#i look at pictures of how my hands used to look just two months ago and i cant fucking believe i lived that way for DECADES

[lovehotelreservation]

chapter one: hi it's me you're all in danger summary: worldwide fame and a political tie or two has you--one of the biggest pop stars around--in dire need of reliable protection. thankfully you had four ex-military retirees to entrust your wellbeing to. but what happens when that protection turns possessive? rating: pg-13 (rating will increase across certain chapters) pairing: f!reader/task force 141

as a longtime charli xcx fan, can't say i expected my brat autumn to be spent writing about the cod mfs 😭😭

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10 AM. London. Shangri-La. Hotel bar.

Somehow, being surrounded by opulence, prestige, and elegance made particular four men currently seated in the back of the space feel a bit out of place.

But they were here on a mission.

Or rather, a job now.

The days of being out on the field in camo fatigues were of the past. Now they were all seated together in suits–black and white, jacket, tie, pants and polished shoes–gin and lemon water on the table.

There was a bit of restlessness in the air and it was starting to spill out in the conversations shared amongst the four.

“Simon, would it literally kill ya to show yer mouth, man? Dae ya want the lass to think yer sick as a first impression?”

“A bit of mystery could be fun, no?”

“Are ya Scooby fuckin’ Daee or somethin?!”

“Johnny, can you keep it down? Your mohawk’s already gotten us enough looks as it is.”

“And what’s so wrong with a lil’ business casual, Kyle?!”

“Can you muppets keep it down!?”

The harsh lash of Price’s tongue had postures straightened and lips hushed.

With a sigh, he brought his fingers to his temple, wondering how he managed to save the world over and over again with these three. Still, his eyes flickered to his watch as he checked the time, a conversation from a month ago coming to mind.

“Price.”

A hand was extended out to him. Fluorescent lights at the American embassy in Paris hung above. Murmurs of French and English lingered in the air as the day proceeded.

Price grinned, returning the exchange with a firm handshake. “Miller. Good to see you standing, old friend.”

Moments later the conversation was held at Miller’s office, a familiar place during the times Price had visited. What stood out to him most was the newly framed photo of Miller and his blushing bride, Priscilla.

A miraculous matrimony all things considered.

Miller, an American ambassador. Priscilla, an activist whose loud and mighty voice helped push for change within socio-political and environmental spaces.

It wasn’t as if it was absolutely impossible for the two to meet–rather, it was just the fact they met after being held hostage alongside other world leaders and activists during a goodwill gala held at Berlin. Terror wished to deliver a haunting message to all of the world, with similar sieges held at other massive events, but thankfully the work of 141 and other allies blocked the reception.

Price glanced down at Miller’s desk, where a few pictures of a glamorous woman were splayed across files: a pop star by the name of Dollface. Formerly part of beloved girl group 4EVA, now setting the music scene alight with impeccable music production, godly vocals, and captivating choreography.

Or so he’s heard.

Right beside her was a clipped out headline from a newspaper:

Glastonbury Saved! Tragedy Averted from Terrorist Threat!

A job well done–courtesy of a certain phantom soldier.

“–I know your days of military campaigns are over, but this has been tearing Priscilla apart,” Miller sighed morosely. “While I know this is the fault of no one and she understands that change in the world comes at a cost, the fact that terrorists would target her niece’s festival performance has been haunting her.”

“Revolution does not come easy, that’s for certain,” Price mused as he glanced over at his friend’s face with an affirming nod. “Even so, it’s something still worth fighting for.”

Miller sighed out in agreement. “Of course.”

“So then.” Adjusting his posture, Price then continued, his tone light, “What can I and a few recently retired soldiers do for you, mate?”

His shoulders relaxing, Miller then reached down for one of the photos of the pop star, pushing it over towards Price. “Watch her. Protect her, please. She’s been an anxious mess ever since Glastonbury.” Gazing down at the newspaper headline clipping, he continued, “Her career’s at such a critical point and her first solo world tour’s been delayed enough as it is. Pressure’s everywhere–label, fans, the media. I know she wants more than anything to finally move forward. But–”

Gingerly picking up the photo, Price took in every single detail of the woman.

Of you.

Turning his focus back to Miller, he grinned, brows raising. “A bit of Price Protection and Co. could do wonders, yeah?”

“You’d be doing miracles, friend” was the response received, along with a vigorous nod.

Price held out his hand.

“It’s a deal.”

And now, the gang was all here, even though the gang was currently driving Price up the wall. Still, if there was anyone who he trusted to get the job done on behalf of a dear old friend, it was Gaz, Ghost, and Soap.

Or rather, from here on out: Kyle, Simon and Johnny.

It didn’t hurt that the gig paid quite handsomely–your label desperately wanted you to get back on stage one way or another. Since the Glastonbury incident, you’ve since been spending your days in London, far too afraid to leave anywhere. The plan was to slowly draw you out of your shell by planning all promotional endeavors around the UK before you would travel the world as intended.

Before any of that however, the first key matter of business is for the five of you to meet together.

10:15 AM. London. Shangri-La. Hotel bar.

“What do you lot think? Full glam or lowkey?�� Kyle spoke up, now peering over to look at Johnny’s phone, who had brought up one of your music videos.

Price glanced over, seeing slick skin, big curls, gyrating hips, rouge lips, white heels, and sparkling eyes.

Such visuals were definitely not on Miller’s desk when discussing the job.

“Like right now?” Johnny queried back.

“Lowkey without question.” Simon folded his arms across his chest, his eyes peeking at Johnny’s phone, his expression reflective.

A sudden tap on the back of Price's shoulder just a moment later soon caught his attention. 

“Mr. Price…?”

He immediately turned back, the others following suit.

Johnny’s eyes widened, immediately switching off his phone to shove into his pocket.

Lowkey was correct.

A cap, oversized t-shirt with shorts hidden beneath, hair down, tennis shoes, a pair of sunglasses that were soon slipped off.

The contrast between who they saw on screen to who they were seeing now couldn’t be any more apparent.

Still, even by the way you stood before him, posture shrunken back slightly, eyes a bit downcast, voice softer than the usual bubbly vocals of your music, there was this grace, this aura that you exuded–one that spoke of a true bonafide performer rather than a mere average person.

Smiling warmly, Price held his hand out towards you for you to shake. “That would be me, dear.”

“Uncle Miller’s told me lots about you.” You smiled, bringing your hand up to take his.

So much smaller than his, he noted to himself, chuckling as he responded with, “I hope they’re my finer moments.”

Giggling in response, you affirmed, “As he said, only the best unclassified stuff. I’m Doll–” You quickly stopped yourself, opting to give your first name instead.

“Face pretty like a doll’s still,” Johnny murmured over to Kyle, who nodded in agreement.

Simon didn’t say anything but instead allowed his arms to rest by his sides, continuing to quietly observe you.

A world-renowned pop star with four former soldiers tasked to serve as her bodyguards.

Should be an easy enough job.

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thank you for reading !!! i know i tend to not really do multi-chapter pieces but idk the ghost of brat summer took over me after seeing a clip of soap and simon banter so i've been genuinely locked in with writing out this tale 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

subsequent chapters are going to be loosely tied together but i hope you enjoy my take on cod yumejo with this pop star otome 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

next chapter's up next friday !!! 🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️

[alsaurus-loves-dean]

.

[littlelamy]

you were right!

a/n: okay, i know you guys might be tired of me doing these but this is my last one! i hope you all like it 😜 gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs

The blazing Moroccan sun beats down on Rafe, its intensity mirrored by the firestorm raging in his mind. Dust hangs in the air around him, adding to the harshness of the moment as he stands over the well. Below, Groff coughs and groans, his face contorted in pain, but Rafe barely spares him a second glance. His rage overpowers everything else, even the satisfaction he should feel. He narrows his eyes, voice laced with anger and finality.

“Checkmate, bitch!” he yells down, his words slicing through the hot, tense air. The motorcycle engine he’d used to get out here sits idle a few feet away, rumbling like his frustration.

He turns on his heel, muttering a curse, fists clenched. As he stalks away from the well, he pulls out his phone and dials Sofia’s number, his chest tight with the realization that everything he thought he knew was a lie.

Sofia answers after two rings, her voice as casual as if he hadn’t just found out about her betrayal. “Hey, babe, what’s up ?”

Rafe’s voice is steely, cold. “Is it true? Is it true, what Groff just told me? Is it?”

The silence on her end is all he needs. He can practically hear her scrambling for words, but she never manages to answer. His face twists in anger.

“Pack your shit. Get out of my house,” he snarls, a final, unforgiving edge in his voice. “God, after everything I did for you? We’re done. Done.” He hangs up before she can say another word, shoving his phone back into his pocket with a bitter scoff. Betrayed, twice over—and he’d ignored the only person who saw it coming.

He stands there, baking in the Moroccan heat, his mind racing back to a month ago in Kildare, when you and he had argued over Sofia. You’d warned him that she wasn’t who she seemed. He’d brushed you off, accusing you of jealousy—knowing damn well that there was more to it. You were his best friend, but it was complicated; that line had already been crossed too many times, with late-night kisses and tangled sheets. But you two hadn’t spoken since that fight, since the way he’d brushed you off had hurt deeper than either of you cared to admit.

Taking a breath, he pulls out his phone again, fingers hovering over your name. He hesitates, swallowing his pride, before finally pressing call.

The phone rings, and you pick up after a few moments, your voice tight with annoyance. “What, Rafe?”

Your tone makes him pause, but the way you sound almost comforts him, even with the irritation clear in your voice. You’re there—back in Kildare, probably sitting cozy in your little apartment. Meanwhile, he’s out here under the scorching sun, alone, trying to piece together his pride.

He clears his throat. “Hey… princess,” he says, voice softened, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. He can almost feel you rolling your eyes on the other end, but he presses on, the words weighing heavy on him. “I—uh… Look, I’m sorry. You were right.”

There’s a surprised pause, and he hears you shift in your seat as if you’re debating whether to hang up or let him speak. When you do answer, your tone is a bit softer, cautious.

“What happened?”

Rafe lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Turns out Sofia was exactly who you said she was. A snake. And here I was, thinking you were just being… petty. But I guess I’m the idiot, huh?”

You breathe out, and he can picture you shaking your head, lips pressed together. “You wouldn’t listen,” you say quietly, as if the words hold more hurt than anger.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his voice. “I know. I was so damn sure you were just jealous. I mean—” He pauses, grappling with how to say it. “Hell, I thought you were jealous because you… I don’t know. I thought you didn’t want me with her because we…” His voice trails off, but the implication lingers between you.

“Yeah,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “I get it.”

Rafe bites his lip, letting the words sink in. “Can I see you? I’m done here in a few days, and I could be back in Kildare very soon. I could stop by, explain… properly.”

A beat passes, and when you finally speak, it’s careful, guarded. “After everything you said last time, why should I?”

He laughs softly, almost self-deprecating. “Because I think you might be the only person I can trust right now. And… I miss you.” His voice drops, laced with a warmth he can’t help. “Even if you’re just going to gloat and rub it in my face.”

You chuckle, and he smiles, savoring the sound. “I don’t know if I miss you or if I just feel sorry for you,” you tease, but the playfulness is back in your tone, if only faintly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, amusement lacing his words. “Act like you don’t care. But come on, you miss me. Admit it.”

A small silence follows, and he imagines the way your lips twitch into a smile. Finally, you relent. “Maybe a little. But you’re bringing wine. Good wine.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby,” he says, the flirtation back in his voice. “Only the best for you.”

You scoff, but he hears the hint of a laugh. It’s the closest thing he’s had to a good moment in a long time. He takes a breath, savoring the thought of leaving this mess behind and getting back to Kildare—back to the only person who knew him well enough to call him out, and care anyway. As the call ends, he puts his phone in his pocket, a grin spreading across his face, motivating him to get that crown and go to his princess.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif

[gghostwriter]

Wanted: A Gentleman

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2 || Future take Summary: Your lovely group of friends, Penelope, JJ, and Emily, set you up with your perfect match Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.3k a/n: Back at it again with something miss Sabrina Carpenter inspired. The fluff idea has finally struck and I love how this ended up, even without any editing! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

“I’m serious!” You clarified, wiggling to get comfy on Penelope’s sofa. “It was the worst date I’ve ever been on!”

All the three girls laughed. It was Friday night, girl’s night, and you found yourself surrounded by the baddest girls Virginia could ever offer. The Powerpuff girls of the BAU as you once jokingly dubbed them—JJ being Blossom, Penelope being Bubbles, and Emily being Buttercup. Witty thinking on your part, if you say so yourself. 

Having just moved into the state just a few months ago, you were grateful for the ray of sunshine that Penelope was for taking you under her wing and introducing you to a great set of girlfriends.

“It can’t be that bad—” JJ giggled as she took a sip of her newly refilled glass wine. “Can it?”

Bringing out your phone, you swiped to the screenshot Bumble profile of your date the night before. He wasn’t bad looking, not at all. He was cute in a very American boy next door type of way but then again, his profile being filled with gym pictures should have clued you in.

“We had dinner at that newly opened restaurant, Palm & Pine, which is a great place by the way, but all he ever did was talk about himself—”

Emily nodded along. “Typical macho male behavior.”

“—that wasn’t even the worst part! He brought out a scale, a portable weighing scale, to log his macro calories in a fitness app!”

Penelope chose the wrong time to take a sip of her drink causing her cough violently while the two remaining girls threw back their heads and laughed hysterically. All you could hear were gasps of weighing scale and calories between them.

“I’m all for being healthy but really? On a first date?” You crossed your arms to your chest. “At this point, I might as well get a cat or two to keep me company.”

Penelope snatched your phone and clicked to open the dating app. “Oh no no, sweetheart. You’re too beautiful and nice to end up alone. We can find you a perfect man to love and take home with!”

“Yeah, we’re profilers. Trust us to pick for you,” Emily slyly added as she peeked behind Garcia’s shoulder.

Reaching out for the opened bottle of alcohol, you sighed in defeat and let the girls do their thing. “I’m going to need copious amounts of alcohol in my system for this.”

———

It was bad. Based on all their comments and numerous swipes to the left, the dating pool was atrocious, hell on earth. 

“He looks cute—” Penelope continue to scroll on his profile before making a face. “Never mind, look at that horrible grammar.”

JJ leaned in and read the poor man’s bio. “Theirs a million reasons why I’m your future boyfriend—Jesus, it’s really hard out there, huh?”

“I’d take any man who’s nice and breathes,” you laugh in despair. 

Emily’s eyes twinkle from a sudden idea. Everyone had been drinking continuously and the filter had been turned off by the time the third bottle was opened. Any thought made beyond just screamed bad idea. “You know, we could just set you up with Reid.”

“Reid?” you tilted your head to the side. What kind of a name is that? Its very…unique. “You have a co-worker named Reid? As in that’s his first name?”

“No, no, no. His name is Spencer, Reid is just his last name,” JJ clarified, leaning forward with a sweet smile on her face. Oh no, you knew that look. She was very much into this.

Penelope slides your phone to you and promptly claps her hands in glee. “You’re so right! Why didn’t I think of that!”

“Right,” Emily turned to face the other two. “They’d be great for each other. Now we just have to get him to agree. JJ—” the blonde raised her eyebrows. “—can you talk to Reid about it?”

She shrugged. “I could but you know how stubborn he is.���

“I’ll blackmail him if I have to,” Penelope interjected. “Boy genius needs to meet our own girl genius. They’ll be perfect for each other, he just doesn’t know it.”

Your eyes volleyed in between the three. “Don’t I have a say in this?”

Emily tsk’ed as she turned her inquisitive dark eyes on you. “I’ll cash in on that prize I won last time.”

“No,” you breathed out, remembering how you badly lost last poker night and vowed to do any dare the winner would tell you to do.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes,” her smile growing wider and wider with each denial. 

Your shoulders slumped forward. “Fine but he better be the love of my life or you owe me big time.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head. He will be,” Penelope laughed, pouring more wine in all of the glasses. “Cheers!”

———

It took three weeks before the girls were finally able to wear the mysterious Dr. Spencer Reid down and in the midst of waiting (and stubbornly hoping that he would never give in), you learned more about the boy genius than you ever wished for. How he has an IQ of 187, graduated high school at the age of 12, has 3 PhDs under his belt, and an avid reader—like yourself. 

You begrudgingly admitted that he spiked your interest and having someone to talk to about books would be lovely but beyond that, you were slightly intimidated by his background which made yours, a literature degree graduate and publishing editor, seem insignificant. Penelope tried to squash that negative thought once you aired it out in the open by saying that Spencer wasn’t the type to judge anyone based on their societal standing. If anything, he’d find you interesting, she urged.

But there was one information you weren’t privy to, how he looks like. The girls didn’t want to show any photos, stating it’s best to see him face to face rather than through an image, which in turn made you imagine the worst. 

You looked around, standing on the second step of the museum as you try to spot any curly, hazel haired man walking your way. He wasn’t late, you were just too anxious to be fashionably late. 

Someone stopped in front of you at the bottom of the steps. 

“Are you—” the doe eyed stranger cleared his throat. “Y/N? Penelope’s friend?”

Oh damn. He was beautiful.

“Yes, are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” You squeaked. 

He smiled, stunning you into even more into awe. “Hi, yes. Yes, Spencer is fine.”

“Should we go inside?” You breathed out as you watched his cheeks reddened, no doubt matching the color of your own.

He nodded before slightly touching your arm to stop you in place and bending down like he was some kind of knight and shining armor and for all you knew, he could be. “Your shoelace is undone. Did you know that there’s more than 1,000 cases related to loss of footing each year and 67% of these falls were attribute to untied shoelaces?”

“We wouldn’t want to contribute to that, do we?” You quipped back as you studied how the sunlight hit his wavy locks, turning some into gold, and his doe expressive eyes with specs of green in them. Your favorite color as of today.

He laughed, his high pitched chuckle further capturing your heart. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” 

Your thoughts thanking the three women for setting you up with what seemed to be a perfect gentleman. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[brunchable]

The Marriage Bet

Pairings: Best Friend Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Themes: A bet. A bit of comedy but mostly fluff and Bucky treating his woman right ;)

Summary: If in three years time both of you were still single, you will marry your best friend, Bucky. That's the bet.

A/N: For those of you who voted for 'Calm Down, Dad Mode' I've added it to this story. This has got to be my favorite fluff FML. Also let me TELL YOU, the cravings in pregnancy and the emotions are real because I lived it lmao. PART 2

Three Years Ago

"You know what we should do?” Bucky said out of the blue, his gaze fixed on you with a seriousness that made your stomach flip. The two of you had been lounging on his couch for hours, talking about everything and nothing. It was a lazy night filled with laughter, shared memories, and the kind of comfortable silence only you and Bucky knew how to savour.

You glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“If we’re still single in three years… let’s get married,” he announced, as if it was the most logical suggestion in the world. His tone was light, but there was a quiet intensity in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t joking.

You stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was serious. “Bucky, have you lost your mind?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug, his lips twitching up into that familiar smirk that made your heart skip. “But think about it. No more crappy dates, no more getting your heart broken by idiots who don’t deserve you. Just us. You and me. We already know each other’s worst habits, and we get along. It’d be a good marriage.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You make it sound like we’re signing up for a business merger.”

He laughed at that, the sound deep and genuine. “Maybe. But at least you’d know you’re stuck with someone who’s never going to walk out on you. Someone who’d fight for you.”

The way he said it made your throat tighten, and for a second, you allowed yourself to picture it. A life with Bucky, the two of you navigating the ups and downs together. No more failed relationships, no more loneliness. Just the comfort and security of someone who knew you better than anyone else.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” you murmured, still stunned by the idea.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah, I am. So, what do you say?”

You hesitated for just a beat, then broke into a grin. “Deal, Barnes. If we’re still single in three years, I’ll marry your crazy ass.”

He grinned back, his hand shooting out to seal the promise with a firm handshake. But as your fingers clasped around his, the energy between you shifted — playful and yet, inexplicably serious.

“Deal,” he echoed softly, a knowing look in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

× × × × 

Present

You leaned against the railing of the rooftop, your eyes skimming over the city lights below as the faint notes of Taylor Swift’s break-up songs filled the air. You and Bucky had been up here for hours, talking and drinking, the night air crisp against your skin.

It had been a rough few months for you — the breakup still felt fresh, the sting of rejection and disappointment lingering. But being here with Bucky made it easier. He had a way of grounding you, of making you feel like everything would be okay, even when it didn’t seem that way.

“Y’know, you’re the best,” you murmured, your words slurred slightly from the champagne. “I mean it, Buck. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiled softly, his gaze warm as he watched you. “Good thing you don’t have to find out, huh?”

You nodded, letting out a sigh as you turned back to the view. “Still, I feel like… I don’t know. Like I’m destined to be alone or something.”

“That’s not true,” he said quietly, setting his glass down and turning to face you fully. “And you know it.”

You shrugged, glancing over at him. “Yeah, well, sometimes it feels like it. Everyone I’ve ever dated just—”

You stopped mid-sentence as Bucky suddenly shifted, reaching into his pocket. Your eyes widened as he pulled out a small blue velvet box and, without hesitation, flipped it open. The soft light of the rooftop glinted off the 1.5-carat diamond ring nestled inside — simple, elegant, and undeniably breathtaking. 

“What’s that?” you asked, your breath catching in your throat.

Bucky arched an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look. “An engagement ring, Y/N. What else?”

“Yeah, I know it’s a ring!” you sputtered, your mind reeling. “But why—how—what are you doing with it?”

Bucky sighed, muttering under his breath, “For someone so smart, she really can’t see what’s right in front of her.”

You barely had time to process the words before he got up from his sitting position and slowly knelt down on one knee. The movement made your heart jump into your throat, your breath hitching as he looked up at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“I want to marry you, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm and sure. “Not because of some bet or joke we made all those years ago, but because… I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be the one you come home to. The one who makes you laugh when you’re sad. The one who fights for you.”

You felt your chest tighten as the weight of his words sank in, the sincerity in his voice making it almost impossible to breathe. “Bucky… this is—”

“I know this is crazy,” he continued, cutting you off gently, his gaze never leaving yours. “But when have we ever been normal, huh? I’m not asking you to feel something you don’t or to change anything between us. But I am a man of my word, and I’m keeping the promise we made.”

Your mind raced, memories of that night flashing through your mind — the promise, the shared laughter, the way he’d looked at you back then as if you were the only thing that mattered. And now, here he was, years later, kneeling in front of you with an engagement ring, ready to turn that promise into something real.

He took a deep breath, his hand trembling slightly as he held out the ring, his expression almost pleading. “So… will you marry me? Not because you feel like you have to, but because you want to?”

You stared down at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. The world seemed to fade away, the only thing anchoring you being his blue eyes, filled with nothing but hope and determination.

“Well? Say something, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper now. “Because I’m dying here.”

You let out a breathless laugh, the tears welling in your eyes spilling over as you shook your head in disbelief. 

“You’re really going all out, huh?” you teased, “Getting down on one knee and everything… how could I say no to a man with such dedication?”

Bucky blinked, caught off guard, and then let out a soft laugh of his own. “Is that a yes, or are you just stalling to make me sweat more?”

You glanced at the ring, then back at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “I guess… if I have to be stuck with someone for the rest of my life… it might as well be you.”

“Yes,” you added quickly, your smile widening as you looked at him with all the warmth and affection you felt. “Of course it’s a yes, you idiot!”

Relief washed over his face, his grin so wide it could’ve lit up the entire rooftop. “You really know how to keep a guy on edge, don’t you?”

“Gotta keep things interesting,” you replied with a laugh, reaching out to brush your fingers against his cheek. “I can’t make it too easy for you.”

His chuckle was deep and genuine, the tension melting from his shoulders as he slipped the ring onto your finger, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can be so mean you know that?”

“Mean?” you scoffed, giving him a playful look of disbelief. “You’re proposing to me, remember? I’m just making sure you know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

Bucky shook his head, laughter bubbling up in his chest. “Oh, I know. And I’m still all in, even if you make me work for it.”

You grinned, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Bucky didn’t hesitate, his arms coming up to hold you close, his chin resting gently on top of your head. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

Slowly, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest as your eyes locked with his. The sound of the music drifted softly through the air, wrapping around you both like an embrace.

You could see the tenderness in his gaze, the way his eyes softened as he looked down at you. There was something indescribable in the way he held you, his hands warm and secure against your back, as if he never wanted to let go.

“You know,” you murmured softly, a small smile playing on your lips, “I completely forgot about that bet.”

Bucky’s lips quirked up at the corners as he started to sway gently, rocking you both back and forth in time with the music. 

“Yeah? Good thing I haven’t.” he agreed quietly, his voice low and filled with something that made your heart flutter.

You let out a content sigh, closing your eyes for a moment as you swayed together under the soft glow of the rooftop lights, the melody of the song weaving its way into your soul. There was a peace, a sense of rightness in the way his hands rested on your waist, the way your fingers curled into his shirt.

Opening your eyes, you tilted your head slightly, the corners of your lips curving up into a playful smile. “I’m really going to make you regret this, you know.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing gently against your side as he gazed down at you. “Doubt it. But you’re welcome to try, sweetheart—I mean what else could I possibly not know about you?”

Your smile widened as you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest. “Oh, you’ll find out. Just because we’re getting married doesn’t mean I’m not full of surprises.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against your temple. “Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Just remember you asked for it,” you teased, your voice soft as your fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt. “You’re the one who’s committing to a lifetime of never quite knowing what I’ll do next.”

“Yeah?” he murmured, his gaze dipping to your lips before meeting your eyes again, a smile playing on his own. “I guess I like keeping things interesting, too.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest, and you felt the tension melt away as you both swayed gently to the music. It felt like a new beginning — a promise that whatever came next, you’d be facing it together.

× × × ×

A few months later.

The garden was alive with soft laughter and murmurs as the afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves. The air was filled with the delicate scent of roses and jasmine, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided the perfect backdrop for the small, intimate gathering of friends.

Bucky stood under the floral archway, his suit somehow both perfectly fitted and slightly askew in that way only Bucky could pull off. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers drumming absently on his thigh. When you turned the corner, your eyes met his, and you couldn’t help but smile at the exaggerated sigh of relief he let out.

“Thank God you showed up,” he teased, his voice carrying over the gentle breeze. “Thought I’d have to marry Sam instead.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you made your way down the short aisle, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah, yeah, keep it up, Barnes. He’d leave you at the altar, you know.”

Bucky grinned, his shoulders relaxing as you stepped up to him. “True. He couldn’t handle my morning breath.”

The officiant cleared his throat gently, drawing soft chuckles from your friends. Bucky’s gaze stayed locked on yours, a playful twinkle in his eyes as if you were sharing a private joke no one else could understand.

“You ready for this?” he murmured softly, his tone light but his smile genuine.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, giving him a small nod.

The ceremony was simple and sweet, with your closest friends standing in a loose circle around you, their smiles reflecting the joy and camaraderie that had always defined your relationship with Bucky. 

When it came time for the vows, Bucky cleared his throat dramatically, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.

“I’m not good at this stuff,” he began, waving the paper around, “so I wrote it down. Just so I don’t forget the important parts. Like promising I won’t eat your fries without asking.”

You let out a snort, shaking your head. “So that’s why you’re marrying me? For my fries?”

“Partly,” Bucky said with a wink, earning a few laughs from your friends. “But seriously… I promise to always be your partner in crime. To watch bad movies with you, to be your go-to plus-one for all those events you hate, and to be the one you can call at 3 a.m. when the world feels like too much.”

His voice softened slightly, his gaze never wavering from yours. “I promise to be your best friend, to listen, and to support you. And yeah, to not eat your fries — unless you’re not looking.”

You chuckled, blinking back the unexpected prickle of tears. “Damn, Barnes. Setting the bar high for husband material, aren’t you?”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he replied with a smirk.

When it was your turn, you took a deep breath, glancing down at your own slightly crumpled paper. “Bucky, I promise to keep being your reality check, to make sure you don’t take yourself too seriously. I promise to help you with your crazy woodworking projects, even when you refuse to read the instructions. And I promise to be your partner in all things — the weird, the good, and the unpredictable.”

Bucky’s grin softened into a small, genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think we’re gonna be pretty good at this whole marriage thing.”

“I think so too,” you murmured back.

The officiant’s voice broke through the quiet moment, his smile warm. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Bucky, you may now—”

“Wait,” Bucky interrupted, holding up a hand as he turned to you, his expression half-serious, half-teasing. “Can I kiss you?”

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

“You know,” he said, shrugging a shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “This is technically our first kiss. I want to get it right. So… how do you like it?”

A burst of laughter escaped you, the tension in your shoulders melting away as the sheer Bucky-ness of the question made you grin. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Come on, humor me,” he pressed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Slow? Gentle? Or should I just go for it?”

You shook your head, still laughing softly. “Just… kiss me, you goof.”

Bucky grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Alright, Mrs. Barnes,” he said softly, leaning in. “I’ll make it good.”

His grin widened and shifts a little closer to you, Bucky dipped his head and you felt your noses brush. His breath is on your lips, and you quiver a bit at the odd sensation. Without another moment to spare you realise that he's pressing his lips to yours—it was nothing like you’d expected. His hand slipped to the small of your back, drawing you closer, his eyes fully closed. Bucky was concentrating on the kiss, and you realised that your eyes were wide open. Slowly you close them, hiding away your brilliant orbs. 

Bucky’s lips are oddly doft in this kiss and it stays slow and sweet. He wrapped his arm around you more, lifting you slightly off your feet. The veil fluttered around you like a soft cocoon, and then everything disappeared as his mouth moved insync with you, his kiss remained slowly, his mouth molding against yours in a way that made your knees weak.

His fingers gently tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing softly along your cheekbone as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.

But then he shifted, tilting your head just slightly as he deepened the kiss, his hold around you tightening. It was then that you felt him let go completely — every barrier, every wall he’d kept up around himself crumbling as he poured everything into that kiss. 

Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint cheers and whistles of your friends—Sam being the most obnoxious—but it all felt like background noise. It was just you and Bucky, wrapped up in this kiss that felt like it had been building up for years. His lips slid over yours with a kind of sweet intensity, a silent confession of everything he hadn’t said — of everything he didn’t know how to say.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting gently against yours, both of you were breathless, hearts pounding in unison. He didn’t let go, his arms still wrapped around you as if you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

A soft cheer went up from your friends—Sam being the most obvious— and Bucky’s grin turned almost smug. “How was that?”

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands clutching his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself. “Yeah, Buck. I think you got it just right.”

“Good,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours for a long, lingering moment before his smile widened into something boyish and relieved. “Just wanted to make sure.”

“Don’t worry,” you teased gently, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You’re not getting rid of me after a kiss like that.”

Bucky’s laugh was soft, his nose brushing against yours. “Guess I should keep practicing, huh?”

You nodded, your grin matching his. “Yeah. Keep practicing, Barnes.”

And as he pulled you in for another kiss, slower and just as sweet as the first, you knew that this — all of this — was exactly how it was meant to be.

× × × ×

1.5 years later

You were pacing back and forth in the bathroom, your heart hammering in your chest. Every few seconds, your eyes would dart to the three little sticks sitting ominously on the edge of the sink — three white, plastic harbingers of potential chaos.

“Come on, come on, come on,” you whispered frantically to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as if willing the tests to disappear — or at least show some clarity.

How did it come to this? You were supposed to be life partners — partners in crime, best friends — no strings attached, no expectations. Just two people who promised to be there for each other. Sure, you got married, but it was all because of the bet. A way to keep each other from loneliness, you both said. Nothing more, right?

Except somewhere along the line, late-night talks had turned into stolen kisses. Comforting hugs had turned into tangled limbs. And now… this.

“Oh my god, he’s going to flip,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair as you stared at the still-blank screens on the tests. “This isn’t how we were supposed to—”

“Supposed to what?”

You jumped about a foot in the air, letting out a small squeak of surprise as Bucky’s voice filled the bathroom. You whipped around, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you spotted him leaning casually against the doorframe, an amused smirk on his lips.

“Bucky! Don’t—don’t just sneak up on people like that!” you stammered, instinctively shuffling over to the sink to block his view.

His smirk widened. “I didn’t sneak. You’re just too distracted, sweetheart.” He pushed off the doorframe, crossing his arms as he stepped closer. “What’s going on in here?”

“Nothing!” you squeaked, your voice a little too high-pitched.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh-huh. So, you’re just hanging out in the bathroom, talking to yourself?”

“Yes!” you answered quickly, nodding like a bobblehead. “Yep, just a totally normal conversation with… myself. Very productive.”

He eyed you, suspicion etched all over his face. “Uh-huh. And why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“I don’t!” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest as if that could somehow shield you from his scrutiny.

Bucky took another step closer, his gaze flicking over your shoulder. “Then why are you standing like that?”

You moved subtly, trying to casually scoot to the left, but your back hit the edge of the sink. “Like what?”

“Like you’re hiding something,” he said, leaning down slightly to look your directly in the eyes. “What’s behind you, Y/N?”

“Nothing!” you insisted, but your hand twitched involuntarily, knocking into one of the sticks. It clattered onto the counter, bouncing once before rolling to a stop right at Bucky’s feet.

You froze.

Bucky’s eyes flicked down to the test, and his entire expression shifted — from curiosity to confusion to wide-eyed realization.

“Wait… is that a—?”

“No!” you yelped, diving forward to snatch up the stick and hide it behind your back. You stood there, breathing heavily, your face flushed with a mix of panic and embarrassment.

Bucky’s gaze slid back to you, his lips quirking into an incredulous smile. “Y/N, are those… pregnancy tests?”

You glanced around desperately, as if you could conjure up some kind of diversion to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Uh… no? Maybe?”

“Sweetheart…” Bucky stepped around your easily, and in one quick motion, he plucked the other two tests off the sink. He held them up, his eyes wide and eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. “There are three.”

“Yeah, well… you know, the first one could be a fluke, and the second one too, and…” you trailed off, wincing at how ridiculous you sounded.

Bucky blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. “Three tests, huh? You’re nothing if not thorough.”

“Bucky!” you hissed, mortification washing over you. “This isn’t funny!”

“Maybe not,” he admitted, though his lips were still twitching with amusement. “But you’re freaking out over here, hiding them like I wasn’t gonna notice.”

“I wasn’t freaking out!” you lied, folding your arms across your chest again. “I was just… assessing the situation.”

He raised an eyebrow, waving one of the tests in front of your face. “Assessing, huh? And what’s the situation, then?”

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. “I don’t know, okay? I haven’t looked at them yet!”

There was a beat of silence. Then—

“Wait, you haven’t looked?” Bucky’s voice was filled with genuine disbelief. “You’ve been pacing around in here, stressing yourself out, and you haven’t even checked?”

“I’m not ready!” you snapped defensively. “I mean… what if they’re positive?”

Bucky’s grin softened into something more genuine, and he stepped forward, gently cupping your cheek. “Then they’re positive.”

Your eyes met his, the sincerity and calmness in his gaze making some of your panic ebb away. “But we’re not even— I mean, this was supposed to be—”

“A bet?” he finished softly, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. “Yeah. I remember. But bets don’t always go the way you plan.”

You swallowed hard, your heart still hammering wildly. “You’re not… mad?”

“Mad?” he repeated, his expression incredulous. “Why the hell would I be mad? I mean, sure, this is unexpected. But mad?” He shook his head, chuckling softly. “C’mon, Y/N. You really think I’d be mad about having a family with you?”

The words made your heart stutter, and you stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Bucky…”

“Let’s just see what they say, alright?” he murmured gently, stepping back and nodding toward the tests. “No more freaking out until we know.”

With trembling hands, you turned each test over, your breath hitching as you looked at the results.

Positive.

Positive.

Positive.

Bucky’s grin had barely faded before the reality of the situation seemed to really hit him this time. His gaze drifted back to the three tests lined up on the sink, and you watched as his face slowly drained of colour.

“Bucky?” you asked cautiously, noticing the way his grip on your arm loosened slightly.

He blinked, his eyes darting between you and the tests like he was trying to solve some impossible puzzle. “So, uh… positive. All three?”

You nodded slowly, worry beginning to creep back in. “Yeah, Buck. All three.”

“Oh… Oh, wow,” he muttered, his eyes widening. “That’s… that’s a lot of positive.”

“Bucky—”

“I mean, I knew one was a lot, but three—positives?” he rambled, swaying slightly on his feet. “That’s… that’s a whole lot of… baby.”

