You got a photo of him, nice and clear, 4k quality yet when you arrived at the exact location the company said, he was well hidden. A masquerade ball. Choi san would be at this ball on May 17th, arriving roughly at 7 pm yet the grand clock showed it was a quarter till eight and you could not spot this man. It would be hard to find a man you've never met behind a mask and feathers among nearly a near hundred people. Time to move on to plan b.

You started getting friendly, but not too friendly so as to not draw attention. You silently started to hint at your interest in a good man named Choi San. The groups of people seemed surprised you didn't know of this man.

“Oh Mr. Choi?”

“He's new money but he is so famous,”

“You should really look into him,”

All the women seemed giddy about the concept of San and this piqued your interest.

“New money you say? How did that occur?” You ask, trying to keep up your curious little lady vibe.

“His father passed away tragically, however, his father insisted he take the money,” a woman wearing a deep satin blue gown informed you. She held her mask up with the convenient handle on the side. The mask's blue matched that on her dress and there was a gold trim around the eyes and outside of the mask.

“Oh, what a shame,” you sigh with a shake of your head. “I would love to meet Choi san, passed off of all your positive judgment on him,” you say politely, slightly hinting to them that they should introduce you or something of the sort.

“Ah yes, he is just in the back corner by the drinks,” a younger woman in deep magenta points out. Her eyes are full of youth and innocence, a spark that has been missing from your eyes for far too long.

“Why thank you for pointing him out,” you bow slightly before making your way over to him. He stood close to the bar of drinks and held one hand behind his back, the other in front holding red wine, a dark clash to his white suit with a snake tongue-like ending to it. You take a deep breath before coming up to him. “Excuse me, are you choi san?” You ask politely and he turns to look at you, his eyes are mainly hidden beneath his white mask.

“That would be me,” he smirks slightly. “And you may be?”

“Ah, Y/N L/N, sorry for my rudeness,” you put a hand to your chest, drawing sans eyes to the black choker on your neck holding a deep ruby charm on the end of it.

“No apology necessary,” San bows slightly, almost like a nod in a modern conversation. "What is it you wanted to discuss with me?" He asks, assuming that you wanted more than friendly conversation.

"Ah, yes," you look down at your hands for a moment, taking in the dark velvet red gloves that wrap up to your elbows. "Perhaps we should discuss it in private," you suggest and San chuckles, that rich laugh that makes your blood heat up. San eventually leads you to a deserted hallway with rows of doors. He takes you to one of the rooms and explains that these are guest rooms used by people who wish to stay the night at these balls rather than go home after all the drinks and dancing. San had already booked himself a room so there would be no interruptions in here.

San closes the door behind himself before making his way to stand in front of you. A perfect opportunity...

"What is on your mind Ms. L/N?" He smiles politely and through his mask, you can see the purity in his eyes. You swallow hard, your hand tightening around the handle behind your back. San's eyes flicker down to your hand hiding behind your back and he sighs softly. He sits down on the bed in his room, leaning back slightly and holding himself up with his hands. This is the perfect opportunity to pull out your knife and kill him off. You grip the handle harder and swing it out from behind you, now revealing the weapon to San's eyes.

You pin him down to the bed, ensuring he can't wriggle away, before raising the knife above even your own body. Your eyes are locked right on his neck, your aim perfect. However, as you bring your hand down you down feel the knife make contact with his body. You avert your gaze to look at his neck, which should be covered in blood, you see his eyes looking up at you. "Can you really do it?" His expression is blank and you raise the knife again, attempting your strike again but now your hands quiver. "It's much harder to kill someone when they're looking right into your eyes huh?" There isn't an ounce of fear in his voice or expression, almost as if he knew this would happen and he mentally prepared for this beforehand.

You sigh, questioning yourself; could you really do this? Kill a man who is looking up at you with those eyes. Damn those eyes... "before you kill me," San starts, drawing your attention back to him. He raises a hand to your face and you pull back. "Could you let me see your face?"

His request leaves you momentarily speechless, however, it is quite frankly his last wish.

"No," you state and you can see the hurt in his eyes. "Because...I'll let you live. But you if you saw my face, I'd be severely punished," you put the knife back into its hidden pocket in the back of your dress. You stand up and turn to go to the door but San quickly follows, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turn to look at him and he pulls the mask off your face, the mask falls to the floor as you finally feel the warmth of him on your face. He looks directly into your eyes, for they are most familiar to him.

