#and that doesn’t mean they don’t love each other! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 22 hours ago

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wildflower— nanami kento.

Your breath caught in your throat. “I—” “Do you have any idea how brilliant you are?” His voice was trembling now, thick with emotion. “You were always the smartest person in the room. You deserved to get out of here….to have everything you ever dreamed of. And instead… you stayed. You gave it all up. Why?” Tears burned the back of your eyes. “Because I didn’t have a choice, Kento.” “Yes, you did.” His voice cracked. “You could have told me. You could have called me. I would’ve—” “You would’ve what, Kento?” you choked. “Fixed my life for me? Paid my bills? Dragged me to Tokyo and pretended like I belonged in your world?” His jaw clenched. “You do belong in my world.”

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, use of she/her pronouns, romance, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt, love, fluff, humor, light-hearted, long-term relationship, marriage, loss, emotional distress, hatred, resentment, domestic, confessions, getting together, friends, slice of life, childhood friends, distress, cheating, falling out of love, toxic relationship, drama, depression, bitterness, grief, trauma, pregnancy, explicit birthing scene, illness, post-partum depression, bodily fluids, children, therapy, explicit depiction of birthing, depiction of bodily fluids, depiction of post-partum depression, mention of blood, mention of birthing, mention of bodily fluids, mention of depression, actor! nanami, housewife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 18k words

NOTE: this took a while and im a bit sick all the sudden but i realized i have to put this out so i just decided to go on and post this. anyway, i hope you enjoy this. ready the tissue for this, its a crier. i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

the good life ― masterlist.

IT WAS HARD NOT TO KNOW WHAT EVERYTHING MEANS AFTER TWENTY YEARS OF MARRIAGE. After all that time, wouldn’t you know much about the person you were married to? This moment was not an exemption, of course. You were his wife, you knew everything about him. You just had to know.

So, as you stood there, looking at him, you knew that look. That look in Kento's caramel eyes as he’s putting on his suit. The quiet resignation. The practiced ease of sliding the tie around his neck, smoothing down his shirt, adjusting the cufflinks. Like a man preparing to go to war — except it isn’t war. It’s something worse. You knew that much.

You hum softly, curled up on the couch, and watch him from across the room. He doesn’t notice you at first, too focused on making himself presentable. Like it matters. Like any of it matters. You know where he’s going. You’ve always known.

It’s something you never said out loud, not in the past twenty years, not when the nights stretched long and lonely, not when his touch began to feel like an apology instead of love. You haven’t said a word, and he hasn’t either.

But you know all about it already.

There was no need for such words.

There was no need for anything else.

You know because when he turns around, there’s that smile all over again. That smile you fell in love with all those years ago. It was that loving, gentle smile. Strained by the weariness, the tired, and the painfully distant bitterness that dwelled over time on his face.

And then besides that, he lies.

He always has to know how to lie.

He was an actor by trade, after all.

"I’ll be home late, baby." he says like it means nothing, like it’s any other day. His voice doesn’t crack. His eyes don’t betray him. But you see it. You always do. And it kills you a little more each time.

You know he loves you. It’s never been a question of love. It’s always been a question of truth. And the truth is, love doesn’t stop him from leaving. The truth is, love doesn’t make him stay. The truth is, he’s already gone before he’s out the door.

And sometimes you want to kill him for it. Even if you don’t want to, you think about it often. You think about wanting to just be angry and let yourself loose into the madness of it all. You wanted to go and have something for yourself. Even if that was a life, even if it was his life. After all that you had suffered and endured, don’t you deserve it? Don’t you deserve to take his life?

For the silence. For the way he pretends. For the way you let him. For the way you can’t bring yourself to break it all apart because maybe —just maybe— if you keep pretending, too, it’ll hurt less.

You don’t say a word when he leans down to kiss your temple as gently as he could, as lovingly as he could. You don’t flinch, you don’t cling. You don’t beg him to stay. You just hum again, quieter this time, and watch him leave like you have a hundred times before.

And when the door closes behind him, the sound is deafening.

You stare at the door long after he's gone. Like if you watch long enough, he'll come back. Like if you sit still enough, you'll hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway. But silence is all that answers you. Silence, and the faint hum of the clock that ticks louder with every passing second.

Your hands twitch against your lap, curling into fists before releasing again. You wonder if tonight it'll be different, if he'll come home and tell you the truth. If he'll break, just once, and tell you what you already know. That there’s someone else. That his heart no longer belongs here, with you.

But it never happens. It’s never happened.

You get up after a while, wandering through the house like a ghost. You pass by the photos on the walls. The framed moments of happiness frozen in time. His smile in those pictures looks real. Like he didn’t know back then what would become of you both. You touch one of the frames, trailing your finger down his face. It feels cruel now, looking at those captured memories.

The bed feels colder when you climb in alone. You face his side, the sheets still perfectly made, undisturbed by the weight of his body. You press your face into his pillow, breathing him in. You think, for a fleeting second, that if you cry hard enough, he might feel it from wherever he is and come home.

But you don’t cry. You’ve already wasted too many nights crying. Instead, you just wait.

Because that's all you know how to do now. Wait. And love him. And hate him a little, too.

THE STORY STARTS EVEN BEFORE THAT. You and Nanami Kento grew up together. Two kids from two very different worlds — he is filled with wealth and privilege, you were with struggle and scarcity. His parents lived in a grand, pristine house, while you lived in a cramped apartment that barely stayed warm in the winter.

His clothes were always crisp and clean, and yours were worn out and patched up. From the moment you realized just how different your lives were, you knew people like you didn’t belong in his world.

And the world didn’t hesitate to remind you of that. The neighborhood kids who ran in the same circles as Nanami never let you forget it. They whispered when you came around, made faces when you approached, and laughed when you walked away.

“Why do you let her hang around you?” they’d ask him. “She doesn't fit in with us.”

But Nanami Kento never wavered. Not once. Not ever.

“She’s my friend.” he’d say, firm and unwavering.

And that was all it took.

It didn’t matter if your shoes had holes or if your hands were rough from helping your family with chores. It didn’t matter that you didn’t have expensive toys or that you couldn’t bring lunch to school some days.

Kento always shared this with you. He always liked making sure you were as full as him. So he would go and split his neatly packed bento in half and hand you the bigger portion without a second thought.

You’d protest, of course, but he’d only shrug and say, “I wasn’t that hungry anyway.”

You knew it was a lie.

Even back then, he always lied.

And he smiles all the same.

He always did that, giving without asking for anything in return, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And you valued him more than anything because of it. But what you didn’t realize was how deeply it had settled in your bones. The way you looked at him, the way you cherished him, the way you loved him.

It wasn’t like one day you just woke up and decided to love Nanami Kento. No, it was a gradual thing. Like the warmth of the sun slowly rising over the horizon. It happened on the days he’d sneak away from his house to find you playing in the dirt, unbothered by the stares of his so-called friends.

It happened when he’d walk you home after school, insisting it was just on the way when it wasn’t. It happened when you were crying after your father came home drunk again, and Nanami held your hand quietly, letting you cry into his shoulder without a word.

It happened every time he chose you.

And because of that, because he never treated you like you were less than him, because he never made you feel like you didn’t belong — you fell in love with him. Quietly. Deeply. Hopelessly. Truthfully.

But you never said a word about it. How could you?

You were still just you. You were unimportant, rough around the edges, struggling to keep your life from falling apart. And he was Nanami Kento, brighter than the sun itself. He was polished, brilliant, and destined for a life far better than the one you could ever give him.

Loving him felt like holding sunlight in your hands.

It was beautiful, but impossible to keep.

And so you stifled it, you swallowed it down.

You smiled when he spoke of his future. Of traveling abroad, of making something of himself — and you ignored the ache in your chest. You told yourself it was enough to simply have him in your life, even if you could never have his heart. But deep down, you knew.

One day, he’d leave.

He’d outgrow this town.

He’d outgrow you.

You’d be left where you always were. You would be standing in the shadow of his light, loving him from a distance. You knew that even if he leaves, even if he doesn’t stay. You would love him all the same.

WHEN THAT DAY CAME, YOU HADN’T EXPECTED IT. You were sixteen when Nanami Kento told you he was leaving. He had gotten accepted into a prestigious school overseas. One that would guarantee him a promising future. His parents were thrilled. His friends envied him.

Everyone around him kept saying to him — You’ll do great things, Nanami. You’re destined for success.

But all you could hear was the sound of your own heart breaking. Yet you didn’t want it to be broken down out loud. So, you decided to go and smile all about it. It was better this way, you think to yourself. He, after all, deserved better than you.

He found you later that evening, sitting on the rusted swing set in the small park where you two always met. You already knew what he was going to say. You could see it in his eyes — a mixture of excitement and guilt.

“I’m leaving.” he finally said, voice quiet. “I got accepted into a school in Denmark.”

You forced a smile, ignoring the lump in your throat. “That’s… that’s amazing, Kento. Really. I’m happy for you.”

But you weren’t.

God, you weren’t.

“I’ll only be gone for a couple of years, you know.” he tried to reassure you. “I’ll visit during the holidays. And we can write letters—”

“Yeah, I know.” you cut him off, still smiling. “We’ll stay in touch. Like we used to.”

But deep down, you knew better. People like you didn’t get to stay in the lives of people like him. Nanami Kento was destined for bigger and better things, all these things that didn’t include you. And you hated yourself for thinking that way.

So instead of breaking down, instead of begging him to stay, you spent your remaining days together trying to memorize everything about him. The way his blond hair would fall over his forehead when he was deep in thought.

The sound of his laugh when you said something ridiculous. The warmth of his hand whenever it brushed against yours. You burned it all into your memory, knowing it was the closest you’d ever get to having him.

And then like the wind, that day came in a sudden push.

You didn’t cry when you said goodbye to him at the train station.

You didn’t flinch when he pulled you into a tight hug and whispered, “I’ll see you soon.”

You didn’t break down when you watched the train pull away, carrying him farther and farther from you. But that night, when you were alone in your bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling — you sobbed until your throat was raw. Because you knew.

You knew that he’s not coming back.

Maybe not intentionally, maybe he would write you a few letters, maybe he would visit during the holidays but eventually, the distance would settle in. He’d meet new people, make new friends, build a new life.

And you? You’d still be here, stuck in the same town, living the same hard life you always had. You didn’t blame him. How could you? He deserved better. Yet you told yourself that you’d get over him. That the ache in your chest would eventually fade. That you’d move on.

But you never did.

The letters came at first. Handwritten, neat, and always signed, Kento.

He’d tell you about the classes he was taking, the places he was visiting, the new friends he was making. And you’d read every word, trying to picture him in that new world of his — a world you didn’t belong to. You always write back, of course. But your letters were never as exciting. What were you supposed to say?

Hey, I’m still working two part-time jobs to help my mom make rent. Our fridge broke again last week, but it’s fine. I’ve gotten used to eating once a day.

No. Instead, you lied. You told him you were doing fine, that life was okay, that you were just happy to hear from him. But as the months went on, the letters became less frequent. And then, eventually, they stopped altogether. And that was it.

Nanami Kento became a part of your past.

He was just another thing you had to let go of.

Yet you think about it now, you should have let go.

You should have let it all be.

IT WAS QUITE A SURPRISE, NOT ONE WHICH YOU HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT. You didn’t know he became an actor. The Nanami Kento standing in front of you now. He was still quite as polished, poised, and impossibly handsome as he was.

And yet, he was a far cry from the boy you used to know. But it was still him, he was all the same. Same deep voice. Same gentle gaze. Same presence that made the world feel a little less heavy.

And yet, there was something else too. A distance.

Like he didn’t quite belong here anymore.

It was like he had outgrown this town, just as you always knew he would.

“Kento, oh wow….” you managed, trying not to let your voice shake. “I… I didn’t know you were back.”

His smile faltered slightly, like he was trying to keep his composure. “Just for a few days. I had some… time off.”

You didn’t miss the way his caramel eyes swept over you. From your wrinkled convenience store uniform to the worn-out shoes on your feet. It was subtle, but you saw it. And it made your stomach twist in shame.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, carefully. Like he was afraid of the answer.

You forced a small laugh, waving a hand. “You know… same old, same old. Nothing much has changed.”

Lie. Everything had changed. You were still here, yes. You were still in the same town, still in the same life — but it felt different now. Colder. Like the weight of the world had settled heavier on your shoulders after he left. And it didn’t escape Kento’s notice.

You were supposed to be somewhere else. He knew that. Out of everyone he’d ever known, you were the smartest. You were the sharpest, the most capable, the one who always dreamed bigger than the town could ever hold.

You used to talk about it all the time — the places you wanted to go, the life you wanted to build. You were supposed to go to college. You were supposed to do great things. And yet here you were. Stuck. In this town. Wearing a faded uniform and a name tag, working a dead-end job.

Why? Why are you still here, suffering like this?

“So, uh….” you cleared your throat, forcing a smile. “How’s Denmark? Or… wait. Are you still there?”

“No, no. I don’t live there.” he answered, his voice quieter now. “I, uh… I moved to Tokyo. For work.”

“Work?” you tilted your head.

And that’s when you saw it. The subtle shift in his stance.

Like he was bracing himself for something.

“...I’m an actor now,” he admitted, almost sheepishly.

You blinked. “Wait — like… on TV?”

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little uncomfortable. “Film, mostly. I’ve done a few series too.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’re kidding.”

He chuckled, though there was no real humor in it. “I’m not. It just… happened, I guess.”

Of course it did, you thought bitterly. Because that’s what people like him did. They left, they made something of themselves, and they became untouchable. Meanwhile, people like you stayed exactly where they were rooted in place, forgotten, ordinary.

“That’s… amazing, Kento. Really.” You smiled, even though it burned your throat. “I’m happy for you.”

But Nanami Kento couldn’t find it in himself to smile back.

Because all he could think about was how wrong this felt.

You’re supposed to be the one out there, he thought. You were always the brilliant one. You were supposed to leave this town — not me. You were supposed to make something of yourself.

Instead, you were still here in this wretched place. In a store that smelled faintly of stale bread and cleaning supplies. Ringing up snacks for high schoolers who would eventually leave you behind just like everyone else did.

“You’re still working here?” he asked softly, his voice careful.

“Yeah. Been here for a couple of years now.” You shrugged like it was nothing. “Pays the bills.”

His stomach twisted at your words all the sudden. “What about school?” he asked. “You… you were supposed to go to college, right? Didn’t you get accepted somewhere?”

You froze. For a brief moment, the smile cracked on your face. But you stitched it back together quickly. “Ah, yeah… I did. But, you know. Life happens.”

Lie, again, huh?

The truth was that you did get accepted. To a top university in Tokyo, actually. But your mom lost her job the same week you got the acceptance letter. Rent fell behind. Bills piled up. And you did what you always did — you stayed.

You got a job, dropped out before you even started, and spent the next few years trying to keep your family afloat. You did everything you could to help your family to survive. You abandoned everything to survive. But you didn’t tell Kento that. You couldn’t.

“Anyway, uh….” you deflected, forcing some cheer into your voice, “I’m sure you’ve got somewhere to be. Don’t let me keep you.”

But Nanami Kento didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

Because he couldn’t stop staring at you. He couldn’t stop thinking about how wrong this was. The person he loved most in this world, the one who deserved everything was still here, stuck, while he was out there living a dream he never even wanted in the first place.

And he hated it.

God, he hated it.

“…Have dinner with me, at least.” he blurted out suddenly.

Your head snapped up. “What?”

“Dinner. Tonight.” His voice was steadier now. “I want to catch up.”

You hesitated. “Kento, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His gaze softened. “Please.”

And maybe it was because you were too tired to argue. Or maybe it was because, despite everything, you still loved him. So you gave in. “…Okay. Yeah. Dinner sounds nice.”

And for the first time since he left, Kento felt like he could breathe again.

That night, he picked you up from your small apartment. You tried to dress nicer, but you didn’t have much to work with. It was just a worn-out dress you hadn’t touched in years. When you opened the door and saw him standing there in a tailored coat and polished shoes, you almost told him to forget it.

But Kento only smiled and said, “You look beautiful.”

And God, you hated how much you still loved him.

Dinner was… nostalgic. You talked about old memories, laughed about stupid things you did as kids. But Kento couldn’t stop noticing how guarded you were. How carefully you danced around your life now.

Never mentioning anything too personal, never hinting at how hard things really were. And when the night was over, when he walked you back to your door, he couldn’t help himself.

“…Why did you stay?” he finally asked.

You froze, your hand on the doorknob. “…What?”

“You were supposed to leave this town, you know.” he said, voice cracking slightly. “You were supposed to go to college. Travel. Do everything you always talked about. So… why didn’t you?”

You hesitated. But then you smiled soft and hollow. “Someone had to stay and take care of things.”

And before he could ask what you meant, you gave him one last smile and said. “Goodnight, Kento.”

Then you closed the door. And Kento stood there, staring at the chipped paint on your doorframe, his heart breaking all over again. Because the person he loved most in this world was still stuck in a place she was never meant to stay.

And he didn’t know how to fix it.

NOT A WINK OF SLEEP THAT NIGHT ONCE AGAIN. After you closed the door on Kento, you leaned against it, heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst out of your chest.

You could still feel the warmth of his gaze, still hear the tenderness in his voice when he said you looked beautiful. It was like he still saw you the way he did when you were kids. Like time and distance hadn’t changed a thing.

But it had. You weren’t the same girl you used to be. And he wasn’t the same boy who once shared his lunch with you. He was Nanami Kento now, an actor, a star, someone the world adored. And you? You were still here. Working a dead-end job, carrying the weight of your family’s survival on your back, and holding onto the ghost of a love you never confessed.

So why did it feel like he was still yours?

Why did it still hurt like hell to let him go?

On the other side of that door, Kento didn’t move for a long time. He just stood there, still staring at the door you closed between you two and felt his throat tighten with a kind of pain he hadn’t experienced in years.

Because no matter how much you smiled that night, no matter how light you tried to make your voice sound, he saw it. The exhaustion in your eyes. The tension in your shoulders. The carefully crafted responses designed to keep him from knowing the truth. You were struggling. And it killed him.

Because you were the smartest person he knew. You were supposed to be miles away from this town, pursuing the future you always dreamed of. You were supposed to be untouchable, unstoppable, radiant. But instead… you were here. Tired. Small. Dimming under the weight of a life that never stopped asking more from you.

And Kento couldn’t stand it. The thought of going back to Tokyo, of returning to his world of flashing cameras, scripts, and fame while you were stuck here, surviving day by day, made him physically ill.

I should have taken you with me, he thought bitterly. I never should have left you here.

And that’s when he decided — he wasn’t leaving without you this time.

He didn’t care what it took. He didn’t care if you pushed him away. He didn’t care if you convinced yourself you didn’t belong in his world anymore. He would break down every wall you built around yourself if it meant pulling you out of this life.

Because the truth was he never stopped loving you.

And he’d be damned if he lost you a second time. The next day, you were working your usual shift when the doorbell chimed and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. You felt it before you even saw him.

“…Kento.” You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “What are you doing here?”

He looked painfully out of place in the small convenience store. He was dressed in a dark coat, hair perfectly styled, standing taller and broader than you remembered. It was almost laughable. This man who graced movie screens and magazine covers standing in the middle of your dusty workplace like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Thought I’d stop by today.” he said simply. “I was hoping to see you.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. Don’t do this, Kento.

“I, uh… I’m working on the floor.” you stammered. “Can’t really chat right now.”

“I’ll wait.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“I’ll wait until your shift is over.” he said, completely serious. “Then we’ll grab dinner. My treat.”

“Kento—”

“Don’t say no.” His voice was soft, but firm. “Please.”

And God, you almost did. You almost told him no. You almost told him to leave you alone, that you didn’t want him to see you like this anymore, that you couldn’t handle standing next to him and being reminded of how far apart your lives had become.

But you didn’t. Because deep down, you still craved him.

You craved his voice, his touch, his presence.

Even if it hurts you just do it all over again.

“…Okay.”

The night air was cold, but his coat was warm. Somewhere between dinner and walking you home, Kento had shrugged off his expensive wool coat and draped it around your shoulders without hesitation. You tried to protest, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“Don’t argue with me about this, please.” he murmured, his hand lingering against your arm a little too long.

It was dangerous being this close to him again.

But you couldn’t pull away from him.

“So….” you forced lightness into your voice. “What’s it like being famous?”

He scoffed. “Overrated.”

You laughed softly. “Oh, come on. You’re on billboards now. You can’t tell me it’s not a little amazing.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” His voice was distant. “Not if you’re not there to see it.”

Your steps faltered. “…What?”

Kento stopped walking — turning to face you, his expression unreadable. “I thought about you every day.” he confessed, his voice raw.

“Kento—”

“The entire time I was gone. I kept wondering what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were happy.” His throat bobbed. “And every time I came back home, I hoped I’d see you, but you were always gone. I… I didn’t know if you wanted to see me again.”

You felt your heart crack open. “Kento…”

“Why didn’t you tell me you stayed?” His voice broke slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you never went to college?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I—”

“Do you have any idea how brilliant you are?” His voice was trembling now, thick with emotion. “You were always the smartest person in the room. You deserved to get out of here….to have everything you ever dreamed of. And instead… you stayed. You gave it all up. Why?”

Tears burned the back of your eyes. “Because I didn’t have a choice, Kento.”

“Yes, you did.” His voice cracked. “You could have told me. You could have called me. I would’ve—”

“You would’ve what, Kento?” you choked. “Fixed my life for me? Paid my bills? Dragged me to Tokyo and pretended like I belonged in your world?”

His jaw clenched. “You do belong in my world.”

“No, I don’t.” you snapped, tears finally spilling over. “Look at me. I’ve been stuck in the same place since you left. I’m still living paycheck to paycheck. I didn’t finish school. I’ve done nothing with my life. And you—” your voice cracked painfully. “You’ve become everything you were meant to be.”

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

“I didn’t want any of it.” His voice was barely a whisper.

You froze. “…What?”

Kento swallowed hard. “I didn’t want fame. The career. The spotlight. I didn’t want any of it. The only thing I ever wanted was you—and I thought… I thought if I made something of myself, you’d still be here when I came back.” His voice cracked. “But you weren’t. And I hated myself for leaving you behind.”

Your knees almost buckled.

“And now that I’m here, with you.” his voice broke. "I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Tears poured freely down your face. “Kento, don’t—”

“Come with me.” He took a step closer, his hands trembling as they cradled your face. “Come to Tokyo. Stay with me. I’ll pay for your school, I’ll—”

“No!” you sobbed, pulling away. “I’m not your responsibility, Kento—”

“You’re not a responsibility, nor a liability.” his voice cracked. “You’re the love of my life.”

Your heart shattered. And before you could protest again, his mouth was on yours. Desperate, burning, like he was trying to make up for every single day he spent without you. His hands cradled your face, his kiss messy and filled with heartbreak. When he finally pulled away, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Please.” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Let me take you away from here. Let me love you the way I always should have.”

For the first time in years, you let yourself sob in his arms.

Because despite everything, you loved him more than anything in this world.

Despite the distance, the pain, and the time lost, you never stopped loving him either.

And maybe… just maybe… he could still save you.

YOU COULD REMEMBER THE WAY IT RAINED WHEN YOU GOT MARRIED. Not a heavy storm — just a soft, steady drizzle, as if the sky itself was quietly weeping with joy. You stood in a small, intimate venue with that beautiful smile on your face.

Both of you of you surrounded by only a few close friends and family, wearing the simplest white dress you could afford because despite Kento’s insistence that he’d buy you the most extravagant gown in Tokyo, you refused.

“I don’t need anything fancy, you know.” you told him. “I just need you.”

And so there you stood with your fingers trembling, heart racing as Kento watched you walk down the aisle like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. His jaw was tight, his caramel eyes glassy with unshed tears, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. Like he couldn’t believe, after all those years apart, you were finally becoming his wife.

When you finally reached him, his hand grasped yours like a lifeline.

His thumb trembled as it brushed against your skin, and when he whispered, “You’re beautiful.” his voice cracked.

And when the officiant asked if he took you as his wife, Kento didn’t hesitate one bit as he looked at you with the warmest gazes. “I do.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I always have.”

Kento never let you go after that.

You moved into his apartment in Tokyo. It was a spacious, light-filled place with floor-to-ceiling windows and a breathtaking view of the city. It was bigger than anything you’d ever lived in, and it almost made you uncomfortable at first.

But Kento never let you feel like you didn’t belong.

“This is our home now, hm?” he told you softly one night as you stood by the window, still struggling to wrap your head around it all. “Not just mine. Ours.”

And you believed him. Because every time he came home from a shoot, tired, disheveled, and smelling like expensive cologne — the first thing he did was find you.

\Whether you were in the kitchen, the bedroom, or curled up in the living room studying, he always sought you out, kissing you like it was the first time every time.

“My wife.” he’d murmur against your lips, as if the words themselves tasted sweet. “My beautiful wife.”

And every time, your heart would ache with disbelief. Because this was real. You were really married to him. You really woke up to him every morning. His arm draped around your waist, his face buried in your neck and he really loved you like you were the most precious thing in the world. But Kento wasn’t done giving you the life you deserved.

“Tokyo University.” he said one night, casually, like it wasn’t the single most outrageous thing you’d ever heard.

You froze mid-bite. “…What?”

“I want you to apply, like you did a long time ago.” he said simply, sitting across from you at the dinner table. “You always wanted to study chemistry. Now’s your chance.”

Your throat tightened. “Kento… I can’t. I haven’t been in school for years. I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice was firm but gentle. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known. Don’t tell me you can’t do it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “But the tuition—”

“I’ll pay for it.”