“Bucky, are you okay?” you asked, reaching out to steady him as his face turned even paler.

“I’m—yeah, I just—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes rolling back slightly as his knees buckled.

“Bucky!” you shouted, grabbing for him as he crumpled to the floor in a faint.

You managed to catch his weight just enough to keep him from completely knocking his head on the tiles, though it took every ounce of strength you had to keep him semi-upright.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” you huffed, looking down at his unconscious form with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “You’re the one who said you’d be fine with this!”

He let out a soft, incoherent groan, his head lolling to the side as you carefully lowered him all the way to the ground and raised his legs above his head for bloodflow.

“Of course you’d faint, you big drama queen,” you muttered, crouching down beside him and lightly patting his cheeks. “Come on, Buck. Wake up. I’m not doing this alone, you hear me?”

After a few more pats and murmured reassurances, his eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked up at you, dazed and confused.

“Y/N?” he mumbled, his voice slurred. “What… what happened?”

“You fainted, you big idiot,” you said, the frustration in your tone softened by the overwhelming relief that he was okay. “Over three little tests.”

Bucky stared at you blankly, then his gaze drifted back to the sink where the tests still sat in a neat row, mocking him with their tiny positive signs.

“Oh… right,” he murmured, his face scrunching up as he tried to process it all again. “So it wasn’t a dream?”

“Nope.” You shook your head, giving him a half-smile. “Definitely not a dream.”

“Damn,” he breathed, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I really fainted, huh?”

“Yeah, you did,” you replied, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice. “And you’re lucky I didn’t let you hit your head.”

He chuckled weakly, his gaze still lingering on the tests. Then, slowly, he reached up, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently.

“I love you, Y/N, you know that?” he mumbled, his voice soft and a little slurred as he still looked dazed. “Not like a friend, but y’know… like, love love.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the sudden confession. A laugh bubbled up in your throat, the ridiculousness of the situation hitting you all over again. “Bucky, you’re still out of it.”

“Yeah, probably,” he murmured, blinking up at you with a lopsided grin. “But doesn’t make it any less true.”

Shaking your head, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, your smile softening. “I know, Buck. We’ll talk about that later when you’re not busy fainting over pregnancy tests, okay?”

“’Kay,” he mumbled, his eyelids drooping slightly. “But just… so you know.”

“I know,” you repeated gently, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “Just rest for a second, and then we’ll figure this all out together.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes drifting shut for a moment before he opened them again, looking at you with a sleepy smile. “We’re really gonna be parents, huh?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your heart swelling with affection. “We really are.”

“Cool,” he murmured, his head lolling back against the bathroom tiles. “Love you, Y/N… love love.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you sat beside him, holding his hand. “Love you too, Bucky. Now, no more fainting, okay?”

“No promises,” he mumbled, but his grip tightened around your hand, as if even in his half-conscious state, he didn’t want to let go.

And as you sat there on the bathroom floor, Bucky still looking a little woozy but smiling up at you with that goofy, endearing grin, you couldn’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — everything was going to be just fine.

× × × ×

First Trimester.

The clock on the kitchen wall glowed a soft, accusatory 2:37 a.m. as Bucky shuffled groggily into the dimly lit space, scratching at his head. He was half-asleep, dressed in rumpled sweatpants and a t-shirt that had seen better days, and still trying to figure out why he’d been dragged from his warm bed.

He paused mid-step when he spotted you sitting at the kitchen table, your shoulders hunched, face buried in your hands. He blinked, his brain struggling to catch up with the situation. “Uh, sweetheart… what’s going on?”

Your only response was a pitiful sniffle, followed by another one. Bucky’s brows shot up in alarm, and he quickly moved to your side, crouching down in front of you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly, peering up at you with wide, concerned eyes. “Did something happen?”

You shook your head, letting out a small, hiccuping sob. “I… I really wanted… chocolate chip pancakes… with whipped cream and strawberries…”

Bucky blinked again, glancing around the empty kitchen as if he expected a stack of pancakes to magically appear on the counter. “Okay… uh… we don’t have any of that stuff right now, but I can go to the store—”

“Everything’s closed!” you wailed, cutting him off with a fresh wave of tears. “And I really wanted it now!”

The sheer devastation in your voice made Bucky’s heart clench in sympathy — but a very tiny, very unhelpful part of him also found it hilariously absurd. He had fought aliens, Hydra agents, and all manner of nightmares… but he’d never faced down a pregnant wife in the throes of a pancake craving at nearly 3 a.m.

“Oh,” he said lamely, scratching his head again as he tried to think of a solution that didn’t involve breaking into the nearest IHOP. “Okay, um… we can make pancakes without chocolate chips, right?”

“But I don’t want plain pancakes!” you cried, your voice wobbling dangerously. “I want chocolate chip pancakes! And… and I want whipped cream on top, but we don’t have any!”

Bucky swallowed, his panic rising as you continued to cry. He was the Winter Soldier, damn it. He could handle this. There had to be a way out of this. “Okay, alright. Just breathe, okay? How about… uh… what if I make you some toast? I’ll put some Nutella on it? It’s kind of like chocolate.”

“It’s not the same!” you sobbed, burying your face in your hands again. “I want… pancakes…”

Bucky let out a helpless laugh, running a hand down his face as he glanced at the empty fridge like it was somehow betraying him. “Baby, you’re killing me here.”

You sniffled, peeking out from between your fingers with watery eyes. “You don’t understand, Buck. I can taste the pancakes. I can taste the strawberries… I can feel the whipped cream…”

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again, at a complete loss for words. “Yeah, uh, I can’t pull that out of thin air. But…” He glanced around, his gaze falling on a tub of vanilla ice cream in the freezer. “What if I make you a sundae? It’s kinda like a pancake… just cold.”

“No…” You shook your head, another tear rolling down your cheek. “It’s not pancakes…”

Bucky let out a long, dramatic sigh, his hands resting on his knees. “Okay, okay. Here’s the deal. Tomorrow morning, I’m gonna wake up, and I’m going to go get you all the chocolate chips and whipped cream and strawberries you want, alright? I’ll make a pancake buffet.”

“But I want it now,” you murmured miserably, rubbing at your eyes.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he cooed gently, reaching out to pat your head awkwardly. “But unless you want me to bust into some diner and get myself arrested, I’m gonna need you to hang in there for a few more hours.”

Your lips trembled, and you nodded reluctantly, sniffling again. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

Bucky smiled softly, his heart melting a little. “Nah. You’re growing a tiny human.” Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he added, “Although, I gotta say, if I can handle your craving meltdowns, I think I deserve some kind of medal. Or at least, like… superhero husband status.”

A small, watery laugh escaped you despite yourself, and Bucky’s smile widened triumphantly.

“There she is,” he murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to your temple. “Look, we can’t have pancakes right now, but how about we get creative? Maybe I can whip something up with what we do have? I’m talking PB&J sandwich sculptures. Or,” he gasped dramatically, “a waffle made out of popcorn!”

Your eyebrows furrowed, but the corners of your mouth twitched. “Popcorn waffles?”

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he said with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “This could be a revolutionary invention, Y/N. We could change the breakfast game forever.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, wiping at your tears as Bucky’s ridiculousness slowly chased away the lingering sadness. “You’re such a weirdo, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you married me,” he shot back, a grin spreading across his face. “So who’s the real weirdo?”

“Still you,” you teased softly, shaking your head.

Bucky let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically. “Wow, so rude. No respect for the man who’s about to go MacGyver your snack cravings at 3 a.m.”

You smiled despite yourself, reaching out to take his hand. “Thank you, Buck.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmured, squeezing your hand gently. “Now, what do you say we get a little creative in this kitchen and see if we can’t make something that’ll make these pancake cravings shut up for a bit?”

“Okay,” you agreed, the warmth of his hand in yours grounding you. “But I’m holding you to that pancake buffet tomorrow morning.”

“Pancake buffet with extra chocolate chips, whipped cream, and strawberries,” he promised with a mock salute. “You’ve got my word.”

And as Bucky scoured the pantry for the weirdest possible combinations — “How do you feel about a peanut butter, banana, and potato chip sandwich?” — you couldn’t help but laugh, the weight of your cravings lightening in the face of his relentless optimism and willingness to do whatever it took to make you smile.

“World’s best husband,” you murmured fondly as he started arranging sandwich slices into a goofy face.

“Damn right,” he replied with a wink, holding up the plate proudly. “And this? This is my masterpiece.”

You took one look at the ridiculous sandwich sculpture — a lopsided smile made from pickle slices and a beard of crumbled crackers — and the tears came flooding back, but this time they were unstoppable.

“Bucky… you’re… you’re the best husband… in the world!” you sobbed, your shoulders shaking as you buried your face in your hands.

“Whoa, whoa, wait—hold on!” Bucky stammered, his eyes widening in alarm as he quickly set the plate down and moved back to your side. “What… why are you crying? Sweetheart, it’s just a sandwich! A really ugly sandwich, but—”

You let out another wail, shaking your head as more tears spilled over. “No, it’s not that! It’s you! You’re just so—so good, and sweet, and—and I don’t deserve you!”

Bucky froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. 

“Wait, what? Where did that come from?” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around as if he expected someone to pop out with a manual for how to handle this. “Hey, you deserve everything, okay? Even pancakes at 3 a.m. if I could make it happen.”

“I just… you’re always trying so hard, and you’re just… you’re amazing,” you whimpered, reaching out to grab his hand like it was a lifeline. “And I’m crying because I can’t have pancakes, and I’m a mess, and you’re making me a weird pickle-beard sandwich…”

Bucky stared at you, completely lost, before he finally let out a helpless, incredulous laugh. “Okay, okay, I’m officially out of my depth here,” he muttered, gently pulling you into his arms and patting your back awkwardly. “But hey, let’s save the compliments for when I’m not half-asleep, yeah?”

You nodded miserably against his chest, your sobs starting to subside as his steady heartbeat grounded you.

“Good, because you’re gonna make me cry if you keep this up,” he joked softly, running a soothing hand through your hair. “And no one wants to see the Winter Soldier ugly-cry over a pancake buffet.”

You let out a watery giggle at that, sniffling as you pulled back to look up at him. “You’re really gonna get me all the pancakes tomorrow?”

“Every last one,” he promised, his smile gentle and reassuring. “Now come on, let’s see if we can make this popcorn waffle thing work. You’ll need to tell our kid one day that their mom ate the weirdest thing ever while pregnant,” Bucky finished with a grin, his hand sliding down to gently cup your cheek as he wiped away the lingering tears with his thumb. “That way, when they give us a hard time as teenagers, I can say, ‘Hey, kid, I made your mom a popcorn waffle at 3 a.m. She bettered have loved me.’”

You laughed again, hiccupping through the tears as you tried to calm yourself. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

Bucky shrugged, his lips twitching up into a lopsided smile. “Maybe. But you married me, so what does that say about you?”

“That I’m a glutton for punishment,” you teased softly, feeling some of the tension start to ease as his thumb continued its gentle, comforting strokes on your cheek.

“Or just smart enough to know when you’ve got a good thing,” he murmured back, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “And I’m gonna keep being that good thing — even when it means making bizarre snacks and wrangling your tears at stupid o’clock in the morning.”

You let out a shaky breath, smiling up at him as you looped your arms around his neck. “I love you, Bucky.”

His eyes softened, his gaze locking onto yours as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose against yours. “I love you too, sweetheart. And we’re gonna figure out this whole craving thing. Even if it means starting a midnight pancake truck or something.”

The image of Bucky in an apron, serving pancakes from a food truck, was so ridiculous that you let out a genuine, hearty laugh. “A pancake truck?”

“Why not?” He smirked, his fingers playing with a lock of your hair. “I’d be the hottest pancake chef around. We’d have a line out the door.”

“Because everyone’s desperate for pancakes at three in the morning?” you asked, still smiling.

“Exactly,” he said with a mock-serious nod. “They’d be calling me the Pancake Soldier instead of the Winter Soldier.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter again, your earlier tears completely forgotten. “I swear, you’re impossible, Bucky Barnes.”

“Impossible and all yours,” he said with a wink, then glanced at the kitchen. “Now, how about we whip up some sort of Frankenstein snack to tide you over until the morning, huh?”

With another sniffle and a smile, you nodded. “Alright. But I’m still holding you to that pancake buffet.”

“Wouldn’t dream of backing out,” he promised, kissing your forehead again before guiding you to a chair. “You sit right here, and let Chef Barnes work his magic.”

You watched as Bucky moved around the kitchen, his clumsy efforts at ‘creative’ snack-making bringing a smile to your face despite the ridiculousness of it all. He muttered under his breath, concocting weird combinations — “What if we crush some pretzels on top?” — and talking to the food like it would reveal some hidden trick.

Eventually, he managed to cobble together another makeshift treat: a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich with a few random M&Ms sprinkled on top for good measure. It looked as chaotic as you felt, but the effort and love behind it made your heart swell.

You stared at the messy sandwich, your lips trembling again — but this time with a whole different set of emotions.

“Hey, no more tears,” Bucky said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m running out of ideas here, babe.”

“I’m not crying,” you sniffed, reaching out to take a bite. “It’s just… you’re really, really sweet, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to give your knee a gentle squeeze. “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, your heart feeling lighter than it had all night.

“Good.” He smiled, leaning back in his chair as he watched you take another bite. “Now eat up, because come morning, I’m getting up at dawn to get everything we need for that pancake buffet. You’re gonna be the happiest pancake-eating pregnant lady in the world.”

“And you’re gonna be the best pancake-making husband in the world,” you replied with a soft smile, warmth spreading through your chest.

“Damn right,” Bucky murmured, his voice filled with so much affection it made your heart skip a beat.

As you finished the bizarre snack and Bucky continued to ramble on about potential pancake flavors and topping combinations, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly grateful.

Because, bizarre cravings and all, there was no one else you’d rather navigate the chaos with than him — your best friend, your partner, your ridiculous, wonderful Bucky Barnes.

× × × ×

Third Trimester

Bucky’s overprotectiveness had started out in small, endearing ways—like lingering in doorways or making sure you had an extra pillow at night. But as your pregnancy progressed, so did his paranoia, turning him into an almost comical shadow of your once-confident, battle-hardened husband.

It began with the shoelaces.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He practically skidded across the living room to kneel at your feet just as you were about to bend down to tie your sneakers. You straightened up, raising a brow, watching him fumble with the laces like it was a complex puzzle rather than a simple bow.

“Bucky, it’s just tying my shoes. I can do that,” you pointed out gently, but he shook his head fervently.

“Not risking it. What if you lose your balance?” His words were muffled as he double-knotted the laces, his shoulders hunched like he was shielding you from some invisible force.

“I’m not gonna lose my balance,” you murmured, amused. “I’ve been tying my own shoes for decades.”

“There’s a first for everything.” He tightened the bow a little too firmly, making you flinch. He winced in apology and adjusted it again, softer this time, before peering up at you with those intense blue eyes, a mix of worry and resolve. “Humor me, okay?”

You sighed, relenting with a small nod. “Okay. But just so you know, you’re not going to be doing this every single time.”

He grinned—victorious, as if you hadn’t noticed how he conveniently “lost” all your slip-ons just last week.

Then there was the laundry basket incident.

It happened when you were carrying a half-full basket of towels from the dryer. You’d barely made it halfway down the hall when Bucky materialized out of nowhere, intercepting you like you were carrying live explosives.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—what do you think you’re doing?” His voice was all mock-seriousness, but there was genuine concern underlining it as he gently pried the basket from your hands.

“Laundry?” you deadpanned, trying to tug it back, but he held firm.

“Not anymore, you’re not.” He shot you a look that dared you to argue as he held the basket up high, well out of your reach. “You don’t need to be lugging this around.”

“It’s not even heavy!” you protested, exasperation seeping into your tone.

He scoffed. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it. Just point me to where you want it.”

Grumbling, you pointed down the hallway. “Our bedroom.”

“See?” he said with a self-satisfied smile, striding down the hall like he was conquering new territory. “No big deal.”

You had to fight back an eye roll. “You’re gonna be like this until the baby is born, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” he called over his shoulder, unashamed.

It didn’t stop there, of course. In the kitchen, he’d barely let you near the sink.

One morning, you’d decided to tackle the breakfast dishes—something you could usually manage without too much hassle. But as soon as you set the first dish into the soapy water, Bucky’s hand appeared out of nowhere, lightly shoving you to the side.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, though it was clear he wasn’t asking for permission. “Your belly’s gonna bump into the counter. Let me do it.”

“Bucky—”

“Let. Me. Do it,” he insisted, holding a soapy plate hostage as he gazed at you, lips set in a stubborn line.

With a sigh, you threw your hands up in surrender. “Fine. But I’m not a porcelain doll, okay? I can do dishes just fine.”

“Sure,” he replied, but he was already washing the dishes with focused precision, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you hadn’t slipped or stumbled in the two feet he’d moved you back.

It was both infuriating and endearing, and it made you love him even more—though you’d never admit it when he was acting like a hovering mother hen.

The grocery trips were almost unbearable. He’d insisted on coming along, despite your reassurances that you were perfectly capable of picking up a few items.

“We need milk,” you pointed out, motioning toward the far end of the aisle.

“Got it,” he said immediately, guiding the cart forward with one hand and slipping his other arm around your waist as if to support your entire body weight.

You shot him a look. “I can still walk, you know.”

“Of course you can,” he agreed with a grin. “I’m just… helping you waddle.”

“Waddle?” You narrowed your eyes, smacking his arm lightly. “Did you just call me a waddler?”

“Um…” He glanced at you sheepishly, realizing his mistake a second too late. “No?”

“Yeah, nice try.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“Alright, alright, bad choice of words. I’m just keeping pace with you,” he corrected, slowing his stride even more so that the two of you were practically moving in slow motion down the aisle.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of it all. “If we go any slower, we’ll start moving backwards.”

Bucky just chuckled, his arm tightening around you protectively. “I’ll take my chances.”

By the time you reached the milk, you were almost tempted to ask him to sprint the rest of the way just to get it over with. But the truth was, there was something undeniably sweet about having Bucky hover around like this.

“Let me guess,” you teased as you plucked a carton of milk off the shelf. “You want to carry this too?”

“Of course,” he said, already reaching for it, his expression deadly serious.

You held on to the carton just long enough to make him sweat before handing it over. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Unbelievably in love with you,” he replied easily, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.

“Smooth,” you muttered, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile.

With Bucky being his overprotective self, you had no doubt that he’d be like this for the next few months—and likely long after the baby was born. But as much as you complained, deep down, you knew you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

× × × ×

“Bucky, for the last time, it’s just a shoe box,” you emphasise, glancing at your husband as he carefully hoists the empty box off the couch like it’s made of glass.

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, eyes darting suspiciously to the plain cardboard. “You shouldn’t be carrying anything in your condition.”

“Condition? Bucky, I’m pregnant, not broken.” You cross your arms, watching as he tucks the box under his arm like it’s a rare artefact. The man is a walking, talking fortress of muscle, but right now, his overprotectiveness is reaching absurd levels.

“And nearly at your due date,” he points out, placing the box on the counter with a sigh of relief as if he’s saved you from imminent danger. “I’ve read all the books. I know how this goes.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, yeah? So what’s the worst that could happen if I pick up a shoe box?”

Bucky turns to you with a dead-serious expression. 

“It’s not about the weight. It’s about…” he falters, eyes scanning your swollen belly, “…stability. Your centre of gravity is off right now. A box could trip you.”

“A box could trip me?” You arch a brow, incredulous. “Really?”

“Yes!” His tone is insistent, and you have to bite back a laugh. This is the same man who once told a pack of HYDRA agents they were outnumbered—just because it was him and Steve versus a dozen of them. But now, he’s reduced to eyeing an empty cardboard box like it’s a mortal enemy.

Sighing, you sit back on the couch, deciding it’s not worth the argument. Besides, there’s a certain charm in seeing the Winter Soldier so worked up over an inanimate object. You lean back, letting out a small groan as you shift your weight.

Bucky’s been hovering around you all day like a lost puppy, eyes following your every move. The moment you make the slightest sound, his head whips around, concern flickering in his eyes. So when you groan, immediately, he’s by your side, eyes wide, hands hovering over your belly.

“What? What’s wrong? Is it time? Should I get the bag?”

“Calm down, Dad-mode. I’m just stretching.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “You’ve gotta stop panicking every time I make a sound.”

“Every time you make a sound, it could be something serious!” Bucky exclaims, sounding almost affronted. “Do you know what it’s like hearing you groan and not knowing if it’s ‘I want ice cream’ or ‘I’m about to go into labor’?”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” you tease.

He huffs, muttering something about ‘pregnancy hormones,’ and kneels down in front of you. Strong hands lift your foot gently, and he starts massaging your arch. You sigh, instantly melting under his touch.

“Better?” His voice is softer now, concern etched in every syllable.

“Much better,” you mumble, letting out a little moan as he presses down on a particularly tight knot.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bucky freezes, eyes wide again. “What’s that? Pain?”

“Relax,” you say, though your voice is slightly breathless. “It’s the good kind of pain. Keep going.”

You lean your head back, closing your eyes as Bucky continues the foot massage. The man has hands that could crush stone, but right now, he’s so gentle you almost feel like you’re floating. It’s hard not to feel a little spoiled under his doting care.

But just when you’re getting lost in the bliss of his hands working away the tension, you catch his face out of the corner of your eye. Bucky’s brow is furrowed, and his expression is one of fierce concentration, like he’s facing down a particularly difficult opponent. You stifle a giggle—only Bucky could make a foot massage seem like a high-stakes mission.

“Alright, alright, enough of that,” you say, reaching down to tug on his hand. “If you keep looking at my foot like that, you might set it on fire.”

Bucky blinks up at you, clearly having forgotten where he was. He chuckles, the sound low and almost shy. “Can’t help it. I just… I want to make sure I’m doing it right.”

“Bucky, it’s a foot massage, not defusing a bomb.” You roll your eyes again, but your heart swells at his concern. “You’re doing it perfectly.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks, but he lets out a small huff, pretending to be grumpy. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Then, without warning, he shifts beside you on the couch, a determined look settling on his face. “Now, hold still.”

Before you can ask what he’s up to, Bucky leans down, pressing his ear gently against your belly. You’re about to ask him if he’s comfortable, but the sheer look of wonder on his face stops you short. His eyes close, and he inhales deeply, as if trying to capture every little movement your baby girl makes.

“Hey, there, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs softly, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. His fingers splay across your belly, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles. “It’s your dad. Just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re being good for your mama.”

You bite your lip, warmth spreading through your chest at the sight. The fierce Winter Soldier, the man with a list of enemies longer than most people’s grocery lists, reduced to talking softly to your baby girl like she’s the most delicate thing in the world.

“She’s probably plotting her escape already,” you joke quietly, and Bucky grins up at you.

“Nah,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corners. “She’s too busy practicing her karate kicks. Isn’t that right, little one?”

Right on cue, a small flutter against your belly answers him, and Bucky’s eyes light up like fireworks. He leans down again, pressing his lips gently against the spot where your baby kicked.

“Whoa, easy there, sweetheart,” he murmurs, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Save the punches for when you’re out here. We’ve got plenty of training sessions ahead of us.”

You snort, shaking your head at his words. “Bucky, she’s not even born yet, and you’re already planning training sessions?”

“Gotta start ‘em young,” he says seriously, but the way he softens his voice when he turns back to your belly is anything but tough. “But don’t worry, we’ll take it easy. I’ll make sure you get to be a kid and have fun first. No one’s gonna mess with you. Not when I’m around.”

He pauses, his eyes misting over for a brief moment, and you know he’s thinking about everything he’s been through—everything he wants to shield your daughter from. Slowly, he rubs his thumb along your belly again, his touch featherlight.

“And you’re gonna love your mama,” Bucky continues softly. “She’s strong, and she’s funny, and—” He glances up at you, his smile turning mischievous. “She’s a little bit stubborn sometimes. But you’re gonna be just like her, I bet.”

“Great,” you mutter, faking a groan. “Two of you plotting against me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Bucky promises, but the glint in his eyes tells you he’s already imagining all the ways he’ll spoil his little girl.

He shifts again, his head still resting on your belly, and you have to stifle another laugh as he starts a running commentary, complete with exaggerated gestures.

“Okay, so here’s the plan,” he whispers conspiratorially to your baby. “When you get here, you’re gonna kick a lot. Cry a lot. But not too much. Your mama needs her sleep. Then, we’ll team up to get you extra dessert when she’s not looking.”

“Bucky!” You can’t help it—you burst out laughing. “You can’t be plotting behind my back already!”

He grins, looking up at you with mock innocence. “Hey, it’s not my fault if she wants ice cream. Right, sweetheart?”

A few more soft kicks seem to echo his words, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I’m doomed,” you say, shaking your head fondly.

“No, you’re not,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softening again. He presses one more kiss against your belly before shifting to sit up beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you gently against his side. “You’re gonna be the best mom. And I’m gonna be right here, making sure you both have everything you need.”

You lean into his warmth, smiling as his hand drifts back to your belly, tracing idle patterns.

“I love you,” you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder.

“And I love you,” he replies, voice deep and steady. He leans down, kissing the top of your head. “Both of you.”

With Bucky holding you close and whispering to your daughter, you feel your heart swell with a contentment so strong it almost aches. It’s moments like these that remind you just how lucky you are to have this overprotective, sweet man by your side.

Even if he does go overboard sometimes.

[taegimood]

— my girl (c.yj) ♡

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader genre: friends to lovers, non-idol au, smut, fluff rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 6.1k warnings: unprotected sex, pwp (6k but most of it is smut tbh lol), softdom!yeonjun, inexperienced!reader, dry humping, oral + fingering (f receiving), squirting, petnames (baby, princess, doll, good girl, pretty girl), daddy kink (yeonjun refers to himself as daddy), spanking, creampie, multiple orgasms (f receiving), light choking but not (he doesn’t squeeze), one instance of spitting, it’s established that jun is older than reader so OPPA IS USED AS AN HONORIFIC and idc if people hate it lol as a korean speaker i’m tired of westernizing shit

a/n - pls picture temptation era hair yeonjun 😵‍💫 this is inspired by a dream i had.. dreamt every part in his room up until the actual penetration 😮‍💨 cockblocked by my own brain

──────────────────────

yeonjun’s sheets are soft as you sit observing his bedroom, taking note of all the little details that his strong personality shines through, the first time you’ve seen the other side of his door — though how you even got to this point in the first place is still something you’re going over and over in your head as you wait for him to come back.

his soft smile is met with your nervous one as he enters the room with two water bottles in hand, shutting the door quietly behind him — your eyes follow his lithe fingers as he turns the lock — and you watch as he places the drinks on his nightstand before turning to you.

the air suddenly feels much warmer when he sits down on the bed beside you, so close that you’re almost touching, and that fond look on his face only serves to heighten your nerves as you remember that he knows what he’s doing, and you don’t.

well… sort of.

everything happened only a few hours before.

your best friend kai had invited you to hang out with him and his roommates, a chaotic group of guys who you’ve grown to call your friends as well; even yeonjun, who you may or may not have developed the hugest crush on ever from the minute that you’d first met him.

it’d been a few months of back-and-forth, sometimes convinced that it must be mutual and other times doubting your judgement completely — has he always been this flirty, or is it your imagination when his eyes linger just a little too long? — and it was on this fateful day at their apartment when it all fell apart.

(or should you say, all came together).

everyone knows to watch out once beomgyu’s got a couple of drinks in him, so it was only a matter of time before your unlucky day came when he’d decide that you would be his glorious first victim of the afternoon; and that was exactly where you found yourself as he took it upon himself to announce to everyone in the room that you and yeonjun needed to admit you wanna fuck each other already, or else he’d “just have to do something about it himself” (whatever that meant).

to say you wanted to crawl into a ditch and die would be the biggest understatement of the century.

your wide eyes were pinned to the floor as the room erupted into multiple reactions; soobin groaning with a smack upside beomgyu’s head as he scolded the younger not to say stuff like that, taehyun’s “damn,” as he knocked back his beer to cover a laugh, kai burying his head into his hands with a shriek — he swore he didn’t mean to spill your secret to beomgyu a few weeks ago, it just slipped out — and of course, the culprit in the center laughing his ass off unphased.

the only one who had yet to say anything was…

you steeled yourself and glanced up, meeting yeonjun’s eyes that were already watching you from across the living room.

your own widened marginally.

he didn’t look disgusted. he didn’t look put off. in fact, he looked…..

your breath caught. there was a small upturn to his lips, a confirmation, the hint of a smile that solidified as he quirked a brow as if in question. as if he was asking you,

“well? what should we do about it then?”

and everything changed from there.

~

it hadn’t taken long for beomgyu’s quick-moving attention span to be directed elsewhere thanks to some faithful effort on hyuka’s part, the others following suit to spare you from the spotlight — and it was only about an hour later when you found yourself alone in the kitchen for a breather, the sounds of your friend’s quarreling and laughter slightly less eardrum-shattering now from where you stood leaning against the sink.

a few minutes passed before the sound of someone else slipping into the room grabbed your attention.

your peace quickly morphed into apprehension.

“hi,” yeonjun whispered, a small smile on his face that read somewhere between gentle and amused.

his hands were in his pockets as he came to lean casually against the counter opposite you, head tilted slightly to the side as his eyes trailed over your expression, and you cursed your mouth for going dry at the sight of him.

his simple black tank top and sweatpants combo had you fighting to keep your eyes on his face — his face, pretty and framed so nicely by silky black hair that was grown out quite a bit longer than usual these days, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it as your thighs rubbed together subconsciously.

“…hi,” you whispered back.

he breathed out a small laugh.

“i wanted to talk to you, but i didn’t want the others to hear.. figured this was a good opportunity when i saw you get up.”

“r-right..”

why am i so awkward? what the fuck? oh god wait why is he coming closer-

your hands gripped the counter behind you as yeonjun stepped forward. his voice was low, quiet, meant only for you as he stood in front of you with a look on his face that had you melting in more ways than one.

“listen... i know that we’ve never talked about this thing between us. i didn’t wanna scare you off by being too forward, but now that beomgyu ran his mouth about it…”

with a feather-light touch, yeonjun reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“well, i’m not gonna deny what he said, and i’m pretty sure that i’m right when i say.. i think you want me the same way that i want you.”

you felt heat running down your entire body like a zap of electricity.

your fried brain didn’t even have the chance to fully process before you heard beomgyu shout from the living room, “hey, what’s taking so long?!” and the scent of yeonjun’s cologne was like a drug as he leaned in and whispered in your ear,

“if you feel ready to see where this goes.. stay here with me when they go out.”

and just like that he was gone, random assortment of snacks in hand to avoid suspicion as he called back to beomgyu, “i’m coming, just couldn’t decide what to eat!”

and you slumped against the counter with legs like jelly.

~

you received a chorus of groans and boos when you told the guys you were gonna go home instead of joining them elsewhere for dinner and drinks, earning brief suspicion only from taehyun as he eyed you questioningly for a moment — their focus primarily resting on yeonjun’s uncharacteristic opt-out that he’d blamed on a sudden migraine.

you felt ridiculous as you even headed down the elevator with them to the street outside, going out of your way to be believable, rounding the corner towards the subway station until they were well out of sight before heading back up towards the apartment.

you’d’ve been lying if you said that you didn’t consider leaving yourself; your jittery nerves and quick-beating heart nearly convincing you, until you remembered the look in yeonjun’s eyes and the wetness between your legs returned.

yeonjun, choi yeonjun, one of the most popular and charismatic guys that you know — wants you.

and now here you are on his bed.

when you think about it, in your eyes yeonjun is a lot of things that you’re not; the way he just naturally draws people in, the way he carries himself, always making friends so easily; the fact that he’s genuinely cool, somehow good at everything he does and always looks hot doing it; he’s older than you — not by much, but still — and the number one thing on your mind right now:

he’s experienced.

now you’re no virgin, but your measly 1 past boyfriend is nothing in comparison to the fact that yeonjun’s ability to please a woman is a very well-checked box on his long list of skills (if beomgyu is correct about anything he’s blabbed about, at least. which today so far he seems to be).

and now, as he sits here so close to you with that same look on his face as before, that gentle smile and amused little twinkle in his eyes — well, you know right then that you’re a goner.

“hi,” he whispers, just like he did in the kitchen earlier, and you whisper it back with a shy smile.

this is the first time you’ve ever truly been alone with him.

he looks at you for a few moments, and you wonder if this is what amoebas feel like under a microscope until he places his hand on the bed beside you and rests his weight on it, by default leaning in even closer than before.

“i like you.” he says simply.

in panic mode, you resort to sarcasm - “y-yeah-“ you clear your throat - “um, yeah, i think we established that.”

his laugh sends tingles through you as a real smile not stricken with awkwardness finally blooms on your face, the ice slowly melting for you as you start to remember that right, okay, he’s a friend and not some unreachable deity (for the most part, at least).

“i.. like you too,” you respond sheepishly, and you bite your lip at the underlying shift in his tone as he keeps his eyes locked on yours and says,

“i know.”

the mood has suddenly deepened into something else.

his hand comes up to your cheek, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “is this okay?” and you don’t know when his face got so close to yours but your eyes are already threatening to flutter shut as you hum in response, lidded gaze glued to his full, pretty lips that you want so desperately all over your body.

“words, baby.” he voice is a whisper, breath warm against your lips, his own so close now that you can almost feel them —

“y-yes.”

and just like that, choi yeonjun is kissing you.

whatever you thought a real kiss was supposed to feel like, whatever kisses you had felt with your ex —

none of it compared to this.

you feel his smile when you quietly moan, his lips even softer than you had imagined, moving against yours slowly, deliberately, expertly, the hand that had been on your cheek sliding gently to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss.

his tongue is warm and soft as it traces along your bottom lip, and you don’t care how eager you probably seem as you let it in immediately, trying not to moan again as he slips it past your lips to caress yours; you melt as he sucks lightly on your tongue before giving a teasing, gentle bite to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

you can’t even imagine how dazed you must look — but his knowing smile tells you enough.

you can’t explain it, but in that moment you gain a hunger-fueled confidence. you want to give yeonjun everything.

fuck, you want him bad.

you’re pulling him back to you faster than you can chicken out otherwise, and the pleased noise he makes as you connect your lips again only spurs you on further to do what you’ve been so badly wanting to:

you touch him, hands sliding from his shoulders up to his soft hair, pulling at it gently as his lips travel down your jaw to suckle at the skin of your neck; you moan, freely this time, eyes sliding shut and head tilting back to give him all the access he wants as you wrap an arm around his shoulders and keep him close.

his hand slides around your waist to your lower back as he slowly guides you down to lay against his sheets, your legs instinctively widening for him as he slots his hips between them, and you groan at the bulge now resting comfortably against your clothed core.

it doesn’t take long before he gently rocks his hips forwards.

you whimper, clutching to his tank top as he continues to kiss and suckle along your neck; your legs tighten around his hips and his lips tilt into a smirk against your skin as your body responds to his like it’s what it was made for, and so he does it again, this time continuing into a steady rocking pace.

the hardness of his cock drags deliciously against your center as he rolls his hips into it again and again, slow enough so that you feel everything, but firm enough that it makes your head spin and your thighs twitch with need.

“oppa,” you whisper, pleadingly, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for but you know that you just need more.

“hm?” he hums back, lips still sucking pretty bruises into your neck,

and it’s like he can read your mind as he asks with another smirk against your skin - “want more, baby?”

you nod quickly with a weak, “mhm,” and your heart jumps as his lips move up to your ear.

“tell oppa what you want.”

the husk of his voice sends shivers straight downwards.

he pulls away just enough for you to meet his eyes and you feel like a rabbit hunted down by a fox, but in your case, you never want to escape from his grasp.

“i.. i-i want…”

you can feel the heat blooming in your cheeks, remembering once again how much you haven’t experienced, and you want to tell him exactly where you want him to put his mouth — but instead your eyes avert from his as you mumble in admission,

“i-i’ve never been… well i’ve never been eaten out before. s-so.. um..”

in your peripheral you can see yeonjun’s brows lift to his hairline in disbelief. “what?”

a finger beneath your chin gently draws your gaze back to his and the genuine bewilderment in his eyes is enough to deepen your blush as he asks, “how could that bastard have possibly survived never tasting you?”

your body buzzes with electricity as your eyes widen; there’s a hunger and determination dancing in yeonjun’s stare that you’ve never been looked at with before.

his intensity makes you shiver in anticipation and it’s like you can taste the honey dripping from his words when he says,

“let me make you feel good, baby. let me give you everything that he should’ve.”

your head spins.

you’ve never felt so desired.

the second that you say okay, yeonjun places one last dizzying kiss to your lips before he’s moving down your body, guiding you out of your shirt as he slowly maps out your skin with his lips — you breathe out a sigh at the way his large hands caress you, intentionality in every touch.

eventually he sits up on his knees, pulling back from a kiss to your navel to reach for the hem of your panties. you shiver when his fingers ghost over your hips.