"I didn't plan on snitching either way, I know you're just a puppet,"

[justleaveacommentfest]

Not an ask, but a story about leaving comments -- not long ago, I left a comment on a fic from almost 10 years ago where the author, in their end notes, discussed how proud they were to have finished this fic (it was an incredible fic that was over 100,000 words long because they're a god and I would also just be shaky in the knees if I accomplished something so long and profound); and they also talked in their author's note how strange it was to be the ages of 22-24 when they were writing this fic and how things weren't always easy, and that they hoped the future was bright for them.

I commented about my life, right now, how I came to find their fic a decade years later from when they finished (a little sheepishly, it feels weird to talk about yourself, but it felt important somehow) -- anyways, I also talked about how reading their author's note reminded me very much of how I felt right now, and how different the world is now from 2015, and how this fic made me feel all kinds of nostalgic and good and hopeful about growing older, and how my god they were this good at 22 and I hope they're still writing -- and even if not, I hope all these years later they really are in a better place.

They replied. They replied! I was so delighted! They are indeed in their thirties! and they are indeed still writing! Things haven't gone as expected, but they've got a healthier dose of perspective on life and how to cope with the hard times now. And it was just so heartwarming to hear and learn about them. And to know that they're still around!

Just seeing that, seeing these people who write about hard times nine years ago, and leaving a comment and getting a reply, it just brings so much hope. Because you never know! You never know if someone's still going to be here, and so when they are it's kind of a-- not a miracle, but it just feels like I'm suddenly so very aware of my existence in the world and theirs too and it just -- it MATTERS. And ao3 and fanfiction in general is so unique to most media where you stare at a television or read a book, you can engage with the creator of that thing you're reading RIGHT THEN AND THERE. And you may not get a reply, or you might get this touching response that lets you feel like you're less alone in the world. It's worth the chance, right? That's what building community and stuff is all about! You can make so many friends this way!

And even if they never reply, don't you want them to know how important their story was to you? And it doesn't matter if the story was finished a decade ago or just posted yesterday, there's still a person that's there that gets to see how their art made an impact on the world. I've made a couple of friends doing this -- and even if I'm not making a friend, I hope I make someone's day a little brighter. God knows I'm always delighted whenever someone comments on my fics.

I admit I'm not perfect -- I don't always comment on fics that I read. I'm trying to be better, I've got a list of fics that I definitely should have written a comment on that I've been going through and writing out how I feel about their writing because damn people are just so talented. This wasn't for just leave a comment fest, I admit, but I do love to see your blog and your drive because it is such an important thing for writers.

I didn't know you were doing a valentines day thing, but what a great idea! I wanted to share my experience, hopefully inspire some other people to go out and comment, and now I'm going to go check another fic off my list of ones that I'd like to comment on. Better late than never!

Have a great day! and Happy Valentine's Day Just Leave a Comment Mini Fest!

I AM HOOTING AND HOLLERING I AM PLAYING THE XYLOPHONE ON MY RIB CAGE WHAT A STORY!!!! WHAT A BEAUTIFUL CONNECTION TO HAVE MADE THROUGH COMMENTS!!! WHAT A WONDERFUL, BEAUTIFUL EXPERIENCE TO HAVE HAD!!

ANON THANK YOU FOR SHARING THIS HAS MADE THIS SKELETON'S DAY

[babybearnation]

polyam!lance/mick + omegaverse = general soft/smutty headcanons

(i blame my omegaverse obsession on you btw /lh)

you're welcome lol <3

omega!lance stroll x alpha!male!reader x omega!mick schumacher

smut below cut

fluff:

lance smells like blueberries and mick smells like cornflowers, a concoction that never fails to make you feel loved, safe and happy

a perfect pair of cuddle bugs, these two can always be found in each other's arms or clinging to you - it's like they have a cuddle quota they must fill every day

they were very nervous at the start of their relationship with you but you courted them so sweetly and were so patient with their anxieties that they couldn't help but fall hard and fast

neither of them can sleep without having some sort of physical contact with you - you usually end up trapped with lance on your left side, mick on your right, and their hands link over your tummy or back (depending on how you sleep - these two make sleeping on your side impossible)

both mick and lance get jealous over you interacting with other omegas but they react in different ways - mick gets quiet and teary but he always speaks to you about his feelings whereas lance gets angry and bitter, lashing out at you before he bursts into tears

lance is very catlike in that, should he feel inclined to, he'll walk up to you or mick and just casually start nuzzling his head against your skin, desperate for kisses and cuddles and affection

mick is what many deem to be the perfect omega - he's sweet and quiet and patient, but he's also very playful and fun and he's not above indulging lance in his chaos even when he's tired