Your head snapped up. “Kento, no—”

“Yes.” His gaze was unwavering. “I’ll pay for every single yen. I’ll cover your tuition, your textbooks, your lab fees. Everything. You won’t have to worry about anything.” His voice softened. “Please. Let me do this for you.”

Tears burned your eyes. “I don’t want to feel like a burden to you, Kento.”

“You’re not a burden, never will be.” he said fiercely, already pushing his chair back so he could kneel in front of you. His large hands cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “You’re my wife. Everything I have is yours. My money, my time, my life. It’s all yours. And if it means giving you the future you always dreamed of, then I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

And with that, you broke down. You sobbed into his chest, clutching him like your life depended on it, because you realized Kento meant it. Every word. Every promise. He was going to build you a life so beautiful, so far removed from the pain you endured, that you’d never have to feel unworthy again.

So the next day, you applied. And Kento wrote the check without blinking an eye.

You could still remember months later, the day you got accepted into Tokyo University, you burst into tears. You were in the kitchen when the letter arrived, your hands trembling as you tore it open and the second you saw “Congratulations, you’ve been accepted!”

You collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.

“Kento, Kento!” you choked, clutching the letter like it was your lifeline. “I got in! Oh god…. I got in!”

Kento was on you in seconds, kneeling beside you, his face crumpling with pride. “I told you. I told you, baby!” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I told you you could do it.”

And that night, he took you out to dinner, something extravagant, something you never would have been able to afford on your own. When the waiter congratulated you, Kento beamed like he was the one who got accepted.

“Her, it was her who got in.” he told the waiter proudly. “That’s my wife. She’s going to Tokyo University for chemistry. Smartest woman I’ve ever met.”

And when you glanced at him, with those eyes glassy, heart full, you realized he wasn’t just proud. He was in awe of you. Like he always had been.

And for a while, it was perfect.

Life slipped into something sweet and steady. You were a university student again, just like you’d always dreamed. You spent your days attending lectures, taking meticulous notes, and spending long afternoons in the library surrounded by textbooks and the faint smell of old paper. You were learning again. Living again. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you.

And Kento? God, he was your biggest cheerleader.

Every morning before you left for class, he kissed you on the forehead and said, “Knock ‘em dead, love.”

Every night when you came home, exhausted but fulfilled, he had dinner ready and waiting. When you showed him your test scores, perfect marks, one after another. Your husband would beam with pride like he was the one who’d aced the exam.

When you complained about a difficult professor or a tedious lab experiment, he’d listen intently, rubbing circles into your back, and say, “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

And every night, when you fell asleep beside him, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope. But then —slowly, quietly— the loneliness crept in. Because Kento wasn’t home most of the time.

At first, you didn’t notice. You were busy, after all. You were drowning in lab reports, study sessions, and back-to-back classes. But then you started realizing how quiet the apartment felt when you got home. You’d unlock the door, expecting to hear the hum of the television or Kento’s soft humming in the kitchen but it was always silent. Always empty.

You told yourself it was fine. That was just how it was going to be sometimes. Your Kento was working hard, just like you were. It was only temporary. But weeks passed. Then months. And Kento started coming home later and later.

At first, it was 8 PM. Then 9. Then 10. And soon, there were nights where he didn’t come home at all, just a brief, apologetic text. “Late meeting. Don’t wait for me. Love you.”

And you tried to be understanding. You tried. After all, Kento was the one supporting you. He was paying your tuition, your textbooks, your transportation — everything. He was shouldering the entire financial weight of your dream without a single complaint. The least you could do was be patient.

But good god, it was so lonely.

You’d eat dinner alone most nights, your plate growing cold as you stared at the empty seat across from you. You’d do your assignments at the kitchen table, hoping to hear the jingle of his keys at the door but it never came. You started sleeping alone more often than not, his side of the bed cold and untouched.

And worst of all you missed him.

You missed Kento. You missed the man who used to laugh with you until your stomach hurt.

The man who used to kiss you breathless in the middle of the kitchen just because he could.

The man who used to touch your belly every night and whisper. “I can’t wait to meet our baby.”

The man who promised you. “I’ll always put you first.”

But now? You were starting to feel like you’d lost him. And then came the night that broke you.

It was well past midnight, and you were curled up on the couch, your textbooks sprawled around you. You told yourself you wouldn’t wait up for him, but you did. You always did. Hours passed, and still — no sign of him. Finally, at 1:27 AM, you heard the door unlock.

“Kento?” you called, your voice cracking.

He didn’t answer right away. When he finally stepped into the living room, his tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the exhaustion in his eyes was so deep it made your chest ache.

“Hey.” he murmured, already walking past you toward the bedroom.

And something in you snapped.

“Seriously?” you blurted. “That’s all you have to say?”

Kento froze, his hand still on the doorframe. “…What?”

You stood, your heart pounding. “You’ve been gone all day again. And you just walk in like I don’t even exist?”

He turned to you, confused. “I—I’m sorry. Work ran late—”

“It always runs late, Kento!” your voice cracked, hot tears stinging your eyes. “Every night, I sit here alone. I eat alone. I sleep alone. Do you even realize how lonely it is to come home to an empty apartment every single day?”

Pain flickered across his face. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m doing this for you, love. I’m working so you can go to school—”

“I never asked you to do that!” you shouted, and the second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

Kento blinked, stunned. “…What?”

Your chest heaved. “I never asked you to throw your entire life away for me, Kento! I never asked you to quit your project, or work insane hours, or pay for everything. You just did it. And now it’s like I don’t even have a husband anymore. I just have this… ghost who comes home at 2 AM and leaves before I wake up!”

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

Kento’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. “…You think I want this?”

You froze. “…What?”

“You think I like working sixteen-hour days?” his voice cracked, raw and strained. “You think I enjoy being away from you? Missing dinner, missing sleep, missing everything…..you think any of this is what I wanted?”

Your throat tightened. “Kento—”

“I did it for you, you know that.” he said bitterly. “I did it so you wouldn’t have to worry about money. I did it so you could chase your dream without worrying about bills or tuition. I did it because I thought it would make you happy.” His voice cracked. “But you’re not, are you?”

Tears blurred your vision. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” he laughed hollowly, running a hand down his face. “I work until I can’t see straight just to keep everything together and you still think I’m not doing enough.”

“That’s not true at all!”

“Then what do you want from me, love?” his voice finally broke, desperate and shattered. “Tell me. Please. What do you want?”

And the answer was so painfully simple, it tore you apart.

I just want you.

But you couldn’t say it. Because how could you ask that of him when he’d already given you everything? When he was breaking his back just to keep you afloat? When he’d already sacrificed his career, his sleep, his time, his life for you?

So instead, you just cried and cried.

And for the first time in your marriage, Kento didn’t comfort you.

He just turned away, defeated, and said, “I’m going to bed.”

And you realized somewhere along the way, you and Kento had become strangers for the first time.

And it hurts like hell to live with that thought.

But of course, it wouldn’t be the last time.

THINGS DID NOT GET BETTER. If anything, they got worse. You were pregnant. And everything was hurting. It was a different kind of pain now, not just the crushing weight of your depression, but something more physical, more suffocating.

Your body aches constantly. Your back screamed from the weight of your growing belly. Your feet were perpetually swollen. Your nights were restless, spent tossing and turning as the baby kicked relentlessly inside you, reminding you always reminding you — that there was no way out of this life you didn’t want. And it was killing you.

You thought hitting rock bottom would come with some kind of clarity. Like one day, you’d cry hard enough or sleep long enough or starve yourself numb enough that your body would finally break through the darkness. You thought there would be some moment, some visceral breaking point that would force you to finally start healing.

But it never came.

Instead, you just… sank.

Deeper and deeper, like trying to breathe underwater with lungs already half-filled. Every day you woke up was a fresh kind of misery. You couldn’t get out of bed without feeling like your bones were made of lead.

You couldn’t stomach food without wanting to throw it all up later. You couldn’t look in the mirror without despising the reflection. You see a bloated, pale, hollowed out, a shell of the woman you used to be.

And the baby never stopped kicking.

You hated it.

God, you hated it.

You hated the way it never let you sleep. You hated the way your body no longer felt like yours. You hated the constant, suffocating reminder that soon, almost all too soon, you would be responsible for a life you never asked for. A life you were already failing before it even arrived.

But the worst part?

You hated yourself for hating it.

Because what kind of mother resented her own baby before it was even born? What kind of woman laid in bed, day after day, clutching her belly and wishing god, please just make this stop instead of feeling love? What kind of wife watched her husband sacrifice everything for her and still felt nothing but numb, bitter emptiness?

And Kento.

God, Kento.

You couldn’t even look at him anymore without feeling like the most wretched person alive. He was still trying — still holding everything together, still waking up every morning and kissing your forehead, still whispering, “I love you. I’m here.”

But you could see it now — the slow, painful unraveling of the man you loved. The exhaustion in his eyes, no longer just from work but from you. The hesitation in his touch, like he was afraid you’d pull away — and sometimes, you did.

The way his voice cracked when he said, “How are you feeling today, love?” and your answer was always “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine.

And Kento knew it.

You could see it every night when he crawled into bed beside you and held you close. The way his hand cradles your stomach, his thumb tracing soft circles over your skin. You could feel it in the way his touch, once so warm and electric, now felt like a desperate attempt to keep you here. Like if he let go for even a second, you’d slip through his fingers entirely.

And you hated that too.

Because you knew you were killing him. Slowly. Quietly. Without even trying. You could see it in his slumped shoulders, in the way his voice grew quieter, in the way he looked at you like he was losing you and didn’t know how to stop it.

And you wanted to scream — Stop loving me. Stop trying to save me. I’m already gone.

But you didn’t.

Because how could you say that to the man who dropped his entire career for you? The man who worked twenty-hour days just to pay for your tuition, your food, your life? The man who still kissed you goodbye every morning and told you, “I love you, always.”

So you did the only thing you could.

You kept shrinking.

You stopped eating. Barely touched your dinner when Kento brought it to you. The smell made you nauseous anyway, and even when it didn’t, you could barely stomach the idea of keeping yourself alive, let alone another human growing inside you.

You stopped leaving the house. Your classes had already been dropped; you told Kento it was temporary, just until you felt better. But deep down, you knew you weren’t going back. Tokyo University had suddenly become a distant dream once again, like a life that belonged to someone else entirely. And you were too far gone now to reach for it again.

You stopped responding to your friends. They texted you constantly, trying to check on you. You know they mean well. You know they just want to be there for you. And that they were excited. But you were having a hard time accepting their well wishes.

“How’s the baby? How’s school? We miss you!”

But the thought of replying made your stomach churn. What were you supposed to say, that wouldn’t come out as a horrible thing?

“I’m miserable. I don’t want this baby. I don’t want this life.”

Would have that gotten you some mercy?

So you ignored them. Deleted their messages. Let your phone die and don't bother charging it. And then you stopped talking to Kento. Not entirely. But enough.

Later on, Kento halted the work on his upcoming project the day after you broke down. No warning. No hesitation. One phone call to his manager, another to his agency, and it was done. His voice was steady, almost unnervingly calm when he said: “I’m taking a break for now. My wife needs me.”

And that was it. He dropped it all like it meant nothing. A project he had poured months of his life into, had gone in seconds. You tried to protest when you found out, but he wouldn’t hear it. His mind was made up before you could even form the words —“Don’t do this for me.”

And then he stayed.

Every single day, he stayed. Morning turned to night, and there he was. Bringing you water when you couldn’t stomach food. Sitting on the edge of the bed while you stared blankly at the ceiling. Holding you through the nights when your body trembled from crying, or worse, the nights when you didn’t cry at all, just lay there like a ghost in your own skin.

He was patient. Devoted. Unwavering.

But it didn’t fix anything.

Because the damage was already done.

You could feel it in the way his touch, once so warm and electric, now felt like a desperate attempt to tether you to the earth. In the way his voice, soft, pleading, loving had seemed to echo against the walls of your hollowed-out chest, never quite reaching you.

In this way you could still feel the crushing weight of your own failure suffocating you, no matter how many times he whispered “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

And the worst part?

You wanted him to leave.

Because it hurt too much to see him like this. Abandoning his career, his life, his future, for someone who couldn’t even muster the strength to get out of bed. You resented the way he sacrificed everything for you.

You hated how the look in his eyes shifted from affection to concern, from admiration to pity. You despised yourself for being the reason his world was crumbling alongside yours. And deep down, you knew. Kento could stay forever, and it still wouldn’t fix what was already broken.

And after that, you stopped going to school.

At first, you told Kento it was temporary, just a leave of absence until you felt better. But weeks turned into months, and soon your professors were emailing you: “If you do not return, you will have to re-enroll next semester.”

You didn’t respond.

Because the truth was, you didn’t care anymore.

Your stomach was huge now. You could barely walk up the stairs without losing your breath. Your back ached. Your feet were swollen. You couldn’t sleep through the night because the baby was always kicking, and every morning you woke up with the same suffocating thought.

"I don’t want this life."

And the guilt ate you alive.

Because you loved Kento. You loved your baby. But you hated your life. You hated what it had become. You hated the fact that you were no longer a student at Tokyo University. You were just a pregnant woman, a pregnant housewife. You hated the fact that you no longer had a future — you just had motherhood. You just had this house, his status as a wife.

And Kento saw it. He saw how you’d spend hours just sitting in the nursery, staring at the crib with dead eyes. He saw how you stopped studying, stopped watching TV, stopped doing anything. It was like you were fading away.

And it killed him.

You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged a little more each day, as if the weight of watching you deteriorate was slowly crushing him. In the way he tried to hide the bags under his eyes from sleepless nights spent worrying about you.

In this way his voice would crack, just barely, when he’d sit next to you and say, “Talk to me, love. Please.”

But you had nothing to say. What were you supposed to tell him? That you hated the life you were about to bring into the world? That you regretted everything — the pregnancy, the wedding, the choices that led you here? That sometimes, when you laid in bed at night, you imagined what it would be like if you just… didn’t wake up?

So you said nothing. Nothing at all.

And Kento tried to be strong for both of you. God, he tried.

He started cooking your favorite meals, hoping that if he made something delicious enough, you’d actually eat. He read parenting books late into the night, convinced that if he just learned enough, he could do this whole thing for the both of you, carry the weight, make up for the pieces of you that were falling apart. He took you on walks when he could get you out of bed, holding your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to hope.

But it was never enough.

It was never going to be enough.

Because the truth was — you weren’t just sad.

You were grieving everything that had come to pass.

You were grieving the life you lost, the person you used to be. You were grieving the dreams you once held so fiercely. Finishing university, traveling, building a career as a chemist on the international level. All of it now reduced to a hazy memory of a different girl. A girl you didn’t even recognize anymore. A girl you resented for being so foolish, for thinking she could have it all.

And you were grieving the love between you and Kento — or rather, the version of it that existed before the pregnancy. Before everything became tainted by your guilt, your depression, your ever-growing resentment for the life you didn’t want.

You knew that Kento saw it too.

He saw how you flinched when he touched your stomach, not out of pain, but because it reminded you of what you were trapped in. He saw how your kisses grew colder, how you turned your head when he tried to kiss you goodnight. He saw how you stopped saying your i love yous first — how sometimes, you didn’t say it at all.

And still, he stayed by your side. But it was breaking him whole.

You could hear it in the way his voice cracked one night when he thought you were asleep.

He sat beside you in bed, his hand resting gently on your belly, and you heard him whisper back to you. “I don’t know how to fix this.” His voice trembled. “I don’t know how to help you.”

And that was when you realized — you weren’t the only one grieving. Kento was grieving too. He was grieving the wife he used to know. The one who laughed too loud at his jokes, who kissed him in the morning just because, who fell asleep on the couch with a textbook still in her lap.

He was grieving the life you both dreamed of late nights studying, early mornings rushing to class, careers that would take you far. He was grieving the love that used to be effortless, the kind that didn’t require whispered prayers in the middle of the night, hoping that tomorrow would hurt less than today.

And the worst part?

You were the one who did this to him.

At least that’s how you saw it all now.

You were the one who dragged him down into this suffocating darkness with you. You were the one who made him abandon his project, his career, his life. All for a woman who could barely look at herself in the mirror without breaking.

And every day he stayed, every day he kissed your forehead and said “I’m here”, you hated yourself a little more.

You hated yourself so much that you started to wonder if maybe — just maybe — Kento would be better off without you.

And that thought never really left.

Even when he painted the nursery walls soft yellow and smiled like he wasn’t dying inside.

Even when he held your hand in the middle of the night and promised, “We’ll get through this. I swear we will.”

Even when he looked at you with a love so devastatingly pure, it only made you ache more.

Because you couldn’t shake the feeling. That Kento deserved a better wife. And your baby deserved a better mother. And you? You didn’t deserve them at all. Around your seventh month, you completely broke.

Kento found you in the bathroom at 3 AM all alone as you were sitting in the empty bathtub, knees pulled to your chest, sobbing silently. You looked miserable with your hair disheveled and your face contorted into this look, full of grief and suffering.

“Baby?” His voice cracked. “Oh my god, baby, what’s wrong?”

And you just shook your head. “I hate this so much.” you gasped through your tears. “I hate my life. I hate my body. I hate everything. I don’t want to do this anymore, Kento. I can’t…..I can’t breathe.”

And Kento completely fell apart at the sight of your tears, falling over and over again. “Baby, no— no, no, no.” he dropped to his knees beside the tub, his hands shaking. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. I’m here now. I’ll fix it. I’ll make it better, so—”

“You can’t!” you screamed, your voice raw and cracked. “You can’t fix this, Kento! I’m already ruined! My life is already ruined!”

And Kento? Kento completely broke. Because he realized you weren’t talking about the pregnancy. You were talking about yourself. And you were gone. All there was left now was the shell, that shell he didn’t recognize.

“I should’ve never gotten pregnant, Kento.” you sobbed, your body shaking. “I should’ve never gotten married. I should’ve stayed in school. I should’ve never left the countryside. I should’ve……I should’ve never let this happen.”

And Kento completely lost it. “Don’t say that.” he begged, his voice cracking.

He climbed into the bathtub with you, fully clothed, and wrapped his arms around you. “Don’t say that, baby, please— please don’t say that. You’re not ruined. I swear to god, I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything. Just don’t give up on me. Please don’t give up on me.”

And you just sobbed.

Because deep down, you already had.

You were right to feel that way.

It was only a matter of time when the labor came early.

You had never expected it — not this soon, not like this.

It was just around thirty-five weeks then. The baby wasn’t supposed to come yet. You still had time. Weeks. You weren’t ready. Your hospital bag wasn’t packed. The nursery still smelled like fresh paint. You hadn’t even washed the baby’s clothes yet. You weren’t supposed to go into labor yet.

But the universe didn’t care.

Your water broke in the middle of the night — and you knew instantly that something was wrong. The pain hit fast and hard, unlike anything you’d ever felt. Sharp, blinding contractions ripped through your abdomen, so intense that it stole the breath from your lungs.

You barely managed to shake Kento awake, your voice cracked and choked, “Kento — my water……it broke—”

And the moment he saw the panic in your eyes, he moved. Kento didn’t even ask questions. He sprang out of bed, grabbing his phone with one hand and you with the other, already calling for an ambulance.

His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the terror behind it. “Yes, my wife is thirty-five weeks pregnant. Her water just broke — she’s in pain — please send someone—”

But the contractions were coming too fast. One after the other, barely a minute in between, and by the time Kento helped you into the back of the ambulance, you knew. The baby was coming now. And the baby would have no mercy on you.

“No, no, no!” you sobbed, clutching your belly as another contraction ripped through you, your body already beginning to push despite your desperate attempts to stop it. “It’s too soon — it’s too soon—”

Kento was right there beside you, his hand in yours, his voice cracked and desperate. “You’re okay, love. You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”

But you didn’t feel okay. You felt like you were dying. And by the time you reached the hospital, you were already fully dilated. The doctors barely had time to wheel you into labor and delivery before you were screaming through another contraction, your body forcing you to push despite your terror.

And Kento was there. The entire time — he was there. His hand never left yours, his voice never stopped murmuring reassurances in your ear. “You can do this, love. I know you can. Just a little longer. Just hold on for me.”

But you couldn’t.

Because something was wrong.

You could feel it in your bones. In the way your body fought itself with every push, in the way your vision kept blurring, in the way you couldn’t seem to catch your breath no matter how hard you tried. And then, in the middle of a push — you felt it.

A sudden, hot gush between your legs. But it wasn’t amniotic fluid this time. It was warm. And sticky. And you didn’t have to look down to know. You were bleeding. A lot. You could feel how it echoes down, heavy and brutish.

“Kento—” your voice cracked, raw with pain. “Something’s— something’s wrong—”

And then you heard it.

The doctor’s voice, sharp and urgent.

“She’s hemorrhaging. We’re losing her.”

And that’s when Kento lost his fucking mind.

“What?” His voice snapped, pure, raw panic flooding his face. His grip on your hand tightened like a vice. “What do you mean you’re losing her?!”

“Her blood pressure is dropping! Massive uterine hemorrhage. Doctor, she’s losing too much blood—”

“No — no, no, no—” Kento stumbled forward, his voice cracking as his hands shook. “Do something! Save her! Save them both!”

“We need to get the baby out now or we’re going to lose them both, Mr. Nanami!”

And suddenly it was chaos. Nurses shouting. Machines beeping. Someone calling for blood transfusions. And you — fading. You could feel it. Your body was giving out, your vision was growing dim, and the only thing you could focus on was Kento.

“Kento.” you rasped, your voice so faint, so weak. Your body felt like it was drifting. “I—I love you—”

“No!” Kento screamed. He screamed like something inside him was tearing apart. His hands clawed at the hospital bed, his body lunging toward you as the doctors tried to pull him away. “No, stay with me! Stay with me, love! Don’t you fucking do this—Don’t you dare leave me!”

But you were already slipping.

The last thing you heard was his voice, raw and broken.

“I can’t do this without you. Please! Please don’t leave me. Please—”

And then, darkness.

HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. Nanami Kento couldn’t do anything but collapse in the hallway. The moment they pulled him out of the delivery room. The moment the words the doctor said, all of that rang in his ears like a death sentence. He was sure that something inside him snapped.

And when the door slammed shut behind him, separating him from you, Kento’s knees buckled. He hit the floor hard. Hands splayed out against the cold tile, chest heaving, throat raw from screaming. He didn’t even realize he was still screaming until two nurses rushed toward him, trying to pull him up, trying to calm him down, but it was useless.

Because he could still hear it. The frantic shouts of the doctors. The horrifying words “Massive hemorrhage. We’re losing her.” The sound of your screams cutting off too abruptly. And worst of all — the unbearable silence that followed.

“No—” Kento howled, his voice breaking like glass. His hands clawed at his hair, his entire body wracked with violent, gut-wrenching sobs. “No, no, no— I killed her. I fucking killed her—”

“Sir, Mr. Nanami.” one of the nurses knelt beside him, reaching out. “You have to breathe, you’re hyperventilating—”

But Kento didn’t hear her.

He couldn’t hear anything.

He didn’t care to hear whatever that was.

All he could think about, all he could see was you. Your face twisted in pain. The absolute terror in your eyes when you realized something was wrong. The way you sobbed I don’t want this, Kento, I’m not ready. And he did this. He did this to you.

His body convulsed with the force of his grief, his head slamming against the tile as his sobs tore from his chest like a wounded animal. “I killed her. I killed her. I made her hate her life and now she’s gone. She’s gone—”

“Sir—” The nurse was trying to hold him down now, his entire body thrashing against the floor as he screamed. “Sir, please, you’re going to hurt yourself—”

“LET ME GO!” Kento roared, his voice so raw it barely sounded human. “She’s dying in there. Do you understand me?! She’s fucking dying in there and I……”

Another contraction of sobs wracked his chest, and his fists slammed into the floor so hard that his knuckles split. Blood smeared against the tile, but he didn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything.

“I made her hate her life.” his voice cracked, his chest seizing with suffocating grief. His hands curled into his hair again, yanking hard as if trying to punish himself. “I did this to her. I made her want to die. And now she’s gone and I’m still here. ”

“Stop, please.” the nurse’s voice broke, her own eyes glassy as she tried to steady him. “She’s not gone. They’re trying to save her in there, with the baby.”

“No.” Kento’s head snapped up, his face twisted in a horrifying mix of rage and agony. His eyes were bloodshot, glassy, utterly devastated. “You don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it.” His voice cracked so sharply it sounded like it physically hurt him to speak.

“She wanted to die, to be free of that misery. Don’t you see?” he choked. “She hated her life. And it’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault—”

And then his body gave out.

His chest collapsed onto the cold tile floor, his forehead pressed into it as his entire body shook. Choked, gasping sobs clawed from his throat, so violent that he could barely breathe. His lungs were burning, his vision was spinning, and he was sure, so fucking sure, that this was it. That they were going to come out and tell him you were dead.

And it was his fault.

All of it was his fault.

Because he saw it.

He saw it every single day. The way you sat in the nursery with dead eyes. The way you stopped smiling. The way you couldn’t even say I’m excited without your voice cracking. The way your love for him was slowly being choked out by the sheer weight of your depression.

And he didn’t stop any of it. Instead, he told you to keep going. He told you to hold on. He let you suffer in silence because he thought that’s what you needed but you didn’t. You needed help. You needed saving. And instead, he trapped you in a life you never wanted.

And now you are dying.

All because of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Kento sobbed, his forehead slamming against the tile again, his blood smearing across the floor. “I’m so fucking sorry. Please….please, I’ll do anything. Just let her live. Please.”