“lift for me,” he instructs softly, and you do, biting your lip as he begins to slowly pull them down, eyes glued to your cunt, and you watch the way his breath hitches in his throat at the strings of wetness that cling to the fabric.

“fuck,” he whispers, practically groans,

“can’t believe no one’s ever tasted such a pretty pussy before… gonna eat you so good, baby..”

you’re going out of your mind with need, his words alone sending another gush of arousal to your heat, your hungry eyes traveling down to trace the imprint of his rock-hard cock in his sweatpants.

teasingly you ghost your foot over it as he slides your panties from your ankles, and his eyes flicker up to yours as you stare back innocently; his gaze narrows and lips quirk up into a lopsided smirk as his warm hands slide up your legs.

“getting brave, now, are we?” he taunts, stopping at your thighs as he wraps his hands around them and spreads your legs open.

slowly he lowers himself between them, all the while keeping his eyes on yours, and your hips jump at the whisper of his breath against your aching cunt when he says,

“better be careful, doll… any game you try to play, i can play it better.”

and when his fingers spread you open and his lips kiss your clit, you already know that he’s ruined you for any other man.

how could you even dream of anyone else when the tip of yeonjun’s velvety tongue slips out to trace teasingly up and down your slit, or when the pad of his finger circles so lightly around your leaking hole that you might even be imagining it?

no, there’s no way you could be imagining this, not as the warmth of his mouth caresses you as he closes his lips around your clit and gently begins to suck, your head tipping back with a shudder as you whine at the feeling.

“eyes on me, princess,” he murmurs against your cunt, and when you manage to bring your gaze back to his, the sight before you is sinful.

his foxlike eyes dark and dangerous and twinkling as he watches you through his lashes, pretty lips forming a smirk that you can only feel and not see as he whispers “good girl,” - before the next thing you know, his tongue is flattening against you as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy, big hands keeping your jerking hips in place as he begins to ravish you, sucking, licking, kissing, groaning shamelessly at the taste of you and sending vibrations straight through your quivering core as you unravel beneath his touch.

“so fucking good,” he moans, sliding a finger inside of you with ease as he begins to pump it steadily in and out, practically making out with your pussy as you whimper, hands instinctively flying to his hair — you almost pull them away when suddenly he adds another digit, the stretch causing your fingers to tighten in his dark strands as your hips instinctively grind forwards against his mouth.

you’re about to apologize when yeonjun moans even deeper than before.

“that’s it, baby,” he grunts, “use my face. want it so bad, don’t you? go ahead and chase it, cum all over daddy’s tongue.”

something unholy snaps inside of you at that.

“f-fuck-” you cry, doing exactly as he said; you can’t help it as you grind your clit down on his warm tongue over and over and over, hands tightening in his hair as his fingers work impossibly faster, and a new sensation takes over you as the dam breaks and you reach your peak;

you don’t realize what’s happening at first as you’re carried through the most mind-blowing orgasm, until you feel the unusual amount of wetness soaking his sheets and hear yeonjun groaning “fuck, fuck, that’s it, baby, that’s it -“ and he’s three fingers deep as you realize you’re squirting.

it’s as though he can read your body like a book the way he can tell when it’s suddenly too much, his pace slowing gradually until he gently slides his fingers from your sopping hole, placing a final feather-light kiss to your clit before his lips and hands move to soothe your quivering thighs.

“you did so good, baby, holy shit..” the bottom half of his face is soaked in your juices as he mouths along your skin, hands massaging and caressing whatever his lips aren’t kissing;

you’re still bewildered, and can feel the raging blush on your cheeks as you’re quick to blurt in embarrassment, “i-i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to-“

“y/n.” yeonjun looks up. “seriously, that was so fucking hot, you have no idea.”

you can see in his eyes that he’s telling the truth.

“r-really?”

he laughs, finally sitting up; “baby, i- fuck, like, you actually have no fucking idea how sexy you are.” he pushes his hair out of his face and it’s only then that you realize how heavy he’s breathing, the bulge straining against his pants somehow a million times more prominent than it was earlier.

“y/n, i’m so turned on right now that i can hardly think straight. please-“

you meet his eyes again quickly,

“please, i need to be inside you.”

apparently today is the day that you learn just how crazy choi yeonjun makes you, because despite your still-twitching thighs and your pussy so sensitive that you’re sure a slight breeze would send it into overdrive, your body is quick to betray you at his toe-curling words when your walls clench from the emptiness and a fresh wave of arousal gushes from your soaked heat.

“if you don’t fuck me right now i’m gonna go clinically insane.”

his brows lift only for a moment before he’s laughing, swooping down to catch your lips in a kiss. “well we can’t have that, now, can we?”

he gets off the bed, your eyes hungrily tracking his every move as he peels the tank top from his torso and casts it to the ground; “fuck,” you whisper as your gaze trails down the defined ridges of his abs; “fuck,” you groan when he hooks his thumbs around the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls them down with his boxers in one go.

his cock is long and slender and flushed pink, the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen as you imagine the weight of it in your mouth.

if it were anyone else, you’d wanna slap the shit-eating grin right off of his face, but this is yeonjun, and the fact that he knows he’s all that only makes him 10x hotter.

you can’t tear your eyes away from his length as you sit up on your elbows to watch, and he enjoys it, pumping himself in his hand and smearing the pre-cum around his tip with a satisfied hum.

but as he reaches for the condoms in his desk drawer, you surprise both him and yourself when you stop him.

“no.”

he pauses, looking over his shoulder at you with quirked brows —

“want you to fuck me raw.”

his mouth goes dry. you can see the fire dancing in his eyes as he slowly straightens, keeping himself under control as he asks carefully,

“are you sure?”

you bite your lip and quickly nod. “wanna feel you,” you breathe, and that does it for yeonjun as he’s back on top of you in an instant, his lips pressing to yours in a searing kiss as you moan around his swirling tongue.

his hand is on your throat, not squeezing, just resting there as if to say you’re mine, and you whine deep in your chest when you feel the tip of his cock sliding through your slippery folds.

“gonna fuck this pretty pussy so full of my cum that it’ll be dripping out of it for days,” he rasps as he taps the head of his cock repeatedly over your clit, the lewd noise met with your whimpers as you grasp at his bicep.

“please,” you whine, “want it, please-!”

his hand slides from your neck down to squeeze your tit as he sits up and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder with his free hand.

“so good for me,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded and lusting as he looks down at you, dragging his shaft back and forth along your slick pussy; “such a good girl, begging for daddy.”

and when he finally pushes the head of his cock past your entrance, stretching you open as he sinks inside, stars explode behind your eyes and you nearly cum again right there on the spot.

“fuuck..” he groans in a drawn-out moan, eyes sliding shut and head tipping back as your walls suck him in, mouth falling open before he catches his plush bottom lip between his teeth and looks back down at you through hazy eyes, giving another rough squeeze to your tit in his grasp.

he slides his hand down to press against your lower belly as he bottoms out, your hips twitching as you gasp, and with his other hand he grips your leg that’s slung over his shoulder as he begins to grind his hips against yours.

you can’t breathe, can’t speak, overwhelmed by how fucking good it all feels, the head of his cock massaging places inside of you that you didn’t even know existed as he rolls his hips over and over, whispering fucked-out nothings;

how tight you are, how good you feel, how he’s gonna make you forget your own name by tomorrow.

and when he starts really moving, hips separating from yours only to connect again with a lewd slap of skin on skin each time he delivers a slow, firm thrust to your cunt, holding you in place so you don’t jolt up the bed — well, you never knew that something so delicious existed, and now that you’ve had a taste, you’re already rendered insatiable.

you paw at any part of him that you can reach, hands finding purchase on his thighs as his pace picks up into a steady rhythm, your lips moaning and pleading and begging around words that you can hardly get out of your mouth.

“look at you,” yeonjun coos breathlessly, “so drunk on my cock already.. perfect pussy made just for me, hm? taking daddy so well? good baby.”

he looks as blissed out as you feel, face wracked in pleasure as he picks up the pace, his hand so large where it still presses over your lower belly that his thumb is able to reach your clit, and the added stimulation along with the pressure of his palm sends your head lolling as you twitch and tremble underneath him.

“j-jjunie..!” you whimper, and you can’t help the nickname from slipping between your lips; you’ve never called him so intimately before, never said his name so freely, but your accidental drop of honorifics seems to stir something inside of him as he groans and fucks you harder;

“say that again,” he grunts as you gasp out from the sudden increase in pace.

“jjunie,” you keen immediately, gripping the sheets, gripping his arms, gripping anything as a muttered curse leaves his lips and his thumb circles faster around your aching clit.

“love it when you say my name, fuck,” he groans, hips slamming into yours and jolting you like a ragdoll as you cry out for him, the knot in your stomach tightening so fast that you swear it’s about to snap, and when he leans forward with your leg still gripped over his shoulder and his cock pounding into you at a far deeper angle than before, fireworks fill your vision as you cum around him harder than you’ve ever came in your life.

“yes, yes, yes, fuck, that’s it, cream on my cock, baby, fuck you’re so- s-so tight, fuck- just like that, let go for me, baby, good girl-“

yeonjun’s voice sounds far away as you spasm around him, his thrusts growing sloppier as your cunt clenches him so tight that it nearly forces him out; he lowers your leg back down to the bed and slows down a little to let you catch your breath but he doesn’t stop, and your watery whimpers are like music to his ears as you clutch onto him desperately.

“t-too much, too much-!” you hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes at all the overwhelming sensations, but you don’t actually want him to stop and he knows it too — he coos at you, hand sliding up to rest on your throat again as he leans down and licks a stripe up your neck to your ear.

“you can give me one more, baby, can’t you?”

a shiver rolls down your spine at the devilish smile in his voice, sweet like honey as he catches your earlobe between his teeth.

“one more so daddy can stuff you nice and full.”

your pussy clenches. “w-want your cum,” you whimper dumbly in response, too fucked out to think of anything else, and yeonjun smiles as he leans back and runs his hands down your body until they reach your hips and squeeze.

“i know,” his thrusts are still steady as he watches you with twinkling eyes; “and i’m gonna give it to you.”

your eyes widen in protest as he suddenly slides out of you without a warning, but the words die in your throat and are replaced with a squeak of surprise when he flips you over onto your stomach instead.

“ass up for me, pretty girl.”

you obey immediately with what strength you have left in your shaky limbs, a quiet whine escaping your throat over not being able to see or touch him anymore.

his little laugh from behind you indicates that he caught it.

“don’t worry, baby,” he soothes as his hands massage over your ass, “we have all the time in the world.”

your heart doesn’t even have time to skip a beat at the promise of his words when suddenly his tongue is on your pussy, your knees nearly buckling at the heat of his mouth as he licks from your clit up to your fluttering hole, and you gasp as he spits on it before his cock enters you fully in one single thrust.

you cry out, knees buckling for real this time as he holds you up, sheets crumpled in your fists as his hips immediately pick up into a quick, dizzying pace.

“love the way you fall apart around me,” he murmurs from behind you, squeezing your ass, “love how you take me so well…”

you want to touch him so badly, want to see the pleasure pooling in his eyes; you don’t have time to respond before he lands a smack on your ass, your surprised squeak spurring him on as he does it again, drilling into your cute little hole like it was made just for him as he breathes out a moan.

from this angle he can see the way your pussy swallows him so hungrily, and his grip on your hips tightens as he drags you back and forth on his cock.

“love.. l-love your.. love this so much… w-wanna be yours…”

he almost misses your dazed mumbling over the loud sound of his hips slapping lewdly against your ass, but he makes out what you said, heart swelling in his chest and cock simultaneously twitching inside of you as he leans forward, his palm sliding up along your spine to brush the hair from your fucked-out face as he pushes your body down against the sheets, chest pressed to your back now and breath caressing your ear as he continues rocking his hips even deeper.

“you’re mine, baby, you’re mine..” he whispers between kisses along your jaw, a reassurance, your soft whimper of a response causing him to bite back a smile as he continues,

“i’ve wanted you for so long.. can’t believe i finally get to have you.” his hand slips beneath you to toy with your throbbing clit, and your ass grinds back against him as a result as you moan wantonly into his sheets.

“i’ve been yours since the.. fuck.. since the second i s-saw you..fuck, p-please don’t stop..!”

your hips are moving with his now as he works your clit faster, mustering your strength and pushing your weight back as you desperately try to fuck yourself on his cock, on his fingers, chasing the rising wave in your belly that’s threatening to break as he meets your quickening movements with his own.

“touch yourself for me, baby,” he murmurs in your ear before removing his hand and propping himself up on his forearms, allowing for a more concentrated angle as he ruts into you, your choked moan muffled by the sheets as you immediately slide one hand down to rub rapidly at your clit, your other one weakly moving to tangle your fingers with his the best that you can;

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whimper, drool pooling at your lips, the scent of yeonjun’s cologne and the weight of his body on yours like pure intoxication as he fucks you harder, breaths heavy and staggering in your ear as he grunts,

“cum for me, baby, need to feel it, cum all over my fucking cock-“

and when your third orgasm washes over you, you’re too weak to do anything but let it, body going limp as it wracks over you in pure bliss, the warm feeling of your clenching walls finally sending yeonjun over the edge this time as he shoots his cum into you with a loud and drawn-out moan, voice breaking as he spews filthy words and incoherent curses; he presses his hips impossibly deep against yours before stuttering into sloppy thrusts to fuck himself through the rest of his orgasm as your fluttering pussy milks his cock of every last drop.

the room grows silent save for your heavy breaths, both of your chests heaving as his forehead slumps down to rest against your back; you didn’t realize how tightly you were holding onto his hand until you carefully untangle your fingers from his.

he hisses from the sensitivity as he slides his twitching length out of you.

you look at yeonjun as he rolls off of your back and flops exhaustedly onto his side next to you, and when he meets your eyes, there’s only a passing moment of silence before you both giggle.

his smile is fond and blooming with affection as he rubs a hand up and down your back, moving to smoothe the hair from your face and gently brushing his knuckles across your cheek before resting his hand on top of yours.

“hi,” he whispers.

you giggle again.

“hi,” you whisper back.

“so.. would this be a good time to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

your heart skips a beat and you bite back a smile. “i was worried you’d just want to stick to the sex..” you admit.

yeonjun shakes his head, lips forming into an endearing pout as he laces his fingers with yours.

“nah, you’re stuck with me now, princess,” he grins. “i meant what i said… i’ve been wanting you for so long.”

an indescribable feeling flutters in your chest as you giddily turn your head to bury your face in the sheets, yeonjun laughing as he shuffles closer, rolling you over onto your back despite your giggle-ridden, poorly-executed attempts to fight him off.

you grin up at him and he grins down at you, hovering over you now with a hand on your cheek as his endeared eyes trail over each of your features as if to memorize them.

“my girl,” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you tilt your head up to meet his lips when he leans in and kisses you softly, your hands playing with the long hair at the nape of his neck.

“i meant what i said too,” you murmur against him.

“mine since the second you saw me, huh?” yeonjun’s cocky grin is light and teasing as you scrunch your nose at him, flicking his forehead and sending him into another pout.

“yeah, yeah. whatever, pretty boy.”

instead of responding he buries his face in your neck in a flurry of kisses as you squeal in surprise, laughing as you wiggle around underneath him;“stop, that tickles!”

“gotta make up for all the lost time when i didn’t make a move,” he reasons as his kisses move to your cheeks, your nose, your lips — you’ve never seen this side of yeonjun before, so soft and gentle and sweet; the fact that it seems reserved only for you sends butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

you spend your evening like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as you talk about your relationship, talk about the feelings that led you here, talk about this and that and everything in-between;

“does this count as our first date?” you ask quizzically. he wrinkles his nose.

“no way, i’m gonna do the most romantic shit ever for that.”

you snort. “isn’t that what this is?”

but you don’t have the chance to tease him any further when the beeping sound of his apartment passcode being entered causes you both to freeze.

you were so caught up that neither of you considered the time; nor the fact that yeonjun does indeed have 4 other roommates who would in fact be coming home at some point or another.

that some point apparently being now as the rowdy chatter of your friends erupts into the foyer until you suddenly hear soobin’s tipsy mumble. “what the… what are y/n’s shoes doing here?”

you and yeonjun turn to look at each other as your friends’ voices fall silent.

the seconds pass and you almost wonder if you’re in the clear…

but of course, no peace lasts forever with beomgyu in the house.

“OH MY GOD,” he screams.

“THEY FUCKED!”

[seospicybin]

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE

ROUND 1

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Related chapters: Round 2.

Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about you: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend, Minho. (9k words)

Author's note: It's a quick one-shot I made like a year ago but pls enjoy it nonetheless 😊

Content warning: Infidelity.

This is how you play two truths and a lie. You share three statements about you, two being true and one false, and people must determine which is which.

-

So here goes the first statement: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend.

A few months ago, you came to the city for your new job and were placed in a housing with a group of unbearable people. Since you've just started working, you tried looking at another option to get a temporary place to stay until you're financially stable enough to rent an apartment.

Long story short, a friend of a friend introduced you to Kim who happened to have an extra room you can rent. She owns the apartment and does not necessarily need the money, she offered her room for the sole reason which is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of that is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of person every day and for that, you're grateful for her.

After a week of living as roommates, you learn that Kim is just as graceful as her occupation, a ballet dancer. She's beautiful, kind-hearted, amicable, and ultimately, a very attentive roommate.

The room you're staying in was supposedly her private dance studio but she uses the living room to practice now and you have to adjust yourself to the huge mirror covering one side of the wall in your room.

Not long after that, Minho comes into the picture. A sharp nose, sharp jaws, and feline eyes, a beautiful face that only reminds you that the world is unfair to some people, including you.

"This is Minho," Kim introduces him with a smile

The second your eyes lock in a gaze with him, you feel an instant attraction and it intensifies as he stares back into your eyes.

"My boyfriend," Kim adds a little too late.

It's funny that the word boyfriend doesn't stop you from being attracted to him, if anything, you want him more than before.

Kim and Minho have been together for two years now and they met at the dance academy which explains a lot of things, including Minho's lean and toned body.

How do you know? Because sometimes he stays over and on more than one occasion, you found him walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a white towel hanging lowly around his waist.

That's also when you learn that this attraction is strictly physical, your uterus is acting up when you see him, and lewd thoughts rush through your head. It's all biological. There's no way you want to pursue him romantically, you couldn't even think of a person more deserving to be with him than Kim. They're both beautiful and talented dancers, oftentimes, you get so envious because they have such a lovely relationship.

Like tonight, you hear their laughter the second you step into the apartment, finding Kim and Minho in the kitchen just casually talking to each other while sharing a bowl of fruits. You love how simple yet endearing their interaction is.

"Hey, you're home!" Kim says with a sweet, welcoming smile.

You wave your hand at her and briefly at Minho, "Hi, everyone!" You awkwardly say, feeling like you're interrupting them.

"Have you had dinner?" Kim asks, attentive as always.

"Yeah, I grabbed dinner after work," you lie, but you can always creep your way to the fridge late at night for dinner.

"There's a pie in the fridge. Help yourself to some dessert," she sweetly offers then shoves a piece of blueberry into her mouth.

Without having to look, you can see how Minho looks at you, he has this deep, intense gaze that makes you the slightest bit intimidated.

"I will, thanks," you hurriedly respond, wanting the interaction to end as soon as possible, "I'll just... get into my room."

"Yeah, you should rest," Kim softly mutters.

You hoist your bag higher on your shoulder and head to your room, before you get in, you mutter to them, "Night, guys."

"Night," Kim cheerily says.

You hurriedly get in and catch a glimpse of Minho with his intense stare a second before the door completely closes and clicks in place.

The trick to surviving the night is to wait until they get into the bedroom and put headphones on as you come out of yours, not only to avoid hearing unwanted noises, but you reckon it's only right to take the extra measure to respect their privacy.

As you're listening and catching glimpses of the movie playing on your phone, you walk around the kitchen to prepare your simple, unhealthy dinner: a cup of noodles and a can of soda.

You're quietly eating your dinner by the kitchen counter with the headphones still on and once you finished, you treat yourself to a slice of pie, then put the rest of the pie back into the fridge.

It gets messy as you're munching on the pie while watching the movie on your phone. The cherry filling gets all over your fingers and you hurriedly lick it off before it gets—

"Oh, my God!" You shriek in surprise, seeing someone standing by the fridge. Once you realize it's Minho, you break into laughter.

"I'm just getting a bottle of water," he says, his face illuminated by the glow of the fridge lights.

"I'm sorry," you say while clutching your chest, and a second later, regret for saying it when he should be the one apologizing.

There's something different in the way Minho looks at you, he has one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, giving you the impression that he's thinking of filthy things when he looks at you like that. He's giving you that look now and it does certain things to you.

He then stops leaning against the fridge, taking the bottle of water as he walks back to the bedroom, leaving his signature faint smirk on the back of your head.

The signals are there, they're subtle yet constantly pinging, asking you to respond. For now, you're going to ignore it like you always do and continue existing like you're not sharing the same space with him.

-

Statement number two: You believe Minho wants to fuck you too.

At first, you thought you imagined it, you want to fuck him so you started being delusional and thinking that he wants to fuck you too. Once you started paying attention though, you realized that what he's been doing to you meant something or some sort of message he tried to deliver.

The first occurrence that came to your realization is when the two of you were in the kitchen, you were enjoying your yoghurt and he suddenly came behind you to get something from the drawer that happened to be blocked by your body. Instead of telling you to step aside, he made you stand there as his hand curved around your waist to get something out of a drawer.

From there, you noticed a lot of things he did, the way he briefly rested his hand on the small of your back as he walked past behind you, his hand that would often brush a part of your body when the two of you are next to each other or the way he would speak close to your ear as if he's seeking to be close to you. Simply put, he always tries to make physical contact with you.

The scariest part of it is not the possibility that the two of you will eventually get caught, but how unfazed he is even when his girlfriend is there. Like that night where the three of you shared the sofa and somehow, his hand found your shoulder and instead of retreating, he continued to caress the nape of your neck with his knuckle.

However, what happens tonight is what makes you believe that he wants the same thing.

After making sure that you're the only one still awake in the vicinity, you make your way to the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower to help you relax and sleep faster. You skip on using the hairdryer since it'll make too much noise and tiptoe your way back to your bedroom.

In the middle of putting on your clothes, you realize that you left the door ajar and you notice Minho is watching through the reflection in the mirror.

Instead of stopping or rushing to close the door, you pretend to not see him there and continue, turning your body to the side, showcasing every curve of your body through the reflection in the mirror.

You arch your back as you put on the night dress over your head and slowly slip yourself in it, shimmying your body as you pull the dress down with your hands. Then you look at him through the reflection in the mirror and make it known that you're aware of his presence.

From the crooked grin on his face, you can tell that Minho is pleased to be caught watching you and you received his signal loud and clear: He wants to fuck you too.

But sadly, tonight's show is over so you walk to the door and close it.

-

Friday afternoon, Kim barges into your room and she rarely comes into your room without knocking on your door. Seeing that she's carrying a dress in her hand, you guess she needs your opinions on her clothing choices.

You sit on the bed and take your headphones off, "What's up, Kim?"

She stands at the end of the bed and lifts the dress with both hands, "What do you think?" She asks.

It's a mini dress with spaghetti straps in a deep purple color and it's a nice dress, you're just not sure if it fits Kim's style that well, she usually opts for dresses with flaring hem and floral prints.

"It's nice, Kim," you say but skip on giving her the detailed explanation.

She puts the dress close to her body and hugs it, "Do you like it?"

"Yeah," you shortly reply, even though it doesn't fit her style well, it certainly will look good on her.

"Good!" She shortly says, handing the dress to you, "Cause you'll be wearing it.

Somehow, you reach for it and awkwardly hold it in front of you, "W-why? Why me?"

Kim goes to your vanity table and flips open your jewelry box, she holds your earrings one by one to find ones that would match the dress.

"You're coming with me to this party," she says, leaving a lot of details in her answer.

"What party?"

"Party at my friend's," she simply answers, deciding on the gold small hoop earrings.

But that's against your plan, you want to steer clear of Minho and party at Kim's friend means that he'd likely be there too.

"Kim, I don't think that's a good idea," you tell her.

She then leans against the desk in your room and crosses her arm together in front of her, "These past few days you refused to hang out with me so you have to hang out with me tonight."

So Kim knows that you've been purposely avoiding her but you need to explain that it's not because of her, "But that's not—"

"Nuh-uh!" She quickly cuts you off again, "Tonight you're going to the party with me," she decides on her own, not accepting any more excuses from you.

"Is it okay though? I mean... it's your friend's party. I don't want to intrude," you meekly say while playing with the strap of the dress.

"Why would it not be okay?" She says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, "Besides I want to introduce you to Gaspard."

Maybe you owe this one to Kim and hearing a guy's name piques your interest, "And who is Gaspard?"

"A cute guy," she shortly answers with a sly grin on her heart-shaped face, "And you'll like him."

It's not like Minho's presence would bother you that much and Kim needs you, she wants you there, therefore, as a good roommate, you should be there.

"Yeah, okay, I'm in the mood to meet a cute guy tonight," you tell her, not forgetting to show enthusiasm as well.

"That's the spirit!" Kim says with a wide grin dancing on her face.

Well, since you'll be there and possibly meet Minho, Gaspard better be a cute distraction for real.

-

The taxi pulls up in front of a house and you reckon it's where the party at from how many cars are parked outside and the faint thumping of the music playing inside.

The fact that you get here by taxi only means that there's no Minho so you can relax, for now.

Kim excitedly links her arm with you as you both walk into the house and you expect a party with laid-back music and endless glasses of wine but the second you step inside, upbeat music is blasting from around the house and everyone is having beers from red plastic cups.

The party is not what you imagined it would be, but it's what you need.

Kim cranes her neck to find her friends and once she finds them, she raises her hand to signal her arrival to them.

"Come on! Let's meet my friends!" She says.

Please, God, let him be a cute distraction! You repeatedly mutter in your heart as she drags you with her to meet her friends who are gathered in what you guess is a rec room in the house.

When Kim's friends finally come to sight, you put on a smile as you quietly guess which one of them is Gaspard. Kim goes to hug them one by one before introducing you to them.

"This is Ellie, Jena, Paul..." she introduces her friends back to you one by as the mentioned person warmly greets you.

"And Minho," someone adds from behind you.

You immediately look over your shoulder to see Minho standing there, Kim gently slaps his shoulder in response and laughs.

"This is not a roll call, honey," Kim says with a smile and then leans in to give Minho a quick peck on the lips.

Minho is already here and there's no Gaspard yet. No Gaspard means there'll be no distraction. You keep your smile on even though you're slowly descending into distress.

"There he is!" Kim exclaims, pointing at something behind you.

You reflexively turn on your heels and see a tall man with brown hair, striking green eyes, and a scintillating smile. This man will make the perfect distraction.

Please let this man be Gaspard, you deeply wish inside your heart.

Kim comes to your side and puts her arm around you, "This is the man I told you about," she says.

"I hope you only told her nice things about me," Gaspard says with a sly grin that makes his whole face light up.

The universe heard your plea and decided to make it true for you, this is Gaspard, the perfect distraction you want and need.

"Holyfuck..." you lowly mutter in disbelief.

"What's that?" Kim asks, hearing you saying something but doesn't quite catch it.

You've already forgotten where you are and what you're doing. And Minho? Who is Minho? You let out a chuckle and shake these silly thoughts away.

"So this is Gaspard, huh?" You say in all confidence.

"That is me," he answers, returning the confidence with a wide smile, "I'm better than you expected, I guess?"

Gaspard is confident and then gets shy in the next minute which you find charming, you smile at him and say, "I need more time to decide on that."

"That's fair," Gaspard says, offering his hand at you.

You think he's just going to shake your hand but he takes you into the crowd gathered in the middle of the room, dancing.

"A fair warning, I'm a bad dancer," you warn him as he takes your hands in his and makes you stand facing him.

"We still have time to decide on that," he pokes fun at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you close to his front.

Kim is right, Gaspard is cute and you like him already. He has just the right amount of facial hair and it grazes your cheek whenever he leans in to whisper into your ear, giving you a tingling feeling inside and outside.

After a few moments though, you find yourself panting from dancing with him. You should've known this would happen when you're dancing with a real dancer.

Since Gaspard is way taller than you, you have to put your arm around his shoulder and stand on your tiptoe to whisper to his ear, "Hey, how about we get drinks?"

"Drinks?" He asks you in confirmation since the mix of loud music and chatter is filling the room.

"Yeah," you answer while repeatedly nodding your head.

He doesn't say anything but takes your hand and leads the way through the crowd to the kitchen where bottles of liquor are strewn around on the kitchen island.

You intently watch as Gaspard is excitingly making you his special concoction. He finishes it off with a spritz of lemon before handing it to you.

"Thank you," you mutter in gratitude.

"Come on. Taste it!" He encourages you, curious of what you think of his drink-mixing skill.

Well, you've been staring at it long enough to give him the impression that you hesitate to drink it. You hurriedly take a small sip and you don't even have to lie, it's good.

"Wow!" You gasp, impressed with the drink he made.

"I know," he confidently says with a smirk and drinks his drink.

It's so refreshing and sweet like it has no alcohol at all, you hurriedly take another sip.

"It's really good," you tell him.

"Thank you," he says with a grin.

He then offers his hand at you, "Let's find somewhere to talk?"

You take his hand without question, letting him take you wherever he wants because it seems like he knows where he's going. He leads you to the backyard where everyone is hanging out by the pool.

"Hey, you!"

Recognizing the voice, your head snaps toward the source, and see Kim waving her hand at you from the long sofa that curved around a fancy fireplace.

You stop walking on your track and end up leading Gaspard there. You unconsciously let out a sigh of relief after seeing that there's no Minho there.

"Oh, hey," you greet back.

Kim scoots to the side to make space for you on the sofa, "Where have you guys been?"

"Oh, we were just dancing and he made me a drink," you honestly answer, not forgetting to show her the drink in your hand.

"And where were you going to take her, Gaspard?" Kim asks with eyes squinted at him.

"Anywhere but here," he jokingly answers.

"Well, since you guys just got here, it's your turn to play!" Someone says, you can't remember what her name is but she's one of the friends Kim introduced earlier.

"Turn to play? What?" You ask in confusion.

"Two truths and a lie," someone says.

You feel bad for not being able to remember their names, Gaspard's influence is that powerful on you.

"You know how to play, right?" Kim asks.

It's not about whether you know how to play or not, it's just so unexpected that these talented, gorgeous dancers like to play this kind of game at parties.

"Yes, I do," you answer.

Kim turns on the sofa to face you and looks at you in anticipation, "Okay then. Shoot!"

"Right now?"

"Yes," Kim shortly answers with a chuckle.

You admire their eagerness whether for the game or to know something about you, you rake your brain to think of three things about you and one of them should be a lie that would likely fool them good.

"Okay first is uhm... I'm allergic to cats," you share.

There's no response from them but you can see how they're looking at you and probably every detailed facial expression you make that will give away hints about whether you're lying or not.

"Second thing is my mom has a twin," you confidently share with a faint smile.

"Ah," Kim lowly gasps and you guess because you've shared this information with her before.

"Last thing is..." you look around as you think of the last thing to share with them.

You eventually turn to the side and see Gaspard smiling at you, "I think Gaspard is cute," you share the third thing about you.

"That's the one! That's the lie!" Someone excitedly guesses, and you suddenly remember his name as Paul.

You laugh because Gaspard looks so offended by his friend, "No, it's not a lie," you quickly defend him.

Gaspard shoots him a glare and triumphantly laughs, "Just drink, man!"

Paul drinks his beer in defeat.

"I must say the second one is the lie," the girl says again, still can't remember her name though.

"No. Her mom has a fraternal twin," Kim says, learning that information from you on the first day you moved into her apartment.

"Drink up, Jena!" Kim tells her that she guessed wrong and not wasting time but drinks her beer as a punishment.

"Oh, so you're not allergic to cats?" Gaspard asks.

"No, I'm not. I like cats," you answer.

He then sighs in relief, "That's great because I have a cat."

"Oh, wow?!" You utter in disbelief.

Other than being a great distraction, you share a lot in common with Gaspard and that says something.

"I also have cats," someone adds, joining in on the circle.

You can tell by the voice that it's the man you've been trying to avoid seeing tonight. You remain calm and have a sip of your drink.

"Yes, Minho, we all know you're a cat daddy," Jena says, finally knowing her name from Kim.

Kim groans and tosses a cushion at Jena, "Don't say that!"

Minho takes a gulp of Kim's drink and sits with his back reclined and his legs spread open, even his sitting position oozing with confidence and you eat that shit up.

You feel like slapping your face at that thought and have another sip to swallow that thought down.

"Is it my turn to play?" Minho asks around.

Jena shrugs since no one is taking the turn to play, "Yeah, sure, go ahead."

Minho softly scratches his chin before speaking, "I want to kiss someone tonight."

He starts easy but from the faint smirk on his face, you can tell he's brewing something in his mind.

"That someone is not my girlfriend," he calmly says.

Welp, there you go! Minho acts like he didn't just drop a shocking statement while his girlfriend is sitting prettily next to him.

You glance at Kim and she looks calm, but you can see that her jaws are slightly clenched. She's not happy so Minho should stop it.

But instead of calming his girlfriend, Minho looks at you and continues to share the third statement, "The person I want to kiss is one of you."

Your heart skips a beat because he keeps looking right at you and making it obvious for everyone to see who it is. All of a sudden, you feel the urge to exit this scene but walking out only makes it even more obvious.

Minho is sick of doing this to you and Kim, it's like he doesn't even care what it can do to either you or Kim.

"Oh, Minho, that's..." Paul hisses, not able to finish his sentence.

"Why, Paul?" Minho daringly asks him.

"Nothing," Paul says while scratching his head.

Minho leans forward and says, "It's you, Paul. It's you who I want to kiss."

Paul's tense face melts in a second and everyone bursts out laughing, "Fuck you, man!"

"It's you. I want to kiss you," Minho taunts him more, throwing himself at him and jokingly tries to kiss him.

Paul keeps pushing him away, sloshing his drink as he tries to dodge Minho's kiss while everyone else is laughing at them.

Even though it turns out to be a joke, you feel sick in the stomach and feel the need to get out of here.

"I need to go to the restroom," you mutter, getting up from the sofa.

Gaspard puts down his drink, "I can show you—"

"It's okay. I can go by myself," you tell him off, you regret being so crass but you're sure he'll understand.

"Okay," he says, sitting back down on the sofa.

While clutching the hem of your dress, you head back inside the house and find the bathroom to only queue to get inside, you decide to try on the second floor. You can easily find the bathroom as it's wedged between two bedrooms.

It's a party, you're sure the host would be okay with you using their bathroom, you don't even need to pee or something, you just need a space to vent.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you keep muttering to the reflection in the mirror.

When you touch your neck, you can feel a sheen of sweat there so you run your hands under the cold water and tap it to your neck.

This is the first time you realize what it'll do to you when it comes to following your desire. You'll ruin not only their relationship but also your friendship with Kim and she's been nothing but good to you.

"Fuck!" You mutter once again as you splash cold water on your face like it would help to put some sense into you.

Coming here was a bad idea!

But you're already here so you only need to stick to your plan, staying away from Minho and sticking with Gaspard. You allow yourself to spend a few more minutes just to compose yourself before coming out of the bathroom.

As you're about to climb down the stairs, the plan comes to a failure.

You see Minho is coming up the stairs and he seems to be looking for you as well from the way he stops once he finds you.

Instead of avoiding him as you planned, you feel the need to confront him about what happened a while ago. You grab the front of his shirt and take him into one of the bedrooms. The first one is locked so you try the other one and it's empty.

Once both of you are inside, you slam the door shut and push him against it.

"What the hell are you doing?" You aggressively ask, pushing his chest until his back hits the door.