these two have no qualms whatsoever about parading you around and showing you off to people - after all, you are theirs and they don't care who finds that annoying/irksome

smut (bottom!lance, switch!mick & top!reader):

lance and mick's scents always combine to create the most potent candle-esque scent ever when you three have sex and it's damn near impossible to forget it once you've smelt it, especially if your scent is thrown into the mix as well

lance is clingy during sex, his legs wrapped around the head or waist of the person in between them, but mick is perfectly content to sit to one side and watch, as much as lance begs for his touch

their first heats with you were intense but you made sure to take such good care of them with the help of the other omega and it made any and all heats the easiest to deal with because of it

pre-heat jealousy actually hits mick harder than it does lance. lance stays pretty much the same, if a little bit snippier, but mick fully snaps at people, threatening to hurt them if they get too close to you

both have a thing for marking you up but lance goes for scratching whilst mick goes for soft love bites - they both go absolutely feral any time you mark them up, though (the harder, the better)

even in heat, neither of them can last very long - the two of them are just such sleepy boys that it only takes 2-3 rounds for them to be satiated, both in and out of heat (whilst this can sometimes make your ruts harder, you never let them feel bad about it)

they require so much aftercare its insane - you'll have to somehow clean them up, get some water & food in them and (if they choose to put clothes back on) redress them all whilst they cling to each other sleepily and refuse to help you

mick gets shy post-heat as he doesn't like all the stares he gets but lance shines so brightly when he's covered in your marks and has a limp because of your knot that it slowly starts to rub off on mick as well

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[tillysketch]

Songbird in a Cage (Part 3)

Spawn Astarion x Female! Reader Oneshot 18+ (2k)

Part One and Part Two

Content: PiV sex, Oral-female receiving

MDNI - 18+

The early morning sun wakes Astarion gently. He looks around the unfamiliar room, until his eyes land on you sleeping soundly next to him.

You, the one bit of sunshine from his past that still lives and breathes. As you sleep he studies your face, trying to find any scraps of memories in the smile lines and freckles that adorn your cheeks, eyes, and nose. You breathe softly; your quiet calming energy is soothing to Astarion. He traces his finger along the curve of your shoulder, down your arm, and back up again, lazily drawing loops and swirls against your soft skin. The guilt of not being able to recall much about you or your past the two of you shared eats at him. He knows he cares about you, and that he used to love you.

In truth, until he’d seen your face in the jail cell across from him, he’d forgotten about you entirely. The overwhelming rush of seeing you again brought a few memories back to him, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to remember everything- what would make you laugh? What was your favorite color? What hopes and plans did you have to bury with his body when he died? 

You take in a deep inhale and his hand retreats as your eyes slide open and the light returns to your gaze. 

“Good morning...” You mumble, your throat still thick with sleep. 

“Good morning, darling. How did you sleep?” He asks, his voice low, smooth like honey poured over a warm scone. Next to your sleep-sweat slick body and underneath the blanket, he feels almost alive again. His legs twined with yours, you’re the same temperature. 

“Very well. I don’t think I’ve slept like that in a long time.” You smile through a yawn, and Astarion plants a kiss to your forehead. He knows the motions and actions of a lover, but it's the emotional connection of it all that he’s struggling with. He knows he wants you- knows he is elated to be reunited with you. But still, the feeling of being an imposter, a fake, that has settled deep in his bones, and will take time to carve out of himself. Lying here with you helps though. His heart seems to remember you in a way his mind doesn’t.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, as his fingers travel down your arm to finally rest on your hip. 

“A bit... But I don’t want to get up yet. It’s so warm here.” You snuggle closer, squishing your face against his chest. The lingering heat from last night has carried into this glorious morning and has taken root low in your belly. As your body continues to wake, you notice a familiar swelling pressed against your hip. Astarion must be feeling the same way. 

It starts slow, a few light kisses here, a lingering hand there. Then all at once, you’re both moaning into one another’s mouths as hot fiery desire crackles between the two of you. Astarion’s fingers dig into your side before he grasps a handful of your ass and pulls you closer, hoisting your leg up over his own hip. He grinds his hard erection into your pelvis, making you groan. Your bodies find a comfortable rhythm, pressing and rocking against one another,  until its too much. 

Your fingers clumsily tug and pull at his trousers, eager to set him free. Astarion is just as eager, he pulls the edges of your nightgown up, and tries to take the whole thing up and over your head. 