And that was the first time in his life that Kento Nanami prayed. He prayed like a man possessed. Like a man who had nothing left to lose. His bloody fists clawed at the tile, his nails cracking against it as he begged.

“Take me,please.” he sobbed, his voice mutilated from screaming. “Please….just take me instead. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. Just…. Please don’t take her. Don’t take my wife. Don’t take my baby. I’ll do anything.”

But the silence stretched on.

And he was certain that you were already gone.

Hours continued to make mockery of him.

Agonizing, torturous hours passed — and Kento was still on the floor.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe right. Didn’t think. His body was stuck in that same position. Still face down, forehead pressed against the cold tile, hands trembling as he clenched them into bloody fists. His chest was heaving in short, sharp gasps, his entire body quaking as he sobbed.

He was certain you were dead. He felt it. He felt the moment your soul left the room. He felt the moment the light in his life snapped off like a switch.

He was convinced that at any second, the doctor was going to come out, look him in the eyes, and say, “I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. We couldn’t save her.”

And he would never forgive himself.

Because he killed you.

His fault. His fault. His fucking fault.

He was still gasping, still clawing at the ground, still praying like a desperate man when he finally heard the door open. Kento’s head snapped up. His bloodshot, swollen eyes immediately locked onto the doctor walking toward him, his scrubs covered in blood — your blood — and Kento’s entire body seized.

“Mr. Nanami—”

“Where is she?” Kento screamed. His voice cracked, broke, his entire body lunging toward the doctor like a caged animal. His hands fisted the man’s scrubs, yanking him forward. “Is my wife alive? Tell me, damn it? Is she alive?”

The doctor barely had a chance to respond before Kento screamed again. “Tell me you saved her, goddamn you!”

And the doctor’s mouth opened — and Kento swore the entire universe stopped spinning when he finally said, “…She’s alive.”

Kento’s entire body collapsed. His legs gave out. His grip on the doctor’s scrubs slipped. And then he didn’t realize that he had hit the floor. A gasping, broken sob ripped from his throat. The kind of sob that came from a man who was seconds away from losing everything and his entire body convulsed as he wept.

“Oh my god…..” Kento choked, his hands flying to his face, clawing at his own skin like he was trying to ground himself. “Oh my god. She’s alive. She’s alive!”

“Her condition is critical, Mr. Nanami.” the doctor warned, his voice low but steady. “We had to perform an emergency c-section and a hysterectomy to stop the bleeding. She lost over forty percent of her blood volume. We had to resuscitate her twice on the table—”

“Resuscitate?” he gasped, his vision swimming. His stomach lurched. “You mean she….she died?”

“Clinically, yes. Twice.” The doctor’s face softened with pity. “But we got her back. She’s stable now — unconscious, but alive.”

And that was all Kento needed to hear.

He ran. He didn’t even think. His legs moved before his brain could catch up, his entire body sprinting down the hall, his bloody knuckles slamming into every door he passed until he finally found your room.

The second he stepped inside, he broke.

Because there you were.

Unconscious.

Your body was completely limp, hooked up to a ventilator, your skin so pale it looked blue. Tubes were coming out of everywhere. From your arm, your nose, your mouth and there were fresh surgical dressings covering your abdomen where they had cut you open to get the baby out.

Kento couldn’t breathe. A strangled, animalistic sound tore from his throat like something between a sob and a scream and then he collapsed beside your bed. His hand shot out, desperately clutching yours, his entire body wracked with gut-wrenching sobs as he shook.

“I’m so sorry…..oh my god, I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” Kento’s voice shattered, his head dropping onto your hand as his body convulsed. His chest was heaving so violently that he was on the verge of hyperventilating. “I did this. I did this to you and I….”

He couldn’t stop sobbing. His forehead pressed against your limp hand, his body rocking as he cried like a child. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry….” he choked. “I made you hate your life and I trapped you. I killed you…. oh my god, I killed you….”

And the guilt hit him like a sledgehammer.

Because it was true. All of it.

He saw the way you suffered. The way you faded every single day. The way you stopped smiling. The way you stopped living. And instead of saving you, he kept telling you to hold on. Just a little longer, love. We’re almost there. Just a little longer.

But you weren’t okay. And Kento didn’t listen. And now you were lying there. Pale, lifeless, barely hanging on. All because of him. And the weight of it crushed him whole. He felt like Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders.

And then finally, you woke up.

“…Kento?” your voice cracked.

“Baby.” he sobbed, grabbing your face, pressing desperate kisses all over your skin. “Oh my baby…..you’re awake. You’re awake. I thought I lost you. I thought….”

“…Where’s the baby?”

And Kento completely broke. “The baby’s fine, don’t worry.” he choked. “She’s perfect. She’s beautiful. But you….you scared the shit out of me, baby. Please don’t ever do that again.”

And when they finally brought your baby girl in and you held her for the first time — you did something you didn’t expect. You cried. And then you sobbed. Because for the first time in nine months — you finally felt something coherent. Something good.

“…She’s beautiful.” you gasped. “I didn’t think I’d love her. But I do. I love her so much.”

Kento just collapsed against your hospital bed, sobbing. “I knew you would. I knew you would.”

But things are like the weather.

They were bound to change.

You should have known.

THE FIRST MONTH WAS HARD, BUT AS TIME WENT ON, IT GOT WORSE. You came home from the hospital physically intact but mentally, you were gone. You still didn’t go back to school. You didn’t touch your textbooks. You didn’t even mention chemistry. The once-brilliant student who dreamed of working in a lab was now just… a mother. And you hated it.

Every single day felt like a fog. You were exhausted but it wasn’t the baby’s fault. You knew that much. It was you that was malfunctioning. You didn’t know how to connect with her. Every time she cried, you felt nothing.

Every time she smiled, you felt nothing. Every time Kento handed her to you and said something to praise your beautiful daughter, you didn’t know how to react. You just nodded and let it go. And Kento noticed. God, he noticed.

Kento stayed home for a month. He refused to leave your side. He didn’t take calls, he didn’t attend meetings. He just stayed home. But his contract required him to go back to work eventually. And you… you told him to go.

“Go, you have to.” you whispered, your voice dead. “You have to work, Kento. We have bills. You already missed so much.”

But Kento didn’t want to.

“Baby— no. I don’t give a shit about work. I’m not leaving you like this.”

And you forced a smile. “I’m fine, Kento.”

But you weren’t.

You weren’t.

And Kento knew it.

But eventually, he had to go. He had no choice. His manager was calling nonstop. His agency was threatening breach of contract. He had a new film that needed him and Kento was the lead role. So he left. And the guilt burned a hole in his chest.

The first day he was back on set, he couldn’t focus. His co-stars were talking to him, the director was giving him instructions but all he could think about was you. Home. Alone. With a baby you didn’t love. Kento hated himself.

He was filming a scene when his phone buzzed in his pocket — and when he saw your name pop up, he immediately froze.

“CUT!” the director barked. ��Kento, you okay?”

“…Yeah, director.” he croaked. “I just— I need five minutes.”

And then he ran.

He ran behind the trailer, shaking, and picked up the phone. “Baby?” he gasped, panic echoing in his voice. “What’s wrong? Is the baby okay? Are you okay?”

Silence. “…I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

And Kento’s heart completely shattered.

“Baby…..” his voice cracked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…..” you gasped, voice shaking. “I mean I can’t do this. I can’t be a mom. I don’t love her, Kento. I don’t—I don’t feel anything for her. I just feel empty. And I know she deserves better. I know you deserve better. I think….I….I just….”

Your voice cracked. “I think I ruined my life.”

Kento collapsed. “No, baby. No. Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” He was crying now, gasping into the phone. “You didn’t ruin your life. You didn’t. I promise I’ll fix this. I’ll come home right now—”

“No, you won’t.”

Kento completely broke. “Baby, please.”

“No, Kento. You have to work. We need the money. We need—”

“I don’t care about the fucking money!” Kento sobbed, clutching his hair. “I care about you! I care about our family! Please don’t give up on me, baby. Please don’t give up on her.”

But you just hung up.

Kento completely lost it.

He didn’t go back on set. He stayed behind the trailer, sobbing into his hands, shaking, thinking: “I ruined her life. I did this to her. She was supposed to be in college — not stuck at home with a baby.”

And that thought ate him alive. The next few weeks were worse. Kento was dying. Not physically but mentally, emotionally and spiritually, he was. Every single day he walked onto set, it felt like he was leaving you behind. And it was killing him.

Because all he could think about was you. Alone. Depressed. Hollowed out. Not wanting the baby. And he wasn’t there. He was never there. Every single time he put on that suit, stepped in front of the cameras, smiled for his co-stars. He was dying.

Because he knew. He knew the second he came home, you would be worse. Every day it got worse. Every fucking day.

At first, it was subtle. You were tired. Distant. Quiet. But then the days started stretching into weeks, and suddenly you weren’t just tired, you were empty. Your smiles were forced. Your voice was flat. You didn’t ask about his day anymore. You didn’t kiss him when he got home.

And Kento tried to justify it. It’s just the hormones. She’s overwhelmed. She’ll come back to me soon. She’ll come back to me.

But you didn’t.

And Kento broke down again.

Because the more days that passed, the less of you he saw.

You stopped eating dinner with him. You stopped holding the baby. You stopped getting out of bed. You wouldn’t look at him. And the worst part? You didn’t even cry. You just… stared. Blank. Numb. And Kento couldn’t handle it.

He fucking hated himself. Every single day he drove to set, his stomach would turn. He’d clench his jaw the entire time, his hands shaking as he held the steering wheel because he knew. You were at home. Alone. With a baby you didn’t love. And he wasn’t there. And the guilt was going to fucking eat him alive.

One night, Kento came home early. He couldn’t do it anymore. He was on set, trying to read his lines, but his hands were shaking. His mouth felt dry. His mind kept screaming to him: She’s alone. She’s not okay. She’s not okay. She’s not okay. Go home right now.

So he left. He didn’t even tell his manager. He just ripped off his mic and drove home. And when he walked through the door….You were just… sitting there. On the couch. Completely catatonic. Your body was slumped forward. Your eyes were glazed over, completely hollow. You weren’t blinking. You weren’t moving. You weren’t alive.

Baby?” His voice shattered.

Nothing. Kento’s heart slammed into his throat. He dropped his keys, his coat, everything, and sprinted toward you, falling to his knees in front of the couch.

“Baby, please….” his voice cracked. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs trembling as they brushed over your cheeks. “Please talk to me. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

But you didn’t blink.

You didn’t look at him.

You just… stared at the wall.

Kento’s stomach lurched.

His throat closed.

And then you finally spoke.

In a voice so dead, so hollow, that it didn’t even sound like you anymore. “…I don’t want to be a mom anymore.”

“Baby,” his voice broke. He practically collapsed against you, his forehead pressing to your lap as his hands clutched yours. “Please don’t say that. Please, god—”

“I don’t.” you said flatly. Your voice didn’t even crack. It was just… dead. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want her. I don’t want anything.”

Kento’s entire body convulsed.

“Baby, no.” His voice split down the middle. His hands squeezed yours so tight his knuckles went white. “Please don’t talk like that. I know it’s hard. I know you feel alone. But I love you. I love our baby. We can fix this, baby. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything.”

But you didn’t believe him.

Because the truth was — you didn’t want him to fix it.

You didn’t want help. You didn’t want therapy. You didn’t want him to stay home from work. You didn’t want him to coddle you or tell you it would get better.

You just wanted your old life back. You wanted school. You wanted chemistry. You wanted the future you spent years building. But instead, you were just Keiko’s mother. And you fucking hated yourself for it.

“I never wanted this.” you whispered numbly, your eyes glazed over. “I didn’t want to have a baby. I didn’t want to give up school. I didn’t want this life. And now it’s all I have.”

Kento couldn’t breathe. His chest split open. His hands shook violently as he tried to pull you closer, his head buried in your lap. “Please, baby….” his voice splintered. “Please don’t talk like that. I need you. Our baby needs you. We love you.”

But you didn’t respond.

You just kept staring.

Kento sobbed heavily.

His entire body convulsed. His shoulders shook. His throat ripped open as gut-wrenching sobs tore out of him. “I’m so sorry.” he gasped. His face buried into your lap, his tears soaking your clothes. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

And you didn’t comfort him. You didn’t hold him. You didn’t wipe his tears. You didn’t say anything. Because deep down, you hated him, too. You hated that he got to have a life. You hated that he still had his career. You hated that he still had a future.

And you, who you once knew?

You were just a mom.

You were trapped.

And you resented him for it.

YOU WENT AWAY FOR A LITTLE WHILE. It was a shut-in therapy. Somewhere far. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere that felt detached from the life you had been drowning in. Kento made the arrangements. You didn’t ask him to but he just did it. One night, after finding you curled up in the corner of the nursery, crying so hard you couldn’t breathe, he made the decision himself.

You don’t even remember how it happened — one moment you were screaming I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this life anymore, and the next, your husband Kento was quietly helping you with packing your bags.

“Baby….” his voice cracked, his hands trembling as he folded your clothes into a suitcase. “You need help. You need real help. And I can’t—” his throat choked up. “I can’t keep watching you like this. I can’t keep coming home to you like this. I need you to get better, baby. I need you.”

You didn’t fight him.

Because deep down, you knew.

You needed help.

And when you left, Kento didn’t cry. He didn’t break down. He didn’t beg you to stay. He just kissed your forehead, buckled you into the passenger seat, and drove you there himself. The drive was silent. But when you arrived and it came time for him to leave, you felt him break.

Kento clutched your hands so hard you thought he might shatter them. His forehead pressed to yours, his voice splintering as he begged. “Please come back to me. Please get better. Please..... I don’t care how long it takes, just please don’t give up on us.”

And then he left.

And you stayed.

And the first few weeks were hell.

You fought everything. The therapy. The group sessions. The self-reflection. The constant “how are you feeling?” The exposure therapy to bond with your baby. The “you’re not alone” pep talks from strangers who did not know you.

And every single night, you thought about calling Kento. You thought about screaming into the receiver I’m done, come get me, I can’t do this anymore, please just let me go home.

But you didn’t.

Because somewhere deep, deep, deep down, you wanted to get better. And slowly you did. It wasn’t linear. Some days were good. Some days were awful. Some days you held your baby in your arms and felt nothing. Some days you sobbed so hard that you thought you’d vomit. Some days you sat in the therapy circle, refusing to speak, refusing to participate, refusing to care.

But then some days, you looked at your baby and felt something. Not love. Not joy. But something. A tinge of warmth in your chest. A pang of protectiveness. And slowly, slowly, something began to grow. And then six months later, you came home. Kento was there, waiting for you.

The second you stepped through the door, his entire body crashed into you. His arms crushed you against him, his hands cradling the back of your head, his chest heaving as he sobbed harder than you had ever seen him cry.

“Baby!” he gasped into your hair, his voice cracking. “God, I missed you….I missed you so fucking much! I thought you’d never come back to me and Keiko.”

And you sobbed too.

Because you missed him. God, you missed him.

And that night, when you walked into the nursery and you saw your baby again for the first time in months. You cried harder than you ever had in your life. Because for the first time in a long while, you wanted her. And you didn’t hate her anymore.

But… the thing was, your relationship with Kento. It was never the same. You wanted it to be. You tried so hard. Kento tried, too. He was so patient. So gentle. So loving. But something between you both felt… off.

You had a hard time touching him. Being intimate with him. You couldn’t explain why but every time Kento kissed you, really kissed you, or ran his hands down your waist, or tried to pull you into his lap, your body would freeze.

Kento noticed. But he never pushed. He never said a word. He just waited. God, he waited. But the truth was you didn’t know how to give him that part of you anymore. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him. You did. You loved him so much. You adored him. You cherished him. You owed him your life.

But every time you tried to make love to him, it felt like you were reopening the wound. It felt like you were back there again. Heavily pregnant, crying yourself to sleep, suffocating in a life you didn’t want. And you hated it. You hated that your body betrayed you. You hated that you wanted to be with Kento, but the second he kissed you, you’d tense and apologize and turn away.

One night, he finally brought it up.

It was subtle. Careful.

“Baby…..” he murmured as you both laid in bed, his fingers brushing over your bare shoulder. “Do you… not want me anymore?”

And your heart dropped. “What?”

Kento swallowed thickly, his voice small. “You never touch me anymore. You never kiss me first. You… you flinch when I touch you sometimes. And I just…. I don’t know if it’s me or if you just… don’t want me anymore.”

“No — no, Kento, I do.” you sobbed, immediately turning to clutch his face in your hands. “I love you. I love you so much. I just…..I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to….. to be close to you. I want to. I really do. I just….”

Kento shook his head. “Baby, no.” his voice splintered. “It’s not your fault. God, it’s not your fault.”

But you still hated yourself for it.

Because every time Kento looked at you with that softness, that adoration, that undying love — all you could feel was guilt. Guilt for what you put him through. Guilt for resenting him. Guilt for pushing him away. And the fullness of the intimacy, it never really came back.

You tried.You forced yourself sometimes, letting him kiss you, letting him touch you — but it felt wrong. Not because of him. But because your body wouldn’t let you have it. Your body still remembers the trauma. Kento never blamed you.

But it killed him. Because every night he’d roll over in bed, aching for you but he wouldn’t touch you. He wouldn’t dare. He knew if he tried, you’d flinch. You’d shut down. And he couldn’t handle that. So, instead all he could do was just… love you from afar.

But how has that ever been enough?

THE FIRST TIME YOU FOUND OUT ABOUT KENTO’S CHEATING, IT WAS PURELY BY ACCIDENT. It must have been years later. After the therapy, after the recovery, after you slowly started piecing your life back together. Your daughter Keiko was already walking, already talking. You had gone back to school part-time, slowly finishing your chemistry degree.

And your intimacy with Kento? It had started to come back. Well, not fully. Not like it used to be. But you were trying your hardest with everything. You wanted to make sure that you could do it again. Your husband was waiting, and he deserved it. He deserved your love so much more than anyone.

You started off small. You started to hold hands and then you started kissing him again. You started letting him touch you again. You even started making love again. Though it still wasn’t what it once was. You didn’t initiate it. You didn’t crave it. You just… let it happen. Because you wanted to be close to him. You wanted to fix what was broken.

Yet, Kento was still distant. Not in the obvious way, no. Kento still loved you. Fiercely. Deeply. His hands were still gentle when he brushed your hair behind your ear. His voice was still soft when he murmured his devotions to you every morning. His kisses were still warm when he kissed you goodbye.

But in his eyes, you could see his eyes so clearly. His eyes always looked starved. Like he was still reaching for something you wouldn’t give him. Like no matter how hard you tried, it would never be enough. And deep down, you knew. You would never be able to give that to him ever again.

You saw it. Every night when he rolled over, half-hard in bed, but he wouldn’t touch you. Every morning when he’d linger in the shower, his back to you, his hand clenched into a fist. Every time you let him inside you, and you could feel the heartbreak in his touch, like he was still waiting for you to love him the way you used to.

And you hated yourself for it.

But you never thought…….

You never thought he’d cheat.

Until one day, you saw the message.

You were on his phone. It wasn’t intentional. His phone was sitting on the coffee table while he was in the shower, and it buzzed. You didn’t think much of it at first — just a glance, a mindless reflex. But then you saw the notification. A text message. From a number you didn’t recognize.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was married.”

And your blood ran cold instantly.

You froze as your pupils dilated.

Your hand shook as you unlocked his phone. His password was your anniversary, for fuck’s sake and when you opened the message thread… It was all there. The proof.

It was from months ago. At least half a year. Some random woman. The messages were fragmented. But clearly, Kento had deleted most of them. But there was enough. Enough to piece it together.

The first message was from her. “Hey, I had fun last night :) Let me know if you ever want to do it again.”

And then his response — curt. “I can’t continue on with this. I’m married. I love my wife. And….I have a daughter.”

Then her response. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again.”

And that was it. But it didn’t fucking matter. Because the implication was there. The truth was there. Kento had slept with her. He had fucked her. He had cheated on you. He decided to go on with this, swallowed by the need and by lust.

And you just… You just sat there. Staring at the message. Feeling like the ground was ripped from beneath you. And the thing that destroyed you most was that you weren’t even surprised. Because you knew. You always knew.

You saw it in his eyes every single day. That hunger. That emptiness. That quiet, unspoken need for something you weren’t giving him. And you thought you were fixing it. You thought you were trying. But clearly… clearly it wasn’t enough.

You didn’t confront him immediately. You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry. You didn’t throw his phone at him the second he walked out of the bathroom. You didn’t do anything. You just… sat there. And thought about it.

And the longer you thought about it, the more it made sense.

Of course he cheated.

Of course he did.

You deprived him for years. You denied him your body. You made him watch you suffer, made him sleep beside you every night knowing he couldn’t touch you, made him ache for you in ways you never fulfilled. That’s the worst part. You understood. You understood why he did it. That was the part that made you nauseous.

Because the truth was you had already broken his heart long before he ever stepped out of your marriage. You had pushed him away for so long, turned cold for so long, denied him for so long — that at some point, he just stopped waiting.

And you didn’t blame him.

You hated him. God, you hated him.

But you understood. And you still loved him.

What a foolish game for a wallflower to grow on.

And when he finally came out of the bathroom, his hair still damp, towel slung over his shoulder, flashing you that soft, tired smile. You didn’t say a word. You just kissed him. Hard. Desperate. Like you hadn’t just been crushed to death by your heartbreak.

You grabbed his face, pulled him down, crushed your mouth to his like you were trying to rewrite history. Trying to pretend like you didn’t know what you knew. Trying to convince yourself that he was still yours. Kento froze for half a second, shocked by your sudden affection but then his hands snapped around your waist and he melted into you.

“Baby….” he gasped against your mouth, his voice needy, aching. “Fuck….. what’s gotten into you?”

You don’t say a word to him. Instead, you just clung to him. Like if you held him tight enough, like you could somehow undo the fact that he had already been touched by someone else. You let him take you that night. Hard. Rough. Desperate.

You let him fuck you like he hadn’t been able to for years, you let him do as he pleased. You let him crumble into you. His mouth on your neck, his hands fisting your hair, his voice breaking as he gasped over and over —“I love you. God, I love you.”

And you let him. Because in some fucked up way, you felt like you owed it to him, after making him suffer for so long. You spent years starving him, depriving him of life. So it was only fair that he found his comfort somewhere else.…Right?

Yet you stayed up after all that love making, alone.

No, you knew the correct answer all along.

But you were just too much of a fool to say it out loud.

AND JUST LIKE THAT, IT HAPPENS ALL OVER AGAIN. Once again, you were pregnant with your second child. It wasn’t planned. You never wanted any more children, after all that had happened. But it happened. Yet it wasn’t that surprising. In some ways, this was the only way you could find yourself taking revenge against him. To make him just as miserable as you again.

Just weeks after you found out about his cheating, after you spent night after night letting him have you in every way he wanted, desperately trying to reclaim him, trying to erase the touch of another woman from his skin. You found yourself standing in the bathroom again, clutching a positive pregnancy test. And your stomach dropped.

Because the second those two pink lines stared back at you, you knew. The cycle was about to repeat. The suffocating weight of motherhood. The slow erosion of your identity. The same cold distance that once consumed your marriage was about to happen all over again. And the worst part was that you couldn’t even blame anyone but yourself.

Because you let him touch you again. You wanted to feel wanted, and to take revenge. You wanted to erase every part of every other woman’s palm on his. You opened your legs for him, night after night, desperate to keep him anchored to you, desperate to make him forget about the other woman and now, you were paying the price.

And when you told Kento, he broke. But not in the same way he did the first time. Not with pure, unfiltered joy. Not with a beaming smile and hopeful eyes. No, this time, Kento’s face crumpled. Yet you know that look on his face. It was just like the first time.

“Baby—” his voice cracked. “You’re….. oh my god, you’re pregnant again?”

And the heartbreak in his voice killed you. Because you knew. You knew exactly what he was thinking. He was thinking we’re not ready. He was thinking not again. He was thinking I just got her back. And now, it is happening again. Yet, you just knew in the back of his mind, he was thinking this was his punishment. This is what he gets for being the worst man on the earth.

The sleepless nights. Postpartum depression. The intimacy issues. The slow unraveling of your marriage. And you could see it, the fear in his eyes. Yet, your husband Kento pushed it down. Because he was Kento fucking Nanami. He was a husband. A father. A provider. And regardless of how horrified he was, he refused to let you see it.

So he smiled.

Or at least, he tried to.

Yet you both knew the truth.

That smile felt like the biggest lie.

“That’s amazing, baby.” he choked, his voice strained. “Another baby. That’s… that’s incredible.”

And then he kissed you, soft and hesitant, like he was forcing himself to be happy. And you felt it. You felt the hesitation. The dread. The underlying regret. But you didn’t say anything. Because you were the one who let it happen. And just like that, the cycle began again.

Kento started working more. He said it was to provide for the baby, but you knew better. You knew it was because he was terrified. Because he was already bracing himself for what was about to come for you to spiral again, for you to shut down again, for you to stop loving him again.

You tried not to fall into the same pit you did last time. You tried to stay upbeat. You tried to keep loving Kento — loving him hard enough to make up for the fact that he once touched another woman. You tried to be a good wife. You tried to be excited about the baby.

But slowly… it just happened again.

The nausea. The fatigue. The aching loneliness when Kento came home late. The bitterness when you saw happy women on campus who still had their futures. The slow, creeping resentment every time you looked at your growing belly and thought I didn’t want this.