"What? What am I doing?" He plays innocent but that smirk knows it all.

You slap his chest with both of your hands now but all you can feel is how firm his pecs are.

"You just don't care, do you?"

He puts his hands on each side of your waist and draws you closer, not hesitating to plant his mouth on your jaw.

"Minho!" You whine, ending up getting trapped in his hold with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

He glides his lips up and presses a kiss there on the skin under your ear, sending a tingling down your spine as his warm breath brushes your skin.

You helplessly dodge away from his lips yet somehow, he manages to capture your lips in a kiss and oh, you hate it so much! You hate how you like the way he kisses you, so passionately and hungrily, he makes it known that he wants it so much.

Okay, maybe the kiss is a slip-up and you hurriedly pull yourself out of it. You push him and pull away from the kiss.

"You know we can't do this," you mutter but you're looking at his lips, tempted to kiss him again.

He ignores your words and kisses you again, and you fall into it again. You try harder this time and break the kiss.

"Minho!" You whine, looking away to not let the temptation win again.

Using it as an opportunity, Minho plants his mouth on your ear and nibbles on it, peeling a layer off of your sanity which brings you to slip down the slope again.

Your lips are colliding again, harder and deeper, causing even more damage than the previous one as his hands go all over you and pull the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

The two logics in your head are clashing against each other, the one wants to satisfy this desire and the other wants to get out of this situation altogether. If you follow the former then at least, your curiosity will be fulfilled and if you follow the latter, then you get to keep the peace.

As you are caught in that inner battle, you blank out and stiffen against him.

"We have to stop," you mutter to him.

But is that what you want? To stop when you already have your toes dipped in the water?

Minho also takes a moment to assess the situation, he looks at you with his lips red and wet, "it has to stop," he says in agreement.

You take a step back and feel the sudden detachment as he lets go of you and you can't believe that he agrees right away that this is the better decision. You can't help but think that he doesn't want you enough.

He stays standing there, leaning against the door and looking at you with his eyes dark and wide with lust.

"So what do we do now?"

That's such a wrong thing to ask you because what you want to do now is be selfish for the night, for one fucking night, and if you're going to do it, you may as well go all in, right?

Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

"Fuck!" you heavily sigh and take down the straps of your dress, sending your breasts spilling out of the front.

"Suck my tits," you order.

It takes Minho a moment to process it and when he finally catches on that you've made up your mind, he goes for it. He comes at you full speed, hands off the brake and head first.

His mouth lathers at your breasts before sucking at them like you asked, taking them in turns, and leaving them wet with his saliva.

"Nibble on my nipples," you command.

You look down to watch him obeying you, using his tongue to nibble on your blossoming buds and alternating it with his teeth next.

"Oh, fuck," you breathlessly mutter as he sucks hard on your nipple.

While his mouth is busy latching on your breasts, his hands are snaking to the back and kneading at your asscheeks, caressing them with his fingers, and teasing your underwear.

This feels so wrong yet so good, you have your inner battle still but your logic is being defeated by your body's needs. You pull him by the shoulder and make him kiss you again so you'll stop thinking.

The rattles on the door startle you both and Minho immediately pushes the door with his back, then holds the knob to not let anyone in. Whoever tries to get it seems to figure out that the room is occupied.

"Sorry," someone says from behind the door.

Minho immediately locks the door while you take a step back from him, he gives you that look again, the kind of look that sees right through you and knows that you feel conflicted inside.

"Kim is my good friend," you tell him, feeling a pang of sadness in your chest that it aches.

He comes at you again and kisses you in which you're returning with the same eagerness. He seems to know that it's the only way to make you stop talking and thinking altogether. He pulls you closer than before his hands snaking to your rear, cupping the ample flesh in his hand.

"This is terrible," you mutter as you break the kiss so you can take your underwear off.

"This is terrible..." you mutter again, pulling him close by the waistband of his jeans and proceeding to unzip his fly open, "Betraying her like this."

It's like your body has a mind of its own, it's doing the opposite of what you're saying.

You impatiently take his semi-hard out of its confine and stroke it in your hand, "terrible," you emphasize the word and nail it deep into your head.

Minho doesn't say anything but follows what your body wants, he kisses you again, sloppily with his hands mindlessly roaming around your body.

"Touch me there," you whisper into him.

Without looking, his hand knows where to go. It goes to where you want him to be, going to the front to that wetness between your legs.

"Put your fingers in."

Minho runs his fingers down your slit repeatedly before inserting his finger into you. One digit is enough to make you moan in pleasure as he pumps it in and out of you.

"Add one more."

He draws his finger out and brings his index and middle fingers, shoving them into your mouth to wet them with your saliva. He brings them back to your entrance and slowly pushes them inside.

"Fuck, oh..." you moan, burying your head in his neck.

Two fingers are going in and out of you and you're already losing it. You start to think of what his cock would be like inside you as it feels hot and hard in your hand, pulsating with so much desire.

His lips nestle in your neck, kissing and lightly sucking on the skin as your body clings to him for support.

"Curl them— Oh!"

Minho knows what to do, he curls his fingers and carefully finds that spot that makes you whine and moan at the same time, and the lewd noise echoes in the dimly lit room.

You look over your shoulder to locate the bed and start steering his body there, walking backward without having to take hands off of each other.

He slowly pulls out and breaks the kiss only to pull your dress up, making the dress hunched around your waist. You plop down onto the bed and get on, you take a moment to continue undoing his jeans and pull it down enough to let his erection free.

Without thinking, you put his cock into your mouth, take him as much as you can and compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand. You lick and suck, alternating those two as you enjoy every inch of his delicious length with your mouth.

Minho tangles his hand in your hair and gently tugs at it, "I feel so guilty," he says.

Oh, so he's not that selfish after all but the thought of him thinking of his girlfriend with his cock deep in your mouth doesn't make you jealous at all, it makes you feel more aroused than before.

"Oh, so guilty," he says between his hoarse, low moans as he stares back into your eyes.

You slowly pull away and replace your mouth with your hand, restlessly pumping his swollen cock.

"You should be," you tell him, sticking your tongue out of your mouth and swirling it around the pink tip of his cock.

All of a sudden, he grabs your hand and takes it away from his length, he then takes your other hand to pin it against the bed. He hovers above you as he kisses you again, his tongue prying open your mouth to taste more of you.

You can feel him rubbing his length between your folds and you spread your legs open so he can do it more, making you drenched than you already are.

It's obvious to you now that you want him, you want him so bad and what you want is only inches away from you, and you can feel how much he wants you.

"Put it in," you breathlessly say against his lips.

Minho wastes no time to position himself between your legs. He then holds his cock, lubricating it with your essence and giving it a few pumps to finally aims it toward your entrance.

The more time he takes to be inside you, the more impatient you get.

"Put it deep inside me," you demand, opening your legs wider for him.

Yet Minho keeps teasing your entrance, heightening your anticipation and the tension in the room, making you arching your back at him.

When he finally pushes in, he only inserts the tip. It's just the tip but Gosh! It feels good already when he starts thrusting at a slow, steady pace.

"That's it," you say, keeping your waist afloat to take more of him, "all the way in."

Minho is just as impatient. He takes your wish as his command and pushes the rest of his length into you, hitting you deep inside that you blank out and you can't hear your own scream of pleasure.

It only registered to you now that it's all real once you take a look at how his cock is fully buried deep inside you and there's nothing like the feeling of finally having your desire fulfilled. Minho feels so good inside you, every inch of his length fills you perfectly like he was made just for you.

"Oh..." you loudly moan as he starts moving.

You're in and out of you at how hard he's thrusting into you that it reverberates throughout your body and in the middle of it, you manage to look at him, his face is masked with pleasure from the way his eyes are half shut and his lips pressed together.

Maybe the two of you want it so much that the sex feels rushed and a little rough, almost animalistic even. You can feel you're about to cum and so is he.

"Don't cum inside," you warn him before bringing his head close for a sloppy kiss on his lips.

In return, Minho goes sloppy with his thrusts that the bed quakes along with his movements and you're gripping the sheet to hold on to. He's twitching inside you and your legs are shaking. The knot in your stomach keeps tightening and you feel like exploding at any minute now.

He incessantly thrusts into you while you keep gripping the sheet, he probably senses that you're on the brink of climaxing and takes you there, sending you into your release with your eyes screwed shut, seeing white. He cums not long after you and keeps himself deep into you, completely forgetting your warning.

When it occurs to you that he completely forgot about your warning, you slowly push him away and force him to pull out of you.

"I told you not to cum inside," you whine.

Minho's eyes fixated on the way his cum drips out of you, pearly white and glistening wet, inviting him to taste. He finds a way to solve it by settling his head between your legs and licking your mixed juices off of your cunt and not hesitating to swallow it. He sucks on your gushing hole before using his tongue to insert it, he makes sure to not leave any drop of his cum in you.

Watching him eating you and swallowing his own cum is getting you off in the best way, you suddenly don't mind it that much that he cum inside you. If anything, you want him to fill you so you get to watch him do it all over again.

"Stop, Minho! Stop!" You tell him, tugging at his hair to stop him from diving further into your wetness.

He abruptly stops and lifts his head with his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence. You grab him by the front of his shirt and make him hover above you again. You know you already got what you want and it's time to stop.

What are you going to do now? You ask yourself.

Seize the chance. This is probably the last time you ever had this chance and this could be the one and only chance. You roll him over and straddle him, thinking of having him again for the last time, selfishly.

Taking a moment for this could be the only chance you get to do it, you look at him and his beautiful face, and you allow yourself to kiss his lips. You're running your hands down his clothed chest and patiently unbuttoning his shirt, then part it open to reveal his toned upper half body.

It's only fair if you get to touch him all over too so you do it, using your hands and your lips next, it's just you and miles and miles of his warm, honey skin.

Minho lets you do everything as he lays on his back, watches you kissing every inch of his abdomen, and eventually has him in your mouth again. He props his hands against the bed to see how your lips wrapped around his cock.

After a while, you suddenly pull out and gasp for air, "We have to stop."

He sits up on the bed and puts your hair away from your face, "But I don't want to stop," he says, then continues putting your hair away to the back so he can kiss your neck, chest, and breasts.

They're just words, they've been just words that you say in vain and have no effect to make you stop whatsoever. You only say that just to remind you that this feels so wrong but it feels good to do it.

You sit on his lap and position his cock at your entrance again, slowly, you lower yourself on him. You let out a mewl as you take him in little by little, feeling his girth stretching you out.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks you with his hands cradling your head in between.

"We have to," you sigh with your eyes closed, overwhelmed by his cock that buries deep inside you.

"I don't want to," he breathlessly says, holding you by the waist, guiding you to start moving.

Putting your arms around his shoulders for support, you're switching between pulsating and rolling your hips around him as he latches his lips on your neck and chest.

Somehow, he feels bigger and harder inside you, and he fills you better, therefore, you just want to keep feeling his length around you. However, in the middle of it, your logic fights to come out of you.

"This is wrong," you breathlessly mutter.

"Mmh-hmm," he hums against your lips, mindlessly answering to you.

"This is so wrong, Minho," you say again as you keep moving to chase your high.

If this is wrong then why it feels so good? If this is wrong then you never want to be right. If this is wrong then you want to be a sinner, forever.

"Oh, I can't do this anymore," you cry, it's unclear whether it's the body or your conscience speaking.

"Keep going, keep going," he repeatedly mutters through his gritted teeth, watching you bouncing on his cock.

The sex is more intense and harder than the previous one, you keep holding your breath even though you're running out of air. Your nails dug into his skin, your mouth locked with his lips, and you feel a sheen of sweat forming on your skin.

It all comes down to the one moment when everything hits you all at once. Other than the wave of dopamine and oxytocin that surge through your body, you feel good, you feel light and happy, but underneath that, you feel that bitter feeling, guilt that is gnawing and eating you alive from the inside.

You open your eyes and find Minho looking at you with a soft gaze and it feels tender that you feel like crying, or you're about to as you feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

"Oh, God! What have I done?" You roughly brush the hair stuck to your moist forehead.

"It's okay," Minho says, trying to justify this act of betrayal.

"Oh, my God!" You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to stop you from crying.

Minho gently holds your chin and softly presses a kiss on your lips as if he's trying to take the pain away but that's useless because you caused this yourself and he's a part of the problem.

But his kiss no longer holds the same effect, you feel restless the more he kisses you so you slowly pull away and keep a safe space between you and him.

"Let's just stop," you say with a sigh and then rush to get off his lap. You lowly gasp from the sudden emptiness and once your feet touch the floor, you're staggering backward.

Then, you feel it, his hot cum that drips out of you and down your inner thigh.

"I can help you with that," Minho offers.

You immediately hold your hand up at him and firmly say, "Just stop!"

You start fixing your dress, putting your arm in the straps, and pulling them to your shoulders. You look around for your underwear and once you find it, you put it on.

"Kim can't know about this," you meekly say as you pull the hem of your dress and smooth them down.

There's no looking back at it now. You've got what you wanted and now it's time to move on. You turn the door knob and head out without saying anything else.

Rejoining the party downstairs, you immediately head to the kitchen to get a drink but on the way there, someone catches you by the hand.

"Come, dance with me!" Kim says with a grin, pulling you with her to the middle of the room.

"Kim, I–" you can't find anything to say to her without the guilt clogging your throat, "I need a drink."

"Here. Have mine!" She hands you her cup.

"I'll get us drinks and get back to you, okay?" You kindly refuse her but she won't let go of your hand.

"Oh, come on, it's my favorite song!" She pleads with her puppy eyes, making you feel worse than you already are.

Seeing her and how oblivious she is to what you and Minho have done is breaking your heart.

That brings you to the third and last statement: That will be the first and the last time you've had sex with Minho.

-

Things are going back to normal. Or that's what it seems to you.

You're still roommates with Kim and she's still oblivious about what you and Minho did behind her back which means he keeps true to his promise.

And yes, he still comes to the apartment but it doesn't bother you as it used to. You learn that your friendship with Kim is far more valuable than his boyfriend's cock, in fact, you've been taking her kindness for granted.

So for these past few days, you've been trying to avoid them as much as possible. You purposely come home late from work and if you do find them together in the apartment, you make excuses to stay in your bedroom.

Fewer interactions means fewer chances of this guilt from bringing you down further.

The new plan is to get your own place as soon as possible and for that to happen, you have to start looking for it.

Today, Gaspard offers to help you check a few places and it's also the perfect getaway than staying in the apartment. You quietly get dressed and slip out of your bedroom to find Kim catches you while dunking her teabag into her cup.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

You don't want to tell her about it yet that you plan on moving out soon so you make up an excuse on the spot, "Just getting a few things for work, yeah," you lie.

She tosses the teabag into the trash and uses a spoon to stir it, "Just getting a few things for work, huh?"

"Yeah, I need new work shoes," you lie again, seamlessly this time.

"And you think you don't need my help?"

"No, no," you hastily reply, "I just know how much you like staying in on the weekends."

"I would to go out on the weekend too."

Kim keeps misunderstanding you so you decide to tell her, "I'm going out with Gaspard," you admit, but keep the details from her.

Kim lets out a laugh and puts down her cup of tea, "Oh, my God! Why did you lie about it?"

"I don't know. It feels weird," you awkwardly answer.

"Why would it be weird? Cause he's my friend?"

"Yeah..." you meekly say.

She laughs again and comes up to you, "Why would it be weird that my roommate is going out with my good friend?"

That's true, this is nothing compared to fucking your roommate's boyfriend. You swallow the guilt that crawls out of your throat.

"I can lend you my shoes to match it with that cute dress?" She offers, kind as always.

"No, it's fine. It's comfortable this way," you say, opting for the sneakers you're wearing since you're going to do a lot of walking today.

"As long as you're comfortable," she says, fixing your hair as she speaks.

The front door opens and the two of you are turning your heads to see who's coming, it's none other than Minho. You hurriedly sling your purse around your shoulder and ready to leave.

"I'd better get going," you tell Kim, giving her a quick hug.

"You can come home as late as you want," she jokingly says as she hugs you back, "Actually, don't bother coming home tonight."

You laugh it off and pull away while ignoring Minho who walks to the kitchen to get something out of the fridge. You head for the door and wave bye at Kim before getting out.

-

The search for a new place comes to fruition, you have two potential living spaces but the only problem is you can't afford the rent, yet.

You end the day with a hearty dinner also as a treat for Gaspard for being so helpful and patient with you. He's simply a great guy to be with and you wonder why didn't you want to fuck him instead of Minho.

Oh fuck, you think about Minho again and it reminds you that he's in the apartment now so you stay out as late as you can. You consider Gaspard's offer to come and visit his place but you don't want to give him the impression that this is a date.

It's too casual to be counted as a date in the first place but you make sure to promise him a proper one next time.

"Maybe next time when I'm not sweaty and the day is not as humid as today," you kindly refuse the offer.

"I agree," he says as his hair turns a lot curler in this humidity and shyly brushes it to the back.

He walks you to the entrance of your apartment building and you turn on your feet to face him, "Thank you for today," you sincerely say.

"No worries. I had fun today," he coyly says with a smile.

You know he wants to kiss you and you want to kiss him too because he's just so attractive and fun to be with, he's a great guy... you can list so many reasons why you should kiss him so you muster up the courage to do it.

You stand on your tiptoe and press a kiss on his lips, putting your hand on his shoulder for support and Gaspard returns the kiss with so much gentleness with his hand cupping your jaw.

In the middle of it, you come to a realization that you kiss him for so many reasons but not because you like him. You slowly pull away from the kiss and quickly put on a smile for him.

"Goodnight, Gaspard," you mutter.

He allows himself to place a gentle caress on your cheek and smiles back at you as he says back, "Goodnight!"

The walk back to the apartment feels like a punishment. At least, it's late enough that you're sure Kim is already asleep by now so you quietly unlock the door, pushing it open without making any noise, and walk through the living room until you get to the safety of your room.

You kick your shoes off, throw your purse onto the bed, and take off your jacket, just standing there in your dress facing the huge mirror with your reflection staring back at you.

"Do you need help with that?" Minho asks through the cracks of your door.

You hate it that he's still here and you're happy to see him, you're not answering but he comes to your aid anyway. He stands right behind you and slowly unzips your dress for you.

It must be intentional the way his knuckles graze your skin as he pulls the zipper down your back.

The memories from that night come back to you and unlock all the feelings that you try to keep at the bottom of your heart.

Minho then places his hand on your shoulder and looks at you through the mirror, "Do you need help with anything else?" He asks with a voice so low it's almost like a whisper.

You turn your head to the side and meet his gaze, "No."

All sorts of thoughts come rushing through your head but it's the same contradicting questions: Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

Those questions going around your head and won't stop bothering you until you make up your mind.

You turn around to face him and notice how close he's standing in front of you, so close that you can feel the heat his body is emitting.

"But I'll help myself," you say and then kiss him.

Well, you guess people can tell which one is the lie now.

-

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[flaggermuser]

When You Loved Me

1,209 words || Fluff, Spoilers for Season 4 Episode 4, Hurt/Comfort, GN Reader, Doctor Reader, Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma ||

Inspired by the idea that at least one doctor would have formed an attachment.

Thank you to @bisexualhomelander for being my beta

They're nearly all dead, there's just one loose end that Homelander needs to tie up.

So he stands outside the unassuming house, ready to cross the final name off his list, which he found in an old abandoned file documenting his ‘development’.

It was a stroke of luck that he found you - it seemed as if Vogelbaum scrubbed you from all official records.

Determined to finish what he's started, he knocks on your door and waits impatiently, ready to strike you down where you stand.

“I’m coming!”

He freezes, his entire body tensing up as your voice unlocks memories from his time in the lab, ones buried deep somewhere at the back of his mind.

A frightened and hurt little boy being held, being comforted after the incinerator and the other horrible forms of torture he was subjected to.

“Shhh, it's okay, you're okay. I'm here. Shall we read another story?”

The door slowly opens and there you are. 

Now that he's seen your face, the memories are more vivid. There’s still that kindness in your eyes, the one he saw every night before he went to sleep. 

At least, for a few months before you disappeared.

“Hello, John.” Your smile is still as warm as he remembers. “My, how you’ve grown. Come in, come in!”

With trepidation, he slowly enters, unsure of what he’ll find. It’s homely, filled with curiosities and everything he’s ever associated with a true American home. As he follows you into your living room, he notices some of the pictures on the wall with you and your former colleagues at Vought, some of whom he’s already killed.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“A glass of milk would be nice,” he replies, trying his best to smile while conflicting thoughts swirl in his mind.

He was so convinced that you were like the others that had you not spoken, he would have killed you the moment you opened the door.

“Well take a seat, I’ll be right back.”

He takes a seat on your couch, hands in his lap, looking around the room again. That’s when he notices the mantelpiece, covered in photos and newspaper clippings, all in ornate frames.

Not of your family - of him. They’re all of him.

Taking pride of place in the middle of the mantelpiece is a picture from several years ago.

“Don't worry John, it's just a camera. All I'm going to do is take a picture of just the two of us. I promise it won't hurt.”

He's sat on your lap, your arms around him, holding him tightly, protectively, a smile on your face.

He’s smiling too. He’s happy. He’s with you.

They took you from me.

“Here we go,” your return snaps him back to reality, his eyes softening as he notices the glass of milk in your hand and a plate of cookies in your other, settling it down on the coffee table in front of him.

It’s such a sweet gesture.

You take a seat in a nearby armchair, “It’s so wonderful to see you again.”

After all these years, you’re still this beacon of absolute kindness.

“Do I call you John or Homelander?”

“John.”

How did I forget how lovingly you said my name? How did I forget you?

“I’m so proud of you, you’ve done so well. And look at you, you’re The Homelander! Leader of the Seven!”

His lower lip quivers, trying to keep himself together but it’s proving harder. Your praise comes from a place of pure love, something he’s never experienced or at least, he can’t remember experiencing.

“I see you’ve noticed the mantel. I know I must seem mad but I’ve been following your progress.”

You cared about me, you care about me, it’s all genuine.

“You were so young when I last saw you, with that lovely little smile.”

You reach out to take his hand but he pulls away, only so he can take off his glove. It looks so small in his, he knows if he squeezes just a little, all your bones would be crushed to dust.

But he won't.

“The things we did. Oh John, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I didn’t do anything to save you. I should've stood up to Vogelbaum, I should've protected you."

Saved him, protected him - the regret is written all over your face.

They regretted their actions too, only after he reminded them. Then they apologised but it was too late for them, maybe it’s still too late for you. 

He squeezes your hand, trying to comfort you. 

“You know, I think about you every day. I wanted to reach out but I figured Vogelbaum would have any attempt at contact blocked, especially from me. All because I chose to be human.”

Human. They were human too and they tortured me.

It’s clear that is a sore subject for you, nowhere near as painful for him but the fact it makes you sad somehow makes him feel better. It shows that you cared.

“They fired me for ‘interfering with the experiment’ but how could I not?! You were scared, you were crying and they left you all alone in that horrid room.”

The bad room.

“I couldn’t just leave you there to cry yourself to sleep. So I volunteered to take the night shift. Do you remember… remember the first time?”

His jaw tightens, desperately searching his mind for even the tiniest hint of a recollection yet all of the torment he was subjected to has buried everything deeper. 

“You were terrified that I was going to hurt you, your eyes glowed red and you trembled. I knew you didn’t want to hurt me but you would if you had to.”

You understood.

“It took you a few minutes to realise I wouldn’t hurt you - I think it was the books under my arm that convinced you I wasn’t a threat.”

A single flash - “Would you like me to read you a story?”

“I sat down on your bed, you sat on my lap and we read story, after story, after story. Until you didn’t want me to read anymore, you just wanted me to hold you. So I did exactly that.”

He desperately wants to remember, he needs to remember. 

“Then Vogelbaum found out, I must have forgotten to turn the cameras off and I was removed from the project. I should’ve fought for you, I should’ve marched right back in there and demanded to take you. But I didn’t.”

But you’re here now. They’re all dead but you’re still here.

“I forgive you,” it slips out of his mouth, however, this time it’s heartfelt. He means this without malice.

You’re the parent he’d always wanted, living in a house he always dreamed of, serving him milk and cookies like he’s still that young boy you cared about.

Maybe it wasn’t too late, maybe there could be something here, born from the ashes of your past sin and his trauma.

Sniffling, you wipe away your tears, tightening your grip on his hand. When the smile returns, it’s affectionate and all for him.

“I want you to know, John. I need you to know, that you’ll always have a place here and in my heart."

[lavenderspence]

Missing the happy hormone | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: emotional reader, period mention, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Apparently Spencer Reid could make anything better - even the emotional disaster of being on your period

A/N: First, huge thank you to the cutie that sent in this request, you literally caught me while on my period so this was born. Also, here’s to my inability to write short fics, this is your only warning that i can make and will make anything long, lol. Also, my titles suck omg. And shoutout to my crazy bestie for making me a Mamma Mia girly, she rocks.

But also, happy one month to this blog! When I carved out this little space for myself a month ago I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel being back here and writing again, but so far it’s been a treat. A huge thank you for all of your support and love and thank you to my mutuals and everyone that interacted with my blog. 💕 Here’s to many more months to come!

Request: spencer x fem!reader on her period/ovulating and shes in tears all the time?? Im ovulating and have been crying for hours and keep calling my mom lmaoo he’d been so lovely and sweet I know it I can feel it in my bones

masterlist

It was a slow day at the BAU. The most exciting thing in the 6 hours Spencer had spent at work was Rossi’s invitation to dinner the following weekend. 

Paperwork had piled high after their last 2 cases, so every team member was hunched over their desk, writing and revising reports. It was a never-ending cycle - finish a report, close the file, open a new one, and start all over again.

His eyes had started getting tired after four and a half hours, his hand had started cramping and he was down two pens so far, yet there was still a prominent pile on his desk.

He suspected Morgan and Emily might have pushed a file or two from theirs onto his load, seeing as he was getting done the fastest. Regardless, every few hours JJ was bringing even more to pile on top of everything that wasn’t finished, so buried in paperwork they stayed - no matter how fast he wrote or read, or how used to the load he was.

He was just thinking about getting up to prepare a fresh pot of coffee so he could function properly for a few more hours when his phone started ringing. He felt around the pockets of his suit jacket, where it sat draped on his chair, and then pulled it free. 

His display showed an incoming call, a picture of you as he hugged you, hands around your middle and face almost buried into your neck, a soft smile gracing both your faces. A scenery rich with reds, browns, and yellows stood behind you, the beauty of fall was nothing short of spectacular. 

The picture you’d taken last year when the team spent a weekend at Rossi’s cabin in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of landscapes and leaves, nature for miles. 

He accepted the call right away, a small smile on his face. 

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, if a little raspy from misuse. He hadn’t talked much in the last few hours - just a distracted short answer here or a hum there. He was happy you were calling, though, welcoming the reprieve from the most recent report. 

It was silent for a few seconds, and he wondered absentmindedly if maybe you hadn’t called him on accident, and then there came a tiny little sniffle from your side. 

“Sweetheart?” He prompted, “Are you there? What’s going on?” Worry was starting to creep into the base of his spine, but he still remained calm and kept his voice gentle. 

“I’m here. Hi.” Another small sniffle, “All’s good. Just…I was just wondering how much longer you’d be gone.” Your voice was small,like you thought you might upset him by asking, and a little crackly, like you yourself were upset about something. 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he checked the time quickly - 3:57 pm. 

“Probably about two more hours, there’s a lot of paperwork we need to go through.” His eyes met Emily’s as she sent him a curious, questioning look. 

“Oh, okay.” The resignation was clear in your voice, “I’ll see you later then.” The call ended abruptly, and it took him a second to catch up.

He couldn’t help but feel like not everything was as good as you claimed it was. For one, you rarely called to ask when he’d be home - you knew his work could span into the late hours, or even stretch for days. You let him update you on any changes in his work schedule. 

In your interactions, your voice was usually upbeat and teasing - especially on the phone. Your kindness was always evident in your voice, as was your mood. You were a sunshine person, if he ever met one, that’s probably why you and Penelope formed such a close bond upon meeting. 

There was something that nagged him - a change in your mood he could pick up on just by your voice - too low, too small, and the cracks that he could now identify as he replayed your conversation in his head. You were keeping yourself from crying out, and yet there was nothing more apparent than the tears in your voice. And that made him worry. 

“Reid, are you okay?” Emily’s voice snapped him from the hard stare he’d been giving his phone in the last several minutes since the call ended. 

“I…I don’t know.” His eye twitched, and he cleared his throat before he tried and failed to articulate exactly what was happening - he himself had a hard time understanding. One thing he knew was that he needed to get home. “I..um, I need to go. Can you, please?” He asked, gusting at the remaining three files on his desk before he pulled his suit jacket on and grabbed his satchel. 

Morgan and Emily shared a mildly concerned look before they both nodded their heads, “Yeah, go. Text to let us know if everything is okay.” Morgan reminded him before he exited the bullpen with a fast step and tried to keep calm.

He was aware the situation wasn’t anything that he needed to be incredibly worried over - if something was really wrong, he knew you would have let him know. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart constricted by the sound of your voice, or the overwhelming desire to come home and gently hold you, see what could have caused this behavior. 

You were curled up on the couch, watching as Donna helped Sophie get ready for her wedding, the gentle melody of “Slipping through my fingers” filling the empty apartment. Your eyes were watering, to the point that everything was starting to get blurry. A shaky exhale left your lips.

Today has simply been a rollercoaster. Kissing Spencer goodbye this morning was the highlight of the day. What followed was nothing short of an emotional disaster. 

You’d teared up during breakfast, images of picking berries with Spencer flying through your mind. The desire to make it a reality was strong. 

Following that had come the overwhelming urge to bawl your eyes out, for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just cry and cry until you had it all emptied out and you could take a deep breath and continue with your day. So, cry you did, and then you’d finished with your chores for the day. 

Apparently letting it all out and emptying your tear supply hadn’t happened. Seeing as around 3:30 you’d started missing your boyfriend so much, the need to hear his voice had won out, so you’d called him. You felt the need to have him home to hold you because this month’s visit from mother flow was making you feel like a crybaby.

But then there was disappointment at the notion that you needed to wait close to 3 hours before that could happen. So you quickly ended the call before he could pick up on the tone of your voice, and then you shed a few tears. 

Now here you were, rewatching Mamma Mia because you really needed a pick me up, and once again, eyes shining as the tears started falling. At this point, it was a losing battle, so you let them fall, humming to the song with a broken voice. 

That’s exactly how Spencer found you, not a minute later. His keys were in his hand, the satchel on his shoulder, and he was just a little bit out of breath. 

The moment his eyes met you, they softened as he dropped everything and sat down next to you. His hand reached up and he cradled the side of your face, wiping your tears away. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper.

“Look at Donna painting Sophie’s nails, it’s...” You hiccuped, another wave of tears washing over you. “And you’re home, why are you home?” Your question was met with a furrow in his brow, as his thumbs continued wiping underneath your eyes. 

“You called.” He answered simply. 

“But you said-” He stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

“I did, yes. But you sounded off and sad, so. Want to tell me what’s going on?” He prompted you gently as he pushed your hair back and pulled you into his lap after, feeling like you needed the physical contact. 

You weren’t ashamed to admit it, per se, but you were ashamed that your hormones had caused him to leave work and race home to be with you. 

“It’s my period,” you mumbled, hands wrapping around his neck as you hid your face in his chest, too tired to prevent your eyes from watering again. “It’s been going on all day. Randomly, I’d just get so emotional, and the tears would start. I was missing you so much too, and then hearing the song, bam, tears again. I’m so done with this Spence.” You sounded barely coherent, with your face pushed as close to him as possible. 

It all made sense now, you’d been cranky a few days ago, and then you’d told him last night your cramps were unbearable, so he knew you were on your period, but right now he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out himself. 

“It’s okay, everything is fine. The drop in estrogen and progesterone, following your ovulation triggered this. This in turn reduced the production of serotonin, your happy hormone. So, we just need to boost it a bit.” He whispered into your ear as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How?” You sighed into his chest, almost being able to pick up on the sound of his heartbeat.

He got deep in thought for a few seconds as you breathed in his scent, and a sense of calmness slowly overtook you now that he was home and holding you. One of his hands was running soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand, fingers interlocked. 

“How about we take a trip to the store and get you some snacks? We’ll pick up dinner on the way home and then I'll hold you some more and you'll pick a movie for us to watch.” He suggested, kissing the crown of your head once, twice, and many more times until you gave him an answer. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think that would help, but just having you here has done wonders.” You finally laid your head against his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled, and so did you. Having him here really had helped immensely, and when had it not? He was your other half, your rock, and even when your emotions ran rampant or you were feeling down, just his presence, his touch, and his understanding were enough to make it all okay. 

Later in the evening, Penelope sent you a photo of Sergio sleep-hugging a little plushy you’d gotten him, and the waterworks started all over again. Luckily, Spencer was there, wiping your tears and kissing your head, saying a thousand things without actually speaking a word.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Requests are open for both Spencer and Hotch if you want to send any!

[leaderwonim]

LET ME HAVE A BITE ! ❀

pairing. park sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. in which your boyfriend’s arms have grown way too irresistible for your liking

“Wait Hoon, come here.” You motion the brunette boy, who was busy tapping away on his game controller.

“But Jake’s about to beat me in Valorant!”

You roll your eyes at his comment, choosing to march yourself over to him yourself. You get up from his bed, which was messy but comfortable and filled with his scent that drove you insane.

You sit yourself on one of the gaming chairs in his room. It was pink along with some fluffy white on the headrest. Sunghoon had bought it for you a few months ago, and had your initials imbedded into the leather seating. It was awfully cute of him, and you made sure to show him how grateful you were that night.

“Ow!” Sunghoon suddenly flinches back when he feels the sting on his arm. “Did you just—did you just bite me?”

You grin, laughing at how Sunghoon’s eyebrows are furrowed deeply. “Not my fault you give me something to bite.”

“I do not give you something to bite,” he groans. “You just can’t resist my guns.”

You cringe internally at Sunghoon calling his arm muscles “guns” but you’re still geeking over them nonetheless.

You try to reach your mouth over to his arms again but he’s quickly withdrawing them. “Hey! Stop doing that!”

“I can’t help it!” You say, surrendering your arms in faux innocence. “You’re asking for it.”

Sunghoon throws his head back against his chair, knowing full well you weren’t going to leave him alone. He says a farewell to Jake and turns off his PC, which leaves the room silent except for the occasional breaths you two let out.

“Come here!” He rushes over to you, practically tackling you onto his bed.

“Trying to dominate me already?” You tease, pinching his arm.

He wraps one of his arms around your neck, leaving a soft kiss against your cheek.

“Wait!—Let me take a picture.” You say, feeling giddy because you already know how good it’s gonna look on camera.

As soon as you turn the camera on you, your breath hitches in your throat. If Park Sunghoon’s muscles had looked gigantic earlier, they were even bigger now as they were wrapped around your neck.

You quickly snap a picture, giggling when Sunghoon once again presses a much appreciated kiss on the side of your face.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?” He says, but you both know he doesn’t truly mean it. “You can’t go around biting other people.”

“Yeah yeah,” you shrug him off. “But other people aren’t my boyfriend with gigantic guns!”

Sunghoon closes his eyes, the second hand embarrassment filling his senses. “Okay, let’s both refrain from using guns to describe my arms ever again.”

“Deal.”

You squeal as he presses kisses all over your face, feeling grateful that you had such a fine boyfriend.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 29 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: While Bradley thought it was unfair of the Navy to mess with him while he was still in his honeymoon phase, he certainly did love getting mail from you.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, Bradley being husband material, 18+

Length: 1700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

That autumn....

As soon as you led Bradley inside after he drove the two of you home from Salvatore's, you ran your fingers along his cheek and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "You had a lunch picnic with Thai food on the beach. And then you got pasta for dinner. Do you have any other requests?" you asked, using your strict classroom voice which made Bradley's mouth water. 

"I do, actually," he whispered, melting into your touch. "How about some of that lingerie you picked out in Paris?"

The honeymoon was almost three months ago, but not an hour went by where Bradley didn't reminisce about the days he got to enjoy the view of the Eiffel Tower and the view of your ass while he fucked you. It always left him with a smile on his face. But his smile started to falter when he remembered that he was shipping out tomorrow, and he wouldn't return until after the New Year. At least he would be allowed to communicate with you this time. That was the only thing saving him from almost certain despair.