“Damn this thing, there’s too much fabric.” He grumbles when it gets stuck up under your side. You sit up and stand at the side of the bed, shrug it off your shoulders, and down your arms, til it falls into a puddle at your feet, leaving you bare before his starving gaze. 

His eyes instantly turn a shade darker as he rakes over your naked form in front of him. A blush dances across your cheeks, and you lick your lips, your mouth going dry. You’d never felt nervous before sex, and you shouldn’t be, not with Astarion. But, truth be told, it's been a hot minute since you’ve had someone in your bed...

“Look at you... You’re so beautiful.” He whispers. 

His hands reach out for your waist, and he slides off the bed to kneel at your feet. He looks up at you like you’re a goddess standing before him. Lips delicately move across your midriff and your navel. He praises your body like he’s worshipping at an altar, soft whispers like a prayer against your skin. 

“Let me taste you, please.” He pleads, looking up at you, his eyes wide as the moon. You open your mouth to protest, as he almost drank you to oblivion last night. He sees your hesitation and amends his words. 

“Not your blood, my love.” He shakes his head, “Lie down, and keep your legs open for me, please?”

Now how in the hells can you say no to that?

He rises and stands over you now, his face above yours. “Go lie down...” 

You feel frozen to the spot, but his gentle command finally moves you. You climb back onto the bed and lie against the headboard, watching him with rapt attention as he strips down to just bare skin, before stalking towards you from the foot of the bed. Crawling for you on his hands and knees, he grabs at your thighs and pulls them open. He takes a shaky breath while admiring the view before him. 

“Gods look at how wet you are for me, already..” He grins, his head between your legs. Cool breath hits your skin and you shiver in anticipation. He lowers his head and begins to swirl his tongue against your bud, earning him a hearty moan from you. One arm wraps around your leg, and grips your inner thigh, as his other hand joins his tongue, sliding one finger up between your folds, just to test the waters. 

You can’t help but to buck your hips upward at him, and he chuckles. “Now, now, settle down...” He holds your thigh tighter to keep you still for him. “I’m going to take care of you, but you need to hold still for me, darling.”  

Already your chest heaves with each breath, you’re so tightly wound that you might just snap. You’re too excited, jittery, and nervous. You’re practically humming with energy, so desperate for release. Astarion presses the one finger he has in you deeper, hooking it into the spongy front side of your core. 

“Just relax, my sweet. Let yourself enjoy this.” 

“Sorry, I just.. It’s been a while since I’ve been intimate with someone-” you chuckle, raising your head to look down at him, “…let alone that someone being you.”

“Me? Do I make you nervous?” He smirks. “I can assure you, there’s nothing to be afraid of here.” 

“You're right, I’m just overthinking this...” 

“You are...” He purrs, his finger curling in a ‘come hither’ motion inside your heat, causing your eyes to flutter. “Oh, do you like that?”

“Yes.” You pant. 

“Can you handle another?” 

You nod eagerly. You want more. You want all that he will give you. He hums his contentment, and pushes a second finger into you, hooking it in the same manner as before. His mouth goes to work again on your clit, sucking and teasing it with his skilled tongue. 

“Oh gods...” You groan as your head falls back in ecstasy. “Astarion...”

His name being pulled from your mouth only serves to make him work harder, his fingers rapidly guiding you to your climax. 

“I want to taste your release. I want you to come on my tongue...” He huffs before devouring you again. “Come for me...”

You clench around his fingers and your thighs begin to squeeze his head. He moans against your clit to let you know to keep going. Sparks begin to fly behind your tightly shut eyes, and your core spasms, shuddering as your orgasm sweeps over you. You grip onto his hair with both hands, and ride his face, calling out his name over and over again. 

When you release his hair from your fingers, he comes up with a dazed sort of silly grin on his face. 

“I knew you could do it, you always were such a good girl for me.” Your legs slump to the bed, as he slides up your body to kiss you. His tongue is wet and hot as it pushes into your mouth. You taste your own pleasure still lingering there. 

“Can you taste how sweet you are? How deliciously you came for me?” 

You can only whimper in reply. 

You need more of him- more of that sweetness only he can provide. You feel the head of his cock at your soaked and still tingling entrance, waiting for your express permission to cross your sacred threshold. You lock your shaking legs around his hips, and pull him in with ease. 

He fills you to the hilt and lets out a strained whimper. “Oh gods, the way you feel around my cock... I’d forgotten how good you feel.” He pulls his hips back before ramming them into you again, his pace slow and steady. Working you from the inside to build your climax back up, he wants you to come on his cock this time, and he knows he’s going to have to hold back from pounding into you the way he so desperately wants to. Every moan and gasp you give him, only spurs him on- faster.. Faster... 