And worst of all, you started pulling away from Kento again. Not on purpose. But your body remembered. Your body associated pregnancy with trauma, with pain, with suffering and so it shut down. You couldn’t help it. Every time Kento touched you, your skin crawled. Every time he kissed you, you flinched. Every time he tried to make love to you, you just froze.

Kento felt it.

He felt you slipping away.

He felt your body turning cold again.

He felt the weight of your touchless nights,

He felt your silent dinners, your empty stares again.

And you knew.

You knew it was happening all over again.

But this time — it was worse.

Now you couldn’t stop thinking about her. The woman he had slept with. The one he turned to when you couldn’t love him the way he needed. And every time Kento touched you, you couldn’t help but lay there and wonder over and over again.

Did she feel warmer than you?

Did she kiss him like she wanted him?

Did she make him feel loved in a way you never could?

Kento could see it.

He could see the way you recoiled when he reached for you. He could see the distance growing between you again. He could see the guilt burning you alive. And he hated himself. Because the truth was, he never stopped loving you.

Even when he cheated. Even when he fucked another woman. It was never about love. It was never about you. It was about the ache. The desperation. The years of feeling like he was losing you and just needing something to hold onto. Now he felt like he was losing you again.

And deep down, he knew.

You were never coming back to him.

Not fully. Not the way you used to.

And Kento was slowly breaking under the weight of it.

Because no matter how much he loved you, it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough to keep you from falling out of love with him.

This is the world you gave birth to Nanami Kenshin.

LIFE GOES ON AS THEY USED TO SAY. Twenty five years, two whole decades and a half of that since you and Kento had first stepped into this chaotic life together. And somehow, despite everything, you made it.

You had raised two kids, a boy and a girl. Your Keiko and your Kenshin. They were both smart, both stubborn, both carrying that unmistakable sharpness in their eyes that mirrored your husband as much as their compassion had been garnered from your heart.

In all that agony you had come to know in your life, the pair kept you busy with almost everything they could think of. Troublemaking, homework, soccer games, dance recitals, late-night fevers. Everything about it is the messy, beautiful chaos of parenting that somehow keeps you moving forward.

And then there was Kento’s career, near thirty years as a veteran in the industry. He had gone from being the promising newcomer to a household name. Red carpets. Magazine covers. Award ceremonies where his face shone on giant screens as he walked up to accept yet another trophy. The world adored him. Respected him. Envied him.

And you were right there beside him for all of it.

The photographers always wanted you in the frame. His beautiful wife, standing gracefully at his side, draped in sleek designer dresses and glittering jewelry. They loved the way you smiled for the cameras, how your hand always rested delicately on his arm, how you played the part of the elegant, unwavering woman who had supported her husband through it all.

And for a while, you convinced yourself that this was enough.

That this life, this carefully curated image of family perfection, was what happiness was.

You learned to smile in interviews, to talk about Kento’s dedication as a father and how proud you were of him. You learned to navigate the world of high society — dinner parties with producers, mingling with other industry wives, slipping into that role of effortless charm and poise.

But behind all the glitz and glamour, it was lonely.

With two kids to raise, and a husband to care for, there was little for you.

There was no room for you to be the woman you are.

Kento was rarely home. Always on set, always in meetings, always flying across the country for some event or another. And when he was home, he was exhausted. Conversations grew shorter. His kisses felt rushed. The intimacy you’d once fought so hard to reclaim began to fade again — not because you didn’t want him, but because he was never there.

You kept yourself busy. Raising the kids. Managing the house.

Smiling at galas, posing for cameras, over and over again.

Playing the part of the perfect wife in a perfect marriage.

But sometimes, when the house was dark and the kids were asleep, you’d sit alone in the living room clutching an old photograph from years ago, back when Kento’s hair was still short and his smile still reached his eyes and wonder if this was all there was left.

And maybe it wasn’t enough.

But you told yourself it had to be.

Because you had already sacrificed too much to turn back now.

So, you didn’t think of anything when it broke out in the headlines.

Kento Nanami, the beloved actor, devoted husband, father of two had allegedly been caught cheating again after nearly twenty five years of marriage.

You sat at the kitchen table, having breakfast like normal. The morning sun spilled through the windows, the smell of eggs and coffee filling the air, and the faint sound of the television humming in the background.

“Sources say the woman in question is a production assistant from his latest drama series—”

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t look up.

You just kept stirring your coffee, like the words meant absolutely nothing to you. Kento, on the other hand, was frozen. Fork halfway to his mouth. Face pale. Chest rising and falling like he was trying not to hyperventilate. And then, slowly, ever so carefully, he turned his head and looked at you.

“…Are you alright?” His voice cracked.

And that’s when you smiled.

You smiled, soft and easy. Like none of it mattered. Like you weren’t currently listening to the entire nation gossip about your husband’s infidelity. Like you weren’t being branded the foolish, pathetic wife who stayed after her husband cheated twice. Like you weren’t dying inside.

And with a voice far too calm, you said, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kento’s entire face crumpled.

Because he knew.

He fucking knew.

That wasn’t real. That smile.

That sweetness. That unbothered facade.

It was performative.

It was the same smile you gave him after your first child was born, when you were drowning in postpartum depression but still told him “I’m fine” over and over again.

It was the same smile you gave him one hundred times when he told you he was going to be late at home tonight, when he didn’t have to be.

And now, now you are doing it all over again. Feigning nonchalance. Feigning strength. Feigning normalcy. And it destroyed him to bits beyond what he could stand.

“…Baby.” his voice cracked, his fork clattering against his plate. “You don’t have to…. I mean, we can talk about it if you want. I’ll….I’ll explain everything. I swear to god, it’s not what they’re saying—”

You laughed so heartily.

A soft, almost amused laugh.

And you took a sip of your coffee, still smiling. “I don’t need you to explain anything, Kento.”

His stomach dropped. “Wh–what?”

You met his gaze and your smile never wavered. “It’s not the first time, is it?”

And fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Kento’s mouth fell open. “Baby….no. It’s not like that….I swear I—”

“It’s alright.” You cut him off smoothly. Calmly. Almost too calmly. “Really. I don’t want an explanation.”

Kento visibly flinched. His heart was hammering so loud he swore you could hear it. “…You don’t?”

You shook your head, taking another bite of your eggs. “No. I’m just glad you had fun.”

And Kento lost it.

“Baby….” His voice cracked violently, his chair scraping against the floor as he immediately dropped to his knees beside you, clutching your thigh like his life depended on it. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out again. Please, baby. Please yell at me. Cry. Scream. Break things. Just…. don’t act like you don’t care. Please. Please, baby, I know you care—”

You laughed again.

But this time — it was hollow.

“I don’t.” you said plainly, popping a piece of toast into your mouth.

And that broke Kento completely, you were sure.

“No, no, that’s not true.” his voice shattered, his grip on your thigh desperate. “You love me. I know you do. You still love me. Please don’t….don’t act like you don’t….. I’ll fix it, baby. I swear to god, I’ll fix it, I’ll—”

“Fix it?” you echoed, your voice soft. Curious. “Like you did the first time?”

Kento fucking froze. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Because you never talked about it. Ever. After his first affair, you never once brought it up. You forgave him in the silence. Or at least, you pretended to. You shoved it down, pretended it never happened, and let Kento crawl back into your arms without consequence.

Now you were smiling at him like he was nothing more than a pitiful stranger. “Your ears work fine, don’t they?”

“…I don’t know what to say.” he choked. His hands were shaking. His throat constricted. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please….please just tell me what to do. I’ll fix it. I’ll do anything. Just please don’t—”

“Don’t what?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

The look in your eyes killed him.

“Don’t leave you?” you continued, your voice sickly sweet. “Don’t abandon you like you abandoned me when I needed you the most? Don’t make you feel like I loved someone else the way you made me feel for years?”

Tears burned his eyes. “Baby, please—”

“It’s fine, Kento.” You smiled again. “Really. I’m not mad.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You sipped your coffee. “I’m not anything.”

And Kento completely unraveled.

Because he could see it.

The way you looked at him now. Like he was just a man. Not your husband. Not your Kento. Not the love of your life. Just a man who happened to share your bed, your house, and your children. And it killed him.

“Do you still love me?” he finally choked out, his voice so small.

And you froze.

Just for a second.

But then you smiled again.

Just as soft, sweet, cold as before.

“Of course, I do.”

And that was the sick part, wasn’t it?

You did. You still loved him. You loved him with your entire fucking soul. You loved him so much that it hurt. You loved him and you hated him with equal intensity. It was two sides of the same coin and it was tearing you apart.

And yet even if you do love him, you know what should be.

Kento didn’t deserve that love anymore.

And even if you have to act like you don’t love him, so be it.

Let him suffer the amount of suffering you had over that time.

So you kissed his forehead, brushed his hair back, and whispered. “You should finish your breakfast. You have work later.”

And then you stood up from your seat, cigarette on your lips.

And left him sobbing on the kitchen floor, lamenting.

You had errands left to run, after all.

A wife has too much to do, you know?

358 notes · View notes

verstappenverse · 1 day ago

Text

The Hardest Goodbye

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max is about to leave for the first leg of the season, taking him to the other side of the world. You know it’s part of the job, but it doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier.

Authors Note: Wanted to get this one out before the season officially begins! Wishing everyone an exciting year ☺️

1.2k words / Masterlist

The apartment feels too quiet.

Max’s suitcase is already by the door, zipped up and waiting, an unspoken reminder that time is running out. His travel backpack is slung over the arm of the couch, its front pocket half-open, the edge of his passport just visible inside. His phone charger is coiled neatly in the side compartment ready for him to grab at the last second, just like always.

It’s routine. You’ve watched him pack for countless race weekends before, stood by while he double-checked his gear and made sure he had everything he needed. You’re supposed to be helping him do that now, but instead, you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets with white-knuckled hands.

Max crouches in front of you, pressing a knee into the rug, his hands finding your thighs. “Hey.” His voice is softer than usual, careful.

You don’t look up. If you do, you think your chest might actually crack in half.

“Look at me,” he tries again, squeezing your leg.

You shake your head.

Max exhales through his nose, shifting his weight. “Baby.” His fingers slide under your chin, tilting your head up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a laugh that tastes like salt. “I don’t know.”

But you do know. Of course, you do.

Because this is the longest you will have ever gone without seeing him. Ever.

Since the day you met, Max has never been away for more than a week or two at most. Even during the longest seasons, there was always a way, an opportunity for him to come back, for you to travel to him, or for the two of you to steal whatever time you could in between races.

But now, he was about to start the first four-race leg of the season, and every stop was on the other side of the world. This time, there was no quick visit, no spontaneous weekday together. You couldn’t take time off work, couldn’t rearrange your schedule. For the first time, he was really leaving, and you had no choice but to stay behind.

Australia. China. Japan. Bahrain.

A month and a half.

You know this is part of his job. You’ve always known. You should be fine with it, should be stronger than this, but the ache in your heart only grows heavier with each minute that passes.

The words clog up in your throat. You don’t want to say them because you don’t want to be difficult, don’t want to be the kind of person who makes things harder when Max already has enough on his plate.

But he sees it. He always does.

His thumb strokes the side of your cheek, and his voice drops. “You wish I didn't have to go.”

You laugh with a small sniffle. “Of course I do”

The corner of his mouth twitches, a sad smile that doesn’t quite form. “You never say that.”

You swallow. He’s right. You never say that. You never want him to feel like he’s torn between you and his job, the job that he loves, the job that he was born for, because he isn't. You would never ask him to choose, never put him in a position where he had to weigh his love for you against the sport.

And you love all of it, the early mornings, the late nights, the constant travel, the adrenaline that keeps his blood pumping even when he’s exhausted. You love the fire in his eyes when he talks about racing, the way he comes alive when he’s behind the wheel, the way he belongs to it as much as he belongs to you.

You know what you signed up for, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. But that doesn’t mean you won’t miss him. That doesn’t mean it won’t ache every time he walks out the door, or that you won’t wish, just for a moment, that things were different. Not because you want him to change, but because loving him means letting him go.

Max pushes himself up onto the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in, pressing his lips against your hair. “Come with me.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. “You know I can’t.”

His hand tightens on your arm. “You can.”

“I have work Max, this project” you murmur. “It's important. It’s been in the works for months and I can’t just disappear in the middle of it.”

His lips graze your temple. “Can't you push it back.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head against his shoulder. “It doesn’t work like that. Deadlines and all.”

He exhales sharply, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on your back. “I’m sure they’d survive without you for a little while.”

You press your face into his neck, inhaling his scent like you’re trying to commit it to memory. “Maybe. But I can’t just walk away not now.”

His jaw tenses. “I hate that.”

You sigh, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. “I know.”

You sit in silence for a long moment. His heart is steady under your palm, but you can feel the tension coiled inside him. He’s keeping it together for you, but you can feel the effort it takes.

“You’ll be back before we know it,” you murmur, unsure who you're trying to comfort more. “We’ll call, we’ll text, we’ll—”

Max pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you properly, his brows knitting together. “It’s not the same.”

“I know,” you whisper.

His eyes wander over your face, as if he’s memorising you. “I wish I had more time.”

You force a smile. “You don’t.”

“I could—”

“Max.” You cut him off before he can finish the sentence, before he can say something stupid like skipping his flight and missing endless duties. “Go.” You try to keep your voice steady. “Do what you do best. I’ll be cheering for you.”

He exhales, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll miss you every second.”

You close your eyes. “Me too.”

His hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears you didn’t even realise had fallen. “I’ll call the second I land.”

You nod.

“I’ll text before every session.”

You nod again.

Max swallows, jaw tightening. “I love you.”

Your heart stumbles, just like it always does when he says it, but this time, there’s something heavier behind the words. Like he’s trying to pour every ounce of emotion into them, make them last through every lonely night and every time zone between you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding on so tightly it hurts. “I love you too.”

And then he’s kissing you, and it’s not soft, it’s desperate, needy, like he’s trying to take a piece of you with him.

When he finally pulls away, your breath stutters, and he presses one last lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling himself to his feet.

He slings his backpack over his shoulder, grabs the handle of his suitcase, and hesitates at the door. “One last chance to change your mind and come with me.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

Max sighs. “Okay.” Then presses his lips together like he’s trying to physically stop himself from saying more.

And then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him, and the silence that follows is deafening.

You don’t move. You can’t. Not until your phone buzzes, lighting up with a message that makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

Max: I’m already counting down the days.

259 notes · View notes

ennabear · 19 hours ago

Note

Hiii! I just read the tittie obsessed sevika (i get her) and omfg TITTIE FUCKING?? DO YOU WANT ME TO DIEEE???. I love your writing XX

HAIII BABYYYYY hehehe i was originally just gonna say thanks and i love u but i need to expand on the loser!titty lover!sevika agenda so here’s another blurb!!!!! please don’t dieeeee i love u so much 😭😭

ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ men + minors dni

not a day goes by where sevika leaves your tits alone. the first thing she does when she wakes up is rolls over and gropes your chest, mumbling something sleepily about how much she loves your body and mind. you wake up to her with her big, warm hands pinching your nipples every morning, instantly giggling and blushing and rolling over to kiss her pretty face.

she’ll grab onto them even more as the two of you get dressed, pouting and whining when you cover them up with a shirt or a bra (or worse— both.) when you come to visit her at the bar, she’ll yank your top down like nobody’s business. staring down your cleavage without a care in the world, but shooting one of her signature deadly glares to anyone else who dares to peek.

sometimes she doesn’t even mean to stare, it’s just where her eyes naturally rest when she zones out, the curves and valleys of your tits a familiar, comforting sight. and by night, once you have her settled down and taken care of, she’ll fall asleep with one of your nipples in her mouth, forming a river of drool that trails down between them.

so when you bring up titty fucking to her? explaining to her how badly you wanna have her thick strap sliding in between your tits? she cries. happy tears, of course, but she falls to her knees and sobs into the front of your shirt, repeating something like, “i— i just can’t… believe… that you’re mine.”

she’s giddy with excitement the whole day, it drives you nuts. partially because she’s so goddamn annoying, but partially because it turns you on so much you can hardly see straight. she has a different twinkle in her eye, something more like a red-hot flame lighting her usual innocent, sparkly eyes. she’s practically humping you when she wakes up, responding to your “keep it in your pants, sev.” with a snarky, “guess i’ll just save it for later.”

when you arrive at the bar to steal her from silco, she’s not even playing cards with her usual crowd or having a drink at the bar. in fact, she almost runs into you as you enter, eager to make her way home to you. you can feel the excitement buzzing in her veins as she walks beside you, forgoing her cape to drape it around you because the arousing heat pooling in her core is more than enough to keep her warm.

the front door doesn’t even close before she has you pinned to the wall, greedily shoving her tongue in your mouth to savor your taste. her hands slide under your shirt in an instant, squeezing your tits in her warm palms and teasingly rubbing over your areolas with her fingertips. you whimper into her mouth, pulling her closer by her belt and rubbing her toned back and waist softly.

her legs tangle with yours as you attempt to get the door closed and make it to the bedroom, the two of you clumsily stumbling over each other in a giddy, shaky mess of nerves. sevika flashes you one of her big, sparkling grins as you undress yourself, and you almost fold in two when you see her cheeks reaching her ears and her tooth gap sitting proudly in the middle of them.

“well? you gonna get strapped up?” you ask, half naked in her gaze.

“shoot. i guess.” she giggles, her sweet smile turning into a shit-eating grin.

you stumble out of your bottoms as she stumbles into her harness, buckling herself up and tightening it accordingly. you lay down in bed, squeezing your tits in your own hands while you wait for your wife to get situated. her eyes grow wide and starry as she sees you and realizes what’s about to happen, and suddenly all of her confidence is gone.

“sevi?” you ask, grabbing her attention. her eyebrows perk up, but she’s frozen in place. “you ready, baby?”

she nods, slowly crawling up to you while carving every inch of your body into her memory. once her strap is hanging just a few inches away from you, you gently yet firmly grab her hips. you can feel her trembling, probably because she’s an overwhelming mix of horny and nervous, and it makes you giggle so hard you forget your objective.

“don’t laugh at me.” sevika pouts, staring down at your tits.

one last chuckle at your sweet wife and you’re done, spitting in your hand and rubbing it up and down the length of sevika’s strap. she squirms as if she can feel it, her human hand grabbing one of your own.

“ready?” you ask for a final time.

“f-fuck, yeah…” she whispers, just quiet enough for you to hear everything she’s thinking in that small response.

your elbows nearly meet as you push your tits together, and sevika gives one full thrust before her hips are stuttering wildly. you can feel some heat and wetness dripping onto your stomach, and you groan in response to her groans.

“janna, i can feel it. i swear i can feel it. you’re so fucking soft.” she whines, big eyes fluttering at the sight below her. your heart pounds every time her hips thrust closer to you, and you think you could cum just from this. just from seeing your wife panting and whimpering above you.

at some point, she sticks a thumb in her mouth, coats it in saliva, and brings it down to rub at your nipples. her human thumb is thick and rough, it gives you all the stimulation you need. but her mech hand? it’s somehow even better. the cold metal of her point fingers has your nipples puckering harder than ever, sending a chill down your spine. the way you’re both moaning is obscenely beautiful, like a choir mixed in with the creaking of the bed and the soft slapping of your tits against one another.

your fingernails dig into her thighs as you get closer and closer, honestly not suspecting this. you mainly thought this would be for sevika’s pleasure, but you’re enjoying it just as much as she is. every time the tip of her strap peeks through your tits, you whine and squirm, rubbing your thighs together in search of some friction. sevika senses this, speeding up her thrusts and pinching your tits in her grasp.

slowly but surely, you feel that familiar sensation bubbling up in your stomach, only doubling in intensity by the second. her dark eyeliner is smudging and starting to drip down her face as she sweats— or maybe she’s crying again? probably some mix of both. you cum when you make eye contact with her, moaning and squeezing your arms together as tightly as possible.

you can’t tell if sevika cums too or not, all you know is that when you come down from your orgasm, there’s a puddle of her slick collecting on her stomach and dripping down her thighs, and that she’s slumped over the headboard as she catches her breath.

“sit on my face?” you ask from under her, still breathless but you’d gladly suffocate between her thighs.

sevika chuckles, then giggles, then cackles as she reflects on everything that just happened. “i love you so much.” she giggles, tears in her eyes as she yanks her strap off and prepares to sink down on top of you. little did you know, this would be the longest night of your life.

#HELPP I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY #MY BAD I’M JUST PROJECTING #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x female reader #sevika x you #sevika arcane x reader #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends #arcane

257 notes · View notes

harrysespresso · 2 days ago

Text

short king | yt22

♡ summary: yuki hard launched over winter break but no one realized how tall you were till you’re photographed together in the melbourne paddock (essentially making the internet explode over your height difference & how cute your relationship is)

♡ pairing: yuki tsunoda x gf!reader

♡ warnings: none just fluff

♡ faceclaim: minnie mills

♡ a/n: this is a little short but i might post more of this pairing in the future (if that’s something you guys would want 🫣

masterlist

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

𝜗𝜚

f1gossip

Liked by user221 and 23,128 others

f1gossip Yuki Tsunoda photographed with girlfriend, YN LN as they entered the VCARB motorhome today.

tagged: yourusername, yukitsunoda0511

View all comments

user887 they’re adorable 🤧

user120 SHES TALL I REPEAT SHES TALL

user881 EVERYONES TALL TO YUKI 😭

user977 user881 that’s just cruel 😭

user98 THEIR HEIGHT DIFFERENCE STFU-

user904 TALL QUEEN??

user654 TALL QUEEN 🤩

user021 THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE 😭😭😩😩😩😩😩😩

user927 IVE DIED- THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE THE FITS THE BODY LANGUAGE— THEYRE ADORABLE 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣

user565 paddock it couple??

user196 YESS

user225 obsessed with them 😭

user981 they’re like perfect for each other 😭😭🤧

—— twitter

replies —

user881 it’s f1’s tomdaya 😭

user002 as he should ‼️‼️

user765 tall gf x short bf is always a POWER COUPLE 😭

user923 HONESTLY

user454 IM OBSESSED WITH THEM 😭😭😭

user921 tall girl recognition is so special to me

~~~

user981 OMG 😭

user102 THATS- 😭

user095 the fact she’s like short end of tall but still taller than him 💀

user410 i mean any taller would be crazyyyy 😭😭

user329 THATS LIKE A PERFECT HEIGHT DIFFERENCE 😭😭

user410 ITS LIKE GOALS FR

user923 quickly becoming my favorite couple 🫣🫣

user410 i fear im parasocial about them 🤧

user923 i’m actually their pet cat 🤧🤧

user991 IM OBSESSED 😭

—— instagram

yourusername

Liked by francisca.cgomes and 245,784 others

yourusername aussie date night with my short king (i don’t think he’s that small guys 🤷‍♀️)

tagged: yukitsunoda0511

View all comments

user983 BYE NOT THE TINY YUKI 😭

yourusername no idea what you mean he looks reallyyy tall here 🤷‍♀️

user983 right you right my bad 😭

user107 MYY FAVORITE WAG 💀💀

avantika that’s CRUEL

yourusername 🫣😭

user990 THIS IS COUPLE GOALS GUYS ‼️‼️

user804 SHE SLAYYS

lola.tung LOOK AT YOUU 😍

yourusername ILY 🫶🏻

francisca.cgomes beautiful girl 😍

yourusername mwah mwah 🫶🏻🫶🏻

yukitsunoda0511 YOURE SO 😍😝

yourusername AW POOKIE 🤭🤭

yukitsunoda0511 YN 😭 WTF

yourusername whaaa what happened 🤷‍♀️

yukitsunoda0511 😭😭

user021 TINY YUKI 😭😭😭

user103 YUKI WAS EVEN SHOCKED 😭

user978 he got caught up in how hot his gf is 😭😭💀💀

lando can’t believe you’d do him like that 🙂‍↔️

yourusername whaaat he’s a short king ☹️☺️

user299 yourusername bye that’s iconic 😭😭😭

danielricciardo see i know you edited that photo yuki isn’t that tall ☝️

yourusername you got me 🫤😔

yukitsunoda0511 i’m being bullied.

user765 YN quickly becoming everyone’s favorite wag:

user067 wow yuki is way taller in that photo! great picture angles queen! ♥︎ by author

lilymhe you’re actually my favorite person ever 😭😭

yourusername i’m flattered omg 🤭

—— yourusername instagram story

caption 1 i’ve been told by an unnamed source (yuki) that i need to apologize for bullying him on the internet (consider the next slide my formal apology) caption 2: my SINCEREST apologies to my sweet sweet tiny little baby pookie

replies—

yukitsunoda0511 this doesn’t feel like an apology 🤨

➥ yourusername oh! that’s because it’s not hope this helps ☺️

➥ yukitsunoda0511 that’s just cruel treating your short king bf this way 🙂‍↔️

➥ yourusername the internet started it i’m just fueling the fans 🤭

➥ yukitsunoda0511 MENACE 😭

➥ yourusername i love you too 😚

➥ yukitsunoda0511 🥲 i love you (even though you’re a bully)

user992 NEVER CHANGE QUEEN 😭

user021 THE MEMES 😭😭😭

user192 this is so gen z i love it💀💀

lilymhe BYE 😭😭😭😭

avantika formula one fans don’t know how unhinged you are yet 😭

➥ yourusername they’re learning so very slowly 😭😭😭

user876 my favorite f1 couple BY FAR 😭😭😭😭😭

—— instagram

yukitsunoda0511

Liked by pierregasly and 398,923 others

yukitsunoda0511 my tall girl dump 🩵

tagged: yourusername

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user985 STOPPP 😣😭

user765 me thinking this was a cute dump until i got to the last slide: 🥲

pierregasly EVIL 😭😭

yukitsunoda0511 this is revenge‼️

user525 I CANT 😭 THEY HAVE THE SAME SENSE OF HUMOR

user945 we better continue getting embarrassing photos of them both cause this is iconic 😭😭😭

yourusername YUKI WTF 😭

yukitsunoda0511 whaaaa my finger must’ve slipped 🤷‍♂️

yourusername I CANT STAND YOU 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

lilymhe BABY YN 😭😭

yourusername i was the same height as yuki is now

yukitsunoda0511 yourusername WTF

isackhadjar despite the last photo this is actually a very cute post 😭

user917 the fact they can joke with each other like this is what makes them goals 😭😭

user876 the height difference also helps

user917 that it does.

user673 YN WAS ADORABLE AS A KID 😭😭

user826 couple goals 😭😭

user918 super parasocial rn 🥲🥲

~~~

yourusername

Liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 152,543 others

yourusername that’s a wrap on melbourne!! was gonna do a cute lil dump but realized i already posted like every photo i took so enjoy the only one no one posted 🤷‍♀️😚

tagged: yukitsunoda0511

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avantika too chronically online to save photos for a dump 💀

yourusername shhh don’t call me out im supposed to be cool and mysterious 👀👀

user914 CUTIES 😭😭

user376 tomdaya of f1 ‼️

user995 short king x tall queen 😝

lilymhe had so much fun!! can’t wait till next time😚

yourusername mwah you’re the best 🫶🏻🫶🏻

francisca.cgomes best person to wander around the paddock with!

yourusername love ya kiks 🫶🏻

user934 this is the cutest 😭😭

user109 her little grin theyre so in looooove 😭😭😭😭

user522 PADDOCK IT COUPLE ‼️

user876 POINTS FOR YUKI!!! YUKI DOMINATION ‼️‼️‼️

user995 YUKI DOMINATION ‼️

yukitsunoda0511 i love you sm 🩵 thank you for being my lucky charm this weekend and for always supporting me 🙃

yourusername i love you so much yuki and im always your biggest fan 🥹🥲🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

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astrolook · 2 days ago

Text

Retrograde Planets: You’re Not Behind, You’re Just Built Different

Retrograde planets don’t ruin your life—they just make sure you actually master something before moving on. Society says, “Hurry up,” but your soul said, “Nah, let’s do this right.” You people are late-bloomers. Here’s how each retrograde and some house placements play out :

Mercury Rx – Overthinks, rethinks, then finally says something, and it’s actually genius.