"I think that can be arranged," you told him with a smile, unbuttoning your top as he stumbled along after you. "But you have to wait out here until I'm ready."

Bradley groaned and leaned on the wall in the hallway, watching you bounce along to the bedroom without him while you laughed. He didn't mind waiting a few minutes, because he was going to love whatever you were about to do. He was also going to miss you desperately. The honeymoon stage was still going strong, and quitting you cold turkey right now was going to be rough. There wasn't a moment when you and he were together that you weren't touching each other.

He hadn't even finished packing his duffle yet, because he didn't want this to feel real. He was planning on doing that tonight with your help, kissing you as you folded up his shirts and lined up his socks on the bed. But that was going to have to wait a few minutes. You opened the door to reveal the sheer nightie hugging your body as you pressed your thighs together and bit your lip.

Bradley was pushing away from the wall, heading right for you. "Gorgeous," he murmured, pulling you against him and walking you backwards to the bed. "Baby, I'm going to miss this too much."

His heart was pounding in his ears, hands full of your lace covered ass before you dropped to the bed on your back. "I'm going to have to wear all of my honeymoon goodies for my own entertainment for months," you whispered, tits spilling out of the lace as you arched your back.

"No, no, no," he scolded softly, tossing his shirt aside and unzipping his jeans. "Don't be a tease, Baby." You grinned as you turned your head to the side, and Bradley stepped out of his remaining clothing before he climbed in bed. He was hovering above you, lips pressed to your ear as he whispered, "You'll wear the goodies for me, too. And you'll email me every mouth watering photo that you take of your fingers shoved deep in your pussy."

"Bradley," you whined, bucking your hips up until he had to hold you in place with his big hands on your body.

"I want a little treat every time you touch yourself. And I want to know that you're thinking about me."

"I'm always thinking about you."

Your words were an ego boost. Just the kind of thing that would get him through this work assignment and back into your arms. "When you're alone and thinking about me, I want some pictures, pretty girl. A whole inbox full of them. Some sweet ones," he crooned, kissing his way along your jaw to your lips. "And some dirty ones," he added, mouth teasing your skin until your nipple was between his lips and you were whining. He sucked gently, tugging until his lips popped free, leaving you begging for more with your fingers in his hair.

You stopped taking birth control a few weeks ago. The two of you decided to go with the flow and see what happens next. It felt nice to keep that kind of pressure out of the bedroom, especially when Bradley knew he'd be just as content with six kids or none. It's not like he needed anything besides you, and he told you that every single day.

"I'm going to miss my wife," he crooned, guiding his cock inside your slick perfection as soon as you spread your legs. He rocked in and out of you slowly, enjoying the feel of your body and your voice and your sweet scent. Memorizing everything. Telling himself he could get through the time away from you as long as he could come back to this.

It was so late when Bradley finally left the bed. You and he were wrung out and fucked out. Fingers laced together, barely moving, unable to go for a fourth round. "That was wild," you laughed when he finally rolled away from you, dizzy as he stood and looked at the wrecked bedding around your naked body.

"Shit, Gorgeous." He was laughing, too as he said, "I still need to finish packing in the next five hours."

You eased yourself up and stood next to him, assessing the blankets and his open duffle sitting on the floor against the wall. "What if I told you this was all just a ploy to keep you here with me instead of getting you ready to leave?"

"Then I would say I love you."

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

Waking up for work in a bed that was half cold was not your idea of a good time. You shivered every morning that Bradley was gone, especially when November brought with it a chilly bite to the air. The commute from Coronado to Mira Mesa and back each day felt like a punishment when you knew you weren't going to arrive home to a husband who was excited to see you and hear about your adventures in teaching.

Instead, you did the best you could to make it home to your computer where you could type paragraph after paragraph to him, letting him know what was going on back in California. You sent him a plethora of photos, some of which didn't include your face as a precaution. You even went into detail about how much you missed him at bedtime.

And the best part was, you got just as much, if not more, in return. His days were largely repetitious, but there was always something new he was telling you about. His gym selfies never disappointed, and neither did the paragraphs where he told you in an abundance of detail how much he missed waking up next to you.

While you made it a point to spend time with Natasha, Edith, Ruby and Marty, the loneliness was somehow worse now that you had rings on your finger. The best thing to happen was the arrival of the day when your new fourth grade class started their unit on aviation.

Your students had been anticipating it for weeks, and you had some eager faces looking back at you on the Monday morning when you stood at the front of your classroom and said, "We're about to embark on a flight that will take us through our math, science and language arts classes for weeks to come. As we learn all about aviation, we'll be writing to a naval aviator on an aircraft carrier, and we'll even get to visit a local naval base for a field trip. Let's start out by learning the definitions of a few words that we'll be using frequently."

Later that week, you had a sizable cardboard box packed up with letters and snacks for your husband. Instead of telling him exactly when the first package would arrive, you left it as a surprise for him to stumble upon.

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

Bradley was exhausted. The mechanical crew on this deployment was nowhere near as kind or competent as Marty, and he found himself constantly visiting their shop to work through issues with his aircraft. He missed his friends and his home and his wife. He missed you so fucking much. All of the letters and emails you sent him were fantastic, but he even missed having a bunch of pen pals to converse with at the end of the day.

Every happy thought that entered his mind seemed to be pushed aside when he realized he was still a long way from returning to San Diego. He considered skipping dinner in favor of collapsing in his bunk, but he could tell he was already losing weight. You weren't around to keep him well fed, so when his stomach started to rumble, he made a point to head for the noisy mess hall. 

The cabbage rolls were disgusting, but at least the aircraft carriers were consistent. He picked at his meal and then ate two plates of dessert to make himself feel a little bit better. When he was sorting his dirty dishes and tray into the appropriate place, he was surprised to hear his name being called amongst some others.

"Bradshaw! You've got unclaimed mail!"

He perked up immediately. How did he have something else to claim? He picked up an enormous envelope from you the other day along with a card from Edith. Did you send him a handwritten note again already?

When he went to the small window in front of the mail center and gave his name, a box was thrust into his hands. Bradley's heart leapt when he saw the return address was from Mira Mesa Elementary School. He should have been expecting this, but he was suddenly happy you kept it as a surprise. A smile curled along his lips. He could have some regular pen pals to correspond with again. His smile grew wider when he looked at the way you addressed the box to him in your tidy handwriting.

To MY US Naval Aviator (Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw)

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

Bradley has the ultimate pen pal in his wife. Thanks for reading this series which ended up being so much longer than originally intended! Thanks for all of the love and feedback along the way! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[lndsismaeverything]

Lnds being a girl dad

Decided to write it down because I'm bored 🥱 here is my list of ideas that can use but just tag me on it so I can also enjoy the story

Xavier :

Calls your daughter lil princess

Has his hair color and your eyes. Inherited his cute lil pout

Xavier would totally get everything his lil princess wants. Want that new toy? Or how about the new plushie at the arcade machine? Sure, he'll get it right away

Xavier would love to read bed time stories to his daughter every night. Turning off the light while turning on the fairy lights acting as twinkling like stars in the night sky in your daughter room.

He definitely built a fort for her

Has two pets rabbits named Mr.Bunbun and Mrs.Bunbun ( they are married in your daughter mind )and one goldfish named Goldie had Goldie replace every month bec it keeps dying because of your clueless daughter that keep killing the fish

"Daddy why is Goldie floating? " your daughter said curiously " it's because he's taking his afternoon naps , and time for yours too " Xavier lifted his lil princess, carrying her too her room. After she's asleep Xavier calls you " we need another goldfish" he scratches his head " what is it this time?" You asked on there other line " she put a heater in the thank to keep him warm "you sigh, a hand on your hip as you told him frustrated " I told you not to give her a goldfish, poor fish "

He could tell his daughter the truth but couldn't stand to break her lil heart. And it isn't that he didn't keep an eye on her while she played with the fish it's just he took a 5 minutes nap , it wouldn't hurt right? Well that proofed him wrong...

Would like to bake cookies with her ( with you watching them of course )

Would miss his lil princess and you too during every mission . He can't wait to go home to his loving family

If you both are given a mission and both of u can't look after your daughter, she gladly stay with uncle Jeremiah. During the stay with her uncle she learns some gardening skills and is pretty good at taking care of plants

Xavier is of course jealous of Jeremiah, seeing his daughter talking about how the few days has been with her favorite uncle

" princess who do u like more your dad or your stupid uncle Jeremiah? " he said serious

" daddy don't say that about uncle Jeremiah! " good thing she has your personality always ready to defend the person she care and love. But Xavier couldn't help feel his heart ache but also feel proud, his lil princess stood up for his uncle but going against her dad

" uncle Jeremiah is a great uncle and smart tooo ! He's not stupid " she said to her dad " uncle Jeremiah is my favorite uncle! But you are my dad and the best daddy I could ask for "

You ended up ending the recording to Jeremiah to let him witness this scene too

Zayne

His office would be also his daughter office. After school your daughter would walk to Akso hospital since the kindergarten isn't far from the hospital just a 5min walk. But sometimes zayne would be free , so he would pick up his daughter if he didn't had a appointment at that time.

also would occasionally ( almost everytime he pick up his daughter ) bring your daughter to the bakery next a few buildings from the kindergarten .

Inherited his father's sweet tooth

Also hates the dentist

He will watch his daughter sit in his office doing her homework in her lil desk next to him. Also has a picture frame of the family photo that you didn't take a few days ago

The reason why zayne daughter would be at his work is because sometimes you can't pick up your daughter during the day is because your busy with mission and work.

After work you pick up your daughter at your husband work " bye daddy see you soon " she waved and your husband nodded " see you at home "

But sometimes zayne would come home late at night and your daughter would already be asleep by then. Also the reason why she likes going to her dad work place, is to spend time with him when at night she bearly see him or spend time with

When zayne would have a surgery your daughter would patiently do her homework ,if she's done she would go around the hospital lobby and talk to the nurses and doctors

The nurses and doctors love your cute lil daughter

" oh how she looks like Dr. Zayne so much "

" she also has Dr. Zayne calm expression "

Your daughter would have a personal ID badge hanging around her neck that you help her make . Just letting the other nurses and doctors know that she Dr.zayne daughter and not a lost kid

Zayne would double check himself if he has any blood on himself or the smell of blood on him before going to see his daughter after the surgery

Zayne can't help it if his daughter ask for another piece of his macarons " ok, you can have another one but just dont tell your mom. You can it have a maximum of 3 per day and you already have 5 "

"but daddy the same goes for you too and your already have 6 !" Your husband chuckled "alright this will be our lil secret"

" what little secrets ?" You lean against the doorframe , folding your arms as you watch both of them eating, almost finishing dozen macarons

Girl dad zayne would deny that he always saying yes to his daughter " oh really? What about last week Saturday? U said no more sugar but you bought her a snow cone" you tease your husband

" daddy can I have that snow cone? It's a double scoop and it looks like a snowman ! And best of all I can share with you ! "

" at least she has a good reason " your husband replied pushing his glasses to the brim of is node" oh just admit it Dr.zayne ~ "he smile and looked at your sleeping daughter on his office couch

Rafayell

Would spoil his lil sea guppy rotten

" daddy can I have a pony? " already bought one a few seconds ago when he say her drawing a pony. Bought a pony the same as the drawing

Want some plushies? No worries he called Thomas to get her the most cutest plushy and limited to edition

But your daughter love the plushies her had won for her at the arcade especially the pufferfish and the birb

Would teach your daughter about lemurians language. Also tell her stories about the lemurians

" daddy do you think I can turn my legs into a lemurian fish tailtoo? " her eyes sparked looking at her dad

" of course you can. You are half lemurian and human after all " rafayell ruffled her hair

The day she transformed into a lamurian in the bathtub is the day rafayell cheered for her because he didn't know if she could actually turn her legs into a fish tail

Would take her to the beach so she can swim in the ocean and get used to the salty waters . But also for some family fun time

You joined them watching how rafayell teach your daughter to swim in her new found form. You don't have a fish tail but you can still breath under water because of the sea god. It was fun watching your daughter struggle a bit

" hold my hand it be easier for your to balance yourself " your husband hold your daughter hand preventting from her turning upside down

" ugh, daddy this is worst then learning how to ride a bike! " your daughter wine, you couldn't help but laugh at them

Rafayell would bring your daughter to the art exhibit .

Also have a painting named after her and inspired by her . But that isn't for sale that's for the living room at home

Your daughter has a lot of dresses like a lot and same for shoes and jewelry. Rafayell like to dress his daughter up

First class trips with her daddy

Rafayell would definitely ride his sports car to pick her up at kindergarten.

" now wheres my little guppy? " he said standing at the door from the class she's in " daddy ! "

Sylus

Would let your daughter go on busssnins meeting with him because she asked him. At first he said no because it's a dangerous mission . But your daughter is cunning which she got from you of course " but I have daddy to protect me there, he's the strongest and he's the best so nothing will happen to me " that boosted his ego

You where furious when you found out that your husband took your daughter to a dangerous meeting that ended blowing up the whole building " but sweetie, it's nothing I can't handle, she save and onharmed "

" you let her hold a gun."

" that's because she hated the merchant " sylus said confidently

Looks like onychinus had a new leader soon after her dad step down

Would let her dress Mephisto up

Sylus would teach your daughter some boxing moves

Would try to fit all of you guys in his motorcycle , your daughter in front , placing her hand on the handle while your husband hand on top of hers and you always being sylus backpack

Would have customized helmets with your names on it

Sylus would let her daughter play with his hair and stick some stickers on him and if he feels generous ( which he is toward you and your daughter ) he'll even let your daughter put make up on him

Luke and Kieran would be the best uncles . Would like to join her uncles with pranks

Love doing karaoke with her dad .both can't sing well and are death ears

Sylus would buy the whole arcade just for her daughter

Plays kitty cards with your daughter and always lose on purpose

Sylus is definitely the type to give anything her daughter fancies. She looked firearm for 5 second? Is already here with her name on it of course with no bullets . Or else he wouldn't have hear the end of it from you

Would definitely sign a no boyfriend till your married

Like and karien are your daughter personal bodyguards

Would prepare a fancy ball for her birthday

Would play the piano for her also teaching her some keys

End up hitting the post button while middle way writing 😅sorry for grammar mistakes and words.

[churipu]

SURPRISE COOKIES FOR MAMA 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. nanami kento x female! reader

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. both of you have a three year old daughter, broken conversations from your daughter bcs she's a kiddo, i'm leaving all of you to name your daughter.

note. midterm week, i'm going to try uploading, but if i don't, just know that it's not me ignoring my wips or you. love you all mwah <33

"this me!" (daughter) pointed at an old picture of . . . a young you with a blue thin strap floral sun dress posing cutely in front of the camera — a big smile on your face, showing off your pearly whites, "i pretty."

nanami who had his back leaning on the couch could only muster out a soft chuckle, he had his hand on the young girl's small waist to hold her up right; preventing a tumble or two, "that's mama. she looks lovely, doesn't she?"

(daughter) craned her head up to face nanami, her e/c doe eyes blinking, ears unbelieving that the portrait was her mother, "mama? no, this me! i so pretty," she pointed her chubby finger towards the portrait, which is undeniably almost as big as she is.

"mhm, that's mama," nanami caressed his daughter's head lovingly, "you do look a lot like mama, you know?" he whispers, eyeing the portrait (daughter) had laying on her small lap.

half a decade ago — nanami told himself that he isn't fit to be a family man; he swore the both of you talked about kids, and how you'd both wait at least until later on into the marriage. but (daughter) was a surprise pregnancy, and the best thing that has ever happened to the both of you.

"this no mama, this me papa," (daughter) pouts, her soft lips puckering out slightly.

nanami used his free hand to flip the photo album, showing a picture of (daughter) as a newborn. a pink colored bandana around her small head, eyes shut in content, "this is you the day you were born," he cooed out, letting his daughter take in the picture.

what a bundle of joy she is. nanami remembered every second he spent inside the delivery room by your side — letting you dig your fingers inside his flesh, because he knew the pain that you were going through at that moment couldn't compare to anything else that he was feeling. all he cared about was you and his daughter.

"this me?" (daughter)'s meek voice resounds. nanami nodded, eyes gazing into his daughter's doe ones, "i so pretty."

nanami smiled warmly, "yes, you are pretty, just like mama," he compliments; pinching her chubby cheeks gently, "it still surprises me how you're an exact copy of your mama . . ." he pats her head, his palm engulfing her whole head.

(daughter) nods her head vigorously, "mama and me twins!" she cheers happily, kicking her feet.

the male chuckles, "mhm, twins," he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her up — standing as he puts the picture album on top of the coffee table that sat in the middle of your living room, "mama's coming home soon."

"we take cookies out of cooler, papa," (daughter) pats her father's cheeks gently before wrapping an arm around his neck to hook herself close to nanami, "warm for mama."

nanami vaguely remembered the day he passed by a baking class near his office. where he first saw you, holding onto a young boy's hand — no younger than six years of age, guiding him to whisk what seemed to be cake batter. he stood out of the glass pane, staring into the class for at least the next three minutes out of his twenty-four hours just to look at you.

he thought you looked pretty (and the display cake looked pretty as well, but that was besides the point).

but he never saw you again until three months later at the same place, and you noticed him. surprising. considering he was staring yet again for the second time. but he didn't think that you'd go out your way to talk to him right at that moment — and he was thankful you did.

"mhm, we're going to warm it up for mama," with ease, nanami opened the cooler and grabbed a plate of messily made classic chocolate chip cookies wrapped with saran wrap. (daughter) contributed to most of the procedure, and nanami thought it was the third most beautiful thing besides you and her. he's a proud dad.

the process of warming the cold cookies was short — with (daughter) prepped on top of the counter, with nanami's arms right by her sides. the two of them smiling at each other in silence, waiting for the oven to let out the satisfying 'ding!', hopefully before you came through the door.

unfortunately, things don't always go the way he wanted. and there you were, with your usual (color) coat slung over your arm, heaving out an exhausted sigh, mumbling out a soft, "i'm home."

(daughter)'s head turn to face the door, eyes widening in panic as she then faced nanami, "mama home, papa," she whispers, covering her mouth to hold back a loud giggle.

nanami nuzzled his nose into hers, "want to go hide from mama?"

the young girl nods her head, almost immediately wrapping her arms around her father's neck, "go go go, papa, hide, hide!" she whispers, giggling as she fit her small face into the crook of nanami's neck.

nanami laid a hand behind his daughter's head, he passed by you who had just walked through the short hall leading towards the living room, sending out a slight signal through his eyes as he walks into (daughter)'s sage colored room. he laid the young girl down onto the rugged floor, "go go, hide from mama."

the girl wasted no time scurrying under her bed, giggling softly. on the other hand, nanami walked out of her room with a small smile, approaching you.

"something smells good," you greet the male, opening your arms for a hug. i mean — what else do you need after a long day of work besides a warm hug from your husband?

nanami's arms felt like a blanket engulfing your body, he buckled his knees slightly to press a short kiss on your lips, "(daughter) has your baking abilities, 'm not surprised. good day at work?"

you nod, "tiring day, a boy spilt heavy cream all over the floor and his mother blamed us for it," nanami's face hardened a bit after hearing your story, "she practically went on a cursing spree in front of the kids, the cops had to restrain her."

the male grazed his finger on your cheek, "i'm sorry about that, she didn't hurt you, did she?"

you shook your head, "no worries, where's my baby, hm?"

nanami pinched your nape gently, "she wanted to surprise you with her cookies, she's in her room hiding. go see her and i'll be there with the cookies, yes?"

"you're too nice to me," you jokingly said.

"just to you," he rolled his eyes, brushing his lips over the hollow of your nose, "go, go. she's waiting for you."

you pulled yourself away from his embrace, putting your coat on top of the kitchen's counter before sauntering over to (daughter)'s room, knocking on her door. which resulted in an indubitable string of laughter from your own blood and flesh from under the bed, "baby? where're you?"

her soft and hushed giggles didn't stop when you step inside her room, "are you . . ." you pretended to open the closet, "here!"

and (daughter) stifled back a laugh when you failed to find her. and the next attempt, you squat down to eye under the bed, "there you are," her loud laughs finally chimed out, "give mama a hug, please?"

the young carbon copy of you crawled out from under the bed, immediately rushing to your lap to give you a warm hug, "i miss mama . . ." she pressed a kiss to your cheek, "mama miss me?"

you cradled her body back and forth, "mama misses you so much."

"i have surprise for mama," (daughter) abruptly pulled back from the hug, "surprise cookies for mama!"

the scent of chocolate entered your nostrils as nanami walked inside the room with a plate of freshly warmed chocolate chip cookies, "it's not a surprise anymore when you tell mama about it, isn't it?" he asks with a slight chuckle.

"'ts okay, mama still surprised. i bake cookies with papa," (daughter)'s eyes twinkled with happiness when nanami laid the plate down on the floor, "i bake cookies like mama. try try mama!"

and so you did, "'ts so yummy, good job, baby!"

nanami tugged on your arm towards him, slithering an arm around your waist, "'f course she did, you're her mama, y'know?" the male leaned in to place a short kiss to the tip of your nose.

(daughter) shrieks out, "papa cooties!"

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[awearywritersworld]

"took you long enough"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you ask your best friend to meet the guy you've been seeing, things don't go quite as planned. w/c: 3.2k tags/warnings: angst to smut with a fluffy ending. 18+. friends to lovers. jealous gojo. curse words. drinking. gojo shoves ur love interest. he's just kind of an ass to him in general. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: i don't often write smut, but i kinda got carried away.. carpe diem, i say masterlist

gojo is tired of hearing you ramble on about the new guy you've been seeing. he barely even glances at your phone screen when you try to show him a picture you took together.

"you're way out of his league," he states dryly.

"hardly," you scoff. "men don't exactly line up for me like women do for you."

it'd be a lie to claim you didn't have a thing for gojo at one point, but you learned a long time ago that he isn't interested in you that way. it wasn't hard to tell, given his parade of hookups and the occasional two week relationship. you've gotten over it though... for the most part, anyway.

he rolls his eyes. "i assure you that's only because you're shy, princess."

"okay, so you should be rejoicing that your best friend finally landed herself a boyfriend—"

"boyfriend?"

"well.. it's not official yet, but i think he's going to ask me soon!"

your apparent enthusiasm at the prospect leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. of course, it's only because he wants the best for you and this guy certainly isn't it. "you've gone on like two dates."

"'toru, i've been seeing him for almost a month!" when he doesn't respond, you continue speaking. "so... that's why i was sort of hoping you'd come out with us tonight."

he looks at you increduously, "i am not third wheeling."

"you won't be!" you assure. "shoko and kento said they'd come. i just want you to meet him because you're really important to me and i actually think this could go somewhere—"

"alright, alright," he acquiesces, albeit begrudgingly. he's never been able to say no to you.

you squeal with excitement, throwing your arms around his neck in a brief hug. "i can't wait! we're all meeting at seven, i'll text you the address."

after a quick kiss to his cheek, you gather your things, all but running out the door. you weren't going to give him a chance to change his mind.

he stares after you wordlessly, running a hand through his hair while an unfamiliar tightness overcomes his chest.

when gojo enters the bar, he spots you right away despite the sizable crowd. as he makes his way toward your group, he can't help but notice how pretty you look in your little dress. in fact, you'd look absolutely perfect if it weren't for the fact you have another man's arm around your waist.

wait, what?

your laugh rings out across the room and judging by the smirk on shoko's face, he can tell she's said something you find unreasonably funny. once you spot him, your face lights up and you pull away from your almost boyfriend to give gojo a hug, something that brings him a sense of satisfaction.

"hey, sweetheart," he greets loud enough that the other man can hear. "who's this?"

"satoru, this is shinya!" you're beaming at him expectantly, so gojo has no choice but to extend his hand.

"hey, man." shinya shakes it firmly. "it's great to meet you. my girl's told me a lot about you."

gojo's eye twitches and he decides almost immediately that he finds shinya utterly insufferable. his voice is grating and he's too short and didn't you say you prefer guys with lighter hair—

"nice to meet you, too," gojo responds cooly. "i'm always happy to meet one of her friends."

nanami and shoko share a knowing look, more than prepared to break out their hypothetical popcorn. and boy, is this as good an occasion as any.

the strongest sorcerer isn't one to indulge in liquor, but how can he refrain when he has to be in the same room as shinya? each time he touches you, looks in your direction, calls you some sickening pet name— whenever he breathes in your general vicinity, really— gojo brings his drink up to his lips.

everyone else seems to be getting along, but unfortunately, he grows increasingly snarky with each glass he empties.

shinya asks what you'd like when he goes up for another round and it's 'oh, you don't know her favorite drink? well, i guess you're not as close as we are.'

shinya pulls your chair out for you and it's 'wow, you really got yourself a gentleman, princess.'

shinya mentions that he's fairly well versed in martial arts and it's 'really? maybe we should go out back and spar. i think it'd be fun.'

nanami steps in then, not entirely convinced gojo would hesitate before laying him out. "you can put the measuring tape away, idiot."

shinya is being an impressively good sport, but your anxiety has you emptying glasses in a hasty manner, too. you have no idea what's going on with gojo. you understand that he can be abrasive at times and that communication definitely isn't his strong suit, but his behavior is just absurd. you force an awkward laugh at nanami's comment.

"not that i'm not having, um, a great time and all!" you hiccup before continuing. "but i'd really like to dance. c'mon shinya!"

nanami and shoko wind up joining you both, which comes as a surprise. neither of them are exactly the partying type (not that you are either), but you're happy to see them having fun. honestly, you can't remember the last time either of them let loose.

you wonder if they also just wanted to escape gojo's snide remarks. now that they aren't ringing in your ear every other minute, your nerves have certainly calmed down a bit. well, until—

"so you do know that he's totally in love with you, right?"

"who?" you question, looking around as if it'd be obvious.

and it is, just not to you.

shinya chuckles. "gojo."

"what?" you bellow, completely dumfounded. "no way! i mean he's not— and i'm not— we're just friends."

"yeah?" he still sounds amused, nodding in gojo's direction. "is that why he looks like that?"

turning toward your table, even you have to admit he looks completely miserable. unbeknownst to you, he's spent the last half hour sending away every woman that approaches him asking to dance. he just isn't in the mood right now. at least, that's what he tells himself.

"er.. he just doesn't get out that much," you try your best to brush it off.

"whatever you say, baby."

you're relieved he doesn't seem terribly bothered by the idea, even if you find it completely implausible. it's true you spend a lot of time together and that you know one another like the back of your hands, but you'd given up any hope of it being more than friendship a long time ago. you'd moved on.

but if that's the case, why did shinya calling you baby suddenly feel so wrong? you convince yourself it must just be the alcohol.

when the four of you finally stumble back to the table, you realize you've missed last call. though it's probably for the best, as the five of you are certainly in for a nasty hangover the following morning.

it's near closing time, but the crowd has hardly thinned out and the music is still beating loudly in your ears. you're going back to jujutsu tech with your friends rather than home with shinya, so you loudly exchange goodbyes over the music as he gets ready to leave.

"i had a really great time tonight," he tells you. "maybe we could go for dinner tomorrow? there's something i've been wanting to ask you."

"okay!" you agree eagerly, eyes shining. "i'll call you in the morning."

gojo feels his stomach drop, his jaw clenching bitterly. he tries to tell himself to relax because this is what you want, but he just can't seem to get his thoughts straight.

shinya leans down, his lips meeting yours sweetly, and it causes white hot anger to flood gojo's body. it all happens so fast, shinya's ripped away from you with astounding force and he staggers backward. you've been struggling to hear over the noise all night, though you make out each word that follows with striking clarity.

"get the fuck away from her!"

gojo stalks off before anyone has time to process what just happened. he's already half way across the room when you come to your senses.

"'toru!" you call out, taking a step in his direction when he doesn't respond. "satoru!"

you take another step but you're stopped when something pulls you back. you look down to find shinya's hand wrapped around your wrist before your gaze turns up to meet his eye. "look, i really like you, but if you go after him, don't bother calling tomorrow."

the ultimatum is simple, but so is your decision. "i'm sorry."

you run off before he can say anything else, shoving your way through the bar patrons, and follow gojo out the door into the cold air of night.

"satoru!" you shout once more, thankful that his pace is slow enough for you to catch up. he turns to face you when you tug on his sleeve.

you nearly shy away from him, his expression something fierce, but the liquor in your system gives you courage. "what the hell was that? you embarrassed me—"

"i don't fucking care," he spits.

he's never taken such a tone with you, so you throw your hands in the air and exhale impatiently. "what do you mean? you should care! you're my friend, aren't you?"

"that's exactly what i mean. you're supposed to be mine," he growls.

you're not sure how it happens, but the next thing you know, his lips are crashing into yours, your teeth knocking together with the force. his hands paw at your hips, pulling your body against his greedily.

"i can't believe," he mumbles against your lips, "you wasted your time," his hands find your hair, tugging your head back and revealing your neck, "with that fucking loser."

once he's finished speaking, his lips trail across your jaw, landing just below your ear. your eyes flutter open and you're suddenly very aware that you're standing in the middle of a public sidewalk.

"'toru," your voice is breathy, even though you're trying desperately to keep it together. "there are people—"

he pulls away heatedly, his eyes narrowed. "you didn't care when he kissed you in front of everyone."

"yeah, but that was just a peck," you reason, though if he keeps this up, you're worried you might lose your resolve.

"tch, i guess you're right." the familiar sensation of warping through space and time sweeps through your body for a few seconds before your feet meet solid ground again. you don't need to look around to know you're in his bedroom. "we're going to do a lot more than that tonight."

your stomach flips at his words, heat rushing to your core. his lips find your neck once more, leaving sloppy kisses along your skin. "that's what you want right? for me to show you who you belong to?"

you nod weakly, feeling as if you're in a daze.

"ah, ah. use your words, sweetheart."

"yes— ah—" he sucks on the spot just above your collarbone before nipping the delicate skin there. "yes, 'toru."

"then get on the bed," he orders lowly.

and who are you to disobey? you can't honestly say you haven't been dreaming of this for years. his blanket feels cool to the touch, making you realize suddenly how much your skin is already burning with desire.

he kneels beside the bed, wasting no time before pushing up your dress and pulling your legs apart. you see his shoulders fall as he exhales harshly at the sight. his eyes flutter shut when he presses a kiss to your core over the tiny cotton panties you decided to wear.

he's rudely reminded of the possibility that you may have put them on with another man in mind.

"did you let him fuck you?" he interrogates. his eyes don't leave yours as he begins placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thigh.

"n-no!" it's almost embarrassing how vehemently you deny it, but the man between your legs takes great pleasure in your response.

"mm, knew you were a good girl."

he hooks a finger beneath your panties, pulling them down excruciatingly slow. you buck your hips up once he throws them off to the side.

"feeling eager, princess?" he taunts, his breath fanning across your center.

you nod, your legs shaking with anticipation, before remembering what he said about using your words. "please, 'toru. need you so bad."

he can't possibly deny you, not when you beg for him so sweetly. he presses a soft kiss to your swollen bud before flattening his tongue against it, drawing circles there. he groans when your slickness coat his chin.

you whine when his eyes shift up to meet yours and push yourself against him even further. he chuckles against your skin, but truth be told, he's just as eager as you are. he slips one long finger inside of you, relishing in how easily you take it.

"oh—" you cry out as he adds another finger, his tongue pressing against you just a little harder.

his other hand is gripping your thigh roughly, the flesh spilling between his fingers. one of your arms is supporting your weight, but the other reaches out, your fingers threading through his hair.

you're panting now, tugging on his white locks in pleasure. he moans in response and the way your walls are clenching around him lets him know you're close. "c'mon baby, cum for me."

that's all it takes for you to unravel, his name falling from your lips over and over. he doesn't stop until he's sure you've come down from your high.

"you tasted so perfect," he tells you, unbuckling his pants in a hurry and shoving them down his legs.

his shirt and boxers follow quickly thereafter, so you pull your dress over your head. you can't tear your eyes away from his cock, it's long and thick and pretty.

he pushes you back against the bed and crawls on top of you, but then he just stares down at your face. just as you begin to wonder if something is wrong—

"you're so fucking beautiful. have i ever told you that?"

your mind reels for an answer, but you don't have to worry about it for long, as his lips capture yours. you can taste yourself on his tongue

"tell me what you want," he murmurs against your lips as he moves his cock along your slit, coating himself in your wetness.

"need you, 'toru. p-please, i need you to fuck me."

he smiles against your lips as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside slowly. he leans back to find that your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are parted in bliss. he's determine to seer the image into his mind forever.

splitting you open is absolute ecstasy, the noises he's making are proof enough of that. "fuck, princess. fuck."

he nearly whimpers when he bottoms out. "god, you feel so perfect. i could stay in this pussy forever."

your legs wrap around his waist once he begins to pump in and out. "never felt so full, 'toru. it feels s'good."

he shudders at your words and laces his fingers with yours, sweat beading on his forehead as he picks up his pace. his head dips down, his teeth nipping the skin of your neck aggressively.

"p-people are gonna see—"

"i want them to," he rumbles. "want everyone to know how good i made this tight little pussy feel."

you can't argue with him, not when this is the best anyone's ever made you feel. his head shifts even lower, his tongue moving along your nipples in a way that has your back arching off the bed.

he uses the opportunity to snake an arm beneath your lower back, holding your body against himself firmly. the new angle has you mewling his name in the most sinful way.

"you're takin' me so well. like you were made for this cock."

your head's lolling to the side as you fall to pieces beneath him and he can feel himself getting close. "look at me when i fuck you, baby."

you do as he asks, his hips stuttering when he sees the tears of pleasure swimming in your eyes. "you're mine, aren't you? tell me you're mine."

your pussy clenches around his cock so tight it's almost painful. "i'm yours, 'toru. all yours."

"fuck, that's my good girl. gonna cum for me again, hm?"

you nod up at him meekly, too far gone for words, but he doesn't seem to mind this time.

"'i'm close too, sweetheart." his fingers reach down to rub circles on your clit, eliciting a throaty moan from you.

you feel your stomach tighten and you're nearly there, but you don't go over the edge until he begs, "can i fill you up? want to so bad."

you can't find the strength to respond, so you hope the way you tighten your legs around his waist and claw at his back is answer enough.

your head rolls to the side once more, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning you to face him. "please, baby. wanna see you when i cum—"

he hums your name through a choked moan, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he reaches his own high. he collapses on top of you, laying there for a moment before pulling out and rolling onto his back beside you.

no words are shared, both of you trying to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. the silence gives your mind a chance to wander, which is never a good thing.

you consider the fact that gojo's never kept a girl around for more than a week or two— that this probably meant way more to you than it did to him. you sit up feeling stupid and wrap your arms around your chest.

you look around the room in search of your panties, his cum running down your thighs when you stand up to grab them. it's not until you pull them up your legs that he opens his eyes. he props himself up on his elbow, furrowing his eyebrows when you pick up your dress.

"what are you doing?" he asks curiously.

"well, i figured i should go back to my room—"

"what, are you crazy?" he gawks at you. "get your ass back in this bed."

you approach him shyly, your apprehension clear to him. "i mean, you can if you want, but why would you go back to your room?"

"i just didn't know if you... you know.."

"no, i don't know." if you knew him any less, you might think he was intent on torturing you, but it's clear to you that he's genuinely confused.

you sigh. "i just didn't know what this meant for us."

"baby, i didn't think i could make it any more clear." he sits up to grab you by the wrist, tugging you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. "i'm all yours, so you're stuck with me." he tries to mask the nervousness in his voice when he asks, "is that okay with you?"

you nod, hiding your face in his neck. "took you long enough."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm II

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You, your kind of ex-wife and a baby

Alexia was practically floating on air as she burst out out of the car.

"I've got her! I've got her!" She told you, practically falling over from the force she used to pull open the car door," I want to get her!"

"Go ahead," You said, slipping out of the car as well and grabbing your bag.

Alexia grabbed her, holding her close as she hurried towards the building. She had to stop by the door though because her hands were full and she anxiously rocked back and forth while waiting.

You huffed out a laugh as you opened the door and she burst in.

Alexia was off like a shot down the corridor while you followed at a more sedate pace. You knew she would wait for you, having forced her to agree to do so before leaving the house.

It had been a hard-fought battle this morning that had you promising things like cooking for the week and giving over your cabinet space in the bathroom.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" Alexia said impatiently from the door to the locker room.