Before long, both of you are a panting, sweaty mess. Your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, his hands on either side of your head, cradling you as he fucks into you. You didn’t know vampires could sweat, but his drips from his forehead, wetting his curls and falling onto your cheek. Even with his eyes half glazed over, his thumb swipes at the drop, wiping it away. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles, and you shake your head with a pant. You turn and take that same thumb into your mouth and suckle the sweat away. He may not remember, but he used to plead with you to take his fingers in your mouth while the two of you were in the throes of passion. 

He gasps, and his hips stutter before continuing with increased vigor. Shuddering at the small sensitive way your tongue wraps around his thumb, he imagines how it must feel to have his cock in the same place. Gods, he isn't going to last, not with the advantage you have over him like this. He doesn’t remember the exact intimacies you two once enjoyed, but you certainly do. You drag your fingers along either of his ears, and up to the very points of them, rolling the sensitive tips between your finger and thumb. 

“Gah! What are you-” His words are cut off by a guttural moan, and his eyes roll back into his skull. His hips snap into you with the same stuttering of his voice, and you feel him spill into you. He calls out your name before collapsing onto your chest, his entire frame twitching with the aftershocks of his release. A satisfied grin spreads across your face as your hands resume their fussing with his hair. 

He lifts his head to stare bewildered at you- at how you know him better than he knows himself. 

“What?” You ask innocently, pushing the curls back from his forehead. 

“You... Just you. You’re amazing.” 

“I may be a bit out of practice, but I think I still remember what makes you tick...” You reply with a satisfied soft smile. “This could be fun, rediscovering one another.” 

He hums in reply. “You have the upper hand though. You remember far more than I do.”

“And? What's wrong with that? You’re not having trouble giving up the reins are you?” 

He raises his head momentarily to give you one cocked eyebrow. “I’ll give them to you, but only because it's you...” You run your nails along his scalp, and he smiles against the side of your breast. “I trust you enough to give you that.” 

A yowling from the doorway draws both of your attentions away from one another. With a flickering tail, your cat strides into the room, not caring that both of you are still very tangled up, and sort of in the middle of something. 

“Get!” You swat at the thing, and she doesn't even flinch. Damned little-

“It’s alright my dear. Perhaps we should get up.” He pushes himself off your chest, and sighs as he sits on the edge of your bed. “I’m sure Karlach and Wyll are worried about where I’ve been.”

“Who?”

Aaand that’s part three. Be gentle it’s my first time writing smut lol.

Part four will be out ehhh, when I feel like it. Sorry…

Thanks for reading! Happy Valentine’s Day! -Tilly <3

SHOUTOUT TO @clericblood FOR BEING A HOMIE and guiding me on how to write smut. 🫶

[nethhiri]

Knight Tutor

Knight!Zoro x Princess!Reader

I saw that post going around, the one that's like "princess reader that knows nothing of sex and a knight that's all too eager to teach her" or whatever and I can't get the damned thing out of my head. Happy Valentine's!

Warnings: Sex, masturbation

"Oi! I've been lookin for ya."

You jumped at the sound of your personal guard's voice, turning to face him.

"Stop going off on your own." He squinted with suspicion at you. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," you said too quickly.

Zoro firmly moved you from your spot, looking through the crack in the door that you had been peering into. He spun around, took you by the arm, and swiftly escorted you out of the barn you were in.

"Are you mad? Do you want people to think you're a little pervert?"

You looked at your feet. It was true, you had been watching one of the stable boys and one of the maids have relations, but it wasn't lecherous. You had gone to the barn to be away from the bustling castle. You didn't particularly like being fawned over or waited on every second of the day. You had no time to yourself. So when you heard strange wet, slapping sounds, you took it upon yourself to investigate. Being a princess, it wasn't proper for you to have any knowledge of sex, and certainly not proper for you to be involved in it. And of course, since it was taboo, that made you want to know more about it. What was this thing that was so secret and why were you not allowed to participate?

You shook your arm free from his grip. "I am not a little pervert. I was curious."

"Well, you better stop being so curious, princess, or you're going to ruin your reputation." Zoro patted your head. "You know your father is working very hard to find you a good match."

"Fuck a good m-."

Zoro covered your mouth, cutting you off. "Stop with that language. It's not fitting for a princess."

"You're the one who taught me how to talk like that," you continued when he removed his hand.

"If you were training to be a knight, that would be good and well, but you're not, so behave." Zoro sighed," I signed up to be a guard not a goddamn babysitter."