Mercury Rx in the 3rd House – Socially awkward growing up but becomes the most interesting person in the room later.

Mercury Rx in the 9th House – School didn’t make sense, but somehow ends up teaching others something deep.

Mercury Rx in the 12th House – Talks to self and ghosts more than people (and probably makes more sense to them too).

Mercury Rx in the 1st House – Childhood stutter or shyness, but later becomes a powerful speaker.

Venus Rx – Relationships are a disaster early on, but ends up with real, unshakable love later.

Venus Rx in the 2nd House – Struggles with self-worth but later becomes the blueprint for confidence.

Venus Rx in the 7th House – Attracts karmic relationships first, real soulmate second.

Venus Rx in the 10th House – Awkward with status, then ages into a mysterious, admired icon.

Venus Rx in the 8th House – Intimacy issues at first, but later masters deep, powerful connections.

Mars Rx – Slow to start, but when they finally commit, they can’t be stopped.

Mars Rx in the 1st House – Doesn’t fight back at first, then one day snaps and never takes disrespect again.

Mars Rx in the 6th House – Bad at routines and fitness early on, but ends up super disciplined.

Mars Rx in the 10th House – Career is a slow build, but once they find their path, they dominate.

Mars Rx in the 4th House – Childhood anger issues, but later builds the peaceful home they never had.

Jupiter Rx – Luck works backwards for them, but when it hits, it’s massive.

Jupiter Rx in the 4th House – Born into chaos but builds a stable, abundant home later in life.

Jupiter Rx in the 8th House – Wealth and deep transformation come late, but they come.

Jupiter Rx in the 11th House – Struggles with social circles but eventually finds their real people.

Jupiter Rx in the 3rd House – Trouble with learning early on but later becomes wise beyond their years.

Jupiter Rx in the 5th House – Irreligious but spiritual. Either an agnostic or an atheist.

Saturn Rx – Feels like they got zero guidance, but ends up wiser and stronger than everyone else.

Saturn Rx in the 7th House – Relationships are either messy or non-existent at first, but when you are ready , your "one' would reach you and you don't need to look for them.

Saturn Rx in the 10th House – Career setbacks young, but ends up the boss when everyone else burns out.

Saturn Rx in the 5th House – Struggles with self-expression but later finds their true creative power.

Saturn Rx in the 2nd House – Money struggles early on but later builds serious wealth.

Uranus Rx – Outwardly normal, inwardly rebellious. Society never sees it coming.

Uranus Rx in the 11th House – Feels like an outcast early in life but later finds their real people.

Uranus Rx in the 6th House – Can’t stand routine jobs but eventually carves out a unique career.

Neptune Rx – Trust issues with reality but also sees through the illusions most people fall for.

Neptune Rx in the 12th House – Psychic but probably confused about it.

Neptune Rx in the 5th House – Weird childhood dreams turn into real artistic or creative talent later.

Pluto Rx – Has already been through five lifetimes of transformation by their 20s.

Pluto Rx in the 6th House – Workaholic tendencies but eventually learns to not self-destruct for a paycheck.

Pluto Rx in the 1st House – Starts life feeling powerless but transforms into someone no one can mess with.

Retrogrades don’t mean you’re cursed—they mean you’re on your own timeline. And trust me, that timeline? It’s better. DM me for a complete astrology reading!

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goldfades · 2 days ago

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how do joe and reader go about disciplining hayes especially when they have different views on things?

this is such a good question because parenting is hard, especially when you and your partner don’t always see eye to eye on discipline 😭

joe and y/n are both really hands-on parents, super involved in hayes’ life, but they definitely have different approaches when it comes to discipline. y/n is more of a we need to talk about it, explain why it’s wrong, and make sure he understands type of parent. she believes in gentle parenting—not in a way that lets hayes get away with everything, but in a way that makes sure he knows why certain behaviors aren’t okay instead of just punishing him for them

joe, on the other hand, grew up in a very structured household. he’s not strict, but he’s definitely a “you do something wrong, there are consequences” type of dad. not in a harsh way, but he believes that discipline helps build character and responsibility

so yeah, they butt heads sometimes. like, if hayes throws a toy at the wall in a little burst of frustration, y/n’s first instinct is to get down to his level and be like “hey, we don’t throw things when we’re upset. let’s talk about why you’re feeling this way.” joe’s reaction is more like “hey, no. we don’t do that. go pick it up.” and if hayes refuses, joe’s ready to start dishing out consequences while y/n’s still trying to navigate the feelings side of it

but despite their differences, they always make sure to be a united front. if they disagree about how to handle a situation, they never argue about it in front of hayes. they’ll step away and talk it out privately, find a middle ground. joe has softened a lot because of y/n—he’s learned to be more patient, to slow down and listen instead of just reacting. and y/n has also learned that sometimes, discipline is necessary, and that teaching consequences doesn’t mean she’s being unfair or too harsh

at the end of the day, they balance each other out. they’re raising hayes to be kind, to be responsible, to be aware of his emotions while also knowing that actions have consequences. and most importantly, they make sure he always knows that no matter what, he’s so deeply loved🥹💛

#sweet on you ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader

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artist-issues · 2 days ago

Text

I have never seen anything so satisfyingly bad in my entire life, and we’re going on like ten years of these Live Action Remakes.

Don’t you DARE go see this movie if you love the real Lilo & Stitch.

1 - Where is Gantu? Why did they cut him out of the trailer? Is it because they haven’t finished rendering him yet, because let me tell you, that’s what it looks like for every other character.

2 - Why is Stitch so small. Why is he so small. Why is Stitch that small. He’s supposed to be the same size as Lilo. 1 because it creates more visually-appealing shot compositions when the story is focused on the TWO of them 2 because thematically he is “a future Lilo,” he is the little monster-version of herself that she could turn into if she didn’t have family 3 because the size of a 6 year-old is the perfect balance between “threatening” and “non-threatening” when he has to interact with toddlers and 18 year-old women and 40-foot-tall aliens alike. He cannot. BE. That small. What, we’re supposed to have him stand up on a stool or a stack of books or a countertop every time he and Lilo need to look each other in the eyes?? Did anyone think while making this movie?

3 - How does his orange jumpsuit look so much lazier than it does when it’s a hand-drawn collection of colors and shapes in the original?

4 - Why did they choose the take where the New Nani Actress said “nobody get’s left behind” in a whiny, exasperated voice? When the real Nani specifically delivered that line as if she were somberly, mournfully, reverently remembering what her parents told her? And then moves on to “slightly-annoyed” but only when it’s time to say “I know, I know.”

5 - Why is Stitch so small.

6 - Is that Jumba’s voice?? Why? Why is it not even deep? Why did they re-write the line so he doesn’t mention Stitch as a “monstrosity?”

7 - Speaking of monstrosities—go back and re-do Pleakley. All of him. What—what happened. What happened?? They made every alien I can see in the trailer uglier and less appealing than Stitch—which is SO NOT THE POINT OF HIS CHARACTER DESIGN—but none looked worse to me than Pleakley. He has a fish eye. It is horrifying.

8 - And they made sun-tan-ice-cream-tourist look local. So like…what’s the point of her taking his picture, then? In the beginning of the movie? He’s in the movie to be an example of a hapless tourist, and tourists mean something specific in LILO’s little headspace—she takes safari-pictures of them in her hometown like they’re a rare, foreign sight, because that’s her way of processing the reality that these are people who specifically come to her home just to leave again—and Lilo has issues with people leaving.

9 - Don’t put Stitch on a leash. Don’t do that. There’s a reason they don’t do that in the movies. 1 He is super strong and he is not trying that hard to hide his super strength, especially not when it comes to resisting Nani telling him what to do. 2 Lilo and Nani live in a very laid-back sleepy neighborhood, it changes the vibe when dogs are on leashes. It’s supposed to feel so laid-back that there are lots of free-roaming dogs and no strictly-enforced leash-laws. There are other dogs in the movie and none of them wear leashes or collars. (I know it’s small but the small choices build the movie.)

10 - Lilo. I like that little girl. She can play Lilo all day for all I care. But that is not Lilo. Lilo doesn’t get hip-checked to the ground and then sit there looking sad. I don’t—why do I have to say that? That’s many people’s favorite part of the movie, that she just goes ballistic on Mertle the minute she’s provoked. That better just be a specific edit in the trailer. They better not have cut out her punching Mertle Edmunds in the face. And you know what else? She does not. SCREAM. When she first meets Stitch! You know they could’ve done that, right?? You realize that every other character who sees Stitch for the first time reacts LIKE THIS:

BUT NOT LILO. LILO does not react like any old stereotypical girl. She also does not react like any alien from any planet or any grown women or any tourists expecting to see foreign sights. She reacts uniquely like Lilo: like a nervous little girl hoping to find a friend, who doesn’t bat an eye if that potential friend is blue and shark-mouthed and monstrous. (Everything else about that little girl is perfect, I like her line delivery, I like that she goes “pretty close” when he mispronounces “family,” the original Lilo says “pretty close” in the same tone when she’s trying to teach him how to say new words in the television series.) 11 - Why doesn’t Stitch’s face move at all? Why does it look like his eye muscles and nose muscles have no range of motion, but his lips have way too much? He’s supposed to talk with his jaws more than his lips, like how a crocodile can’t chew or keep food in so it just opens and shuts it’s jaw and throws food to the back of it’s head.

12 - Speaking of re-writing lines, what’s with Lilo and Stitch having an exchange where he admits to being “bad??” And then she point-blank says “family isn’t perfect. But that doesn’t mean they’re not good.”

Is that supposed to be a nod to Stitch saying, at the end of the movie, “It’s little and broken but still good?”

Do you know why the real Stitch is the one to say “it’s (his family’s) little and broken, but still good?” Because he’s saying “good” as in, “acceptable.” “The way it ought to be.” Not “good” as in “morally good” the way that Stitch is “morally bad.” He just uses the word “good” because Stitch can barely speak English and that was the simplest, best way for him to say what he was trying to communicate. If you take him to mean “morally good” then the whole point of the movie gets ruined.

The point of the movie is that the people in your family aren’t perfect, but imperfection won’t break your LOVE for them. It doesn’t mean you ignore your imperfections, and it doesn’t mean you embrace those imperfections and celebrate those imperfections—if it did, you know what, Stitch would still push Lilo to the ground and wreck her stuff and laugh when she’s hurting, the way he does because of his “imperfections” at the start of the movie. But instead, what family is supposed to do with “imperfections,” according to the original movie, is love you anyway and stick around helping you work through them.

That’s the whole point of “nobody gets left behind or forgotten.”

It cannot mean “family members aren’t perfect but we still believe they’re morally good people.” Because that implies that it’s the fact that they’re “morally good people” that makes you stick around, when the whole point of the movie is the opposite: Stitch is objectively morally evil, and they choose to stick around anyway.

Stitch is objectively morally evil. I have to stress that. That’s the whole movie. The whole movie is “what if we start with the villain and redeem him.” If he’s not a villain he doesn’t need redeeming and if he’s not bad it takes all the power out of Lilo’s love for him.

And honestly, he never comes to terms with the fact that he’s “morally bad” in this movie. That’s not the point. He would never admit “Stitch bad” in the original movie. Chris Sanders said, “By the end of the film, he’s not a better person. He has just understood family.”

He becomes “a better person” in the epilogue. But in the original movie, Stitch doesn’t think so much about the difference between “bad” and “good.” He thinks more about the difference between “belonging” and “not belonging.”

Why is this so hard

If you like me don’t go see this movie. More importantly, if you like the original movie—if you think it was good—if you think it was excellent—accept no imitations. Do not go see this new remake.

Remember what Anika Noni Rose just said about the new Princess and the Frog shorts that are coming out—Disney is counting numbers. Do not stream. Do not buy tickets. Just stream and watch the original. And tweet Chris Sanders and tell him how much you love the old one.

#Lilo & stitch #live action lilo & stitch #lilo & stitch live action #live action #remake #rehash #reboot #live action reboot #not my Disney #stitch #lilo #experiment 626 #Pleakley #Jumba #trailer reaction #lilo & stitch 2025 #lilo & stitch 2002 #lilo and stitch

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queenjulia11 · 2 days ago

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Oh my god. Okay.

So I was under the impression that Crokas and Fiedra’s “boss and bodyguard” dynamic was a mutually agreed upon thing. They both knew what they had was something deeper than that, but it was easier emotionally to not actually put a label on the relationship — imagine if they called each other mother and son in Rybad-Kol and then something happened to one of them, y’know? Much easier to mourn your bodyguard than your son. I got the sense that they were both content with this.

But now we know just how one-sided that dynamic really was. And I don’t think this was something Crokas just suddenly realized with his intelligence boost: it was always bothering him, just a little bit, to see Fiedra hold him at an arm’s length. Now he just finally has the words for it. And yeah, that hurts. This scene feels particularly brutal and real in a way that I don’t think anyone was really expecting, but when you look back at the life Crokas has lived and the people he’s interacted with besides Fiedra: it makes perfect sense.

Celeste says “you are family to us.” After a few weeks of travel. Rux calls him “brother” the moment he sees him. Crokas has seen how easy it is to be accepted as family by others — how things could be. But Fiedra? He’s a prize to her. After all these years, he’s just her bodyguard.

I think with the deep gruff voice it’s easy to forget that Crokas is the equivalent of an 18 year-old. It’s a time in life when most people are able to look back at how they were raised and finally put together just what their parents got wrong; while still maybe not having all the pieces as to why, or what was really going on.

Crokas doesn’t forgive Fiedra right away because he assumes her apology is only coming now because he’s called her out. If he never said anything, would she ever call him her son? Look at Alex’s face during Fiedra’s apology: it’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear from his mother but he can’t forgive her yet. He’s still a teenager: the anger feels easier than accepting the love because the apology doesn’t undo the years of pain that he couldn’t even fully understand before now. That’s the hard part about forgiving someone: it still hurts.

“I needed a mom. Not to fight for a boss.”

But of course, she is his mom. Nothing could ever change that. The fact that she’s apologizing at all — that she’s going out of her way to hunt down a nobleman because she’s just so disgusted by anyone who would abuse a child proves that Fiedra Marrow is a mother whether she calls herself one or not. She’s his mom and he loves her, and he will always go back to her.

Unspoken love can hurt worse than unrequited love. But once it’s finally said out loud, nothing can break it. Fiedra learning how to call Crokas her son means he can finally say it, too:

“Don’t ever touch my mother again.”

And the fact that he still calls her boss sometimes is just so damn cute, and such an 18 year-old thing to do. A little nudge that acknowledges the hurt while still accepting that Fiedra is going to do better going forward. Allowing her the chance to do better. For her son.

What a beautiful story Alex and Jasmine have shared with all of us. ❤️

“Maybe one day you’ll have bodyguards of your own to be just as proud of.”

Oh my god that’s how she calls him her son. Oh my god. She’s his tiny mom and they love each other and neither of them can say it. Fuck.

#Alex Ward has proven that he can also perfectly capture angsty teenagers #I love this big crocodile baby and his tiny mom so much you guys #new favorite dynamic fr fr #Fiedra may not be the best mom but she’s HIS mom #and now she gets to be Timothy’s mom too #that little wink wink nudge nudge of don’t fuck it up is so great too #like we are not LETTING the work stop here #breaking the cycle #exu spoilers #exu crokas #exu fiedra #critical role #exu divergence #alexander ward #jasmine don

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luiluvr · 20 hours ago

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let it grow || luigi mangione

dad!luigi i love u forever :( based off this request! spent a lot of time listening to let it grow, cause the Lorax soundtrack goes hard, also this is to the person who wanted boy dad luigi!! <3

WARNINGS: none! no uses of y/n, & i didn't give the kids a name this time — leaving it to ur imagination! slightly proof read

SUMMARY: after taking a wind-down shower, you hear murmurs from the kid's bedroom, Luigi is reading them his (and their) favorite bedtime story: The Lorax.

WC: 1k

The Lorax. Always The Lorax.

Luigi’s all-time favorite as a child, he was so giddy when you both finally had children of your own – he made sure he had the book on hand at all times. Even when they were babies that didn’t fathom what was happening; he’d read to them. Again and again, honestly you get sick of hearing the same story all the time. It’s meaningful to him, which is respectable, for it being a children’s book it reflects the real world plenty.

Most kids wanted to read other books by now, but your two sons never complained once when they asked Luigi to read to them. When he pulled out The Lorax, they’d be so excited. They just loved hearing him read, he had this aura. He would express the characters so well, exclaim and imitate sounds; so the kids preferred him reading over you. You read to them every so often when Luigi wasn't readily available, but besides then, he was theirs for bedtime stories.

For the night you left Luigi to get the kids tucked in to bed while you showered, you needed that fifteen-minutes of peace and quiet, he never turned down the opportunity to do something with the kids while benefiting you in the process.

You managed to wash off, get your hair dried so it wasn’t uncomfortable to sleep at night. Luigi didn’t seem too invested in doing a lot tonight, so you figured he wouldn’t. Until you went out into your room and heard some murmuring down the hallway. You raise an eyebrow and slowly walk towards the noise, mid-cleaning your ears.

“That was long, long ago. But each day since that day I've sat here and worried and worried away. Through the years, while my buildings have fallen apart, I've worried about it with all of my heart.” Luigi’s voice echoes softly as you peer into the door, smirking softly as he uses his best Once-ler voice.

“But now,” he says softly, “Now that you're here, the word of the Lorax seems perfectly clear. UNLESS someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not.” The two boys with thick curls on their small heads, similar to Luigi’s – look at him. Listening intently. Despite hearing this story a hundred times before, it was as if they were still taking it in for the first time – all over again. They were curled on either side of him, watching the pages.

His gaze shifts to the boys, and he smiles, not quite finished reading but wanting to interact. “So, what does that mean exactly?”

“If somebody doesn’t care, then nothing’s gonna get better?” For kids their age, they caught onto things well. Or it’s the fact Luigi has explained every waking detail of this book even though they 100% didn’t understand the worldly concepts connected to the writings.

“That’s right, so suppose something’s not right in your life, you have to care a lot about it to actually fix it. You can say ‘yeah, I want to be better about this,’ but never do anything. It can also mean about different timeline movements that changed our world today. Like racial equality, or women’s rights. If no one ever actually cared enough to change those things, do you think the world would be how it is?”

“No.” The youngest says. He’s only three-years-old so his vocabulary was still a work in progress.

“I don’t think so dad.” The older boy murmurs from his bed.

“You’re right,” he began, until your older boy interrupted. “Dad, do you think when Dr. Seuss was writing that he was thinking about the world we live in rather than the one he created?” His voice was pitchy, and he stumbled on a few words, but for a five-year-old it was rather impressive – even to you.

Luigi smiled at that, he was so proud his boy was learning, soon the youngest would pick up on it too, he was just too little right now. He only liked the drawings – a very simple boy. “Absolutely, kiddo. If I could prove any theory I’ve ever had, it would be this book, right here,” he gestures at the small hard-back cover he’s had since he was a child. “Is based on our reality.”

It always fascinated you how Luigi had such a way with the two little ones. “So… Catch!’ Calls the Once-ler. He let something fall. ‘It’s a Truffula seed. The last one of all! You're in charge of the last of the Truffula Seeds. And Truffula Trees are what everyone needs. Plant a new Truffula. Treat it with care. Give it clean water. And feed it fresh air. Grow a forest. Protect it from axes that hack. Then the Lorax and all of his friends may come back.’

“They let it grow!!” Your oldest giggles. He really liked the book, but Luigi recently introduced them to the animated film, and he adored the music the most.

“They let it grow indeed.” He smiles.

Luigi flipped through the final two pages, gently shut the book and gazed over his sons. They gave him cheesy grins as he sat the book on a small shelf by the bedside, your oldest scurried back to his bed across the room, while the youngest admired his father – and for a moment his eyes flicker to you.

You winked at him before Luigi gave them both goodnight kisses. In unison their youthful voices, “Night daddy!”

“Goodnight you two, get lots of sleep. I love you.”

“Love you too!”

“Wuv you!”

Luigi chuckled, and turned off their lamp, leaving only the illumination from a small dinosaur night light you bought when your first was born. You waited outside, causing Luigi to jump slightly when he shut the door. “You’re always lurking around, y’know that?”

You chuckle, “yes, how cruel of me… Those kids are going to be able to repeat that book word for word one day.”

“Yeah, well. It teaches them a really important lesson.”

“Does it?”

“Very much so, my love.”

“And what’s that?" You grin, holding his arm as you both walk to your room.

"That I was the only one willing to read to them."

#luigi mangione #luigi thoughts #luigi x reader #luigi mangione fanfiction #luiluvr #luigi nicholas mangione #luigi fanfiction #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x yn

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ghostofwriting · 2 days ago

Text

In London: how strange that i don’t know you at all

Rafe x Reader

warnings: mentions of cheating

Word Count: 2,036

In London: Series Masterlist

Note: This is part of the In London universe, and it can be read standalone. If you want to read the series in chronological order (so far) this would be part one. I strongly recommend reading them in order of release for the shock value lol 🤗

Summary: The aftermath of what happened when she found out about what he had done. (vague because of spoilers especially if you're reading in chronological order).

She had always known Kildare Island in a way few others could ever understand. She knew the salt in the air, the feel of the sand between her toes, the warmth of the sun on her skin, and most importantly, she knew Rafe Cameron. She knew him better than he knew himself. She knew what made him tick, what hurt him, how deeply he truly loved. For the past four years, she had built her life around him, their relationship a steady pulse of both passion and tension that echoed through the waves of their youth. They’d grown up together, laughed together, fought together, and loved each other fiercely.

She thought she knew him.

Everything came crashing down in a single, gut-wrenching moment. She had never been one to eavesdrop, but that day, she couldn’t ignore the whispers. The soft laughter that floated to her from behind the old boathouse. The voices she recognized immediately, unmistakably. Kelce’s and Topper’s.

“I feel awful. I feel like this is something she should know.” Kelce.

“It happened so long ago. Let bygones be bygones.” Topper.

“She’s our friend too. She should know that her boyfriend was fucking around with her so called best friend.” The way he says it makes her suspect that he knows she’s listening. She wants to believe that he knew she was there and decided to tell her “accidentally” to save his ass from Topper and Rafe.

She loved Kelce. He was one of her closest friends. Even still, he kept this from her for who knows how long.

She feels her heart stumble, a cold shiver runs down her spine. Her legs give way beneath her, but she steadies herself against the wall, watching as the world she has known shatters before her eyes. The reality of it hits her like a wave, crashing with such force she can hardly breathe.

For a long moment, she stands there, trying to process it, trying to hold it together. But all she can hear is the sound of her own pulse in her ears. She stumbles back and rushes inside to gather her things. She doesn’t notice Barry standing in front of her as she hurries, grabbing things in a fury. She was supposed to stay the weekend, stay for the rest of her life and now it’s all over.

“Hey? Are you good?” Did Barry know? She freezes for a second. Did they all keep this from her?

Barry was her friend too. But weren’t they all supposed to be her friends? They were more Rafe’s than hers. Did she even have any friends? She thought she had Kie to call her own and look at how they ended up.