You made the point of going even slower, taking pigeon steps just to annoy her.

"Come on!"

You slowly raised your foot and brought it down even slower.

"Please?" Alexia begged," Please? Please? Please? Please?"

"I want the wardrobe in the spare room."

"Wait, no! That's mine!"

"Sharing is caring, Alexia," You mocked her words from last night," Isn't that how you want to raise her?"

Alexia huffed. "Half the wardrobe."

"Half the wardrobe and the cabinet."

"That's so unfair!"

"Do you want me to hurry up?"

"Fine! Half the wardrobe and the cabinet!"

You started walking normally again. Your hand rested on the door handle as Alexia adjusted her grip. "Ready?"

She nodded, a blinding smile on her face. "So ready."

You pushed open the door, stepping aside to let Alexia walk in.

"No!" Mapi said," No!" She stood up on the bench and pointed at both of you. "No! No! No! No!"

"Mapi-"

"No!"

Alexia ignored her. "This is our baby!"

On her hip was your newly adopted baby. She was five months old and all smiley and giggly. Alexia was so proud of her, constantly holding her and playing with her and carrying her absolutely everywhere.

"No!" Mapi could do little but repeat the same thing over and over again.

Alexia's brow furrowed in confusion as she looked between Mapi and sweet baby Maya. "But she is our baby. We signed the papers." Her frown deepened as she turned back to look at you. "We did sign the papers, right? She's ours?"

You stifled a laugh. "Yes, Ale. She is ours. We signed the papers."

Alexia nodded before turning back to Mapi. "She is ours! This is Maya Putellas! She's a baby! Our baby!"

"That's right, Ale. She is our baby."

"Baby!" Alexia insisted, head bouncing around to look at each of her teammates," Our baby! A little Putellas!"

"No!" Mapi kept saying," No!"

Ingrid very awkwardly patted her girlfriend on the back before demonstrating she was fluent in Mapi by explaining," I think Mapi's a little worried about how quick you're moving. You only got back together a few months ago."

"Mapi shouldn't worry!" Alexia said quickly, bouncing Maya on her hip," We're taking great care of our Maya! Look, she's got my eyes!"

You laughed as Mapi was presented Maya like she was Simba, unable to back away as Alexia cornered her between the wall and your baby.

"Just to clarify," You told the rest of the room," Maya's adopted. Alexia's very proud."

Lucy scoffed, watching as Alexia waxed poetic about everything Maya did last night. "Clearly. How long have you had her?"

You winced. "Two days."

"I'm surprised Alexia waited this long to tell us."

"She nearly posted Maya in the group chat. That's what she did for Eli and Alba. No context, just a picture and then ignored their calls. She's in baby heaven right now."

You turned to look at your wife, who had well and truly trapped Mapi and was now explaining every little detail of Maya's outfit.

Ingrid and Lucy both followed your gaze.

"I think she's providing Mapi with free birth control," Ingrid joked," I think we're only going to have pets if Alexia keeps talking like that."

You winced. "Don't mention the p word in front of Ale. She wants a puppy too. I've been trying to tell her not while Maya is so little but she's got a powerpoint prepared so it's better to just avoid the conversation entirely."

"Right," Lucy said," No mentioning pets. Got it."

Alexia's head whipped around to face you. "Pets? I think we should get Maya a puppy!"

You groaned. "No, Ale."

[yoonia]

A Christmas Fix — 01 (m) | kth

⟶ Summary | One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

With special collab prompt: "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix

⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

⟶ Genre | Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; including: alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, vomiting/morning sickness, surprise babies, miscommunication, profanities/swearing, minor body insecurities (implied), some family drama; involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, one night stand, drunk sex (with clear consent), minor dom/sub dynamic, brat!reader, size kink, rough sex, light choking, restraint, hair pulling (M, F), protected & unprotected sex, fingering (F), oral sex (F), clit play, breast play, stripping, biting, minor hand job/groping, grinding, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, implied pain kink, praise kink, body worship, marking, multiple orgasms (M, F), overstimulation.

⟶ Word count | 25,363 words (of 54,773 words)

⟶ Story Notes | Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @kpopfanfictrash, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs) | Moodboard was done by me | Posted in: January 31st, 2024 by @yoonia

⟶ Author Notes | I know that this is so late, but December has always been a rough month for me and this time it continued until January. I hope you can still enjoy this story regardless. Happy belated holidays and happy new year, my loves!

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: next chapter ⇢

⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi

⟶ Read on AO3

One month ago…

You already had everything perfectly planned out when you first thought of this trip some long months ago. 

Everything. 

From your personal bucket list full of wonderful things that you wanted to experience during your time away and the places that you wanted to see, down to the smallest details that you could possibly think of to be able to enjoy every single moment of your secret getaway.

Just like the red dress that you had chosen to wear tonight. The dress you had meticulously picked and bought to wear on the trip as you went to celebrate your newfound freedom. 

In your well-thought-out plan, you were supposed to have landed on the tropical island you were headed to by sundown. The warm tropical breeze should have been embracing you at the start of your trip instead of the cold, chilly wind flowing right outside these walls. 

By this evening, you should have already settled in nicely in the comfort of your hotel room right by the beachside. The calming sound of the rushing waves outside your window was the sound that you should have been listening to while resting from your long flight. 

You had pictured yourself embracing your freedom in a foreign land. To feel the soft sand slipping between your toes as you were playing chase with the rushing waves, and to find calmness that you could only get far away from the treacherous city where you came from. 

The trip was meant to help you mend your soul. Perfectly planned out as an escape from reality and leave all of your past hurt behind before starting a new chapter of your life. 

And yet, no matter how thoroughly you had it all planned out, somehow life simply found a way to mess it all up. Just like how it had always been. So perhaps you shouldn’t have been so surprised when it happened to you again, just when you thought that you had everything under control. 

You should have seen the signs long before everything started crumbling down.

The sky that kept growing darker ever since you left the city. The constant turbulences happening during your first flight that made the trip feel intense. The unsettling feeling you met the moment you landed in this place for your transit. The constant announcements echoing through the airport about flights that were getting delayed and cancelled while you were getting no news about your transit flight’s departure. 

You should have been prepared to face reality, keeping in mind that life hadn’t been so nice to you lately to let you slip away that easily. Yet your stubbornness prevailed. And after your most recent predicament, you needed this trip to happen. You needed to be right. 

After all, you have made it all the way here. It would have been impossible for you to return home, wouldn’t it?

So you remained in denial and were so stubbornly holding onto hope that you would soon be taken away from this place towards your dream destination. Even when the world around you seemed to be falling apart. 

But after long hours of waiting, you were finally forced to accept your fate, letting go of any hope you had left to escape this place when they officially cancelled the rest of today’s flights due to unresolved weather issues. Including yours.

“I’m sorry, but we really can’t promise you anything at this moment. There will be no flights until the storm passes and our pilots are cleared to fly again. Until then, we have nothing to tell you.” 

The staff’s swift response to your inquiries about getting on the first flight available to take you to your destination only left you with a dead end. Even flying back home was no longer an option, only because that would only mean that you were admitting defeat. 

And that was how you ended up here tonight, stranded right between the daunting city that you called home and the paradise that you wished to be in until an unforeseeable future. Your dream of enjoying the night in the comfort of the beachside hotel room overlooking the wide, clear ocean, had been replaced with the reality where you had to spend overnight at the airport’s transit hotel that the airline staff helped book for you. 

You released a sigh as you leaned back against the elevator wall. Recounting the events again only brought back all the terrible mood you were having. And it didn’t help that the last message that your roommate sent you only reminded you of your setback. 

From Skye: Just checking on you on your secret getaway. I hope you’re having a blast right now. I wish you’d tell me where you’re heading so I can have a good reason to be jealous. Be safe!

Another sigh came from your lips as you wondered—

Now how am I supposed to answer her text? 

Before you could find an answer, the elevator doors opened as it reached the lobby downstairs. You put away your phone as you stepped out, and immediately got lost in your thoughts. Your mind once again getting too loud as it keeps you company. 

At first, you had no intention of hiding this trip from her. Yet all the circumstances leading to this weekend had made it hard for you to share anything to anyone.

You were planning to wait until you were finally there so you could surprise her with pictures from the beautiful beach or your comfortable hotel room. Showing her the pretty nighttime scene from the tropical island would have been a nice way to flaunt your secret getaway rather than boasting it when your fate had been filled with uncertainty. 

But instead of having an evening walk down the beach, you were trudging across the lobby inside an airport hotel, accompanied by the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors instead of having sand soiling your feet. 

And the view outside the window that you got to see earlier had been nowhere close to the pretty beach with its white sand and rolling waves. Instead, you had a clear view of the dark night sky, painted with the raging storm and its blaring thunders so strong they almost caused the entire bedroom to shake. Neither showed any sign of calming down any time soon, leaving you with no other choice but to do what you could to enjoy your temporary stay.

And you were going to start doing so by having a quick drink to help you unwind for the night. 

The red dress that you were wearing might seem a bit excessive for a nightcap, but for a short while, it helped you forget where you were. It felt almost as if you were walking in a dream as you strolled down the lower lobby in search of the hotel bar. 

Entering the hotel bar, however, became another wake-up call. 

The bar was quite large for a transit hotel, accommodating the patrons filling the place tonight. You had hoped that you could have a dance or two with a friendly stranger before retreating to your hotel room to rest, yet the closed-off lounge area had more space filled with box seats than the open dance floor. The seating area was the only place in the bar which was dimly lit, allowing the guests some privacy while they settled in with their drinks. 

The small chandeliers glittering from the ceiling were far from the hanging lights that you pictured hanging in a beachside bar. Just like the one place you had seen pictures of while planning for your trip. The lights you were seeing here made the entire space beneath seem luxurious, spreading a soft golden glow over the wary faces trying to enjoy the night. 

The pulsing bass that came out of the speakers was enough to drown the sound of the violent storm happening on the other side of these walls, further helping to create an illusion that you were in another place. That you were somewhere else instead of being stranded inside an airport hotel, together with all the strangers who seemed to be facing the same fate as you did. 

You made your way towards the main bar, suddenly feeling hyperaware of your surroundings. Even without looking, you could feel people’s eyes following your movements. Yet you paid no heed to them. You were only here to quiet down the raging storm happening inside your head, after all. 

A strong scent of old wood took over the bar area. Mixed in with the excessive scent of air fresheners and cleaners, it was enough to remind you that you were miles and miles away from the beautiful island where you had been so desperate to be. 

Smoothing your palms down your red dress, you took one empty seat at the bar. You caught the bartender’s eyes as he walked past, and within moments, a glass of strawberry daiquiri ended up in your hand. 

This feels nice, you wondered to yourself as you sat back and tried to relax.

One sip of the sweet alcoholic drink was all that it took to refresh your mind. As the warmth from your drink ran smoothly through your body, any doubt and wariness you felt began to fade. 

The next sip of the drink managed to ease your thoughts down a bit more. It helped push away the reminders of your troubles to the back of your mind. Finding calmness, you took another quick look at your surroundings.

The seating lounge seemed to be filled with guests more than the main bar was. Stranded travellers like yourself. At first glance, the nicely dressed men in suits made it seem like you were in a bar downtown. As if they were nothing more than a group of businessmen seeking leisure on a Friday night with drinks. 

It only took you looking a few seats away from them for the illusion to shatter. Your eyes fell on a group of men and women wearing their summer clothing who were making a toast, acting as if they were at the peak of their vacation. 

Looking at the scene made you realise that you weren’t the only one feeling miserable tonight. You wondered just how badly these people here needed to forget. How many of them here might be similar to you, stranded in an unexpected situation while trying to escape reality? 

You raised your glass to hide your bitter smile. The smooth liquid continued to flow through your body and you slowly began to find some peace of mind. Before you knew it, you had finished your drink, though you weren’t exactly ready to return to your cold bedroom. 

“Can I order you another glass of drink?” 

A deep voice invaded your senses after a long period of silence, and it was coming from your side. You had been far too deep in your reverie that you didn’t even realise that someone had taken the empty seat right beside you at the bar. 

Curious to see this friendly stranger, you slowly turned around to look at him. And what you saw in him nearly took your breath away. 

A tall, lean man was sitting there. His slick hair had a few curls at the end of each strands, and he had combed them back, leaving nothing more than a few stands framing his handsome face that looked almost as if it had been sculpted by the fine hands of masters in art. His sharp nose and jawline drew your attention, while his deep and soulful eyes that appeared like pools of rich mahogany drew you in, as if he was hiding a story behind his intense gaze. But it was his plump lips that formed into a smile which caught your eyes the most.

At your silence that stretched out while you were busy being captivated by him, he raised his eyebrows. It made you realise that he was waiting for your answer. An answer to a question that you had so obviously missed. 

“I’m sorry?” 

He tilted his chin to point at your now empty glass. “You look like you could use another glass, and I’d love to get one for you,” he said with an amused tone of voice. 

Once again, his deep, velvety voice hit you deeply. It resonated through your body, and a shudder ran down your spine. You refused to believe that he was able to cause this effect on you solely through his voice or his pretty smile. 

But how else would you explain the reaction that was drawn from your body? 

I don’t think I’m that drunk already, you wondered.

It was probably the way he spoke to you which affected you so much. The way he was asking a question with pure confidence. As if he already knew your answer, and that it would be impossible for you to refuse his offer. 

And he wasn’t completely wrong about it. 

What remained from your sullen mood immediately shifted in his presence. And while you have no intention of turning him down, you decided that you were not going to make things easy for him. 

“An interesting offer that seems like such a waste for me to refuse,” you sweetly said to him, smiling as your eyes fell on his empty hands. “But how would a woman feel at ease to accept such an offer from a man who isn’t even holding a glass in his hand?” 

He squinted his eyes at you, which only made his gaze feel more intense. “Are you afraid that I might be planning to get you drunk?” 

You softly laughed. “Not sure if I should be so worried about that. Getting drunk tonight has always been my initial plan all along,” you coyly said, hiding the fact that it was never your intention to get wild tonight. But his appearance intrigued you enough to change your mind about ending the night so soon.  

The mysterious man remained oblivious to this as he laughed with you. His wide, almost boxy grin mesmerised you in an instant and you were once again left speechless. 

He waved his hand to grab the bartender’s attention. It was nothing more but a simple gesture, yet you were somewhat drawn to it. To him.  

While he greeted the bartender, you took the chance to have a better look at this man. You noticed that he was a bit different compared to the other men that you saw around you earlier. 

Dressed in a black jacket over his plain white shirt, he didn’t seem as sophisticated as the stranded businessmen in their flashy suits sitting together at the bar’s lounge. Yet he had a different level of confidence which was enough to make your cheeks feel warm. 

In your eyes, he was alluring, almost as intensely as the dark storm happening outside. And you couldn’t resist being pulled towards him. 

“Another glass of the same drink for the lady and a glass of grasshopper for me,” he smoothly spoke as he ordered the drinks for you.

The bartender nodded and went to work, while you slid closer to him. His fresh-scented cologne immediately hit you, and your confidence nearly wavered that you almost slid back. But then he caught you with his gaze as he turned back to you, giving you the kind of attention which boosted every bit of ego you had. 

“So you also prefer something light and sweet. How intriguing,” you teased him, bringing back his alluring grin. 

“Why do you think I came here to join you? It was obviously for the fruity drinks and to have someone to drink it together with,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes at him and smiled. Before you got to say something in return, the bartender came back with his order. The man took a sip of his drink first before you took yours. Once again, the sweetness from your drink swirled through your body, chipping away at the tension that had been weighing you down ever since the day’s saga began. 

“To be honest, I also thought that you were looking a bit rough.” His remark brought your attention back to him. The tease was gone from his voice. All that was left was a gentle concern that seemed genuine. “And you looked like you needed a friend. That’s why I invited myself to join you.” 

It makes you feel uneasy to think that you were being so transparent. So much so that a complete stranger like himself was able to see right through you. 

“You think so? Wait until you hear how rough I’m feeling inside as well,” you bitterly said to him, drawing a soft smile to his face. 

“That makes the two of us then,” he said to you gently with his eyes on his glass of drink. There was a forlorn look in his eyes as he slowly twirled the glass, causing the liquid to swish around before he took another sip from it. 

“Care to share?” you questioned him before you could stop yourself, only to pull yourself back. “Sorry, that sounds creepy. We just met and here I am, prying into someone else’s business,” you nervously laughed.  

His gaze softened when he looked at you. Furthermore, he also seemed intrigued. 

“No, not at all.” His voice was calm, and it somehow helped to calm your nerves. “I was just about to lend an ear in case you needed someone to vent to. I never expected that you would be a step ahead of me before I could make the offer.” 

The comment he gave you made you feel warm inside. 

“Mine’s a long story,” you bitterly said to him as you raised your glass, almost giving in to the urge to take a hefty drink and finish it off when everything started coming back to you again.

The reason behind this trip, why you were stranded here on your own, while being far, far away from home, and all the drama that had gotten in the way when you had been so desperate to get away from everything. 

Unsurprisingly, the man merely shrugged. “I’ve got time to spare. My flight won’t leave until tomorrow. And that is if they’re allowed to fly out of here at all.” 

You smiled at him. “Same here. I guess we’re both stranded here all night, huh?” 

He leaned in just then, invading your personal space and filling it with his presence. And you didn’t even mind it as you leaned into him, meeting him halfway to welcome him into your little safety bubble. 

“And I was worried that I might get stuck feeling lonely while being stranded in this place,” he gently murmured, drawing a smile to your face.  

“I doubt that you would end up alone tonight,” you teased him, simply because there was no possible way that someone as attractive as he was would be returning to his hotel bedroom alone. 

His smile grew, yet the deep, dark look in his eyes shifted into something else. Something naughty and sinful. It made you feel a new sensation brewing inside even without him ever having to touch you. 

“Is that an invitation?” he asked with his deep voice that came grazing at your skin. 

Normally, you wouldn’t know what to say in return. It had been so long since you played this kind of game with someone. With anyone. But his presence and his words were drawing something out of you. A part of you that you never thought existed. And you surprised yourself when you played along, taunting danger head-on as you challenged this handsome stranger before you— 

“Would you like it to be?” 

Something flashed in his eyes. It was dark and intense, and it was sucking you in. It brought a myriad of sensations that unexpectedly went straight down to your core. 

In the deep silence that fell right after, the world around you faded. Even before you got to know his name, before you had the chance to share your story, you already knew the answer that he was about to give you as a response to your question. 

And you also knew right then, that the sparks that came rising around you were something that you would never be able to easily forget, even if every bit of memory you had about him would fade over time. 

Present…

Why do I keep thinking about that night all over again?

You can only wonder, as you keep being reminded of that eventful night. 

Weeks, nearly a month have gone by ever since, yet the memories seem to have been engraved deeply in your thoughts. And today, even though you haven’t really been thinking about it since, you suddenly find yourself having no trouble recounting everything that happened then. 

Well, almost everything. 

Some parts may seem blurry now. All due to the passing of time and the fact that you were partly inebriated at the time. But you can still recall some parts of the night that had clearly left a strong impression on you—the first encounter and the conversation you shared before alcohol took over, the instant attraction that you felt, but most of all, his entire presence. 

And they all have been coming into your thoughts while you are sitting here in the corner of your bathroom. Alone. With your arms wrapped around your folded knees and your eyes closed. As if you are waiting for a miracle to happen. 

You scoff at the thought. 

Right. Miracles. 

Years have long passed since you stopped believing that miracles do exist. Life always has its way of blindsiding you with its twists and turns that miracles no longer seem to matter anymore. 

Not for you, at least. 

Your past experiences have only caused you to look at it with sceptical eyes, sometimes even with bitterness, knowing that life has never been on your side. 

But here you are now, wishing, praying, holding onto hope that there would be a miracle to stop you from getting into a messy situation. One that you know you wouldn’t be able to handle on your own. 

After all, the perfect season of miracles is right around the corner. So it wouldn’t be so wrong for you to have some faith in them again now, would it? 

Your phone starts blaring with the sound of the alarm, snapping you out of it. Slowly, you rise on your wobbly feet. It feels as if your entire body has grown numb even before you get to face reality as it comes glaring back at you. 

Clutching onto the edges of your bathroom counter, you try to hold yourself together, and immediately failing, as you look at the two thin white strips lying on the cold counter and feel your entire world tilting off of its axis. 

All because of the two red lines that are clearly visible on each strip.

“Oh, fuck,” you softly groan. Deep down, you had already predicted this. Yet you kept denying it, hoping that you would be wrong.

“No, no, no—” you continue murmuring to yourself while wishing that you could somehow turn back time and change everything before things started going the wrong way. 

Back to this morning, when your roommate caught you—once again—throwing up last night’s dinner before handing you the unopened pregnancy test packs that she has been keeping safe in her room with the premise, “Just in case.” 

Or maybe you could return to last night when she pointed out your odd cravings—like dipping apples into peanut butter and eating leftover mac and cheese straight from the fridge without warming it in the microwave first—and joked about how you have been acting like a pregnant woman with your mood swings. 

Better yet, you wish you could go back to that night, back to that many weeks ago, when you allowed yourself to fall for a stranger’s charm which led you to spend the night with him. 

You close your eyes, once again murmuring to yourself, “This has got to be a dream.” 

But the moment you open your eyes again, nothing has changed. You are still standing there with your hands holding tightly onto the edges of the bathroom counter. And the two pregnancy test kits that you used are still lying on top of the counter for your eyes to see. 

A rapid sound of knocking on the bathroom door sends you jumping back. 

“Hey, ______? Is everything okay?” you hear your roommate, Skye, calling out for you. Her voice seems calm, yet when you recall hearing the sound of her footsteps moving back and forth outside of the door while you were taking the test, you know that she has been waiting just as anxiously as you were. “So—? What does it say?” 

Still in shock, and quite stuck in denial, you open your mouth only to have no words coming out of you. Your brain feels a bit hazy as you walk up to the door and open it for her. 

Skye takes one look at your face and her gaze softens. “What did it—” She shakes her head. “Oh, never mind, I’m dying to know. Let me see it,” she says as she brushes past you before you can say anything. 

Hoping that there is a chance that reality can change within the next few seconds, you refuse to turn around and once again close your eyes while she suddenly grows quiet.

Maybe you were just imagining things. Maybe you weren’t even looking at the test properly. Maybe—

“So, uhm—” you can hear Skye’s voice trembling a little as she hesitantly asks you, “Two lines mean it’s positive, is that right?” 

And just like that, every bit of hope you have in you flies out the window. “I wish I could say that it’s the other way around,” you softly murmur, feeling defeated. 

And the feeling grows stronger when you hear her cursing under her breath,

“Well, fuck.”

“What are you doing?” you ask Skye as you gingerly take a seat on the sofa. 

Once you both stepped away from the bathroom, she guided you to the living room while she sauntered away to the kitchen without a word. You can hear the noises she makes as she is busy rummaging through the counters. Yet you are too far away to see what she is up to. 

“Hang on a minute. Stay there,” she calls out without even looking. 

“Okay.” 

It’s not like you have any energy to go anywhere, after all. Your head is still spinning and you can barely feel your legs. It feels as if you are stuck in a bad dream and you just can’t get out of it. 

It doesn’t take long before Skye returns to your side, carrying with her two clean tall glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It was the same bottle that you opened when you celebrated your promotion a couple of weeks ago after coming back from the trip. 

Holy shit, you inwardly cry out. Your heartbeat rises as your hands find their way to your stomach. 

“Okay, let’s try to calm down,” Skye says to you as she places both glasses on the table before you, although it seems to you more as if she is talking to herself instead of reassuring you while you are panicking inside.

A couple of weeks ago? Wouldn’t I have been already pregnant then? 

These thoughts keep running through your head as you watch your roommate pouring wine into both glasses, just like the night she did the same when you first opened that same bottle. 

Dear God, how much did I drink that night? You ask yourself with a grimace as you try to remember. 

Wait, no. I didn’t drink anything, you remind yourself. Relief washes over you look back at the celebration night where you barely took a sip before Skye took the glass away from your hands. 

Because you were already feeling sick that day. 

You had been feeling nauseous for days, throwing up once in a while and mostly on the days when you were lacking sleep because of the workload you had to handle for the upcoming promotion. All you ever did was wet your lips with the wine after the celebratory toast. That was the only contact you made with the drink before Skye replaced it with a tall glass of alcohol-free smoothie that she made especially for your ‘upset stomach’.

Of course, how did I not see the signs? You wonder again as you remember the sickly feeling you had after vomiting each morning and feeling powerless for the rest of the day. It even got so bad that you had to skip work for a couple of days at the beginning of your ‘sickness’. 

If only you knew then. 

Your eyes are still on the wine glasses as Skye places them side by side and puts away the bottle. 

“Uh—I believe we both just saw the two lines appearing on the test packs.” 

She lets out a light scoff and waves her hand at you. “They're both for me. I’m going to need them while I process this,” she says, shaking her head as she sits down to join you on the sofa. “You get to keep that smoothie.” 

You follow her gaze and look down at the glass of smoothie that you left on the table during the whole fiasco with the pregnancy test. While you pick up your drink, Skye takes a hefty drink from one of the glasses of wine and sits back. 

“So—you’re pregnant,” she murmurs to herself. Her gaze flickers to your face for a brief moment and nods to herself before taking another drink. 

Why does it seem like she is the one panicking? 

She releases a sigh. Neither of you says anything for a moment. But you can tell when she grows more anxious by the minute. You don’t understand why, until she carefully asks you, “Are you going to tell Han?” 

Confused, you look at her with your brows furrowed and ask, “Why would I tell Han that I’m pregnant?” 

Skye looks genuinely confused, almost as much as you are, and you only realise the reason why when she asks you, “Isn’t Hansol the father? You guys have been dating for a long time and I can’t remember ever seeing you with anyone else while you’re on a break.” 

You wince, realising too late that you have yet to tell her the truth.

“Actually—we’re not on a break,” you slowly admit with a low voice. Months have gone by, and even though it no longer hurts whenever you start thinking about your failed relationship or to mention your ex’s name, you cannot help but still feel bitter about how it ended and you hate talking about it. 

That is the reason why you haven’t said anything about it to anyone. Maybe you were just too embarrassed. After all, it isn’t so easy to admit that you may have been the reason why the four-year relationship fell into pieces. 

“I lied,” you say with a burst of deep sigh, “It was over, done, finished—”

“So you already broke up?” she cuts you off with a calm voice. 

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod your head. “Yeah,” you whisper, suddenly feeling like your throat is tightening up. Not because you feel the sudden urge to cry. But only because this is all becoming too much to take at once.  

“And the baby?” she carefully asks you. “It wasn’t Han—” 

“The baby isn’t his,” you quickly answer before she even gets to question about it. 

It’s hard enough to hear his name being mentioned after a while. It feels harder to think that you might be carrying his baby. 

But the moment those words come out of your lips, reality finally sinks in. Grabbing the glass of your drink, you take a hefty drink out of it. You wish there was some alcohol in this thing. Maybe it would have helped you think more clearly. 

That’s right. It couldn’t have been his.

Sighing to yourself, you begin to do the math. “We’ve been broken up for months, so if the baby is his, I’m sure I would be showing already by this time around,” you say this while gently rubbing your palm over your stomach. 

Now that your suspicions have been confirmed, the gesture feels almost natural to you that your hand simply moves before you realise it, though it helps confirm that nothing much has changed with your body.

It feels odd to think that there is a life existing inside you, yet you cannot really see it with just one look. This convinces you further that the baby couldn’t have been conceived while you were still dating your ex. Looking back to it now, once you remember when exactly the sickness and craving started, it would only make sense that the baby was conceived on that specific night. 

“So—if Hansol isn’t the Dad, then who was it?” 

Biting your lip, you turn to look at Skye. Of course, if there is anyone in this world that you can talk to about this, it would only be her. Just like how she would come to you first whenever she is in a bind, whether it’s about her relationships, about work, or even the smallest things like having a bad day where you end up sharing a tub of ice cream to feel better. 

After all, she isn’t just a roommate, but also someone you have known the longest compared to the other friends you’ve made since moving into this city. You have known each other since college, since back in freshman year when both of you were nothing more but young kids from small towns being thrust into the big city. 

Being put together in the same dorm room led you to become fast friends. After years of enduring the same hardship in college, the two of you remained so close that you even moved to this city together and continued to live in the same place to keep each other company. 

You have gone through everything with her, and you have always been honest with each other. It should have been easy to tell her everything. If only you could find the right words to begin sharing your story. 

“I have no idea where to start.” 

“Well,” Skye patiently says while twirling the glass of wine she’s holding. You squint your eyes at her when you find it almost empty. So unfair. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” 

“Right. From the beginning,” you say this with a nod. “Do you remember when I went away last month?” 

She nods. “Your secret getaway. Still jealous of that, by the way.” 

You give her a small smile. “Yeah, well—there’s a reason why I insisted on going alone on that trip. I actually planned it as a surprise vacation for me and Hansol. The original idea was for us to have a romantic getaway for our fourth anniversary.” 

Skye raises her eyebrows. “Well, damn,” she mutters. “Let me guess. You broke up before it happened?” 

You grimace as you recall what happened. “Close enough,” you answer with a bitter smile. “It was because of the trip that we got a huge fight in the first place.” 

Skye tilts her head. “I’m not following.” 

Sighing, you drink your smoothie to cool down and swallow the bitter feeling you are suddenly getting. Recounting the break-up isn’t so much fun to do. Not even after this long. 

“I planned the entire thing on my own. Booked the flight and the hotel, and rearranged our schedules to fit each other so we could go on that exact date. But I never shared anything with him, except to confirm that it was a place that he also dreamt of going so we could both enjoy it together.” You let out a defeated sigh. “I wanted it to be a surprise. He used to love those in the past, so I figured it could be fun to celebrate our anniversary this way and get away from all the stress both of us had been getting.” 

You stop talking for a moment to remember those days. Both you and Hansol had been so busy back then that you could barely spend time with each other. 

It was the exact routine every day. Having long hours in the office and since you weren’t living together, you could only keep in contact with each other through texts and calls. By the time the two of you were able to see each other, all the stress had been piling up that you were almost always arguing and fighting instead of making up for all the time you missed while being apart. 

“We were talking about moving in together but all of a sudden, we stopped discussing it and I could feel us growing further apart. I thought going away from all the stress for a while would help us get along and make up for all the fighting. Maybe we could have had a chance to talk things out and figure out what to fix.” 

You stop with a soft sigh. “We were getting bored. With work, with life, and maybe we did get bored with each other but neither of us could open up about it, much less admit it. Not even to ourselves.” 

Skye lets out a groan. “This is why I don’t do relationships,” she mutters before finishing her drink. The first glass. With the second one waiting on the table.

You give her a scoff, but smile at her comment before continuing, “He found out about the trip by chance. I was still logged in on his laptop after I borrowed it to check on my work email while I was staying over on the weekend. He accidentally opened the booking details when he was checking his email, thinking it was his account. He suspected me of planning to go with someone else, but even after I told him that the trip was for both of us, he wasn’t having it.” 

Skye leans forward when she hears this. “Wait, he’s pissed about a secret vacation?” she asks, looking unhappy and confused at the same time. You can’t really blame her. Because that is exactly how you feel about your ex’s reaction. “Why would he be? If it had been me, I would’ve been ecstatic about going.” 

“I wish I knew,” you groan, feeling just as frustrated as you had been then. “But he wasn’t just refusing to go. He started blaming me. Saying something about me holding him back or something. He said he had no time for a trip when he needed to be there and work for his promotion.” 

Thinking back to that day, remembering about the fight and the things you said to each other, you are reminded of the moment the fight left your body. Because you knew then that there was nothing left to fight over. 

“He never even brought up the fact that it was the date of our anniversary. I don’t think he even knew or remembered it,” you say with a bitter chuckle. “He broke it off, saying that he wanted to focus on his career and I would be keeping him behind. And I agreed because I knew that we’d wound up hurting each other if we’d stayed.” 

“I can understand that,” Skye gently says. The two of you share a sad smile when your eyes meet. “And you still went on that trip,” she guesses, sounding proud. She lifts her glass to you and says, “Good girl.” 

You merely shrug. “When I went to cancel the tickets for the trip, I thought it would be such a waste to throw everything away. So I decided that going solo would be a good idea and kept mine. Besides, I needed a moment to heal myself and get away from the city for a short while.” 

She laughs, agreeing with you. Then, just as she is about to say something, she suddenly stops. A knowing look comes across her gaze and she slowly gasps. “Don’t tell me—” she says, “You met someone while you were there.” 

You nod your head slowly and press your lips together. “Once again, you’re close. But that’s not exactly what happened.” Blowing out a deep breath, you slowly ask her, “Remember when I told you that I got held up for a day in transit?” 

“Yeah, I was so jealous of you that I still remember everything you told me about that trip,” she lets out a dreamy sigh, then her gaze snaps back at you. “But, it seems to me that you haven’t told me everything about the trip.” 

“No, I didn’t.” You grimace. “Anyway, that’s when I met him—” 

The memories return to you again as you share with your roommate about your encounter with the beautiful stranger. You remember vividly the way he spoke, the deep and gentle voice that he spoke to you with, and his captivating smile that made you swoon. Everything about him that made it hard for you to leave and say goodbye to him. 

You recount the way you enjoyed each other’s company that even after your terrible mood gradually became much better, and after you finished yet another drink, you simply couldn’t walk away and end the night with him so soon. You stayed longer, losing count of the time you spent with him and the drinks you had. 

“And then, one thing led to another, it just happened.” 

Skye’s eyes have grown so wide at this point, and her jaw has dropped in her surprise that she looks almost comical. “You hooked up with a stranger during your transit?” she asks you. The moment you nod your head, she switches her empty glass with the other. “I would drink to that.” 

You laugh just as she takes a hefty drink as if celebrating on your behalf. “Why do you sound so proud of me?” 

“Well,” she slowly starts, “We’ve known each other for so long. You have always been so put together, always followed the rules, and you are always so good at what you do. From school, to work, even the little things you have been doing on the side. But not when it comes to your sex life.” 

You know that she is right about everything. But it doesn’t stop you from picking up a cushion and hitting her with it. 

“Hey, you know I’m right,” she says while laughing and protecting the precious glass of wine. “Come on, you’ve never had any casual relationships or random hookups, and every chance I could have gotten to hook you up with my guy friends was gone when Hansol came into the picture.” 

Pouting, you pull the cushion back and hold it tightly in your arms. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit with a sigh. “How do you get to know me so well?” 

“That’s because I love you enough to pay attention,” she smugly says while waving her glass around, sloshing the wine everywhere. “Why do you think I’ve been so protective of you over the years?” 

You roll your eyes and hit her with the cushion one last time, making her laugh, even though she is right. For as long as you have been friends with her, she has always been like an older sister to you. Not only for coming hard like a shield against the guys you ever introduced her to but also for the trivial things that not many people would pay much attention to. 

Like reminding you to eat properly when you are stressed out or too busy with work and school. 

You feel bad for relying on her so much over the years. But you also feel grateful about it. Just like how you’re feeling right now once you notice that you’re no longer feeling as stressed as you had earlier once you’re done dumping everything to her. 

Skye’s eyes turn back to you, landing on your covered belly as she curiously asks, “Are you positively sure that Hansol wasn’t the father?” 

You slowly nod your head. As much as you wish that you were wrong, you couldn’t have been mistaken about this.

“What are the odds that it was a false positive?” you suddenly question her, while she shrugs. 

“It’s possible,” she says. “But we can get some more test kits and redo the test. Just in case. Or you could make an appointment with the doctor straight away to make sure.” 

“Right, the doctor—” You let out a soft sigh and close your eyes briefly. It has been a while since you’ve seen your physician. The last time was before—

Oh, shit. 

Your eyes snap open right then. How long ago has it been since you’ve gone to see your physician? The last time was when you went to your regular appointment for your birth control. But that felt so long ago. 

Long before the trip. 

After that appointment, and once the break-up happened, you simply threw yourself into work so much you completely forgot about everything else. And since you were newly single, getting your birth control was the last thing you had in mind at the time. 

Fuck me, you inwardly groan without saying a thing to your roommate who is busy chattering about the doctor, making appointments, and offering to take you there herself. You know that she would lecture you about safe sex like a mother hen if you ever share this with her.

But wait…he wore a condom, right? Yes, you are quite sure he did. The details are blurry when you try to remember, but you do remember protection being involved. 