"No one is making you mind me. You do that of your own accord."

"I only want what's best for you."

"Why?"

Zoro didn't answer you, simply escorted you back to the castle with a tint of pink to his ears.

Later that evening, you sat with your back to the large, extravagant double doors of your chamber, as you had every night since you started your late night chats with Zoro. It became a habit after a few nights of insomnia on your part. You would talk until it was time for him to switch shifts to sleep.

"You there?"

"Always am," Zoro's low voice answered.

The hallway echoed so he had to speak quietly. Sometimes you could barely hear him.

"Sorry about earlier," You said. "I don't mean to be trouble for you."

"We don't need to talk about it." Zoro continued, "And you're never trouble. Truth is, I would get bored if I didn't have you."

Silence took hold after that for a long while. You heard Zoro's voice again.

"Why do you want to know so badly about... sex?"

"I know men like it, and I know I'm supposed to marry a man, so why is it that I can't know about it. Shouldn't I? To please whomever I marry?"

"You would think that." Zoro contemplated for a moment. "If I tell you about it, will you promise not to go peeping anymore?"

"You'll tell me?"

"Who better to hear it from?"

"I suppose... but how do you know?"

"How do I know? About sex?" Zoro laughed. "Do you think I'm a virgin?"

"I thought all men in service to the crown had to be celibate."

"Maybe the men of the church." He laughed again. "The knights are... well, most are the exact opposite of virgins."

"What about you?"

"I've... lain with a few."

"Hm."

"I'm not a man-whore if that's what you're thinking."

"I'm not judging. So get on with it. Tell me."

Zoro explained, in the most polite way he could, how sex worked. He answered all your questions, even the more uncomfortable ones.

"So then what is masturbation?"

Zoro let out a long sigh. "You are going to be the death of me. You know that?"

"May as well impart your wisdom before then, don't you think?"

It was the last question he answered before he had to turn in for the night.

The following day, when you were in your bath, you started thinking of the conversation. Maybe you could try it. It was private enough here. You slid your hand between your thighs, exploring the parts of yourself you hadn't thought to explore before. You found yourself squirming under your own fingertips when you brushed certain spots. Before you knew it, you were panting and trying to stifle your cries of pleasure. You could feel your abdomen grow tight, like something was building.

Suddenly, the door burst open and you screamed. "Princess?! Are you al- OH. SORRY. Sorry sorry sorry." Zoro snapped the door shut as quickly as he had opened it.

You did not come out of your chambers the rest of the day. For the first time, you considered not having your nightly chat with your guard. What were either of you going to say? But it was tradition, so you sat in your spot. Both of you knew the other was on the other side of the door but neither wanted to say anything.

"I'm sorry," Zoro broke the silence first. "I thought you were crying not... you know." He cleared his throat. "So... did you figure it out?"

"I think so. Didn't get to the end I don't think."

"You should try again. I could help... er... not physically I mean." Zoro went on. "Try thinking about something or someone that gives you that fluttering feeling in your stomach."

Did he mean...now? It sort of sounded like it, and you wanted to listen well to him after the trouble you caused. You closed your eyes and try to conjure someone. The only person you had ever thought about kissing was him, and when you thought of it, it did indeed give you a fluttering feeling.

"Then really build up to it. Don't go right to the source. Trail your fingers over your skin, imagine that it's that person you're thinking of."

You did as he said, ghosting your finger tips over your stomach, the tops of your breasts, your inner thighs, your throat. You pushed up your nightie. You imagined it was him.

"Touch yourself over your clothes. Build up anticipation."

Your fingers trailed up your thigh, moving over your clothed center. You could feel it become damp. Pressing your fingers more firmly into your apex, you started to rub. Your breath quickened and your nipples hardened.

"Slide your hand beneath the fabric, tease yourself, then press your fingers inside."

Your hand slipped below the waistband of your panties, you allowed your fingers to play with your bare clit until your pussy clenched around nothing. Then you gave it something to squeeze when you put your middle finger inside its warm, wet walls.

"Move slowly at first. Feel the drag in and out. Then you can change your pace or add another finger. You can use two hands if you want, to stimulate yourself."

You slid your ring finger next to the first, feeling a small sting. You brought your other hand to circle fingers around your clit, turning the slight pain pleasurable after a few seconds.

"Don't forget the rest of your body. You can tilt your hips. You can touch other parts of your body. You can switch hands."