With her best friend underneath her boyfriend. She wonders how many times it happened. Was it a summer long affair? Was it once or twice? Were they both drunk or was she out of town? Maybe she and Rafe had fought and she drove him to Kie. Did it matter? Would any of that change the outcome?

“I need to leave.” She says to Barry, sidestepping him.

“What? You were making us breakfast in the morning.” He says innocently, as if her vision wasn’t closing in on her.

“Make your own damn breakfast.” Her voice wavers as she continues to grab her things. Where the fuck is her notebook?

“Princess kook?” Barry hesitantly says “what’s wrong?” His voice is deep, serious.

“Like you fucking care.” Barry looks at her, he’s worried now. She never talks like that to anyone. She’s feisty when it comes to protecting her friends but she’s not mean. He knows her. Something is wrong.

Kelce and Topper come into the house then and look at her as she scrambles around the small space.

Barry gives them a concerned look and Kelce looks at him with a guilty expression.

“He loves you.” Kelce says and she stops what she’s doing but doesn’t turn to look at him. “He loves you so much. It was a mistake.”

Barry frowns, “what?”

“Oh fuck.” Topper says.

She turns and looks at the three of them lined up like a firing squad ready to execute her.

She’s already walking dead.

“If he loved me he wouldn’t have fucked my best friend.” There’s a sharpness to her tone, something they had never heard aimed at them before. If you loved me you wouldn't have hidden this.

Barry’s eyes widen and he blinks like he’s trying to blink away the surprise.

“It was a phase. He was drugged up and under so much pressure. When he came out of it he swore us to secrecy, he didn’t want to lose you." She looks at Kelce like he’s speaking in tongues. None of what he says matters. None of what anyone says matters. It won’t change anything will it? The minute she found out was the moment she checked out.

“I don’t care.” She says and finally finds the notebook. Her notebook where she wrote down all of their important dates, all the little thoughts and scribbles of quotes and song lyrics that remind her of him.

She’s running out of the boathouse and towards the docks before any of them can stop her. She’ll go home and she’ll figure out what the hell to do with her life then.

Where is he? Is he with her? Kelce said they were over.

+++

Once she’s home, she finally lets herself break down. Her mom finds her curled up on her bedroom floor shaking as the sobs rip through her.

Once she can gather herself enough to talk, she tells her mom everything. Tells her that she doesn’t want to be on the island because everyone she thought was her friend betrayed her. It’s suffocating, it’s burning at her lungs. She wants to be able to breathe again and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to do that here. Not under the weight of everyone she ever loved stabbing her in the back.

Her mom suggests that she go on a trip, for however long she needs to get away. When her mom leaves her room she books a one way ticket to London. She needs to leave. Now. She wasn’t going to stay here. Not another day. Not on this island, not where everything reminded her of him, of them. It was over. No matter how much she still loved him, no matter how deeply intertwined their lives had become, there was no coming back from this.

They were supposed to move in together in a few months. They were supposed to start their next chapter and now the book was on fire.

She didn’t waste another second after that. She started packing only her necessities, her footsteps quick and scattered throughout the house. It was like she was racing to a new future, a new life, far away from the friends that had hurt her, the boy that had shattered her heart.

She would get her mom to mail her everything else she might need.

+++

Her mom drops her off at the docks so she can catch a ferry to the mainland so she can catch her flight from there. The sky is beautiful and golden mixed with purple hues, as if Kildare is saying goodbye, she’s going to miss the sunsets here the most.

She should have known that he wouldn’t let her go without a fight.

“Sweetheart! Wait!” The shout cuts through the air like a blade, and her body goes rigid, her heart stutters painfully in her chest. She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s him. She can feel his presence behind her. She closes her eyes, her hands gripping the strap of her bag tighter.

“Don’t go,” Rafe’s voice is raw, desperate. She hears him come closer, his breath ragged as if he had run all the way from Tannyhill, through the town square to the ferries. “Please, just… talk to me.”

She finally turns, facing him for the first time since she found out. His eyes are wide, frantic, filled with unshed tears and a pleading desire to fix the damage he had caused.

“Talk to you?” she laughs, but it’s hollow, bitter. “There’s nothing left to say, Rafe. You and Kiara… you’ve said it all.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and depleting the atmosphere around them of any air.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” Rafe finally speaks, his voice breaking.

“Didn’t mean for me to-? Rafe, you chose this. You chose her over me the second that you decided to cheat. You don’t get to say ‘sorry’ now. You don’t get to fix this.”

Rafe stepped forward, his eyes pleading. “baby, please… You’re everything to me. I don’t want to lose you.” She doesn’t speak, just stares at him. It’s like he’s morphed into someone she doesn’t recognize in the last 24 hours. The boy she fell in love with would have never done this. He wouldn’t have hurt her like this.

“I swear to you, it ended a while ago.”

She shook her head, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, but she held them back. She had cried enough for him, enough for them. She wasn’t going to break for him anymore.

“You already lost me, Rafe,” she said, her words sharp, though her voice trembled. “What you did to me, what you did with Kiara—it’s unforgivable. I can’t be here anymore. I can’t be with someone who would betray me like this. It makes me sick. I can’t look at you because it makes me sick.”

“Honey, I’m sorry. I swear I never meant for it to happen. I should’ve told you sooner. I ended it, okay? I ended it before things went too far.”

“But they did go too far, Rafe,” she replied, shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears she refused to shed. “It doesn’t matter when it ended. What matters is you did it. You broke my trust, and I can’t stay here, not like this.”

He stood there, frozen, the silence between them suffocating. "You don’t have to go. I’ll do anything. Just don’t leave me."

But it was too late. The love that once defined their relationship had crumbled beneath the weight of betrayal. She wasn’t sure she’d ever love the person standing in front of her again, not after everything that had happened.

“I’m leaving, Rafe. I’m leaving for L-for a long time. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from you, from all of this.”

“No.” His voice dropped to a whisper, but it was firm. “You’re not going anywhere. Not like this.”

She could see the panic in his eyes now, the desperation that flooded his every movement. He reached for her, but she pulled away, stepping back as if his touch might burn her.

“Please, don’t do this. We can fix this. I can fix this. I love you.” His words were frantic, falling from his lips like a prayer, a plea for salvation.

Her heart was breaking all over again, but there was no room for him anymore. Not in her life. Not after what he had done. “No, Rafe. This is goodbye. I need to move on. I need to find myself again. You took that from me.”

And with that, she turned away from him, her heart heavy, but resolute. As she walked towards the ferry that would take her away from the island, from the only life she had ever known, Rafe’s broken voice called after her one last time, but she didn’t turn around.

She pulls out a hundred dollar bill and slides it to the ticket attendant. “Please don’t let him get on.” She points behind her and the burly man gives her a nod. She boards the ferry and sits quietly in a corner, avoiding looking out into the distance, she doesn’t want to watch it all disappear.

The world was vast, and she was ready to find her place in it again. But Kildare Island—Rafe Cameron—that was a chapter she was leaving behind. Forever.

#in london series #in london universe #rafe cameron obx #rafe fic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #outerbanks rafe

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sapphiccup · 3 days ago

Text

Lap dancing on Sevika.

Credits: @honeyboo-1 for the edited pics, @strangergraphics for dividers!

CONTENTWARNING: MDNI!!! Men dni, NSFW AHEAD! Sevika x reader quick drabble I think?, dominant/switch reader, switch Sevika, MAYBE doing the do with feelings maybe toys… the anality kind. Lots of smacking, back talk, more, if miss anything so be it. I DID NOT PROOF READ THIS! I genuinely just typed this in here and like I don’t even want to risk to deleting a paragraph on accident. Orange highlights are the lyrics from the songs. Okay enjoy.

Summary: Reader just felt like entertaining her girlfriend to a song she absolutely loves. Sevika tries her best to resist from turning into something else but does she fail? Idk, lets find out.

Song: Lowkey by Teyana Taylor ft, Erykah Badu💌🎼

Slipping your heel on, checking yourself out in the mirror, knowing fully well. Sevika is going to lose her shit, when she sees me in this. You were so excited, had to calm down though, or you’ll ruin your little plan. Which Isn’t really a plan just some mind game that you know your lover is fond of. And what other way to play that game, by your own rules, right? Why not do something unexpected for once? You saunter out of the master bedroom and straight towards Vika in the living area, where she sat in her comfortable chair, getting a moment to relax after one of her long missions. A certain mission that she would have no choice to take, that separates you both for a bit. Which both of you loathe to be away from each other for too long, yes space is needed in a relationship, but you both have that in your comfortable and safe house. A house that is most well kept, build with hard work, and love poured through the walls to make the perfect place that you both own, and proud of it too. The sound of your heels catches her attention, raising a brow at your sudden interest in her. Before, you were in the bedroom claiming to read, instead you come out in this lacey lingerie, a 3 separate piece of clothing that accentuates your breast, dresses your abdomen, see-through designed fishnets that could make crowds stop in unison just to get a peak of your legs, top it all off with some alluring panties that she is definitely not familiar with because let’s face it. She figured she seen them all with how energetic you’ve been with her, (Being with each other for 2 years, she’s noticed a pattern, ovulation weeks really has you both on edge, except that’s not the case.) She’s genuinely caught off guard by this black silked, lacey, curve astonishing getup you have on. Especially that it’s not ovulation week, something is suspicious, you want something, that had to be it, or…? Was this an apology for cussing out her boss on the phone and not letting her handle it? Or.. maybe Sevika is just confused on why you suddenly feel.. intrigued, to just simply— entertain her. You usually need a drink to calm your nerves around her. You still feel shy at times with her, because hello? You’re girlfriend IS FINE, and she doesn’t get it.. She’s oblivious to why you are still acting like you have crush on her, you are both are wa—-y past the crush stage, you were as if it’s the very first day that you both exchanged words again. Mind you, she also feels somewhat the same way being shy about some things you do, nonetheless she’s been around for so long that she couldn’t imagine you not being next to her at this point. So long that it is RARE that you catch her off guard. She opens her mouth, ‘bout to conjure up the words to ask for an explanation for this, she’s not mad just, extremely confused, she hates being confused. However, this is not that bad for once. You shush her before she even gets the chance to ask. She squints at you, as if you hard to see because, what the fuck you mean shush? She’s already complying though, man-spreading her legs a bit, watching you, ‘cause you are obviously up to something. You turn on your heels, walking away from her, drinking in the those clicks and clacks sounds that your heels makes, her heart beating double seeing you bend over, catching something shine in between your supple ass. Now she’s really confused, baffled even. When the fuck did you have the time to sneak around and-

A familiar song comes on, one of your favorites, you instantly are in a mood by the way your hips are moving in such a way reminds her of how much she loves how smooth you roll them, how you pick up the song so quickly into your personal rhythm that entrances her with ease. The lyrics spoke through your body, every swing, every step, your soul was definitely absorbing the vibe. You turn your head towards Sevika, giving her your famous sly smile, that prompts her to lean back in her chair, already knowing what exactly you want from her. Her silver eyes map around your desirable body, no your body of sweet remedy mixing so effortlessly with the sound of this woman’s hypnotic voice, that you love so much.

Ambling your sexy ass over to her, hands on hips, eyes that are hungry, comanding, telling Vika, that you want her to drink you in, as if you were the last drops of wine she’ll ever get, to sip you slowly, and carefully to let a single drop to waste, to savor every bit of you. Because no one, not one person on this earth has the luxury to enjoy you fully as she does. You got close enough for her to touch you, and she reaches her hand to pull you in. Yet, you smacked her hand away.

“Rude, why-“

“Be quiet, I’m in control now.” You respond voice coming out sultry and divine, the way her eyes slowly widened, you have never spoken to her like this, and she’s.. not conflicted, if anything she complied almost immediately hearing you talk like that. You got closer to her, and closer, raising a leg to each of her sides, straddling yourself on her lap, grinding your self on her, holding her shoulders with your freshly manicured hands, leaning back to the point where she could see the veins of your neck, your begging collar bone, that desperately wants to be licked, suck, and printed upon. Your breast almost pooling out of this gift wrap of a bra that Sevika needs to touch, feeling your soft pillowed tits, her ears were aching to hear that moan of yours. You rocked your hips to the womans voice, enticing Vika in a way that she’d punish you deliciously for.

‘This shit got me confused now, ‘fused now, ‘fused’

Your hips rocked to that lyric, lifting yourself back into her face, your eyes stuck on her silver ones, Sevika starring at you, watching you, feeling starved for you, and you were just relishing it. You leaned into her neck, blowing your air on her nerves, causing her to let out a low grunt. You were tempted to lick her neck so bad, but even you were holding back, trying your best to make sure you kept up with your promising energy, the kind of energy that you love that lingers in your blood stream. The power you hold with your words, your body, your entire. You loved it, and you love how much Sevika is responding to it. Instead of giving in to her desire you gave her a peck to her jawline. A stifled moan came out of her, you could tell she tried to not let it but it still had no choice, no choice to water your ego.

You took your time getting off of her, making sure your warmth was remembered with each slide of your plushed body, her body buzzing with white hot passion with every move you’d make. You didn’t leave for long though, sitting right back on her, back facing her, your ass against her crotch, gods she needed to pin you to a wall right now, and lick you all over with the way how your sugary sticky self was leaving permanent memories to her drooling particles. Her hands in fists, refraining for grabbing a full piece of your ass, the way it would feel so good against her palms, barely being able to grab your entire cheek, the way she could see your flesh still be able to peek in between through her fingers. Oh how she even tried her best not rut against your warm pussy that was so close to hers.

But, you just kept going…

‘Know you wanna eat it, but I can’t let you do that, ice cold ice cold’

‘See it all in your eye, know you want to vibe babe, but it’s too late. Sweet just like a starburst, make the start bust with toothache’

The beat to the song and her perfect words syncing up to way you’d make your ass twitch, making it move like water, dipin’ your self toward the floor, making your arch shine in Sevikas vision, you grabbed her hand to only grip slightly into your inner thigh, holding you with glass like care, making sure you don’t fall.

‘In the mornin’ like “Ooh, yeah” in the afternoon, “Ooh, yeah” Ima see you soo~on’

And you slid off her as if you like a snake, slithering off, downward to the floor, orbs focused in on you like prey, though you’re the one that’s easing your meal, getting her into the most feral, to enrich yourself for a great reward, prepared that she’s going to rip into you like a piece of candy, tasting your syrupped frenzy. Satisfyingly steady movement that you get into this cobra like yoga pose, gradually winding yourself back to face her, while splitting your legs open like scissors, her eyes following your heel land right next to her ankle. Sevikas captured rounds, traveling up to your face, catching your teeth latching onto your bottom lip, if only she could just pick you up, ravaging you, your lips, she’s caught herself being a bit jealous of you being able to bite yourself, but not her? You little vixen. Being this much of a tease wrapping her lust, coating it with your electrifying actions, definitely left an indelible mark on her brain. Slopping over to even get a bit closer to you.

‘Now what am I supposed to do? (youuu)’

Your fingers gravitated towards your mound, guiding it to slightly touch your lips, moving that same hand past it, never leaving your skin, your girlfriend anticipating your next move, as your finger went past your sternum, kissing your nipple, a slight moan coming out of you, you are still watching her watch you not daring to look away. Getting back up, but not off the floor, crawling towards her, kissing her clothed thick thigh, to her inner. Her breath becoming less normal and more rigid, your lips kissed her stomach, going higher to almost reaching her breast, before you even touched it, your eyes slit to hers.

“You want me?”

“Y-Yes”

You kept starring into her eyes to find any kind of doubt, none was there, you opened her button up, only bit to show her cleavage, kiss her tit, dragging your tongue on her warm curve. Low grunts, heavy breaths, making you feel drunk. You stopped. A pout coming from her, you rise from your knees, picking her chin up up.

‘But, dammit, you’re so fine. So, take me tonight. Now hold me(hold me).’

Pulling her to your waist, she barely could contain herself, you nodded, mouth agape, in synch with her spilling desire. She kissed it, savoring you, as the song ended

But crazy enough, that wasn’t it, it wasn’t done. She figured you only were going to do one song and another one played, her favorite song, now you’ve done it.

Song: The Beach by Giveon 📌🧸

“Yeah fuck that, I’m not going through that again, come here” she got up from her chair, picking you up, wrapping your legs around her waist, kissing you roughly, biting, and pulling your bottom lip, hungry for you, starved for you, longing for you. Carrying you with ease and kicking in the bedroom door. Pulling away from the kiss dropping you onto the bed, stripping her top off, throwing to gods know where, doesn’t matter she’s frustrated, and ready to take all of you in. Flipping you over so she can see all of your posterior.

‘But she doesn't run from right here. Lust, guns, drugs, violence. Lust, guns, drugs, violence, ooh’

“Do you have any idea, what you do to me, hm?”

Ahh, she dove right into you pussy, regardless of it being caged by these slutty clothes of yours, taking a rough yet soft bite of your lip, making you whimper with delight, this is exactly what you wanted to see, this side of her that playing with every atom of your being, gods could she get any more sexy?

“Mmf.. fuck! I knew—ah.. I knew you’d like this”

“Play with my head? No, I do that, you know that I.. do that. Since when you picked up on my schemes?, and to do it so..”

She rips the lingerie, revealing your wet, practically drenched lips, that were so eager for her, fuck she wanted to just grab her strap and go at it, but she would never put you through something that rough… unless.. you’d ask her. She took a long look at your twitching pussy, sopping wet from so much well spent time riling her up, pissing her off in the most stimulating ways.

“Infuriatingly.”

“Do you not do it, infuriatingly?”

“Smart ass” She said as she slap your juicy cunt, earning a loud drawn out moan, you gripped the sheets, smiling to yourself gnashing your teeth, if only she could see your face.. mmf.

“You ruined my clothes, bitch”

She slapped your ass this time. It was like you were asking for her to decorate your body with tempting bruises, that you were oh so pleading for, more as your dirty mind, and pussy were dying to have.

‘Oh, won't let you go, go, go (Ooh-ooh-ooh)

Won't let you go, go, go (Ooh-ooh-ooh)

Go, oh-oh, ooh (Ooh)’

“You must be out of your wits today, hm?”

“Am I?”

You backed up, grabbing her by your strong thighs and flipping her onto the bed instead, turning yourself over, straddling her lap. A dance of who will be on top today. Who will be, the one who loses this game of toss and turn.

Sevika breath was caught in her throat, it happened so fast that she didn’t know that you had already pinned her hands above her head.

“Or am I just that good at it? Better even.”

‘Whatever you want I'ma get it for you (Get it for you)’

She was almost proud of you with how you just took her under like that, obviously her cunt was whining too, ferociously in fact. Needing you to satisfy her importunate flooding appetite, strongly wishing you’d just fill her with your tongue already, clenching her walls on the squishy flesh, or even used her mouth, fuck she needs that so bad. Why the fuck are you not giving it to her already?

Why not? Why not play with your food, play with this infamous woman known for her tricks, her strong stature, her mind of a woman who knows how to read people so well it’s scary. Smart, in way that people doubt just because she doesn’t give them enough information for them to use against her, smart enough to know to always be strategic with the next, after the next… Why not take your time with someone who obviously has time enough to know better of so much?

‘Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me like this

Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me who I am

Say, ooh, ooh, ooh, 24th street

Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me who I am’

Because, why not? It’s tempting no? Give in to that temptation of what you really want. Tease her, stretch out her ball of heat that is flooding to the brim, undo her slowly like she’s never been undone before. Make her horny until she just loses all of her senses and guide her, guide this fierce woman to go at you like the lion she is. Bring it out of her.

“Admit it, Vika. You hate control.”

You ran a lazy finger down her well kept figure, your finger smoothing over every hard bump of her abs, reaching her happy trail, that you absolutely love riding your slick on, can’t get enough of your clit being stimulated over such a knee buckling sight, you sighed longingly remember how good it felt, your finger still taking its time to be satisfied at her contracting muscles, keeping eye contact well and locked, you were well versed of how much she enjoys your thirst for her.

“Oh yeah definitely I hate it so much, to have more chaos in my life I welcome it.”

She said rolling her eyes, yet her hitches of her breath are not fake.

“Baby, I think you’ve got me all wrong” your grip on her hands become loose for just a moment, she spots it then takes the opportunity, snatching it by the throat, as she usually does with any opening. Her hand rest on your hip, digging her digits in your skin. Pulling you rough towards her, slightly jerking you, to shake those tits of yours. Sevika bit her lip but only for a moment, watching your body react to her is a gift indeed.

‘Your mom told you about this side. It can get ugly’

“I love control.”

You already knew that though, you just want her to really get into it. To control more of your body, more of yourself, push you to the edge at her mercy.

“Oh? Then show me.”

Without sharing another word, she grabs you by your throat bring you down to her face, kissing you with rejuvenating energy, pour down her lust, her yearning for you, down your throat, like spiked liquids making there way down your lungs, taking in everything she has to offer.

‘Oh, won't let you go, go, go. Won't let you go, go, go. Go, oh, ooh…’

“Mmf, take me, take— ah, me right now.” You’d say between the kisses, this lights something deep within her that was already burning, not some little fire by a match, no a conflagration of urge of doing exactly what you just demanded of her.

“Fuck it.”

She lets out, shifting herself to get up to be at eye level, holding you close as she sits on the bed, finally, finally, she gets to play with your tits the way she’s been wanting, though she has a long way to to go with unclasping your corset, she still find her self licking, biting at the pooling flesh that desperately wanted out of this contraption, damn this contraption keeping Sevika away from your tits. She left hickeys on your breast as protest, soothing it with a lap of her tongue. Getting to the last clasp, and pop it goes, throwing it off the floor only to be met with a lacey bra.

She deadpans at it. Fucking evil.. evil clasps.

“You like torturing me, sweets?”

“Maybe? You like being tortured?”

She rolls her eyes not answering that, her smirk fails her though, already knowing that you immediately got her answer, cursing at her self in her head, and outloud a huff through her nose. Another round of clasp off of you throwing that bra across the room. Not wasting any time, she lapped at your perky nipples, rewarding herself hearing your pants, and whimpers. Kneading your other breast with her free hand, playing with your nipples were a ecstasy all on its own. Carefully touching the center, the part where it really turns you on, squirming in her lap, you rutting, and grinding her again, aching for her as she was for you in the living area. Taking both of her hands, smushing them together so she hungrily suck both at the same time, gods was she good at that, her silver eyes never leaving yours, yours not wanting to spare a glance at anything else, so in tune with each other, your pussy clenching at nothing as she sucked and licked at your pretty nipples, she couldn’t get enough of them. Never enough of you. Not ever. No matter how many times she tries to satisfy herself with you, it is never enough, she rather go at it for days. Enraptured by you and your stunning self, more than just your beauty, that brain of yours that just ticks her just right, asking her the right questions not the annoying ones, being dumb to make her laugh, cooking for her, and with her even though you argue sometimes over the silliest of things, ending up kissing over it, or taking over the kitchen while the other hugs from behind.

She stops, giving you this look.

“Mm.. Vika.. why’d y-“ you pouted but stopped looking at how serious she’s starring at you, your heart speeding up, your chest rising and falling.

“Yes, love?” You ask her to get her to say something, anything, you can’t help but let this heat that started with your ear, fully encapsulating your face completely, you scrunched your nose when you were in embarrassment, and there goes her toothy gapped smile.

“I love you.” She spoked

“I was going to say more, but you look so damn cute like that”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Fuck me then.” Your eyes widen, you hated how she can just switch just like that good gods it made you some stupidly inlove with her, your thoughts just stop all together, and she knows it! She fucking knows it and still does it, like a run on fucking gag. Gods she was so freaking-

Kissing you again, tenderly, slowly, you opening your mouth for her to access to, her long tongue wrapping itself against yours, wresting against each other, wrapping your arms around her neck, desperately trying to get closer to her as if your atoms were never truly touching.

Tenderly turning back to animalistic, grunting, and gripping, scratching her exposed back, you both dizzy for it, urging both of you to just break everything, Vika taking her hand, slowly down your abdomen, your skin prickling at her touch.

“Please touch me, I’m dying here.”

“So whiney”

“Hmph”

Her fingers find their way to your folds, gathering up your continuous bliss.

“All this for me? How sweet.”

You can’t even reply, the way she’s rubbing her digits against you, making you float, even before she inserted anything, just her voice, and those thick fingers of hers are enough. She was chasing those moans with little effort, gluttonous for em’ making your heat stir in ardor. Circling slow motions over your bundle of nerves, dedicating each swirl to make sure it feels perfect for your pulsating kindle.

“Vika I need your mouth please.”

“Hm… After all that teasing you think I should just-“

Lapping at your rouse, her skillful tongue putting in the work, you tussling her hair, messing it up, she doesn’t care though, mess it up all you like, she’s been down there for hours, enjoying every moan, mewl, pant, orgasm, especially your addicting arousal, drinking every bit, and unending leaks.

“Ah! N-need you, please.”

“Use—.. *lap* your words”

“Stick those fucking fingers in me.” She stopped, slapping your pussy once more, almost making you work up another orgasm.

“Please stick your.. thick fiingers in me..”

Before doing that she rolled you over on your stomach, wrapping her bicep around your neck, pulling you up with her, rocking both of your hips in rhythmic motion, fingers lacing with your dripping cunt.

“Thats more like it, now, mind telling me why the fuck you keep talking to me like that? Like I won’t punish you.”

“Is this really— nngh, punishment if I’m enjoying it?”

“Eh, pain is punishment enough, I don’t have it in me to..”

She inserts a finger into your weeping hole. Gasping from her sudden filling, gnashing your teeth, drool coming down your chin with each thrust. Your eyes feeling themselves roll behind your head, these thrust were rough and so filling, touching spaces that can’t feel the same if it were you. Hell, before Sevika came into your life you figured you’d always hate being fingered, be it yourself or someone else, but damn how she changed your mind forever. As long as it’s her.