Groaning to yourself, you fall back on the sofa. Your head starts spinning again when you start worrying about other things. Once you start thinking of a problem that you may have to face, another one comes to mind. 

“What am I supposed to do with this baby?”  

Skye once again raises her eyebrows at you. “I think the right question should be what do you want to do?” she asks, while you can only shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a small voice. The only thing you can think of right now is how you are going to get through this holiday while being pregnant. You are supposed to be home for Christmas in two weeks, and knowing just how crazy your family truly is, you cannot imagine how they would react if they found out you are with a child. 

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “And my family still have no idea that I broke up with Han.” 

“For once, I’m not jealous of your life,” Skye says as she sips her wine. But she is ready for it when you fling the cushion back at her and avoid it without spilling her drink. “Don’t worry. I think they’ll catch on about your failed relationship as soon as you walk into your family home without that hunk by your side.” 

Huffing, you hug the cushion in your arms and lean back. “I guess if they’re going to find out either way, I might as well just tell them the moment I got home.” 

Besides, it might be even harder to hide the fact that you are pregnant. You might not be showing yet, but there is no possible way you could avoid the questions that may come if you are still feeling so sick right in front of your family, or if your cravings suddenly get out of hand. 

Especially if Honey is there. Despite the early signs of dementia showing on her lately, your grandmother has always been so perceptive. And there is no telling what random things she may blurt out once she has some rum in her system. 

With so many different things to think about, you almost forget one important matter that you should be thinking about when it comes to the baby. And just like always, Skye is there to remind you of it. 

“Do you remember his name?” 

You turn to Skye with wide eyes, suddenly panicking inside. You can tell that she can see it on your face and is now sharing the same feeling when she suddenly knocks back the rest of her wine and groans, “Fuck, I’m gonna need more.” 

You watch her pour more wine into her glass, hastily drinking it right after, before turning to you again. “You didn’t get his name? At least tell me that you got his number before you went separate ways.”

You bite your lips. “It’s Tae.” 

“Tae—what?” 

You shake your head. “That’s it,” you let out a frustrated sigh. “That was the only name he ever gave me.” 

“Seriously?” 

Skye is freaking out, you can tell. But you close your eyes and rest your head back, shutting everything down as she starts ranting about how she was supposed to teach you better about hooking up with strangers and keeping yourself safe. 

With her voice turning into white noise at the back of your mind, your memories return to you, taking you back to the eventful night. 

You can almost feel yourself being back there again—back in the cold hotel bar with the scent of old wood and liquor lingering in the air; the murmuring sounds of people chatting and laughing, accompanied by the sound of glasses clinking together resonating through the space around you; back to his presence that felt so strong and intense you could barely feel anything else other than him as long as you had your attention fully on him.

“What’s your name?” You remember him asking you with his voice that grew more gentle and deeper the more he drank. 

You leaned into him and giggled in response as if he just said something funny to you. “Does it really matter?” 

His soft chuckle rumbled around you. The voice was so soft, yet you could hear it clearly because of how close you were leaning into him. “I’m sure I remember being taught not to talk to strangers.” 

“Are you telling me that you’ve been a good boy for listening to what your Mom taught you?” you teased him. It was obvious how tipsy you were at this point, which may have been the reason why you were growing more confident. 

“Oh, I’ve always been a good boy,” he answered you while looking amused. He went silent right after. His gaze seemed far away just for a fleeting moment before he finally said, “My name is Tae.” 

“Tae? That’s it?” you asked, “Is that a codename or something?” You feigned a surprise gasp before you leaned into him further to whisper, “Are you secretly a spy?” 

You felt his chest rumbling when he softly laughed. “Something like that, yeah,” he said, as he played along with your joke. 

But the moment you leaned away from him, you were surprised when you got to see something in him that you couldn’t see before. His guard was down, allowing you to see the vulnerability that was buried deep under his suave and smooth talking. 

For a brief moment, he looked broken. Just like you did. 

And from the way he was hiding himself, not only under the short nickname but also from the way he was masking his emotions, you could tell that he was looking for an escape from reality. The same way you did that night. 

So you simply smiled at him, choosing not to pry further to see beyond the mask and play along. Because at the same time, you wanted to hide your broken heart and become someone else to be able to forget everything. Just for one night. 

“Then you can call me Red. It’s my special codename for tonight.” 

His grin widened. You could almost see the relief washing over him through his warm gaze when he looked at you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you tonight,” he said, still with his gentle voice that almost felt like sin licking on your skin when he called you, “Red.” 

Two weeks later…

“Here you go,” your mother’s voice snaps you from whatever stupor you have been stuck in. When you open your eyes, a glass of ginger tea has manifested right before you. 

“Drink this,” your Mom says as she points at the drink. “It should be good for your stomach.” 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. Furrowing your brows, you keep your eyes on the drink instead of reaching for it. Thoughts of those past mornings when you and Skye spent searching through the internet to find a way to get rid of your morning sickness come through your mind. 

Does she know? Did she figure it out already? Is it really that obvious? 

You clench your hands and resist the urge to rub against your stomach. It has become a habit of yours to rub around your belly as if trying to feel the baby that is hiding inside whenever you feel agitated.

After getting the positive results through the home test kits, you had gone straight to the doctor only days before you left the city to have it checked, confirming that a baby is growing inside you. It still feels unbelievable to think about it, even after you saw it yourself with your own eyes. 

“It’s still really early, and we might not be seeing much yet, but that’s your baby,” the doctor’s voice echoes through your mind as you tighten your clenched hands, thinking back to the day you went to have an ultrasound and saw for the first time the growing fetus that was said to be viable to grow fully as a baby. 

Just like how the baby inside you has been nothing more than a blob of mass floating inside your stomach in your mind, your belly itself has yet to change shape. Even if your full awareness of the baby’s presence has only been causing you to find small changes in your body that nobody else might be able to see. 

But Mom has been pregnant before, so wouldn’t she be able to see it? Will that be possible?

“Ginger tea is good for nausea and will give you some energy boost. Your grandma always made it for me whenever I had a stomach ache. I’m sure it’ll help get rid of your nausea and your upset stomach will turn better in no time.” Your Mom stops talking and sighs. “You should’ve told me that you were sick. I wouldn’t have let you drive all the way home if I had known.” 

Ah. 

You breathe a sigh of relief. You should be thankful that she believed you when you told her about having an upset stomach from the long drive home from the city. It was the only thing that you could think of as an excuse when your Mom wondered why you hadn’t been eating well since you got back home and why you were feeling sick.

It makes you wonder why you have been feeling unwell since you got home. Just when you had purposely waited until you were well enough and had stopped throwing up when you planned for the drive. 

It’s almost as if the baby is deliberately making you sick to let everyone know about your secret.

“Thanks, Mom,” you say to your Mom as you reach for the tea, hiding your relieved sigh as you gingerly drink in small sips. 

You have lost count of how many times Skye has made you this drink specifically to stop you from vomiting in the morning before going to work. It has been helping a lot to ease your ‘sickness’, and you are feeling it calming your stomach already as the drink warms your body. 

You can feel your mother’s eyes on you, making you feel uneasy to be under her watchful gaze. “I think it might be better if you get some rest and take things easy. But are you sure you’re okay?” your Mom asks again, still worrying about you. 

You continue drinking the ginger tea slowly while pressing down your guilt. You hate lying to your Mom the most, and now you are starting to regret driving home on your own. If the baby hadn’t been the one responsible for your current sickness, then perhaps driving the long distance has been the reason why your nausea is now coming back with a vengeance.

So much for trying to not draw any suspicions. 

“I’m fine, Mom. Really,” you sigh as you place the glass down. “The tea is helping me already. I’ll feel better soon, I promise.” 

Your Mom says nothing for a moment, but the crease you see forming on her forehead says differently. “I’m not just talking about you being sick. Maybe there’s another reason why you’re feeling faint?” 

You look up at her just then. The moment you catch the pitiful look she is giving you, you finally understand what she is trying to say. 

Just as Skye predicted, it didn’t take long for your family to take notice of your solo arrival. In the past, Hansol would have joined you to visit your family for a day or two during the holidays before he would return to his family on Christmas day. So his absence was quite obvious from the get-go. 

And with the big lie that you have to hide from everyone at home, you had to at least give them one honest truth the moment they started asking. 

“We ended things a few months ago,” you admitted to your family during the first dinner you had since you got home. By that time, you had already tried to avoid the questions for long enough. Nobody has brought up about it again since then. 

Until now. 

“If you’re talking about the breakup, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m okay, Mom. It’s been months since it happened. I’ve been trying to move on.” 

In fact, you haven’t been thinking about your ex at all for a long time. Not until you brought it up to Skye and then again when your family started questioning. The only thing you have been worrying about lately is the baby growing inside you and finding a way to search for the father of the baby. 

It was the one thing that you talked about with Skye before you left. While you are capable enough to raise the baby on your own, you decided it would be the best course of action to contact the father and let him know.

In Skye’s own words, “Just in case.” 

Just in case the father would care enough to know that he has a son or a daughter coming into this world and wants to be in their life. 

“But if we fail to find him or he wants nothing to do with the baby, then we’ll deal with it on our own. You just got your promotion, I got my good pay. We can raise the baby together. You and me, just like old times.”

Skye’s words put a smile on your face. She always knows how to lift your spirit up whenever you feel like giving up, and those exact words have helped boost your confidence and made you believe that you could get through this. 

But first, you just need to get through spending this holiday with your family. 

“I know you said that. But as your Mom, I can’t help but worry. I thought you were serious and we’ll be hearing some good news about you getting married this year.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Sorry, Mom,” you tease her with a bitter chuckle. You don’t bother to mention that the two of you had never once talked about marriage throughout your relationship.

Yet another sign that you overlooked. At least you never got to waste anymore time with him.

“Things just didn’t work out between us. It happens when a couple grow into two different people in the course of their relationship. Which was exactly what happened to us. Hansol wanted to focus on his career, in return, I also got the chance to focus on mine.” 

Just as you said the words, you realise that this is true for your case. 

Hansol has always been career-driven, and it has been growing stronger lately for him with the constant rise he was experiencing in his current company. And breaking up with your long-time boyfriend has allowed you to turn your focus on your job. The recent promotion you gained was a testament to your hard work to show you that there might be a silver lining to everything that has happened. 

“I suppose you’re right,” your Mom says with a smile. You are beginning to feel a bit relieved that she seems to understand. You are hoping that she would start talking about something else when she adds, “I just feel sad that it didn’t work out for you. And we were all expecting to have Hansol joining us again this year. I guess it’s too late now to let your sister know about this since she’s supposed to arrive today.” 

Stepsister. 

You lift your glass and slowly drink your tea to stop yourself from correcting her. For some reason, you feel a bit bitter having your mother mention her all so suddenly. 

It isn’t that you hate your stepsister. It’s hard to feel something so extreme when you barely had any relationship with her at all. Back when you were younger, your mother did try to get you two to get along and be friends. 

To make her happy, you tried your best to act friendly, or at least to be cordial whenever she was around, even when the only thing she showed you over the years had been nothing but contempt. 

But things changed after a drunken fit that she had last holiday season, when she got drunk and tried to make a move and openly flirted with your then-boyfriend. Even if nothing ever came out of it except for her own embarrassment, as Hansol openly rejected her and stayed away from her for the remaining time he was here, the incident still left a bad taste that made you feel bitter. 

That was when you finally decided that you would stop trying to be nice.

You put down the glass and try to remain calm. What’s done is done. All you have to do is focus on getting through this holiday before going back to the city and start with your mission to search for the baby’s father.

“What does Alia have to do with my break up?” you ask your mother, hoping that she wouldn’t bring up the drama from last year. 

“Oh, it’s nothing serious, really,” your Mom answers with a soft chuckle, “It’s just that Alia called home sometime last week, asking if she could bring someone over this Christmas. She said that she’s been seeing someone new and since she was bringing him to meet her mother, she wondered if it would be okay if she could bring him along to meet us too.” 

Your Mom sighs, looking a bit guilty when she adds, “We figured since you might bring Hansol with you, it would be okay if she has her new boyfriend along. Maybe the guys could get along and spend time together while you and Alia catch up.” 

You try to imagine you and Alia catching up like old friends or—just like what your Mom has been wishing you to be—as sisters, and you almost shake your head. 

Yeah, that seems unlikely, you bitterly wonder to yourself, yet you don’t have the heart to tell your mother that there is not much hope for you and Alia to be good friends. 

“I guess it’s a shame that Hansol isn’t here,” you simply say to your mother while you inwardly wonder just what your stepsister is really up to this year. 

“Yeah, it’s unfortunate,” your mother says with a sigh. “But I’m glad that at least both of you girls can make it home this year.” 

“Me too, Mom,” you force a smile, silently hoping that you can start talking about something else. Something that doesn’t concern your bitter stepsister coming home or bringing up any dark thoughts about your ex. “So, what are we having for dinner? Want my help in the kitchen?” 

Your question immediately puts everything into motion, drifting her attention away from your sappy story and the false hope of sisterhood that may never happen between you and your stepsister. Your Mom tries to stop you from helping out in the kitchen at first but finally gives in when you keep insisting. 

At least, this way, you can keep your mind busy enough to stop it from thinking about unnecessary thoughts the way it often does when you are alone. 

Things seem to be going on well enough at first, until your sickness returns and you have to give up trying. 

”See, I told you that you should be resting until you feel better,” your mother complains as she watches you bending over, keeping away from the stove and what is currently cooking on top of it which seems to be making you feel dizzy and sick. 

After garlic, lemon-scented air freshener, and coconut milk, seems you are going to have to add raw chicken to the list of things that may trigger your nausea.

“But then I’ll be bored like hell,” you argue, “I’m fine, Mom. Just let me take a quick break for a minute.” 

Your mother looks as if she wants to say something, but the sound of a car coming into the driveway interrupts her. Both of you turn to look out towards the living room, just in time to see your stepfather, Cliff, turning in the corner of the hall and rushing towards the front door. 

“Honey, they’re here!” he calls out, and you urge your mother to join him. 

“Go, Mom. I’ll finish things up and make sure nothing gets burned before I join you guys.”

Once your mother is out of the kitchen, you can no longer resist pressing your palm on your stomach. 

“Seriously, baby,” you whisper to the non-existent bump under your sweater, “Please take it easy, will you? I’m really struggling here, and you’re not making things easy for me. Trust me, it would be too soon for everyone to find out about you. At least wait until we can find a clue about your Dad, okay?” 

As if the baby inside you is listening, even if it is still barely full-grown at this point, your body grows calmer and the nausea slowly wanes. 

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper to your stomach once again before finally focusing on the stove and the oven, deliberately taking your time with what you do just so you can have a reason not to join the dramatic reunion happening right this minute. 

From this side of the kitchen, the front door isn’t completely visible. But you can hear everything as the door opens and your stepfather joyfully welcomes his daughter. 

Hearing his voice makes you smile. You may have had a tumultuous relationship with your stepsister, but the same cannot be said with your stepfather. Cliff has always been a great role model, and your relationship with him has always been great from the start. 

It makes you feel guilty when you think about the previous encounters where you and your stepsister simply gave each other cold shoulders or when you were met with altercations just because of how different the two of you are. But there is no helping it. Nothing has changed over the years no matter how hard you tried. Not even once you have become adults. 

You can’t even remember how it first started. And frankly, you no longer care. Last year’s incident was already enough to let you know that the sisterhood that your parents have been forcing you into was beyond saving. 

The voices coming from the front door continue for a moment longer. This time, you get to hear your mother’s voice joining in the conversation and Alia’s soft voice answering her questions. You make no effort to listen to what they are saying and tune out their voices, until your mother’s voice calls out to you. 

“______, your sister is here. Come and say hi.” 

Your mother’s words make you stop. Slowly, you turn down the heat on the stove and turn to make your way towards the front door to join the family reunion. 

“It’s stepsister,” you mutter under your breath as you drag your feet, taking your sweet time while you try to compose yourself before having to face the unwanted guests. 

As you turn around the corner, merely moments before the front door finally comes into view, you get to hear another voice speaking. The voice that you couldn’t clearly hear from the kitchen while you were tuning their conversation out. 

“I’m sorry for intruding. But thank you for having me here.” 

That voice. 

You immediately come to a halt. An uneasy feeling runs through your body when you realise that you recognise this voice and have grown to know it quite well. 

There is no mistaking it. You may not have gotten his full name on the night you met, and his face has somewhat become a faint mirage in your dreams at night whenever you are taken back to the night of your hookup.

But you cannot say the same about his voice. 

That deep and gentle voice will always be engraved in your memory. Even now, the only thing you would need to do is close your eyes and listen, and allow the voice to take you back to that specific night once more, where he used this voice to say sinful words that you could feel caressing your fragile heart while he was bringing you to the peak of pleasure.

And now you are hearing that voice here, at your home, idly chatting with your mother by the front door. 

“_______, are you coming?” your mother calls again, and you know that there is no avoiding it. You have to face reality, even if that means you must come face to face with the man who is responsible for placing you in this situation.

Tamping down the rush of nerves going through your body, you slowly march ahead. Bracing yourself as you turn around the corner and enter the living room where everyone is currently gathering in.

Your eyes fall on your stepsister first. 

Alia has always looked so vibrant and beautiful, drawing all kinds of attention from everyone in the room whenever she is present. Yet when you look at her now, there seems to be a new kind of light emerging from her. Even her smile seems brighter as she chats along with your stepfather.  

And you soon realise the reason why she is shining brightly today as you turn your gaze to look at the person standing beside her. To finally see him. 

He looks just like how you remember him. Tall and lean, with his arms and chest filling up his sweater. He has his hair falling over a part of his face, just enough of a mess that seems as if he has been running his fingers through the wavy strands. As he converses with your mother, he shows his boxy grin that seems familiar to your eyes. 

Too familiar. 

Because it looks just the same as the wide grin that was teasing and flirting with you on one eventful night at the transit hotel weeks ago. 

No. That can’t be.

The baby’s daddy is here. The man who you were planning to look for once you return to the city. 

He is here, today, appearing at the front door of your parents’ home together with your stepsister. His long fingers that had once entangled between the strands of your hair are now entwined with your stepsister’s dainty fingers. And there is no mistaking the matching couple rings that are glowing under the sunlight coming from their entwined hands. 

Before you get the chance to process what is happening, you hear him introducing himself to your stepfather, “It’s good to see you, Sir. My name is Taehyung.” 

No. 

You stifle a gasp. It feels like you have been sucker-punched right in the chest that you can barely breathe. 

Taehyung, you wonder. Tae? 

All of a sudden, you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is tilting over, slowly taking you down with it. And since you seem to have lost the ability to move your feet, the only thing you can do to stop yourself from falling is to clench your hands tightly by your side. Tight enough to feel pain as your nails are sinking into your palms, convincing you that this is not a dream. 

Yet you are still in denial as you watch the interaction happening right before your eyes. Because there is no way this is happening. There is no possible way that it is truly him. 

Please. Please don’t let it be him. 

It must have been your mind playing tricks on you. Because there is no way that he is here. Not as your stepsister’s new boyfriend. 

This must be a mistake. Yes, you are probably confused and all the thoughts of finding your baby daddy are messing up with your head, forcing you to believe that your stepsister’s new boyfriend is your mysterious baby daddy. The fact that they have the same name must have been pure coincidence. 

For once in your life, you don’t want to be right. You have to be wrong. 

Please tell me that it’s not him. 

Just then, as if life was listening to your prayers, as if life has yet to have enough of its games to play around with your heart, the man turns his gaze away from your parents. And those pretty eyes land on you. 

As if there is a switch turned, the brightness in his gaze fades. His beautiful eyes are filled with recognition. It is so subtle that you are quite sure that nobody else around you notices it, but it is enough to let you know that your memories have been right all along. 

Because those are the same eyes that you saw looking back at you with pure lust and sin while he was bringing you wanton pleasure, when you made love as if both of you had been under a spell, right on the very night that may have changed your fate forever. 

Fuck. 

Me.

At one glance, this moment would seem like any other pre-holiday family dinner. It may seem picture perfect, even—if you had been a stranger looking in. 

There are still a couple of days left until Christmas Day, yet the festive mood has already filled the room. From the living room, all the way to the dining room, Christmas decorations are already plastered across the walls and hung from the ceiling. On the dining table, the delectable meal that your mother worked hard to prepare—with your poor assistance—had been perfectly laid out. 

With Alia’s arrival today, the immediate family is now complete. Ever the charming daughter, Alia takes up the attention of everyone around her as she shares her story—about how she has been travelling between different states and some neighbouring countries, changing jobs, finding new hobbies, and even planning to adopt a new pet. 

Sitting at the head of the table, your stepfather is soaking it all in, enjoying the time he has with his daughter whom he rarely gets to see throughout the year. Your mother sits on his right, getting the front seat of their merry reunion. She would sometimes chime in, never failing to try to get you into joining their idle chat even when you are not feeling up to it. 

Other times, you would have been able to easily play along. From making cordial comments and joining with all the light jokes shared by your family, or feigning interest in anything that Alia might be sharing at the table—even when she rarely would share the same courtesy when you did the same. 

Tonight, however, it feels like a struggle for you to focus on the conversation shared at the table, let alone pretend to be interested. Not when you are busy trying your best to calm your nerves. 

You can't even embrace the same warm atmosphere that everyone seems to be sharing. 

For you, the air around feels stifling and tense. It has been this way ever since you sat down right next to your mother for dinner. Because due to the seating arrangement, the special guest of the night is now sitting right across from you at the table. 

Taehyung. 

The last person that you had ever expected to see. Not here. Certainly not at your home or sharing the same space with your parents. 

It seems surreal to meet him here like this. Even more so when he was introduced to your family as Alia’s new boyfriend.

Judging from the way he reacted when he first saw you, you can tell that he never expected something like this could ever happen. You know that he has questions, perhaps just as much as you do, yet the situation that you found yourself in right now isn’t allowing you to even show any sign that the two of you know each other or to have met before today. 

But there is something in the way he is looking at you that doesn’t sit right with you. Aside from the lingering shock you see each time your eyes accidentally meet each other, there is a look that shows a semblance of guilt, despair, and at the same time, filled with wonder. 

Was it because he never expected to see you again after that night, much less to find out that you are somehow related to the woman that he is dating? Or was there something else going through his mind? 

“This is Alia’s sister, ______,” was what your mother said when she first introduced you to him. At that point, you and Taehyung were stunned to silence, and for a brief moment, neither of you reacted. 

Thinking about it now, you can’t even remember how you managed to join your family in the living room. The moment you saw Taehyung standing there, your legs nearly gave out. It was a wonder how you managed to stop yourself from falling or tripping as you walked over to them in a state of distraught. 

“Hi, it’s good to see you,” was all that you managed to croak out of once you snapped out of it. You didn’t even give him a chance to respond when you suddenly turned your attention to your stepsister, forcing a smile on your face when you greeted her, “Hey, Alia. It’s good to see you. You seem well.” 

You can’t even remember the expression that Alia gave you when she responded to you, “Uh yeah, thanks. You too.” 

“Right. Well, I’ll let you guys settle in. I left the stove on, so—” 

That was the last thing you said before you turned away and quickly left the room, practically running away from him to hide back in the kitchen. The last thing you heard as you walked away was your mother’s voice saying something about you being her assistant of the day in the kitchen while you were feeling unwell, as if excusing you for your unmannerly attitude. 

By the time you got back in the kitchen, your hands were shaking, your heartbeat was racing so fast you could barely breathe. It took a long time for the shock to wane, and you had spent the rest of the day staying away from both of them, avoiding him entirely until you were finally called to join dinner. 

And you are still avoiding him even now, keeping your head down as much as you can and resisting the urge to look his way. As if it isn’t hard enough for you to have him sitting right in front of you, you can feel the heat of his gaze constantly following you whenever you are not looking.

He doesn’t make it so obvious, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else has noticed it yet. Perhaps you are just too hyperaware of his presence that you caught on to it so easily.

You sneak a glance at your stepsister, wondering if Alia has taken notice of her boyfriend’s wandering gaze or where he has been directing his eyes. It takes you watching the conversation between her and your parents more closely to see it. 

Because it turns out that she also has her own gaze wandering to questionable places at the same time that she isn’t paying much attention to her boyfriend. 

Each time Alia turns to regard your mother or speak to her, her gaze flickers away briefly, ever so subtly landing on the seat to your right. At the seat that Hansol would usually occupy whenever he joined you during these holiday visits. 

It is easy to catch it when you are seeing it from your angle. And it is easy to guess what is going through her head when she keeps doing it with a curious look written all over her face. An unspoken question seems to linger, while the incident from last year keeps flashing through your head when you picture Hansol being present beside you. 

Even if nobody notices her intention, you doubt that anyone would question her about it, seeing that the seat that was supposed to be left empty has been taken by someone else. 

While you are busy trying to make sense out of everything, your grandmother makes a disapproval noise with her tongue, grabbing your attention. “Are you still feeling under the weather? You’ve been drinking that boring thing the whole day,” she says, referring to the glass of iced tea that you have just put down after taking a drink from it to cool down. 

You turn to look at your dear grandmother, Honey, and smile at her. She probably hasn’t realised what a saving grace she has been for taking the unoccupied seat to your right the minute she came in for dinner. 

And she is now helping you again by drawing your attention away from the source of your dismay. Immediately, you feel better the moment you are met with Honey’s smile. 

“I’m feeling much better, actually. I’m just being careful not to drink anything that might get me sick,” you answer carefully, hoping to sound reasonable enough without making anyone question your ‘sickness’ any further. 

The more you lie to your family about it, the more guilty you feel. You don’t have much choice at the moment but to hide it just a bit longer. 

At first, you couldn’t share the news with your parents simply because you were still clueless about how you were going to find the father of the baby with only limited information you had of him. But then things only got even more complicated for you to ever come clean when he walked through the front door of your parents’ home. 

What are the odds that the man you hooked up with turns out to be the man your stepsister is currently dating? And here you are now, stuck in the same room with them while hiding a secret which may change the course of everyone’s entire life.

Yeah, miracles don’t exist. Not for me, at least.

Honey taps at your hand on the table as you grow silent, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head. “You know what you need?” she asks, whispering in a conspiring tone that she barely keeps down so that everyone at the table can still hear her voice. 

And she does it while looking at you with her wide, expecting eyes, with the barely concealed mischief written all over her face. It makes you smile, knowing where this is going. So you simply play along. 

"No, Honey. What would that be?” 

Her mischievous smile widens as she leans closer. “A hint of rum. With a few drops into that boring tea of yours, you’ll feel better in no time,” she says, lifting her hand and showing you a pinching gesture with her thumb and forefinger nearly touching each other, “Just a pinch. Or better yet, just trade your whole glass—” 

The sound of your Mom’s frustrated sigh cuts her off. “Mom, I already told you, giving her alcohol isn’t going to make her feel better. I’ve already given her some herbal tea, that should be enough until she can get a proper rest.”

“Oh, posh,” Honey says, waving her hand at your mother. “Ignore your Mom,” Honey says just as you are about to respond. “I’m telling you. Alcohol is best to cure your heartbreak,” she adds, and you certainly have no arguments against that. Alcohol might be able to help you forget. 

But, alas…

But, wait a minute. You stop and look closely at Honey. What is she talking about? 

“What do you mean?” you question her while tilting your head, wondering deep down if she had noticed something. Surely, she wouldn’t be able to tell the high tension rolling between you and Taehyung through dinner. 

Nobody else could. But you also know that if there is anyone in your family who might be able to catch on with the tension rolling between the two of you, it would be Honey. 

Once again, Honey reaches out and taps her dainty fingers on the back of your hand. “Isn’t that why you’re feeling down, peaches? I know you’re still thinking about that good for nothing—” 

Honey stops herself and bites down her smile before you can figure out what she is about to say. But you have heard enough to understand who she is referring to. 

Relief washes over you when you realise that she was talking about your ex, Hansol. She must have thought that you have been stressing over the breakup and you have been feeling unwell because of it.

Honey leans in, this time lowering her voice just enough only for you to hear. “You must’ve taken it from me. I also get a stomach bug when I’m stressed out. Just like last summer when I lost a go-stop game against the ladies from the block,” she says, before she continues blabbering about how she had made bets during the game and went all-in only to lose everything. 

“You might think that they’re nothing but small pennies used for gambling coins, but I spent a whole week collecting them. How am I supposed to replace all of them before the next game?” she continues to complain, while you laugh at her. 

Her story takes away the tension on your shoulders for a brief moment before she adds, “And then you had to come here and watch these two being all lovey-dovey with each other.” 

As Honey mentions the pair sitting across the table, waving her hand at them to make a point, your eyes are drawn towards them once more. And your gaze lands right on Alia’s hand which is now resting on top of Taehyung’s. 

Seeing this makes you feel tight in the chest. Bitterness fills your mouth which you can barely hide with a tight smile. Honey may not have been entirely correct with her assumptions, yet her comment still hits the mark somehow. 

Not about Hansol, obviously, as he is the one to occupy your mind the least. Yet she wasn’t too far off when she talked about the new pair of lovers before you. Seeing them does make you uncomfortable, miserable even, but for entirely different reasons. 

Looking away from their joined hands, your gaze meets Alia’s. She is wearing an unreadable expression on her face as she listens in to Honey’s words. And the strange look that she is giving you now is making you feel uneasy.

Just as you start wondering if Alia has noticed something, she instead asks you, “You guys broke up?” 

She throws a quick glance at Honey’s seat with a frown. For others, she might seem concerned, yet there is a look in her eyes which tells you that there is something more. “I was wondering why I haven’t seen him around. He was with us last holiday.” 

Her comment rubs you in the wrong way. You have no idea why she would care when your relationship has nothing to do with her. But you try to not let it bother you. “Yes, it’s been months now since we broke up. I only told Mom and Dad yesterday when I first got home.” 

“I see,” she says. Her voice comes out so softly that it almost comes out as a murmur. She pulls her hand back and places it on her lap. “That’s too bad. I’m sorry,” she adds while offering a small smile. And for some reason, she also seems guilty. 

Does she think it has something to do with what happened last year? 

Her words remind you of something that she said to you last year, back on the morning you confronted her after her drunken blunder which happened the night before. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean anything, I swear. It’s just drunk talking.” 

That incident shouldn’t be bothering you today. Yet it still makes you feel bitter when you think about it. The feeling only grows worse when you glance at Taehyung who is showing a sudden interest in this whole thing. 

“It’s fine. Sometimes things just don’t work out,” you simply repeat the same thing you said to your mother earlier while biting back the real question that is hanging right at the tip of your tongue. 

But what’s in it to you? 

No matter how curious you are to know what kind of scheme that is going through her pretty little head, you know it’s not worth all the drama that it might cause. You cannot even possibly imagine the drama that would unfold once this whole baby thing comes out.

God, just thinking about it is already making your stomach churn. Your lower abdomen suddenly feels hard and heavy. As if you have a full-size lead inside instead of a small, growing blob that is about to form into an actual living baby within a few weeks from now. 

Thinking about the baby, your eyes find the man who is behind all of this. He has grown oddly quiet while you were conversing with your stepsister and is now staring at his food with a frown on his face.

“So tell me,” you ask calmly while clenching your hands, doing your best to hide the trembles, “How did you two meet?”

This question immediately draws Taehyung’s attention. His eyes snap up, but the moment he looks at you, his face seems to grow pale and he becomes awfully nervous.

“We, uh—we used to work at the same company before Alia left to venture into other things,” he says, almost stuttering. He also keeps stealing glances at Alia, as if begging her to help him out. 

Huh, strange.

What is it about answering your simple question which makes him so nervous? 

Or perhaps…

Have they been seeing each other when the two of you hooked up? 

Fuck. 

The moment this thought crosses your mind, you suddenly feel sick. Your stomach grows heavier with anxiety. Meanwhile, Alia’s smile seems to beam brighter. 

“We didn’t work in the same division back then, but we would frequently meet during breaks and company hours. Had it been, what, a year after we last met?” Alia turns to Taehyung, who stiffly nods his head. She grabs his hand once again and looks at him lovingly as she continues, “We met again last summer by chance while I was travelling and started talking since then.” 

Last summer? But that was before—

Your head starts spinning. You grab your glass and take a couple of small sips of your tea to regain composure, yet the drink suddenly tastes bitter on your tongue. 

Honey’s voice barely registers in your brain when she responds with a hum. “Travelling in the summer? That sounds like a charming way to meet a new lover,” she says, lifting her mug to her lips as she continues marvelling at your stepsister’s story. “You must have felt some sparks when you two met. I bet you’re still feeling it now, aren’t you?”

You have no idea what she has inside that ceramic mug, as she had been nursing the same drink since even before dinner started. You can bet money that she had more than a pinch of rum dropped inside that drink of hers, seeing how talkative she is becoming. 

Oh, how you wish you could have a taste of it. Just a sip would have been good enough. Maybe it can also help to stop your hands from trembling. 

“And the ring?” Honey asks again with a teasing tone as she points at their entwined hands. “I noticed that you two are wearing matching rings. You can’t possibly be engaged already, can you?” 

Almost choking on your drink, you slowly set your glass back down and pull your hands onto your lap, hiding them from prying eyes just in time as they begin to shake.

“But it wasn’t that different back in the day,” Honey continues, “I remember that Russ—that’s my dear late husband,” she explains to Taehyung, “he bought me a cheap ring at the beginning of our relationship to show me and my parents that he was serious about courting me.” 

On any other times that Honey would speak about your late grandfather, you would always enjoy listening to every word, admiring how she would always share her story with pure love in her voice and wonder glowing in her eyes. 

But not this time. 

Ever since she pointed out the ring and started talking about your grandfather’s old promises, you start having trouble breathing. The more she speaks, the worse it gets, and now there is a ringing sound echoing in your ear that seems to be coming from different directions. 

“I still keep the ring with me, side by side with the wedding ring that doesn’t fit anymore on these wrinkly fingers of mine,” Honey keeps gushing. She raises her hands and starts wiggling her fingers to show them off, while your whole body grows tense. 

Alia shares a nervous laugh with Taehyung and waves her hand at Honey. “Oh, no…it’s actually a part of a joke that we—” 

You try to tune out the voices, the words that are being said, while clasping your hands tighter together on your lap, but the shaking doesn’t stop. Alia’s voice fades in and out beyond the loud ringing in your head as she continues to tell her story about how they started dating and the ring came to be. With everything that is going on, added with your awareness over Taehyung’s intense gaze that doesn’t seem to waver, it becomes too overwhelming that you feel as if you are slowly being swallowed into the ground beneath you. 

With a sharp gasp, you slowly push yourself out of your seat. “Excuse me, I have to—” your voice cracks as you speak. As you stand, you notice that everyone has their eyes on you, all curious to know what is happening with you. 

“_______?” you hear your mother calling you.

You can feel the blood draining from your face under all the unwanted attention, making you wish that you could just fade away right at that moment. But then your hand find its way to your stomach, and it almost feels like there is a touch of warmth forming under your palm. It helps you force a smile and gather yourself just enough to say, “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to step out early. I hope that’s alright. You guys enjoy the rest of dinner.” 

You don’t wait for anyone’s response as you turn away, finding your escape merely moments before you get into a full-blown meltdown right in front of everyone. 

Your legs are wobbly as you walk down the hall, yet you still manage to slip into the guest bathroom downstairs. With trembling hands, you lock the door behind you, shutting yourself from the world outside. 

And that is when you fall apart, turning into a heaving mess as everything that you have been bottling up inside comes flooding out of you. 

“Breathe,” you command yourself while you fight back against your nausea. Holding onto the bathroom counter, you keep yourself and try your best to focus on controlling your breath. 

Take a slow, deep breath. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. 

Little by little, all the tension, the trembling, and the tightness in your chest begin to wane. But once everything is gone, once you begin to find calmness, your emotions seize control of you.

The next thing you know, an unstoppable flow of tears comes running down your face and you start sobbing, crying in defeat. 

“Shit. Fuck. What a mess,” you curse between each sob, feeling absolutely helpless and alone. You close your eyes, hoping that you can clear your head by doing so. Yet your mind keeps going to dark places. Constantly wondering and questioning about all of this. 

About him. 

“Did he ever mention anything that was related to his personal life that night?” you cannot help but wonder out loud. 

Only silence answers. Because you hold little to no recollection of the details from the conversation you shared with him that night. Whenever you try to remember, it always feels like there was a part of your memory that had gone missing. 