You did what he suggested, grabbing your breasts and rutting your hips into your fingers. You could feel that same build up that you had earlier. You imagined what it would feel like if it was his thick, rough hands on you. You imagined him watching you with desire in his own eyes. You imagined what it would be like to lay with him. The build up continued. Zoro was saying something but you couldn't hear him over your pleasure. With a cry that startled you, your walls clenched your fingers and this flood of tingling heat wracked your body.

"Y/N? Y/N what were you doing? Were you just...?"

You were still a bit dazed from this new high. "What do you mean? I was doing what you were telling me to do. And it w-worked."

"Y/N! I was- I was merely giving you suggestions not instructions." Zoro made an aggravated groan. "Fuck, Princess, you're going to get me in so much trouble."

"I won't tell anyone. No one will know."

"Go to sleep. I should never have indulged you."

The following day, Zoro didn't look you in the eye. The truth was he was tormented all night with the sounds of your masturbation echoing in his head. It filled him with shame to do it, but his cock ached thinking of you, and he had to relieve the pain. Once wasn't enough either. Zoro came several times imaging that he was the one making you cry out like that. Technically, he was. The thought of you doing as he said, touching yourself, was more than he could bear. He feared that if he looked at you, nothing would be able to stop him from pressing his lips onto yours. He would love nothing more than to be your servant in every way, but he knew better. That would never be possible for a knight.

Before you turned in for the night, you confronted him.

"Zoro, why won't you look at me?"

"I can't."

"Is it because... you think less of me now?"

"No! Of course not."

"Then why? Are you ashamed of me?"

"No! Listen... Y/N..."

"Please look at me."

"I won't be able to help myself if I look."

"I don't understand."

"Princess, please. I am begging you to leave it alone. It will be better for both of us."

"Zoro... I love you."

That was enough to make his eyes shift to you, to see if you meant it. One glance at your strawberry colored cheeks, framed by your soft hair, and your half-parted lips, plump with the blood rushing to them, had him weak. He was strong-willed in everything, except when it came to you. The truth was, the last time he'd lain with anyone was years ago. He stopped when he realized they weren't you. Over the many nights he spent talking to you, he found himself falling in love. How many times had he heard your bubbling laugh, muffled behind the door, echo in his dreams?

Zoro didn't need to wrestle with the temptation of kissing you because you made the decision for him. You grabbed his face and pulled it to your own. Your kiss was clumsy, inexperienced. You floundered, yet, as he always did, Zoro stepped in to save you. Zoro held your chin with shaky hands, pressing his lips to yours. They were every bit as soft as he imagined.

"I love you, too." He murmured against your lips. "Always have."

When he came to his senses, he shoved you inside your room and shut the door quickly behind you. For a moment, he was too caught up in the enchantment that was you to worry about someone seeing you together. Zoro stripped his armor off, and you helped him, until he was down to his underclothes. You weren't yet in your nightie. Zoro unlaced your corset and unfastened your skirts faster than you expected, like he had done it before, which you decided not to ponder on. His scarred hands touched your skin like it would tear if he pressed too hard. Zoro hesitated to take off the last layer of your clothing.

"Are you sure, Princess?" More softly, "Y/N?"

You answered by removing his shirt, though he caught your wrist when you went for his pants. Zoro kissed your hand, then traveled up your arm, peppering kisses along the way until he reached your neck. He moved your hair away, desperately wanting to suck at the skin, but painfully aware that if he left a mark, there would be repercussions. Instead he kept it to light kisses, backing you up until the back of your knees touched the bed. He lowered you onto it, but didn't get on himself.

Slowly, he knelt at the foot of your bed, lifting the hem of your slip to reveal skin that only your own eyes had ever seen. It was so supple and silky, a far cry from his own marred and work-hewn skin. Here, on your thighs, he could give in to his wanton desires. Zoro sucked at the skin, leaving red blossoms in a trail to your own petals.

You hadn't been nervous until he had your skirt pushed all the way up to your hips. This wasn't at all like what you had seen in the stables. Every move he made was deliberate, so you could stop him if you wanted. But you didn't. When he put his mouth on your sex, the feeling was so foreign you couldn't focus on how good it felt. That wasn't even the part that you thought was supposed to go there.

Zoro seemed to have noticed your anxiety. "Relax, Princess." He reached one of his hands out to hold yours. "Let me show you." With his other hand, he rubbed your side in a soothing way. "Lay back. I'll take care of you. Like always."

You did as he said, closing your eyes and letting the good feelings take over. It felt even better when someone else was doing it to you. At some point, you had put your hand on Zoro's head, pushing him into you. Your back arched off the bed and he grabbed your thigh to keep you from squirming away. That tightening feeling in your center came back. Just as you were about to reach your peak, he pulled away.