“-Punish myself by lingering a begging touch that you’d enjoy. Your pleasure, is my pleasure, torturing myself would just be a waste of time, baby”

You found yourself clenching around her fingers already.

“Cumming already? Again?”

“Ah-, I can’t-.. I can’t help it Vika..”

She kisses your neck, cooing in your ear helping you arrive to your last orgasm for the hour, (and yes I mean hour, Sevika is definitely going to be getting her payback for your tease earlier, consensually of course. She knows when its too much for you and stops immediately. Every. Single. Time.)

An.) should I make a pt2? To finish what they started that is.

#sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika #sevika x reader fanfiction #sevika x reader smut #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika headcanon #sevika drabble #little did she know I’m a nasty dog #didn’t expect to make this so long 🤷🏽‍♀️#sapphicscorner

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hongjoongspoetry · 2 days ago

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Thank you so much Esther!! 😭🩷🤧 *Hands you some tissues* I'm so happy you liked bad boy!jongho (especially knowing that he's your bias), he has easily become one of my favorite characters to write now and I'll definitely do more of him in the future!

God the idea of knowing your soulmate and who they are and knowing that in the eyes of the public, and perhaps yours as well, that they’re a bad person, someone others don’t like or have a negative viewpoint of must be hard. Especially if you still cannot help the feelings you have for them when you’re around them even when they behave badly or something. Sounds like such a hard situation to be in and our precious MC is going through just that😭😭

Definitely! Imagine you are fated to someone who is more or less a "bad" person, like what does one do in that situation? Ngl, I wished to dive deeper into that but considering it would go past our word limit for the event I wouldn't do it justice 😭 But I'm still happy you caught onto the indication of what our MC was dealing with!

Although can I say I’m living for bad boy!Jongho, it just does something for me like yes boy be a menace to society🤩 also I totally did not giggle at his introduction where he’s sitting behind his desk as MC questions him on accepting the invitation in her name🙈

This scene was actually inspired from his screen time in Crazy Form (where he's sitting in an office (?) with a gun and shit), all dressed up and looking expensive. I just had to include it, and also his charm! Despite being a menace, he still has girls swooning for him *cough* secretary Eunji *cough*.

JgsuvhccvugcdsuhadbcjadhvfaeibhfbkjaeC he’s so in love with her and she hasn’t noticed it yet😭😩 like he keeps dropping hints throughout the one shot with very subtle ways he’s acting and unfortunately our dear MC only thinks he’s acting that way because of the contract🥲

THE FUNNIEST THING IS WHEN YOU REALIZE HE KNOWS THEY ARE SOULMATE THIS ENTIRE TIME AND ISN'T EVEN ACTING- Like the man wants you, contract or no contract 😭🤭 Ugh, I love writing men who are simps and idk about you, but I feel like Jongho is the type of guy who would treat his partner to everything. I'm talking about spoiling them to the maaaaax.

I enjoyed so much the way you wrote her Mina, it was so nice to see a bit more of a firecracker of a character, like she doesn’t fully take most of his bullshit while also having moments where we see her worry or the conflicting feelings of you know being with your soulmate but also being in a contract where you’re fake dating each other. I can’t really blame her for accepting the contact because I’d probably done the same if I saw the payment whilst also hoping that perhaps this would bring us even closer as soulmates for it to click naturally.

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I think, at least for me, the biggest challenge is to write interesting MCs that aren't these typical I-take-no-crap characters. Becuase, in my opinion, those are the easiest to write. So, there's a moment where I always stop and wonder if my MCs are different or if they are just the same character in different universes lmao. It's' also something I want to get better at as I'm writing. To make my MCs different Shy, reserved, scared, introverts or extroverts, talkative, rude, mean, etc. I feel like in my series Puzzle Pieces, I'm way better at making the MCs diverse (obviously no one knows as only Mingi's story is out, but you will see when the time comes😭) And as for this MC, she was 100% right in signing that contract because it was a looooot of money they offered. It's even better when you realize that the two agents (who came with the contract) knew she was Jongho's soulmate and went to her on purpose with that sum of money 😭

I think some of my favorite moments are when you allow us to read how it all affects the, like the idea that thinking/speaking bad about your soulmate causes the bond to burn/hurt you is actually so cool! Don’t think I’ve ever seen that before in a soulmate au and I liked it so much because the idea that Jongho who seems to enjoy “tormenting” her also gets hurt and it quiet possibly being moments where he feels the need to leave to get some time alone, perhaps to even reflect if he went to far or not, just makes me feel things😩

OH!!! I love this! I'm a complete addict when it comes to soulmate aus. They are my favorite fanfic genre to read so best believe ive consumed a good amount of them 😭 And it is as you're saying, not many writers incorporate the soul in soulmate, at least not up to my standard. Yes, the characters are destined to be together, but what else is there to the soulmate connection? What makes them connected and in what way? That's why I decided, for Jongho and this MC, to have that type of bond, where they can kind of feel each other's emotions. Ugh, Esther I love the way your mind works because you literally catch onto everything I'm trying to convey with my writing! Yes, Jongho definitely went out for a smoke (in the middle of the charity event) to calm down after his childish behaviour and yes, him going from teasing to distant in seconds is also his way of trying to collect his thoughts and not feel too much of MC emotions. (It makes me wanna smash my head in knowing that they feel each other's emotions when they are being lovey-dovey, like in the ending scene)

I just adore all the small details you added in which Jongho comforts her, like the hand gently caressing hers, his hand on her hip as he guides her through the overwhelming crowd, even when he tries to stop Ms.Kang and her quiet rude questions🥺 [...] My reaction to Jongho giving her his jacket once she found him outside smoking. Like hello? I love it so much. Just the idea of Jongho covering you with his jacket so you won’t freeze your ass off! When’s it my turn?🧐

Jongho tries to be a bad boy so hard but at the end of the day, he's just a huge softie beneath that hard exterior especially when it comes to the MC. I will never let the "give-them-your-jacket-trope" die! It's the epitome of gentleman behaviour and I need it added in every piece of literature I write lmao 😭 It also further strengthens the image of Jongho not being a "bad" person.

Nah I would never get on a motorcycle ever like you are so right for calling them a death trap, I do not trust them at all!! And that’s coming from someone who’s grown up with both her parents driving said death traps😭 not Jongho laughing at her for being scared and holding on tight to him😭😭 also please I love their bantering so much, the way you wrote Jongho teasing her so often is so good I enjoyed it so much💓

That's criminal. I love motorcycles and I'm even planning on getting a license + bike when I have the money for it (plus I have to wait until I'm 24 but that's another thing lmao). Okay, but your parents are so cool, first your dad plays electric (I believe they were electric) guitars and now I find out both of your parents RIDE MOTORCYCLES??!!?!? So cool😭🌟I feel like its such a Jongho thing to-do, he definitely made the motorcycle go a lil too fast for her to cling onto him AHAHAHH I can just see his menacing smile, like look at these:

menace one menace two menace three

God this whole part after they got of the motorcycle is so beautifully written, the description and the way you wrote the dialogue just did it for me. Truly wonderful and such a delight to read.

THANK YOU AGAIN, omg you are spoiling me 🥹🥹 It's so nice to hear this though, because I really put a lot of effort into that whole last scene. I wanted the readers to really feel their emotions and vulnerability through the screen, especially Jongho's. For a guy who’d always been seen as tough and unapproachable, changing wasn’t going to be easy. But with the MC — his soulmate — there, I feel like he understood that she wouldn't judge him and he just decided to bet on it, be vulnerable and get his feelings hurt or be vulnerable and go home with the love of his life, you know?

You should have heard the noise I made when I read that part and everything that followed🫣 BUT YES HES CONFESSING FIRST🥰❤️ also my poor girlie getting to hear that while she thinks she’s been good at hiding it all Jongho has known since forever that they’re soulmates😩😭

HAHAHAHAHAHAH, I wish we got a live reaction to it (istg that mountain cat meme never makes me not laugh) AND YES HES CONFESSING FIRST, as I said previously, it's Jongho giving their relationship his all or nothing.

Those two lines and everything that followed after that was the like cherry on top as an ending for this story. Ughhhh the way they melt into each other, the kisses, just everything😚🤌💓 in fact I think I re-read the last part from them arriving at the beach like five times because I enjoyed it so much before I reblogged this amazing piece of work.

YOU READ IT FIVE TIMES?!??! 🫨😧🥹 THATS THE BEST THING IVE HEARD ALL DAY THANK YOU!! 🩷😭 I really don't know how to convey my gratitude beside saying thank you! Your words, this whole reblog, has really brightened my day (the meme reactions have aslo been highly appreciated, 10/10 laughs)

The tension, both realizing they want more than what they currently got because of the contract, both deciding to break the contract and start dating fully instead, the way you’ve written it all is so full of life and feels so pure in a way. Like I can’t help but feel that both in a way felt like this contract was the only way to be close with their soulmate while also both hating the contract wanting it to be real and then finally it reaches to the point where they confess💕😩

YES! BUT NEITHER WANTS TO GO AGAINST THE RULES (ESPECIALLY NOT THE MC) AND ARE JUST HOPING FOR SOMETHING TO CHANGE SO THEY CAN DATE-DATE!

Mina, truly thank you for writing and sharing this beautiful piece of work you’ve created. I could go on and on about all the little details you’ve added which gives so much life and depth but I’ve been rambling for a while now.

Oh, Esther, I should be thanking you for taking the time out of your day to read and reblog this fic with all of your thoughts! It really means a lot and it's been so fun to read your thought-process, especially when we share the same opinions and "theories" about the characters 🩷😭

Words can’t really describe how much I’ve enjoyed reading this story and I just think your passion and creativity is such a blessing to be allowed to read!

Yeah, no, you are going to make me cry. I'm going to write this down and keep it in my wallet to remember whenever im feeling sad or not finding the motivation to write 🥹🤧 Thank you once again Esther, you are a diamond and the sweetest atiny I know, and I'm so happy I can be your friend

Pretend You Love Me | Choi Jongho

🥂 Summary: Jongho, heir to Choi Clothes, and you are soulmates marked by each other’s names on your wrists since birth. Instead of a fairy-tale romance, you’re stuck in a fake dating contract to restore Jongho’s tarnished image created by scandals. As you navigate public events and play the part of a cute couple, the lines between fake and real blur together. Despite your undeniable chemistry, you refuse to take him seriously due to his reckless past. As the arrangement nears its end, you must confront the truth about your feelings and whether you can move beyond the contract.

🥂 Pairing(s): Badboy!Jongho x Student!Reader

🥂 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, fake dating AU, fluff, humour

🥂 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), the MC goes by the lastname Jeong, Jongho is a rich kid, the MC not so, Jongho smokes and rides a motorcycle, light alcohol consumption, a lot of teasing, pet names (pretty girl, soulmate, sweetheart & Jjong), probably incorrect portrayal of CEOs and charity events (bare with me, i'm just a girl), some kissing

🥂 Wordcount: 9.0K

🥂 Author's Note: Click the image for a higher resolution (Tumblr, I hate you). This is my first time ever writing for Jongho and also the fastest I’ve finished a fic — just 4 days, to be exact! It was a lot of fun playing around with the soulmate idea and turning Jongho into a bad-boy-ish character. I hope you all enjoy the second fic of the Cherry Blossom March Event and feel brave enough to share your thoughts with me! I'm really curious to hear what you think and have to say :3

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Event taglist

To go out with people widely. It could mean all sorts of things. A person whose presence spreads widely. Someone who possesses the ability to form broad connections and reach far with their impact, whether it be through influence, relationships or personal qualities. To go out with people widely was the meaning behind the chosen hanja of the name Choi Jongho. The same name that was imprinted on your wrist since birth in black and reminded you daily of your other half. Everyone was born with a name on their wrist that assigned them to a soulmate the moment they entered the world. All you had to go by was the names on your wrists and hope it would be someone sane. Everyone didn’t have to worry about that though as some faced a fate worse than death — their soulmate mark written in white. It symbolized the death of their significant other. One would think the word would change into red, like anger and blood, but no. You liked to think the white represented innocence, cleanliness and new beginnings, almost like an angel.

Your soulmate mark was the same since you were welcomed to the world. Wailing loudly and alerting everyone of your arrival. It hadn’t changed over the course of your twenty-five years long life, for better or for worse. Ever since you could remember, you loved listening to the stories of how people met their soulmates. At family gatherings, you would sit on the knee of your relatives and ask them kindly to retell the moment they met their husbands or wives, but your favorite story was always your parents'.

It was a few days before New Years and both of your parents just recently turned eighteen. The biggest snowfall of the year graced Seoul, like a late Christmas miracle, and the streets were swarmed with people enjoying the freezing weather, young and old alike. Your parents hadn’t known each other by then. They lived in the same neighbourhood, but weren’t aware of just how close they were to their soulmates. Your mother, young and happy, gazed up at the snowflakes being pulled by gravity when something cold and hard struck her, followed by horrified gasps. She crouched down, cradling her head, gently pressing against the side where the snowball had hit. A few seconds later, a young man approached her, apologizing and bowing so deeply that he nearly toppled over. It was your father who had launched the snowball at his friend, misaiming and hitting your mother instead.

Little you hoped to experience a romantic encounter with your soulmate as your parents did. You would stay up way past your bedtime and fantasize of meeting your soulmate, coming up with various scenarios that changed every night, but nothing could prepare you for the surge of emotions when your eyes locked. It was your first day of high school and all of the first year students were gathered in the gymnasium, patiently waiting for the principal to call out their names and their respective classes. You sat in the fifth row on the seventh seat, hands clutching the hem of your blue plaid skirt. It was nerve wracking — starting high school, meeting new people and creating friends. Then there was the possibility of finding the one. The principal cleared his throat, probably getting dried from pronouncing all the names right after each other. You pitied him, but that sentiment flew out the window as he moved onto your class. Out of all the three hundred first years and out of your thirty classmates, one of them was named—

“Choi Jongho!” You burst into his office, letting the door bounce off the wall.

The secretary, frantically chasing after you with desperate pleas not to disturb the designated successor of Choi Clothes, stood in the doorway, her face twisted in a mix of fear and nervousness as she failed at her job. Successor, my ass. That man didn’t know anything beyond smoking a pack of Marlboros a day, dodging his responsibilities, and defying his parents. The man in question was currently sitting behind his desk, one ankle propped on his knee, fully decked out in Valentino — a black suit that was probably bespoke, tailored to his fitting. His hair, a natural shade of dark cocoa, was parted down the middle and showcased his forehead while his hands were decorated with various pieces of jewelry, starting with big fat rings on his fingers, a golden watch and a matching bracelet. Jongho didn’t look the least phased by your appearance nor by the loud entrance. In fact, he looked as monotone as ever, but you saw the brief twitch of his fingers. While he was at the company, he wasn’t allowed to take a smoke until lunch or after work and it sure was getting to him.

“Miss Jeong,” came the annoying voice of his secretary as she began reciting the script drilled into her mind from her first day on the clock. “Mr. Choi’s schedule is fully booked this afternoon and he does not have the time to discuss–”

The rest of her sentence was drowned out as you zeroed in on Jongho and raised a brow, silently challenging him to do something. On cue, the stone cold expression morphed into sunlight seeping through an array of thunderous clouds as he broke out in a charming smile and averted his attention to the woman behind you still going on about rules and policies. Gentle as a breeze and with a faux sweetness to his words, he cut her off.

“It’s alright, Eunij. I called her over to plan our date for the evening. We won’t be long, I promise.”

To really secure the win, Jongho flashed her his significant gummy smile that looked sweeter than sugar itself. Jongho knew he was good looking, you knew he was good looking, everyone knew he was good looking, but what they didn’t know was that he used it to his advantage for years. He would flash them a smile warm enough to melt through ice and cheesing eyes that portrayed the sweetest chocolate in the world, but his mouth wasn’t just good for a handsome distraction. More often than not, Jongho would sweet talk his way out of situations. It worked nine out of ten times. The one time it didn’t work was on you.

As expected, Eunji blushed beneath his attentive gaze and your insides turned on fire. The swirls of his name on your skin burned hotter than a blowtorch and no ice bath would save you from the stinging pain. She threw you one last look before closing the door with a gentle click that could barely be heard in the silent room. Being left alone in the solitude of his office and away from the prying eyes of his father’s employees, Jongho allowed the sugary facade to slip like cotton candy dissolving at a brief contact with water. The round eyes of a teddy didn’t find you, but rather a pair belonging to a hungry bear who’s just had his territory disturbed.

Jongho clasped his fingers together and leaned on the mahogany desk, putting his whole weight on it. “I take it you didn’t come here to give me chocolates for White Day?”

Hadn’t you known Jongho for a decade or so, you’d be confused at the teasing remark coming from a man looking anything but in the mood for playing around. You ignored the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and got straight to the point, hoping it would calm the beautiful creatures pushing you to the brink of puking.

“Why did you agree to attend the charity event on my behalf?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend?”

“Fake-girlfriend,” you corrected him and crossed your arms. “I can’t just change my life to accommodate yours, Jongho, this wasn’t the deal. The contract explicitly said we would be under a fake guise until your name was cleared of rumours and scandals.”

“And how do you think that would happen if we don’t play the part of a happy couple? I can’t go on my own, that tells them I’m more available than ever before, especially when we recently went public with the relationship.”

You yielded under his intense gaze and changed the direction of your attention on the shelf to your left displaying various brands of alcohol ranging from pricey Japanese whiskey to Italian wine. The inside of your cheek was caught between your teeth as you contemplated your answer. He had a point, but you didn’t want to boost his already hugemongous ego. Darting your tongue out to lick at your dry lips, you turned back and found his eyes still staring into the depths of your soul as if searching for the red string that tied you together.

“Just… Just ask me next time before you make a decision on your own, okay? That’s all I want.”

The need to defy everyone and everything danced through his veins, yet the rewarding feeling of succeeding to annoy the other party wasn’t as satisfying when you were on the receiving end this time. He flexed his jaw and the hand that slipped beneath the table to rest on his thigh clenched into a tight fist.

“Fine…”

“Thank you.”

That marked the end of your conversation and you took it as your cue to leave. Jongho’s voice calling out your name brought you to a stop. You didn’t let go of your hold on the doorknob, just turned slightly to show him you were listening.

“We’ll pick you up at six PM on Friday and I’ll have Eunji send you the clothes before then.” As if having the ability to read your mind, he quickly added what felt like the most obvious thing in the world. “And yes, the dress is long sleeved.”

That was probably the sole good thing with the contract, besides the paycheck that sold you in the first place. You weren’t picky with the arrangement and went along with everything stated in the agreement — going on a few dates for publicity, holding hands, kissing, posting each other on social media, attending events and galas. Wearing clothes created by Choi Clothes came with the duty of fake-dating the heir of said agency, however you did make it clear you’d only sign the papers if all the clothes were long sleeved, reaching well over your wrist as not to disclose the soulmate mark. The easy money you once thought you’d earn by fake-dating the successor of Choi Clothes turned into a full-time job with no room for slacking off. Just a few more months, you thought and walked out of Choi Enterprises.

It was still hard to wrap your head around everything. You recalled the day they came knocking on your door. A woman and man dressed in expensive clothes that seemed to cost more than the will your parents set aside for you. They introduced themselves as the managers of Mr. and Mrs. Choi, the owners of Choi Clothes. The ice tea you poured in the prettiest set of china you owned were left untouched as the managers — the names you have long since forgotten — explained their unexpected visit. The Chois selected you as the perfect candidate for their little stunt to ensure their son wouldn’t put the entire family line at shame and burn the whole establishment to the ground before he could even acquire the title as CEO.

Your task was, more or less, to be the candy glued to Jongho’s side and together play the part of a couple head over heels for each other. The pair was patient as you bombarded them with questions, meanwhile they only had three — Do you have a soulmate, have you met your soulmate and how is your criminal record? The quiet voice in the back of your mind pointed out how they probably already had the answers, but didn’t want to seem totally uninterested in you.

At first, you didn’t want to do it. Not only were you going to play pretend for a good few months, but you weren’t even allowed to know who you were going to fake-date as they didn’t want you to decline the offer and run your mouth to a newspaper publisher. The fountain pen with gold swirling engravings on its sides looked scary as it lay abandoned beside the pristine contract. That quickly changed when you saw the never ending zeroes slothed after the word ‘total salary’. Your morning shift at the closest seven-eleven that was about to start in thirty minutes flashed before your eyes and you never signed something as fast as you did that contract.

Perhaps you would’ve said no if you knew the heir was going to be none else than your soulmate. The universe worked in miraculous ways and somehow always made sure to lead you back to him. A magnetic pull that steered you in every direction until you would stand before him again.

The weekend came around and so did the event taking place that Saturday afternoon. It would be marked as your second public outing as a couple feeding into the eager eyes and cameras of South Korea. Mr. Oh, Jongho’s designated driver, pulled up in a squeaky clean limousine that looked more out of place than a kitten raised by a group of squirrel monkeys in the Amazon rainforest. Mr. Oh was a kind older man inching closer and closer to his retirement, always wearing a smile and never speaking without referring to others by their titles. In the few and brief encounters you had with the man, he would always greet you with a ‘Hello, Ms. Jeong’ while opening the rear door for you despite being told to just call you by your name. The backseat was already occupied by Jongho sitting in yet another expensive suit.

The suit jacket was black with white tiger-like stripes erupting from his shoulders and reaching all the way down to his midsection. It had six silver buttons, two for practical use while the rest were there for embellishment. Jongho — never one keen on showing too much — chose to keep the jacket buttoned and you wondered how he could endure it, considering he wore a white turtleneck beneath. The pattern wasn’t what caught the eye of the beholder, rather it was the millions of bedazzles covering the whole piece, making it reflect beneath any form of light, identical to the ones on your dress. His hair was styled in a middle part and unveiled his forehead, a sight you had seen a dozen times before, but were still left breathless. It was already established that Jongho was a handsome man, however the suits created by his parents certainly brought out the best of him — accentuating his confidence, breathtaking features and magnetic presence in a way that left everyone in awe.

Jongho brought you back to reality as he did a rundown of the charity event, what questions to expect and what answers to give, the names of some important people you would definitely speak — or at least greet — with tonight and who would exit the limousine first. You definitely missed the way his eyes ran over your figure, seemingly appreciating you in a beautiful dress from the latest spring collection of his parents. The Chois apparently had a knack for chic attires because your dress wasn’t anything over the top either, but would definitely unscrew some jaws. It was strapless and started from your bosom with a straight neckline allowing your collarbones to be captured by the crazy shuttering cameras. The dress was tight around your torso, giving a perfect picture of your figure beneath, but grew loose from your hips and down. The material didn’t stop until it grazed the ground you walked on, despite wearing a pair of black stiletto heels that were made for your feet and clicked with each step you took, announcing your arrival to everyone in a close vicinity.

Speaking of your lower body — your left leg was exposed as a long slit protruded from your upper thigh. Both of your arms were covered in black detachable sleeves reaching up to your mid bicep and cuffing around the cushion of your hand. You almost threw a fit when you took out the dress from its gigantic box and noticed the lack of sleeves on it. You were one phone call away from canceling the whole agreement hadn’t you seen the remaining parts of the attire. To top it off, the Chois gifted you a set of golden jewelry and a black clutch handbag spacious enough to fit your phone, lipstick and wallet. The matching set of earrings, rings and necklace were nothing too outstanding, but enough to take on the elegance of a model.

“We’ll be there for an hour or two and then Mr. Oh will take you home.”

You ignored the part where it was stated Mr. Oh was taking you home and focused on his subtle slip-in of defying his parents’ rules yet again. Your brows furrowed together and Jongho suppressed the need to even out the skin between them. “No, Mr. and Mrs. Choi explicitly said we had to be there until the very end of the event.”

Jongho leaned into his seat and spread his legs further apart until one of his knees touched your thigh. A chuckle void of amusement filled the passenger compartment and he sighed as if you said the joke of the century.

“I think you should relax a little, sweetheart. My parents should be grateful I’m attending in the first place.”

You pursed your lips to keep yourself from giving your input where it clearly wasn’t wished for. Jongho looked out of the window while you admired his side profile. Jongho was the epitome of a whiplash — you never knew when he’d shake you off like a poisonous insect or help you fly as if you were an injured ladybug. His nonchalance left a bitter tang on your tongue, the similar taste after downing a beer you knew you’d puke back up in a few hours, and the imaginary Jongho was crushed in the world you created in your brain.

The karma of thinking such thoughts was instantaneous as the skin beneath your soulmate mark flared to life. You wondered if Jongho experienced repercussions whenever he was treating you badly. The rest of the drive was done in silence safe for the newest global hits playing through the speakers. Four songs later and the limousine temporarily came to a stop before the entrance of a big building looking like something straight out of a movie. A red carpet was rolled out from the doors to the street where everyone’s ride was instructed to stop and let the guests out. Mr. Oh exited first and walked around the oblong vehicle as Jongho simultaneously fixed his suit although it was free of any imperfections.

“It’s showtime, baby.”

The door opened and Jongho stepped out, an array of flashes went off accompanied by the calls of his name — the photographers begging for a crumb of his attention. Jongho straightened his jacket, offered everyone a smile and quick wave before holding out his hand to face the dark heavens. That was your cue. No one really knew who you were outside of being Jongho’s girlfriend and even after you became public, they could find little to no information about you online. Thus, you didn’t expect the clicking of cameras and flashes to multiply in your presence. You grabbed Jongho’s hand per your agreement and stepped out with your exposed leg first then, when you fully exited the limousine — an upgrade from Jongho’s death trap of a motorcycle — you smoothly looped your arm through his and firecrackers erupted on your skin at the contact. You stood tall and got a couple of inches on him thanks to the heels, but he didn’t seem bothered by it and neither was the company otherwise you doubt they would’ve sent it in the first place.