"Damn. You have to be quiet or you'll wake the whole castle."

"Sorry," you panted. When had you become out of breath?

Zoro took this opportunity to climb over you on the bed, kissing you again, this time tasting of you. You pushed yourself back to lay on the pillows and Zoro pushed the rest of your slip over your head. You were laid bare before him and your nipples hardened to the exposure of the cold air. He fixated on them, and in the same way, you fixated on the bulge in his pants. Zoro noticed your gaze, unfastening his bottoms so he was equally as nude. Taking the size of his member into consideration, and how it hurt to have just two fingers inside, you swallowed.

"It's- it's going to fit?"

Zoro laughed. "Yes, it will fit."

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes, it will, but only for a little bit." Zoro kissed you more. "Don't worry. We're going to get you ready first. And we can stop if it hurts too much."

You nodded.

Zoro started with a finger, then another. You felt that tightening feeling with every movement of his hand. With his free hand, he lightly covered your mouth. It was hard to control your sounds when he was making you feeling this good.

"Shh. Be good, my princess. Or I'll have to stop."

You nodded again.

Zoro lifted your own hand and pressed it where his had been. He needed his hands. One to pleasure you and one to pleasure himself. His cock was hard and it throbbed with the thought of sinking into your folds. Zoro added a third finger, making you squeeze your thighs together. It burned and stretched. The pain was almost immediately replaced by pleasure. Again, as your core tightened, close to your release, Zoro pulled his hand away.

"Sorry," he said. "I'll make you cum. But I want to feel you cum around my cock when I make you cum for the first time."

"Technically, it would be the second."

Zoro grinned. "You should know smart-mouthed brats are my favorite... since you are one." He looked at you with anticipation. "Are you ready?"

You nodded, parting your legs for him. "Yes."

Zoro slotted himself between your legs, lining his cock up with the entrance of your cunt. You winced as he pressed into your folds. He watched your face, looking for discomfort so he could adjust accordingly. As he pushed deeper, you had the sensation of being full. It felt right that it was him filling you. It took a few more minutes before he was fully inside. That alone, without any movement, had your core tighter than it had ever been. You felt your cunt pulse around him.

Zoro kissed you long and deep before he began to move. It was to let you adjust to him. It was also to prevent him from finishing too soon. He hadn't had the pleasure of hot, wet cunt in ages and his hand was far less satisfying. He wanted to cum as soon as you started letting those sweet, shy moans out when he was face-first in your pussy. Zoro started moving, gradually hitting a pace that made you cover your own mouth out of fear that you would make too much noise. Your thighs clenched around him as he rutted deeply into you. He bent down to take your nipple into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth. Your back arched and you couldn't stay still underneath him. The sensations building were too much to handle.

You removed your hands to grasp at the sheets beneath. Zoro covered your mouth with his to contain your cries. His own soft moans melded with yours and you were both lost in each other, forgetting about the world around you. If all you had was him, you would be fine with that, and the reverse was true as well. You gripped his hair, pressing your kisses harder into him, feeling the coil wound tight about to snap. Then, an intense wave of pleasure flooded every inch of your body. If not for you kissing, that cry would have certainly woken the castle.

Your cunt spasmed around him, squeezing him, trying to milk him. Zoro nearly forgot to pull out. So badly he wanted his cum to be deep inside you, filling your cunt for the first time. He wanted to watch it leak from between your legs. He wanted it to drip into your panties and make them damp so every time you felt that cool wetness, you thought of fucking him. Zoro came hard, barely making it out of your cunt before ropes of hot cum shot onto your stomach. And if some didn't make it out in time, then so be it. Watching you round with his baby would make him happy, even if you were wed to another.

Zoro rolled off you and sighed deeply. "Fuck, Princess. You really are going to get me in trouble."

"I'll visit you at the gallows."

Zoro scoffed, then smiled. "Smartass."

Zoro helped you clean up and put your nightie on. He put his own clothes on and kissed you goodnight, reluctant to go. He would give anything to lay next to you and hold you close, but it could never be. And this probably couldn't happen again either, though he was grateful for the memory.

Except it did happen again. Many more times. Many more positions. All for educational purposes, of course. Pillow talk consisted of plans to start a life somewhere else, hypothetically, of course. But as feelings grew and became deeply tangled, it became less hypothetical, until it was real. Which was why you were waiting patiently in the dead of night, in the stables, with a horse packed and ready to go.

"Oi, you here?" The voice of your knight whispered.

"Always am," you answered.