Standing in the centre of attention wasn’t as nauseating as you originally thought it would be and whether you want to admit it or not, it was partially because of Jongho being there to anchor you. It wasn’t his forthe to whisper sweet words of encouragement, but he portrayed his support in other ways such as leading you through the overwhelming photographers, sneaking his arm around your waist and respectfully resting his palm above the curve of your hip. It helped that you rehearsed the events of the night from start to finish with Jongho and wouldn’t be in for a surprise. Taking advice from your favorite childhood movie, you put on the brightest smile of your career and moved along. The audience didn’t need to know you were finding comfort in the famous line from Madagascar.

The inside of the venue was prettier than any other interior you had ever laid eyes on. To be frank, it wasn’t anything exceptional, but the simplicity made it appear so. The main colors of the theme were creme white and beige, and were integrated into everything. The seats were plush chairs made out of velvet material in an ashy shade of beige while the tables were round with white marble tops. There was a path leading straight down the area and separating the room into two occupied with seats on both sides. On the other end of the pathway was a slightly elevated scene where the hosts of the event and guests would give their speeches, and use the smartboard to their liking. The ceiling was the most alluring sight though. Oblong light bulbs hung from the ceiling as sheer garment circled the light in waves. It gave a sense of elegance as well as coziness.

A waiter dressed in a simple black suit offered you champagne on a platter and while you didn’t wish to become drunk, you still needed some alcohol to get through the night, especially when you were going to meet some of Choi Clothes’ most trusted business partners. You both took a glass each and mingled around with Jongho’s arm still glued to you as if it belonged right above the swell of your hip. Not many words, if any at all, were exchanged as you mainly drank in the design of the place while simultaneously ignoring the stares and whispers of the remaining guests, all eyes glued to your forms fitting perfectly with one another like two lost pieces of a puzzle. They were all curious about the pretty lady beneath Jongho’s arm and how the reckless Choi managed to find a girl that would look past his bad habits and disrespectful personality. If only they knew.

Jongho’s situation wasn’t entirely a secret. Everyone knew he was somewhat of a problematic guy with another style of living that wasn’t fit to his parents’ standard. They didn’t feel all too proud waking up to multiple articles of Dispatch flaunting pictures taken of Jongho leaving clubs early in the morning surrounded by boys and girls of all kinds, certainly not the kind to be invited to exclusive fashion events and charities. Jongho hadn’t changed much over the years, if you recalled correctly. He would rarely be present during lectures. He was physically there, but his mind had transcended off to dreamland long before the lesson started. The one interest he had was soccer and even that ended shortly into his second year as he got with the wrong crowd. If someone needed him, he could be found smoking on the roof or behind the back of the school with a handful of students who also had successful parents.

It was sheer luck Jongho was an only child and that his parents were in need of a successor, otherwise he would’ve been kicked to the curb a long time ago. Apparently, the Chois grew sick of his careless behaviour and gave him an ultimatum — clean up his mess or not be signed as an heir to the company. Jongho defied them like always, until his credit card ran empty and he realized his parents wouldn’t relent. He came crawling back with his tail between his legs and agreed to their proposition. You never understood him or why he acted the way he did. He had everything, practically born with a silver spoon in his mouth and it amazed you that the universe decided to tie your souls to each other. Jongho certainly wasn’t the soulmate you expected and your meeting wasn’t anywhere near the romantic encounter your parents experienced.

“Let’s take a seat before the aunties swammer us,” he whispered in your ear and led you to a table with a gentle nudge to the small of your back.

The touch sent plausible tingles of electricity up your spine and the intensity never wavered even when he withdrew his hand to pull out your chair for you — a great play to showcase his inner gentleman. He took his righteous place on your right side, but immediately regretted it. His ploy of escaping the aunties proved to be futile as Mrs. Kang, a good business partner of Jongho’s paternal grandparents, butted into your table and plopped down on the vacant seat beside you despite her name not being on the list and began shooting invasive questions. The older lady wanted to know everything about you — your age, name, workplace, how you knew Jongho, who your soulmate was, if you and Jongho were soulmates. She pulled on the imaginary rubber band attached to Jongho’s wrist until it snapped and rebounded against his skin.

“Mrs. Kang, don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

The chatter around the table quieted down at Jongho’s sharp reply and you acted quickly to ease the tension. You placed your hand over his and gave it a firm squeeze. The motion averted his attention from Mrs. Kang to your stern gaze. A silent conversation ensued between you.

“Stop.”

“She’s the one who started it.”

“I don’t care. It won’t look good for you or your parents.”

Jongho eventually gave in and leaned back in his chair. The sudden cold shoulder on his part was him telling you he wasn’t pleased with the outcome. Not like you cared. Yes, your part of the deal was to be his fake-girlfriend, but you couldn’t just let him do as he wished to the people around him as it would reflect a bad light on you too.

“Welcome everyone to the Fashion For Aid charity event aimed at assisting children in group homes! I want to express my sincere gratitude to everyone for attending on this fine evening…”

The host was a man in his late sixties with a head full of hair and face clean of any. You weren’t paying much attention to what he was saying as you weren’t well versed into the fashion world, but you did your best to at least look immersed in his speech. The man to your right wasn’t looking any more interested than you did and actually managed to sit through the first five minutes of the opening ceremony, until he got bored. After that, he played a game of what-could-Jongho-do-to-annoy-his-soulmate-in-the-fastest-way-possible? He did everything to get on your nerves — drumming his fingers against the edge of the table, staring at you then looking away when you met his gaze, loudly cracking his neck and fingers, and frequently checked his phone. The moment the host finished his lengthy speech and encouraged everyone to visit the table full of sweets and drinks placed on both sides of the room, Jongho jumped from his seat, hand already reaching into the inner pocket of his suit.

“If you’ll excuse me, a man’s gotta use the bathroom.”

“Jongho!” You hissed after him, but he either didn’t hear you or blatantly ignored you. As you moved to follow him, an inkling feeling telling you the bathroom was the last place he was headed for, a wrinkly hand landed on your thigh and successfully stopped you from going after him.

“Oh, honey, it is not worth stressing over him. Youngsters like that boy don’t change and he won’t do it even with a beautiful lady by his side.”

A bucket of water spilled over you and froze all forty-three muscles in your face. You somehow managed to force the corners of your mouth up and fake a smile, but the sincerity was not evident in your eyes.

“I, uhm, don’t want him to change. Really.” You added in the end as Mrs. Kang raised a brow in non-belief. “I like Jongho as he is and I don’t think he needs to change to fit in other people's crowded boxes.”

“If you say so, dear, but… if you’re interested, I have a nephew your age who would suit you much better than Mr. Choi.” She turned in her seat and scanned the crowd for said nephew. A fire lit beneath your chair as she began waving him over.

“Oh, Mrs. Kang, that's not necessary.” The reassuring words fell on deaf ears — literally — and although you weren’t too keen on lying, you already had one rich kid to look after. “I think I heard Jongho calling for me, I’ll be right back!”

Jongho was in fact not calling you over. Jongho was gone, disappeared into thin air and abandoned you in a room full of strangers. It would be a miracle if he hadn’t asked Mr. Oh to drive him someplace, leaving you to figure out your own ride home.

“Fucking hell, Jongho,” you muttered and weaved through the crowd of successful people and nepotism babies.

The venue was so packed with people you couldn’t even try searching for the bathrooms and opted to go back out again. The outside wasn’t void of people either, as some foreign faces stood socializing with each other, drinks in one hand and fat cigars squeezed between the pointer- and middle finger of their other hand. Not searching for more aunties or uncles to flag you down, you walked away from the people to a place that seemed vacant. Who would’ve known the universe was pulling on your red string and leading you in the direction of your soulmate. Turning the corner of the building, you stumbled over the view of Jongho crouched down behind a couple of taller bushes. Much like the other gentlemen, he too had a slim cigarette placed between his lips, dragging the poisonous smoke right into his lungs. You understood why out of all the places, he chose to smoke on the other side of the building. It was less prone to attract the paparazzi searching for something juicy to spread on social media.

Jongho didn’t kill the glowing stick as you appeared in his peripheral vision nor did he show a sign of acknowledging your sudden appearance. You didn’t go out of your way to chastise him for smoking in a public setting either, instead you took a stance beside him while he inhaled the last of the cancer-stick and looked straight ahead. It was already stuffy just standing there in silence, you didn’t need to stare at him with questions swimming in your eyes.

The warm sun of March was replaced by the round and bright moon, allowing a certain frost to the early spring breeze. You crossed your arms over your chest and caressed the exposed skin of your bicep with your thumb in a poor attempt at subduing the coldness. The dress was beautiful, but it certainly wasn’t made for such weather and you were questioning their professionalism as they didn’t give you a coat or any other outerwear. On the other hand, Jongho had been admiring you for the last couple of seconds since you took the place beside him and the sharp goosebumps littered on your body didn’t go unnoticed by him. He balanced the cigarette between his lips and slipped the suit jacket off himself. The rustle of clothes caught your attention and before you could realize what was happening, a newfound warmth wrapped around you followed by a mild fragrance of charcoal, pine needles and espresso.

“You don’t have to–”

“I’m not letting my date freeze her ass off.”

You tried ignoring the harsh squeeze of your heart and a pang of heat blossoming from the center of your chest, sprouting out to the rest of your body. This was just Jongho being kind, nothing more, nothing less. Yet your heart and soulmate mark thought otherwise. The stinging smell of his cigarette was a perfect distraction and your nose scrunched at the awful burn. Jongho needed all of three seconds to take one last drag of the stick, blow it away from your face and throw it to the ground, his expensive boot coming down to turn it to speckles of ash.

“I’m going back inside,” you announced after another minute of silence. “It won’t look good if both of us are missing.”

“Who cares what they think? They’ll always have something to say about me in the end so it doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t have to prove them right, you know?”

You didn’t get another answer after that and decided to take your leave. A warm hand circles around your wrist, their thumb grazing the covered soulmate mark and stopping you in your steps. You turned around, Jongho’s hand still on you but his eyes avoiding yours at all cost.

“...Wanna get out of here?” He eventually asked.

Another beat passed and you pressed your lips together. “We really shouldn’t, Jongho, besides it’s against the contract.”

A genuine laugh escaped him and he moved toward the opposite side of the event, rounding the corner you didn't appear from. “Screw the contract.”

You quickly followed his head, intrigued and worried at where he was headed. Perhaps you got worked up for nothing as a bunch of expensive cars as well as limousines were parked in neat rows, the moonlight reflecting off their polished hoods and trunks.

“Where are you going?” You hissed and bunched one end of your dress to not accidentally step on it and twist your ankle.

“Why don’t you find out?”

How you managed to find yourself in this situation was beyond you. Not once was it stated in the contract that you would need to use Jongho’s death trap as a form of transportation, yet there you were sitting on the back of his motorcycle as he zoomed through the street. It was a miracle he successfully managed to sneak it into the parking lot without having any of the guards or chaperons turning him down. Then again, it was Choi Jongho they were dealing with. What Jongho wanted, Jongho got. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his midsection and your eyes squeezed shut, almost believing the danger of the situation would disappear if you couldn’t see the blur of scenery whiz past you.

Jongho smirked at the feel of you squeezing him to death and he purposefully revved the bike to go faster just to hear your squeaks of fear slip beneath your helmet. He wasn’t even going half the speed he was used to, but he felt just a twinge of remorse for you. The motorcycle slowed down and eventually stopped before a red light.

“You can open your eyes now,” he spoke into the built-in bluetooth in his helmet and placed his hand on your intertwined ones, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles in a soothing motion. The whipping wind was quickly drying your hands and he was cursing himself for the pair of gloves he forgot on the edge of his bed.

You did as told, albeit opening one eye at a time just to make sure he wasn’t sugarcoating the situation. He wasn’t and for once you were happy about being wrong.

“How much more?” You asked, your throat dry and beginning for a sip of water.

“We’re almost there.” The traffic light switched to yellow. “Hold on tight now.”

It took an eternity — twenty minutes — until Jongho put the motorcycle in neutral and turned off the throttle as well as the ignition switch, and allowed the weight of the vehicle to lean on the kickstand. He took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the gelled strands in the process and placed the helmet on the surface of the fuel tank. You slightly released your grip on him, but were still reluctant to move as you were afraid of somehow falling off the motorcycle or tipping the whole thing over and thus let your fingers hover over his sides. Jongho’s feet were planted on the ground for extra security and comfort, and threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see you sit stiff as a board. He turned away and brought his shoulders up to his ears as he quietly chuckled to himself. The helmet was still on your head and your cheeks mushed by the pillowy cushion inside, making you look like a chipmunk with its cheeks full of nuts.

“I thought you hated her?” He asked through his giggles.

“Huh?”

“The motorcycle. I thought you hated the motorcycle, besides can you let go off me now? Unless you like touching me–”

You didn’t need to hear more to fling your hands in the air. The abrupt motion almost caused you to fall back, hadn't you grabbed Jongho’s shoulders again. It was sheer luck that he was sturdy enough not to lean back from your harsh grip. He laughed again, a chuckle that brought his gummy smile into the moonlight. It was a sound you came to like and wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of your life. The admission caused your ears to burn with embarrassment, and you were grateful that the soulmate connection was limited to the scribbled name on your wrist, not giving your other half the ability to feel your emotions or hear your thoughts.

“Okay, go like this. Place this foot,” he patted the side of your left thigh, “on the ground and swing your other leg over the bike, then carefully step off. Hold onto me until you’re completely off so you don’t fall.”

His instructions were easy to follow and you managed to get off without hurting yourself, him, or damaging his prized possession. The sound of water softly washing up against the sand reached your ears and it was only when you dismounted the motorcycle that you took in your surroundings. The view was nothing short of exceptional. You stood on the sidewalk with stairs leading straight down to the riverside area, giving you a perfect view of the river. It was slightly blurry and you couldn't quite figure out why. As your hand subconsciously reached up to rub your eyes, you accidentally brushed against the visor. Unsure how to remove the helmet without discomfort, you decided to simply slide the visor up instead.

The Mapo Bridge was even prettier at night, with its blue and purple lights twinkling beneath the dark sky. At least a hundred cars drove across the bridge in the few minutes since you arrived and the sound of their tires and whirring motors added a sense of tranquility to the setting. The prettiest of it all were the cherry blossoms slipping off the branches of the Prunus serrulata trees. The ground was covered in pink and white petals, and some even landed in your hair. It was magical.

It dawned on you just where Jongho had brought you — Yeouido Hangang Park. While you were busy taking in every little detail of the scenery, Jongho retrieved his keys from the ignition and stopped beside you. He buried them in the pockets of his pants to prevent you from noticing he was fidgeting with the keys, thus keeping his dignity intact. He couldn’t have you going around thinking you were the reason behind the butterflies fluttering in his stomach and whether that was true or not would stay with Jongho, and Jongho only.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out.

Jongho hummed in agreement, yet his eyes didn’t budge from your form. It didn’t matter that you wore stiletto heels with a designer dress, a suit jacket multiple sizes too big for you and a sports helmet on your head — you looked as beautiful as the first day he met you, all those years ago in high school. He cleared his throat and stepped in front of you, the pads of his fingers gently grazing the skin beneath your chin as he unclasped the straps of your helmet. The little click snapped your attention to his eyes full of focus that shifted from your chin up to your lips, and lastly your eyes. As if stuck in a trance unable to look away, you drowned in the warmest hue of brown molded out of the richest cacao beans in the world. Jongho slowly took hold of your helmet and began pushing it upwards, but with a gentleness you hadn’t witnessed before. He was so careful and the imagination of having your head ripped off your body didn’t come to life.

“Thank you,” you whispered as he successfully removed the gear.

“No worries… I’m sure my mom would have my head if I let a lady walk around in designer clothes with a cheap helmet on.”

Although his intentions weren’t to tickle your belly, the sound of your laughter spread a fervor through his body and shone light on the darkest parts in him. It was contagious and he found his own lips curling up, eyes cheesing and that angelic voice of his handing out gleeful melodies to the few people taking a late-night stroll in the park.

“Come on, let’s take a walk.” He held out his hand for you to take and you did without a second thought. “I meant your heels, but lucky for you I have two hands.”

You began withdrawing your hand, but Jongho had already laced your fingers together and refused to let go.

“You're unbelievable,” you muttered, pretending the heat of embarrassment wasn't attacking your cheeks.

“I could live with that.”

Jongho pulled you along toward the flight of stairs and patiently walked with you. It didn’t matter that it took five minutes to reach the bottom because he was with you every step of the way and if you said anything otherwise, Jongho would’ve argued the night was still young and that the five minutes were worth it as he got to spend them with you. He was lucky his parents chose a candidate who wasn’t insecure of themselves to the point they apologized for every minor inconvenience, because Jongho wasn’t sure how the sweet words would fit his unruly persona. The first three steps on the sand made you change your mind and you quickly removed the heels, flexing your stiff feet and releasing a breath of relief. The expensive pair of footwear were handed to Jongho who hooked his pointer- and middle finger in the heel counter while his other set of fingers were still braided with yours.

“It’s nice here,” you admitted and looked out on the river. The other side was covered with a bunch of buildings, much like the ones behind you, and looked like a scene straight out of a movie. Where the lights of the apartments, universities and hospitals took on the looks of the stars above.

“Mmmmm, it’s quiet and empty.”

“Do you come here a lot?”

Jongho pondered for a moment. “Sometimes… I can think easier when there aren’t a bunch of people breathing down my neck, plus the ride here helps me clear my head.”

“It’s overwhelming, right? I mean being in the spotlight constantly and having your every move watched from an early age, no?”

He shrugged. “It was at first, but… I stopped caring after a while and people stopped expecting things from me.”

You hummed in understanding and let the gentle waves wash over the conversation. The curiosity you once carried with you concerning Jongho’s defying personality simmered down to nothing and you realized it wasn’t a topic you should venture in on just yet. Instead, you changed it to something less serious.

“You know, I didn’t think we’d see each other after high school, but look at us now. Holding hands beneath the stars… Are you perhaps starting to like me, Jjong?”

One end of Jongho's lips curled into a shit-eating grin and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek, and you couldn't tell if it was from the nickname or from bringing up old high school memories. Jongho’s walking slowed down until both feet were planted on the sand, not bugging despite you being half a step ahead of him. You looked over your shoulder to see what was the reason for stopping.

“I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered by the fact that you think I’m just now starting to like you.”

He shortened the distance between you, leaving barely any room for air to squeeze past your bodies. His thumb traced a never-ending circle across the back of your hand and your heels had long since dropped onto the sand, giving him the freedom to cradle the side of your face. Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart seemed to sprout a pair of angel wings, soaring in your chest at the contact of his skin on yours.

"To answer your question, soulmate, I’ve liked you since the day I saw you in that gymnasium." Jongho's eyes traveled over your face, giving each feature and detail equal attention, as if he wanted to memorize your beauty as though it were a cheat sheet for an exam. "You were dressed in that cute school uniform, your hair braided and kept out of your face, and you looked absolutely sick to your stomach. That’s when I knew our souls were made for each other. I didn’t even need to know your name or look at your wrist. I just knew."

The world went silent around you. The sloshing of water, the chorus of cute laughter and the moving vehicles were muffled sounds that didn’t reach your ears. A furious heat crawled up your back and neck, nipping at your cheeks until you were on the brink of burning up like a firework, but the rest of your body — your fingers, toes, nose and ears — were freezing cold. A massive star nearing the end of its life cycle suddenly exploded and your hearing came back. The air that had caught in your throat was let out as Jongho’s words settled in your mind.

“Jongho,” you lamely whispered in return.

The secret you had carried for years turned out not to be much of a secret after all, and the hundreds, thousands, of people you thought you were fooling day in and day out weren’t deserving of that title. Because the biggest fool out of them all was you.

“You knew all along?”

Jongho shrugged and tore his eyes from your dumbfounded expression down to your wrist. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.” His thumb slid up beneath your detachable sleeves, exposing the name you kept hidden for years. “I mean, it isn’t everyday I hear about a pretty girl with my name tattooed on her wrist and hers on mine.”

You didn’t know what to focus on first. The fact that he called you a pretty girl, his thumb caressing your soulmate mark or him knowing you were destined together since high school. Your tongue darted out to lick at your bottom lip and his eyes were quick to follow the brief movement. He swallowed thickly and forced them up again.

“I take it you knew too?”

You nodded in return. “When they called out your name in the assembly and I caught the side of your face.”

“I’m happy you didn’t approach me then,” he suddenly admitted and chuckled as your brows pinched together. “Fate brought us together in the end.”

“But we aren’t together-together.”

“Last time I checked, you pretty much signed a contract to date me.”

“Fake-date you.”

The tongue poking the inside of his cheek looked ten times more attractive beneath the moonlight, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hand through his hair and kiss that darned smirk off his face. Perhaps the soulmate bond went further than a name scribbled on the outer layer of your skin, because your wish wasn’t too far from Jongho’s. He, too, wanted to get a taste of your lips. To have some remnants of your lipstick smudge against his and guess the flavor of it — maybe strawberry or cherry, though he always took you for a coconut girl.

He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Okay, fake-date then… Better?”

Not in the least.

“Much better.”

“It’s not for me,” he quickly added.

“Why?”

Jongho inhaled a sharp intake of air and waited, playing the scene out in his mind and weighing out his options before puking his thoughts and feelings out in an almost vacant park. “Because… I want to do stuff with you. To hold your hand, take you out on dates, kiss you, hug you and just be with you like a real couple. I want to know that the look you have when you’re with me is real, that it isn’t just a job for you. I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.”

“I have always wanted you,” you confessed shakily. “Before I even knew you, Jongho. There was nothing more I wanted than to find my soulmate and that hasn’t changed. Even when I did find you and lost you at the same time, that desire still lived within me. It still does… And when I found out you were the rich kid who needed a fake-girlfriend, it felt like the world was laughing in my face, but I realized it was giving me a second chance. Us a second chance.”

Now it was Jongho’s turn to look dumbfounded. You took his silence as a sign to continue.

“And all you had to do, Jjong, was ask. Even now. Just ask for what you want.”

The man stared at you as if heaven were beneath your fingertips, as if a single touch of your finger would bring him eternal peace and serenity. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on and no one else could compete with your beauty — even if they were sculpted by Aphrodite herself. Jongho was never a listener — always defying and doing as he pleased. Yet this one time, the one time, he would be darned if he didn’t.

“May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The stars aligned as his lips gently pressed against yours. Jongho was right, you tasted like coconut and it had him craving for more, yet the fear of pushing you away was greater than his need. The fingers of your free hand tangled into the side of his shirt to steady your swirling mind, but did little for your erratically beating heart. Jongho wasn’t rough nor eager to ravage your mouth with his tongue, rather on the contrary. It was a soft and lingering kiss that tested the waters. You parted to inhale air before diving in for another kiss, this one a little more urgent and daring than the first, but equally sweet. Jongho’s tongue swiped at your bottom lip and you tilted your head sideways while allowing him access. Even now with his tongue exploring your mouth, the kiss didn’t change from intimate to hungry. A fire was set in your lungs that ached for oxygen and you were left with no choice but to break apart. Jongho rested his forehead against yours, noses brushing and heavy gasps for air fanning your faces.

“You drive me crazy,” he said between breaths.

“I’m not… doing anything.” You had to fight the smile threatening to dance across your lips. This was a whole new side to Jongho, a side you had never seen before but wouldn’t trade for the world.

“Precisely and you still make me lose my mind.”

The stubborn smile eventually broke through and Jongho huffed out a chuckle at the gleeful expression. I’m-not-doing-anything his ass. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek once and twice, but froze in motion as you asked him a question.

“Did you really mean everything you said earlier? About the contract, I mean.”

“Yes,” he answered in a heartbeat. “If I could, I would terminate the contract, but keep this. Keep us.”

A beat passed and then another. Your thoughts were flying wild, narrowly avoiding each other and the explosion that would ensue.

“Let’s do it then,” you eventually said. That was the second bravest thing you had done in your life. The first would be signing the contract while running on four hours of sleep. “Let’s do it for real.”

Jongho gauged your expression, searching for any sign of uncertainty or regret. When he couldn’t find even a hint of either, he pressed his lips against yours. Affection, joy, and excitement poured into the kiss, and Jongho hoped you would feel at least half of it. Unbeknownst to the new couple, two people stood by Jongho’s motorcycle. The man wore a fancy black suit, while the woman’s dress elegantly hugged her curves as she stood effortlessly in her heels. A set of black sunglasses obscured their eyes, despite the fact that the sun had long since exchanged places with the moon. The pair seemed out of place in Yeouido Hangang Park surrounded by people dressed in casual clothing. Passersby noticed it too, shooting them strange looks, but neither of them cared. Their attention was fixed on the couple brought together by destiny.

“I knew she was the one for him,” the man proudly admitted and puffed out his chest.

The woman beside him scoffed. “Please, I was the one who found her Linkedin and recognized her name from Mr. Choi’s wrist.”

The pair gave them one last look before turning around and clambering back into the limousine, which drove them straight to the charity event. They had left the party in a hurry the moment they noticed the absence of the successor of Choi Clothes and his fake girlfriend — or should they say, his real girlfriend?

#feedback: pretend you love me #[☀️] my esther #ateez x reader #choi Jongho x reader #ateez #choi jongho #fanfiction #drabble #oneshot

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