You haven’t had the slightest clue of the things you shared with him at the bar once the drinks started coming more frequently. Which is a wonder, because you are completely sure that neither of you had gotten drunk enough to experience a blackout, much less lose a memory.

At least for you, the alcohol was just enough to burn through your nerves and help build your confidence to take the lead and openly show the attraction you had for him. Even if he did end up taking back control the moment the two of you finally gave in to temptation. 

Your head starts pounding, aching the more you try to remember the missing details. Meanwhile, all the questions won’t stop coming, making it harder for you to regain a peaceful mind.

Did he ever mention having a girlfriend, or at least give any hint that he was taken? 

Was he wearing that ring on his finger when he was touching your skin under the dim light of his bedroom suite? 

You shake your head and close your eyes again when you still remember nothing. The only thing that remains in your memory is the look you saw in his gaze that night. The pitiful look that seemed to mirror yours, making you believe that he was looking for the same thing you did that night. 

An escape. A way to forget even if for a moment. 

But what if that was all just another lie? 

Your stomach churns. A sharp pain comes shooting through your body. It starts from your lower abdomen, causing you to almost double over. 

Fuck. Now what? 

Your hand instantly comes down to your stomach, pressing and rubbing gently against it until the uncomfortable ache ebbs under your touch. 

Right, I’m supposed to avoid any form of stress, you remind yourself as you recall what your doctor told you the last time you went to see her. Something about getting your blood tension rising when you are stressed, and that it wouldn’t be good for both you and the baby in the long run. Closing your eyes, you try to think of happy thoughts, all while keeping your palm pressed on your stomach.

To your surprise, rubbing your palm against the barely-there baby bump on your belly isn’t just helping you to soothe the pain away, but also to calm yourself down. 

With a sigh, you gently wipe your tears and look down. “I’m sorry for swearing so much, baby. I promise to stop doing it once you’ve grown big enough to start hearing things so you won’t learn any of it too soon. But fuck, this is too much.” 

It feels odd to speak like this to the living being growing inside you that is barely more than a piece of flesh. Yet speaking to your growing baby seems to help ease your anxiety a little. 

Better yet, it helps make you feel less alone. 

“Let’s not think any bad thoughts. Let’s not assume that your Dad is an asshole, okay? Not until we get to hear the full story,” you whisper to the tiny human growing inside you. The more you speak to it, the more it seems to be helping you to find some ease of mind. 

But even if it turns out that he was…

“Then I can deal with it later with my head held high,” you murmur to yourself in a soft, yet reassuring tone of voice. And you repeat it again, and again, almost as if you are chanting a spell which would be able to give you a boost of confidence. 

It may not immediately change the way you look at things, yet you can feel it slowly rising within you. It feels like a ray of light, the first spark of hope that you get to feel amid all the uncertainty which surrounds you.

Soon enough, the strong urge to cry no longer overcomes you. Even your hands have stopped shaking. All that you have left is exhaustion. It rolls through your body with a vengeance, and there is nothing that you want more right now other than to curl up like a ball on your bed and sleep it off. 

You raise your head to look at yourself in the mirror, and instantly a bitter laugh escapes you at what you are seeing.

Because you look like a complete mess. Your life is slowly turning into shambles, and it seems to be mocking you through your own reflection that is now staring back at you. 

“Just exactly what I need,” you whisper with a sigh.

I need to be stronger, if only for the sake of this little one in me, you tell yourself as you splash cold water at your face to wash away all the mess—the drying tears, your swollen eyes, and the skin on your face which has yet to regain its normal colours. 

It feels therapeutic to be washing everything off, leaving nothing more but your swollen eyes which you can explain as a part of your sickness. You may not be strong enough to take on the world, but at least now, you are prepared to face the reality that is waiting for you right outside of this door. 

No matter how fucking messy it is. 

Having this new revelation should be giving you a newfound credence that could push you forward. And yet there is none of that here. The only thing you are feeling now is the new bout of anxiety rolling up through your body, starting from your stomach as it churns painfully.

“Yeah, now I feel sick,” you groan as you rush to the toilet bowl, seconds away before you start dumping the small amount of food you had during dinner into waste. 

It takes a bit longer than expected before you finally find the courage to step out of the bathroom. 

Soft murmurs filter into the bathroom the moment you open the door. You can tell that the voices are coming from the living room, which means that the family has gathered there after dinner. It allows you to breathe a sigh of relief. At least this way you wouldn’t have to hide or make excuses if you have to bump into someone on your way to your bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you are relieved that nobody is around. Everyone should be in the living room, so you make haste, hoping to be able to escape before anyone notices. 

But as you turn to the next hallway, someone is standing in your way. The light is dim, yet you can easily recognise him before you get any closer. Standing with his back leaning against the wall, he has his hands tucked into his pockets and his eyes looking absently into the distance. 

As though he has been waiting for you. 

Taehyung turns when he notices you coming. Before you can start to wonder what he is doing here, a smile grows on his face.

“Hey, is everything okay? Everyone was worried,” he asks you, sounding genuinely concerned. 

The calm tone of his voice might be a bit deceiving if only you are not looking into his eyes. His gaze keeps wavering as he speaks, as if he is unable to look at you for too long. The same guilt you saw earlier is still present in his eyes. And you hate seeing it there. 

It only tells you that he has a secret that he is keeping from you. You have no idea how to feel about it. But if it has to do with his relationship with Alia, then—

“I’m fine, it’s just—” 

Your cheeks grow warm the moment you speak, feeling embarrassed at how dry your voice sounds. “It’s nothing. You heard my Mom, I’ll be better in no time.” 

You have so many things to say to him. So many questions that you would like to give him. But you are too tired to do anything. Much less to talk. As much as you can convince yourself that you are ready to face anything, now is not the right time to do it. 

So you keep your mouth shut and try to walk past him instead. Only that he isn’t letting you go that easily. 

“You know, it really is nice to see you again, Red.” 

His voice sounds so subdued that you almost miss it. You come to a halt. Your heartbeat starts picking up again. If you ever needed confirmation that the sinful night you shared with him truly happened, and that he remembered any part of it, then this is it. 

His comment which instantly brings you back to that fateful night. The nickname that he used to call you then.

You close your eyes, refusing to remember the way he managed to draw out a myriad of sensations with his voice alone. You refuse to be brought back there again. Not now, when your mind isn’t clear enough to be dealing with this. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself just enough to face him.

Only to be met with his amused smile as he looks at you. 

“I was surprised to see you. I never would have thought that you could somehow be related to Alia.” He lets out a chuckle. It sounds empty and a bit bitter, mirroring exactly how you are feeling right now. 

Your chest feels tight, hating the way he is saying her name. Nor do you enjoy seeing the way his gaze changes when he does it. Annoyance fills your chest that you can barely speak, while he remains in his blissful ignorance as he continues talking, 

“Funny how life works, doesn’t it? I kept thinking about you after we met and wondered if we would ever see each other again. I regretted that I didn’t ask for your number before we parted ways. I didn’t even get to ask for your real name.” 

The tightness in your chest grows tenfold. 

You never admitted it before—not to yourself, and not even to Skye, when you first talked about him—yet there was some point between that night and the day you found out about the pregnancy that you spent your nights wondering if you would ever see him again. 

If there had been one thing that you regretted about that night, it would be the decision you made to leave the next morning without asking for his real name or leaving any means of contact. 

A night to escape from reality. 

That was all it meant for you at the time. So when the morning came, it was time for you to return to reality. Your reality. Your real life. And you were too busy preparing yourself to face all the hurt, the bad memories, and the stressful life that had nothing to do with the desirable woman that he brought into his bed the night before to even consider exchanging contacts with him. 

It didn’t matter if you were still riding the high of that night’s self-gratification and wanton pleasure through the rest of your trip. The moment everything ended, you simply moved on from it. Putting everything about that night to the back of your mind as you returned to your normal life and quickly fell back into your normal routine. 

Until weeks later, when life decided to fuck you over and you ended up with a baby growing inside you, and you had no way to find or contact him to inform him about it. 

“I guess it can’t be helped, given the circumstances.” Your conviction quickly melts into dread once you are reminded of the current circumstances. “It’s kinda too late now to talk about it and regret what didn’t happen, don’t you think? Seeing that you’re now dating my stepsister.” 

Taehyung winces. For a brief moment, you almost believe you can see a glimpse of hurt flickering through his gaze. And for some reason, it only pisses you off. 

So he doesn’t like being reminded of the fact that he is here for someone else? 

“Look, about Alia. I was hoping that we could talk. Maybe when all of this is done, or maybe after the holidays we can—” 

He continues talking, but you aren’t hearing anything. The questions that flooded your brain earlier come flashing back. The ringing that pained you returns. Everything lasts for a few more seconds before your mind clears out, and only one question remains. 

“Were the two of you already dating when we slept together?” 

He falls silent, taken aback. 

“No!” he immediately says, almost shouting. But he quickly reins himself before his voice would reach where everyone is and draw their attention. “Fuck, no. Is that why you’ve been sulking all through dinner?” he asks you with a hiss. He seems offended and hurt at the same time. “I’m not that kind of guy. Trust me.” 

“Sulking?” you let out an incredulous laugh. Is that how he saw it? When you were coming close to breaking apart right in front of everyone because of him? 

“How am I supposed to trust you when I barely know you? How am I supposed to know that you’re telling the truth?” you snap back at him with a hiss. “Just because we fucked it doesn’t mean that I’d magically know everything about you.” 

Again, he winces at your question. As if your words come to him like a slap on his face. He takes a deep breath and speaks more calmly in response, “Look, we should talk. Soon. I can explain everything. But not now, okay?” 

As much as you hate to admit it, or to agree with him, you decide that he is right. There are a lot of things that you need to discuss with him, and now is not the right time to do it. Not when your emotions are all over the place and when he has his girlfriend keeping him in close sight most of the time. 

“I agree. We do need to talk,” you finally agree, even though you know that both of you have different things in mind. 

You have no idea what he intends to discuss with you. The only thing that matters to you is to talk about the baby that you conceived together. And hopefully, decide what will happen next. 

“I should go,” you sigh, feeling exhausted and drained. “I need to lie down. This is too much for me to process.” 

You try to walk around him so you can continue on your way. Your head is pounding, and you have the dire need to rest in your comfortable bed, where you would be able to feel safe and hide away from all of this. 

“Wait,” Taehyung stops you before you can go too far. 

“What?” you ask him, feeling exasperated—both from the stress and from the way your body still tingles each time you hear his voice. You really need to get away from him. 

“Nothing, it’s just…” he starts, suddenly looking nervous with what he is about to say. The sound of laughter echoes from the living room, making him glance over his shoulder briefly before speaking to you with a lowered voice, “Can you do me a favour?” 

You frown at him. “What is it?” 

He looks wary, and it makes you feel uneasy in the stomach as you wait for him to speak. 

But what he says next makes you feel even worse. “Please don’t tell Alia that we’ve met before, more importantly that we hooked up that night.” 

You say nothing at first. Even if you are well aware of the situation and where Alia’s position in all of this, it still doesn’t stop the sharp pain you feel in your chest as he mentions her name, or to express his request. 

Taehyung steps closer when you remain quiet. His voice comes as a desperate whisper when he pleads with you, “Please? Can you do this for me?” 

You grit your teeth. “Fine, I won’t,” you finally say to him. But you refuse to give in that easily.

Taking a step closer to him, you point at him and demand him, “But you need to tell her.” 

He clenches his jaw as he listens to your demands, but you ignore it and continue to talk. “She needs to know—” your voice nearly wavers, because you know what would happen once everything is revealed. 

Telling your stepsister that you had slept with her boyfriend would not only be hard, but it would be ugly. 

But it would be better than keeping it a secret for much longer. Because secrets don’t always remain hidden, no matter how hard you try to keep them in the shadows. And things would even get messier once the baby comes while she is still being kept in the dark. 

It’s better to bite the bullet as soon as possible, rather than waiting and living your life in uncertainty until the day comes. 

“If you don’t, and we keep this a secret much longer, things might get messier if she somehow finds out on her own. The last thing I’d ever want is to get into any drama. Not with her,” you try to convince Taehyung, despite him looking like he would rather bolt and have nothing to do with any of this. 

After all the drama that happened last year, the last thing you need is to get involved in another. 

“I’ll tell her myself if necessary.” There is a bite in your voice when you are telling him all of this. To his credit, Taehyung—despite looking shell-shocked and cornered—seems to respect and understand your request. 

He lowers his head and nods. “Give me time. I’ll—” 

You are surprised to see him looking defeated. It makes you wonder if there is something more about their relationship that you need to know before going further. 

As Taehyung raises his head again, he seems more resolved. He looks straight into your eyes as he promises, “I’ll tell her myself once I get the chance to. I promise. But we’re going to have that talk first, and soon.” 

“It’s a promise.” You bite back the ache that suddenly pierces through your heart, seeing how he is so adamant about protecting his relationship with your stepsister. Trying not to look too deep into it and get yourself hurt further, you avoid looking into his gaze and start walking away from him. 

“Goodnight then—” you whisper to him as you turn away from him, biting back the sound of your defeat when you call his name, “Tae.” 

The moment you are within the safety of your bedroom, your knees buckle. Thankfully, you still manage to close the door and lock it behind you, once again shutting yourself from everyone to give you some moment of peace.

Although it doesn’t stop him from entering your mind in the silence that follows. 

As you lie down in your bed, curled up in a fetal position with your arms wrapped around yourself, your mind wanders back to the conversation you just had with Taehyung in the hallway. 

You can’t help it. His words keep coming back to you, and you keep finding yourself dissecting everything he said. You close your eyes, and keep telling yourself to stop. The situation that you are dealing with right now already seems absurd enough for you to waste your energy trying to understand him. 

You begin to wonder if things would have been better if you hadn’t come across each other again. Things would probably turn out differently. You may have to keep the baby’s existence a secret from him, and the truth about the father a secret from your family. 

You may have to deal with everything yourself. 

The possibility seems petrifying, but it still sounds a lot better than having to go against your stepsister. Better than causing your frail relationship to become even worse. This time, you know that this would be big enough to ruin any chance for you and your stepsister to have any kind of relationship at all. 

He was right. It’s funny how life works. If only it doesn’t have to be this hard to laugh it off. 

Stop it. 

Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a deep sigh and force yourself to think about something else. Anything. As long as you are not thinking about him. His face, his voice, the scent of his cologne, everything that belongs to him. 

Your head starts swimming. No, everything about him now belongs to someone else. 

Once again, you force yourself to start thinking of less stressful things. Like Skye’s text message from this afternoon suggesting that you could run away with her to a secluded place somewhere in Europe so that the two of you could raise the baby together. Or the little stories that Honey shared about the cute new gardener now working at her apartment complex—the complex specifically built for elders like herself—that she wanted to introduce to you the next time you come by to visit.

You regret forgetting to pick up the smoothie that your mother made for you while you were throwing up in the bathroom, all due to Taehyung’s distraction. You wonder if having the smoothie would be able to help you feel better. Picturing the drink being left attended in the kitchen, you can picture your grandmother—the sweet little mischievous angel that she is—sneaking in a few drops of rum into the smoothie when your mother isn’t looking. 

This thought makes you smile. It replaces every ugly thoughts that keep circling inside your mind and calms you down. 

Your heartbeat is no longer beating like crazy. The more you fill your head with wonderful thoughts, the sooner the uneasy feeling in your stomach begins to wane. 

And soon enough, you start drifting away to a restless sleep. 

But just like how he invaded your home with his sudden appearance, Taehyung invades your sleep once your mind is left unguarded. 

Speaking to him, albeit briefly, brings you back to that night. The moment you close your eyes, you start seeing everything from back then that you couldn’t remember in your waking hours. Even the smallest details that your conscious mind has forgotten. Everything comes crashing down on you as you toss and turn in your bed, unable to give in completely to a peaceful slumber as memories continue to flood your dreams. 

Six weeks ago…

You opened your eyes and squinted. 

The overhead lamp above your head was bright, and it was hurting your eyes. You could barely see a thing through your bleary eyes, until your gaze drifted further, looking into the dimly lit bedroom far across the foyer. 

The room looked more spacious than yours, albeit a bit messy. The massive bed looked comfortable, and there were two lounge seats set up near the windows that looked more luxurious than the ones you had in your room. 

“Your bedroom seems a lot more cozy than mine.” 

The words came out of your lips with a moan. The sound seemed foreign. Barely recognisable through your hazy mind. But there was a familiar sensation slowly rising in your body that hadn’t at all come from the alcoholic drinks you were having tonight. 

“Hmmm…You think so?”

A deep, sultry voice spoke as a pair of hot lips made their way down the side of your neck, tracing your skin with delicate kisses that made it even harder for you to think straight. 

Shivers ran down your body. Heat rolled through your chest. And it almost seemed to you that your skin was becoming even more sensitive to the touch when even the most subtle caress of his fingers was able to light up your senses. 

Right after the voice spoke to you, he suddenly switched and started kissing his way up. You blinked, and his face came into view just as he looked down at you. The beautiful face that captivated you when you first met him at the bar was presented right before your eyes. 

So close. So tempting. And his eyes were so intense that you nearly lost your breath. He smiled and leaned down, capturing your lips with a kiss. 

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured against your lips, drawing another moan out of you which snapped you from your daze. 

You sighed as you gave in to the chaste kiss he was giving you. “It’s kind of hard to look around and see anything when you have me pinned to the door.” 

He let out a soft chuckle and once again pressed his lips on yours. As if he was both pleased and amused that he got to put you in this position. When he pulled back, the look in his eyes softened. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s all your fault for teasing me all the way here while I couldn’t allow myself to touch you with so many eyes paying attention,” he said without any hint of regret in his voice. 

“Well, forgive me because I wasn’t aware,” you taunted him back, knowing fully well what you had done to tease him until he was on the verge of breaking apart even before you reached his hotel suite. 

As much as you wanted to hold back, you were quite sure that you hadn’t gotten things wrong. You couldn’t have possibly mistaken the chemistry that kept sparking between you. And the way he kept openly staring at your body was enough to make his intention clear, as his eyes seemed more honest than the words he gave you. 

But back at the bar, you had let him be the first one to make the move. 

With his sturdy hands, he was the one who pulled your seat closer. By placing his arm on your backrest, it may have seemed as if he was marking his territory for anyone else at the hotel bar to see. Normally, something like this would’ve put you off. But there was something in the way he did it that made you feel otherwise, allowing you to give in and lean more into his warmth instead of pushing him away. 

That was when you reciprocated his actions with your own. The light and subtle touches of your fingers on his arm drew soft shudders through his body. The accidental brushes that happened when you moved against his body pushed him into wrapping his arm around you, keeping you close before he finally pulled you out of the bar. 

When you leaned close enough to whisper softly against his ear, you could feel goosebumps rising on his skin, his heartbeat escalating under your palm, and he could barely hold himself back from devouring your lips right there at the hotel lobby. Right where everyone could see you falling into pieces under your sinful desire.

By the time you were alone with him in the elevator, the tension between you just kept escalating until he finally snapped. 

He nearly dragged you across the hallway leading to his bedroom suite in his rush to get you alone. The moment he pulled you in through the door, every bit of his composure simply left him. He barely gave you a chance to catch a single glance of the suite, as he immediately pushed your body against the door and kept you there. 

Until this moment. 

His eyes grew dark after listening to your answer. His breath is still ragged after the hot kiss that he gave you once he got you pinned between his hard body and the locked door behind you. 

With his broad chest locking you in place, his hips pressing against your lower body, he left you with nowhere else to go. But this didn’t seem to be enough for him. Looking into his eyes, you could tell that he needed to see you become even more vulnerable. Almost as if he wanted to punish you for putting him on the edge. 

And he did exactly that as he slipped one hand around your neck and pulled your hair, tilting your head back so that he could continue exploring the column of your throat with his sinful lips. Instead of resisting it, you simply gave in. Arching your back to him further as he trailed kisses on your skin, your hands clutching on his jacket to hold on. 

He used his other hand to explore the rest of your body. Starting from your waist, he continued to move further down to your hips. Tracing every curve, every dent along your body with his firm fingers pressing through your thin dress. 

Just as he was about to reach the hem of your dress, he suddenly stopped and pulled back. 

“Tell me again. Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice was quiet when he asked you this. It sounded as though he was caught between convincing himself that this was happening while giving you an out for one last time before getting too deep. 

But you had gone deep. 

And you knew then that the moment you let everything happen, there was no going back from it. Everything about this was new to you; hooking up with a complete stranger while you were in the middle of nowhere, and knowing that once the night was over, both of you were going to move on with your lives. 

It felt thrilling to think about it, and the liquid courage should help you in letting go of your inhibitions. Yet you couldn’t deny the fact that you are feeling slightly nervous about jumping fully into this. 

When you failed to answer him, Tae leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss right below your ear and whispered, “Well? Talk to me. Because there is no going back from this once we begin, and I won’t let you go until you tell me what you want.” 

The way his breath tickled your ear and caressed your skin broke you out of the walls you put up. Every flicker of doubt you felt immediately melted. You brushed against him, allowing him to feel every bit of heat coursing through your body before you answered with a whisper, “Yes. I’ve never been so sure in my whole life.” 

You could feel the way his breath was caught as you pressed your palm on his chest. Pressing against him, you raised yourself up and nipped his chin with your teeth. 

“This is what I want.” 

You weren’t completely sure if you ever got to finish your sentence when all of a sudden, his lips came crashing into yours, pressing firmly as he kissed you, barely concealing his desire for more. 

The kiss unleashed your own desire. You opened your mouth for him in return, allowing him to devour you, to have a taste of your demands as he thoroughly kissed you until you were left breathless in his arms. 

His hand began to move again just then. Tracing down your hips, he pressed the tips of his fingers harder into your flesh. He made it seem as if your dress had melted into your skin with the heat of his touch that you felt completely exposed to him. And he didn’t stop until he finally found the exposed skin of your thigh. 

Your body quivered upon contact, and you could tell that he felt it too. He began stroking your skin, moving at a slow, agonising pace just to put you on the edge. 

And he easily succeeded. Already, you could barely breathe, even when he was still far from touching any part of your body that needed him the most. 

Overcame with need, your body started moving on instinct. As if his touches were controlling you as you lifted your thigh for him. His grip on your thigh tightened, helping you to keep your leg up and open yourself to him while his kiss became sloppy yet gentle as he released his hold on your hair. 

He moved his other hand down, brushing against your covered breast with a brief contact and continued trailing down. You felt him pressing at your hips, before pulling the hem of your dress upward until your lower region was completely exposed. His hand continued its travel as it climbed up your inner thigh. So you opened your legs to give him better access. A move which he appreciated with a deep hum, before you felt his thumb brushing up just an inch away from your throbbing core. 

“Should we move this someplace else? Somewhere that would be more comfortable for us?” he asked you with his lips hovering close to yours. 

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Too lost in the sensation that you were made to feel, you felt as if you were drunk and high, not from the alcohol that was no longer running wildly through your veins, but from his entire presence alone. 

All thoughts faded further as his thumb grazed across the front of your panties, finding your folds through the fabric before he pressed down, enough to give pressure on your covered clit. Sparks flew through your half-lidded eyes as pleasure came rushing through you in waves. You couldn’t stop the moan slipping out of your lips, nor the way your hips rocked into his touch to feel more. 

“So responsive,” he murmured against your neck before he planted a light kiss on your skin. “I would have loved to watch and enjoy every reaction that you would give me, every sound you make, while I have you lie down on my bed and fuck you senseless.” 

Your breath hitched and caught in your chest. Not only because of his words, but also from the way his thumb continued to rub against your covered clit. It felt sinful, yet so delectable the way he kept drawing more and more sparks and shuddering pleasure through your body.

After being deprived of such attention for quite some time, your body became more sensitive to every friction, every treatment he was giving you, and you simply wanted more. 

“Then take me there. Take me to your bed.” 

As if you had flicked a switch in his brain, his expression changed. His gaze darkened as he captured your lips with unrestrained need, yet he was careful when he picked you up, pressing you against his chest when he turned and moved to take you away from the door.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him for balance, while your lips remained locked in a deep kiss. You could feel his long stride as he began carrying you across the room. His kiss and his firm hold on your bottom cheeks were enough to draw your attention away from his clumsy footsteps, but not enough to deny you from sensing the changes happening around you.

The scent of his cologne grew thicker as he went deeper into the room, and you were getting more and more lost in him. Drowned in his heat, his kiss, and the traces that he had left behind all over his bedroom, you felt him everywhere all at once that you felt like you were being put under a spell. 

All so suddenly, you were pulled out of it when he broke away from the kiss. He laid you gently over the cold white sheets of his partly-made bed. Instead of joining you right away, he chose to pull back. His eyes seemed to glint in the dimly lit room as he took this moment to take you in. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured softly, drawing heat back to your face. 

He kept his eyes on you as he shrugged off his jacket and began peeling his shirt from his chest. Desire pulsed through your body as you watched every move he was making without ever drawing his attention away from you. 

The more you watched him, the stronger the pull that you felt towards him. Once the need to touch him took over, you reached up and tugged on his pants, hoping that you could quickly shred them off of his body. 

You barely grazed against his covered hard-on when he stopped you by catching your wrists. Like a disappointed teacher, he made a disapproval sound with his tongue. 

“Patience, Red,” he teasingly said to you as he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it off of you with one swift move. You fell back to the bed with a gasp, shocked to see how easy it was for him to take over until you were left with nothing more but your lacy underthings. 

The intensity you felt from his gaze made you want to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. But being half inebriated was making you slow in thoughts and movement that you couldn’t do anything but lay still. At the same time, you enjoyed the way he was looking at you, loving how he was losing himself to you the same way you did to him. 

But it was the words that he said next that further brought out your wanton needs.

“Be a good girl and stay still. I want you to stay just like this,” he said with a murmur while his eyes ran down your body, “I want you to lie on your back while you are screaming out my name.” 

If only you hadn’t been so lost for words, perhaps you would have challenged him in return. Instead, by the time every piece of his clothing was gone, you felt like you had melted further into the sheets. The raw passion you saw in his gaze and the way he was tracing his fingertips on your skin had locked you completely in place, leaving you with no other option but to surrender as he took control.

He bent down, his lips came down to your neck. Planting his kisses on your skin, he kept your attention away from his hands as he snapped off your bra and went down to pull your panties down your hips. As he dragged your panties down your bare legs, he continued his kisses further down, not stopping until he reached your heaving chest. 

You couldn’t even remember what happened to that flimsy piece of fabric that he took from you. Everything else faded as his tongue grazed across your chest, drawing a gasp out of your lips. His firm hands returned to your hips right then, holding you down while he captured your taut nipple between his teeth. 

The feeling that coursed through you was heavenly. A shooting pain came with a flare as he bit down, yet it was quickly replaced with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure when he lapped the pain away with his sinful tongue. 

“Tae—”

His body quivered against yours at the sound of your voice. He pulled away with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched you arching your chest as if you were chasing him. 

He ran his gaze down your body. Perusing you while silently admiring what he was seeing while he licked his lips. As if he was picturing the way you would taste. 

“Tell me how badly you want this, Red,” he taunted you with his hand reaching out to the nightstand. You vaguely saw him grabbing a condom while you were struggling to breathe. Your eyes fell on his exposed, throbbing cock, and words simply left you. 

Seeing its impressive size and girth, your entire body erupted with a pulse. It started from deep inside your core, right where you wanted to feel him the most. Astonished, you failed to remember that he was still waiting for your answer with his eyes locked on your face. 

And he made you struggle further to find words when he reached down, wrapping his long fingers around his cock and started giving himself slow, lazy strokes. You could see the bead of his pre-cum glistening under the dim lighting. It took everything in you to stop yourself from leaning forward and lapping him dry. To have a taste, before you let him devour every drop of your essence. 

“Red? Talk to me,” he spoke to you again with a curious tone in his voice. 

He knew that he wasn’t getting any attention, as your eyes were locked only at one place that was not his face, and he seemed to be curious to know what was making you so lost in thoughts. 

Instead of answering him, you continued to watch, completely transfixed by his actions, as he slowly spread his pre-cum along the length of his cock. You licked your lips, almost as if you could taste him. A barely concealed whimper slipped out of your lips when you watched him slowly roll the condom to cover himself from the tip of his cock and down to the base. 

Seeing him covered with protection seemed to snap you back to the present. Even if your pulsing need still refused to tame down. 

Resting back against the pillows, you dragged your eyes away from his impressive cock to his beautiful face. 

“I want you here. Inside me,” you finally responded to his question. Placing your palms on the underside of your thighs, you parted your legs open, making him see the mess that had been building up right between your legs while you were enjoying the show he was giving you. 

Now it was your turn to give him a show. 

Reaching between your legs, you moved your fingers to find your folds. You bit back a gasp once the tips of your fingers were met with your wet arousal. It felt slick as you moved your fingers around, parting your nether lips so he could see your swollen clit, before you moved your fingers in circles, pressing at yourself the exact same way you wished he would. 

“Please, fuck me, Tae. Fuck me good.” 

His pupils dilated at the sound of your voice, at the pleading words you were giving him. You loved the way he was reacting to you just as much as he did with you, yet you decided to push his buttons further by adding, “And then I want to hear you scream my name while you cum inside me.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “What a little brat,” he said, chuckling. “So you like to play games, hmmm?” 

You bit your bottom lip, holding back a moan that was threatening to come out when your touch inadvertently pushed against the source of your heat. “Oh, I do. Games are always fun.” 

While he continued stroking his cock at a lazy pace, he used the other hand to grab your neck. His palm fit perfectly as he wrapped it around the column of your throat, putting pressure that was not enough to choke you, yet enough to show you who was in control. 

“Then let’s play,” he groaned while he pressed you back down on the bed. “But this time, I make the rules.” 

You felt the electrifying pleasure surging through your body as he brushed your hand away and lined himself against your entrance, shutting down the circuits inside your brain for a moment and stopping you from wiggling too much beneath him just to feel more friction. 

A sharp moan was drawn from your lips as Tae slammed his full length deep inside you. The sensation that you felt from being filled by his width was so feral and explosive that you were sure you immediately experienced your orgasm right then and there. 

Your body must have been shaking, which was a response that you failed to notice as you had your senses filled with the steady pulse of pleasure pressing across the girth of his cock. He must have noticed it when he came to a halt, giving you a chance to process everything and adjust to his presence inside you.

Nothing made sense to you beyond the pulsing pleasure that you felt from your hot pussy. Your senses were filled with the sound of your racing heartbeat, the soothing touch of his fingers on your skin, and the whispers of his voice calling you back to him. 

He only managed to bring you back to the present by pressing gentle kisses on your lips, nose, and then on the rest of your face, stopping only after he kissed your lips again to draw your attention back to him. 

Your legs were quivering when you opened your eyes to see him, yet you could already tell from the way the pulses that came right where you were joined started to settle, that your body had adjusted perfectly to his size. 

But it didn’t mean that you would simply take it without sharing your thoughts. 

“You’re—big,” you complained with a soft moan when you felt him growing harder inside you. It didn’t stop you from rocking your hips, trying to feel more friction, while he merely chuckled at your words. 

“And it’s perfect for your tight pussy.” 

His words drew a gasp from you. But he didn’t pay much attention to it, as he slowly began to move. He started with a slow pace, which was torturous and agonising, forcing you to feel the delectable way his girth was brushing against your pulsing walls. 

Back and forth he went, going so deep you could almost feel him pressing up your stomach before pulling out until only the tip was buried inside you. He kept moving at the same pace, until you began to feel more desperate. Even your body was shaking with the need to feel more. 

“More—!” you whispered with a strangled moan, “go faster.” 

Hearing this, instead of doing what you were begging him to, Tae denied your plea by doing the opposite. With a wicked grin on his face, the fucker slowed down, bringing the pleasure that had been rising back down a notch. 

You opened your mouth to protest against it, and he moved his hands down your hips, stopping at your thighs where he gave you a tight grip. 

“You want more?” he asked you, his voice almost seemed to grow deeper, and you could feel a tinge of danger when he spoke. The same danger you saw coming through his gaze as he slowly brought your legs up. 

You expected him to stop once he got your legs up his shoulders. But he just kept going. And going. Until you were nearly folded with your legs almost pressed to your chest.

“Tae—!” 

It made you feel vulnerable, with nothing but your hands to use to hold on while he had full control of your body. He was still buried inside you, and this position allowed you to feel him more. As though you had grown tighter around him and he was growing bigger. His entire length and width made you feel full, as his cock was pressing tightly against your hot walls. 

“You wanted more,” he murmured as he began moving, rocking his hips slowly back and forth, going in and out of you, drawing more and more of that shuddering pleasure out of your body as he continued fucking you gently. “I’m giving you more.” 

He began increasing his pace. Going faster the more he heard you moaning in pleasure. “Lift your arms, Red. Bring them up and hold the pillows.” 

It took a moment for his words to register in your head. Your hands had been clutching tightly on his forearms and it was a struggle to let go. And he waited, tormenting you by keeping his pace much too slow to your liking until you followed his command. 

Your hands trembled as you unlatched them from his skin. You could barely feel your fingers as you dragged your hands up, as every part of your body grew more sensitive the more you opened your entire self to him. Keeping your eyes on him, you got lost in his intense gaze. 

It was then when you finally came in contact with the soft pillows above your head, and your fingers easily sank into them, latching onto them as you did when you were holding onto his arms.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he murmured gently, and you were pleasantly surprised to realise how much you loved hearing his praise. Warmth bloomed in your chest, and it easily made its way down right to your core. “Now hold on tightly and don’t let go.” 

And you did just that. Holding on tightly the way he wanted you to. 

Only once he gained complete control of your body, once you fully submitted to him, he finally fulfilled your wish. He held firmly on your thighs to keep them folded and open for him, and he began ramming his cock deep inside you. 

He was doing it faster. Harder. Sending you high in pleasure while all you could do was take his constant pounding. The only leverage you had to hold on was the tight hold you had on the pillows and the weight of his body that was pressing you down each time he pushed deeply inside you. 

The anomalous sounds coming out of both of your lips kept bouncing off the walls. Followed by the sound of flesh clashing against flesh, the slick sounds that came from right where you were joined, and the creaking sound of the bed beneath you. 

He kept going, relentless in his rough thrusts and his need to push you over the edge, until you could feel the rise of your orgasm coming in waves. The wanton pleasure that was hot and intense came rising inside you, growing rapidly with his deep thrusts until you finally succumbed to it, coming into your climax with a scream. 

“Tae, I’m coming,” you cried out to him as you fell over the edge, though you weren’t completely sure if the words coming out of your lips were as coherent as you thought they would have been. 

The sound of your pounding heartbeat seemed to drown everything away. Except that you could still hear the sound of his breathless grunts as they grew clearer, and the strangled moan that came out of him when he shouted, “That’s it, Red. Fuck, I’m coming!”

With a sharp intake of breath, he came to his climax. You felt every pulse of his release as he came inside you, and the tremble in his chest that surged through him with his deep groan as he relished the pleasure. Even after his release, he kept moving, rocking slowly and steadily until the spasms of your orgasm slowly began to wane down. 

He remained buried inside you when he gently released you from his hold. You could barely feel his lips pressing on your quivering thighs before he lowered them back on the mattress, yet his gentle fingers remained hot on your skin when he brushed up against you. 

He reached up and gently pried your fingers away from the pillows before slipping his fingers between yours. The way your fingers were entwined together felt so intimate. So unlike anything that you had ever thought about what a one-night stand would entail. 

Your body felt hot, and your muscles were lax, but there was a series of small spasms still going strong from deep inside you, coaxed by his incessant rocking. You should have been pushing him off of you, instead of embracing his weight as he lowered himself, covering your body with his own. 

“Tae—” you whimpered against his lips as he kissed you. Holding your hands in his, he continued to rock his hips. 

How he managed to remain so hard and stiff even after his climax was beyond you. He still felt thick as he moved. His cock brushed against your pulsing walls as he went in and out, awakening all sparks of pleasure that were supposed to have dwindled. 

And with how sensitive your body was, it rose and peaked so quickly and you had no power to stop it. 

“Too…much…” you cried between the strangled moans coming out of your lips, right before he swallowed them with another kiss. 

“One more,” he groaned as he picked up his pace. “Just do it one more time for me, Red.” 

You were so sensitive it was beginning to hurt, but the pleasure was also maddening that you didn’t want to stop. This time, he wasn’t holding you down so strongly, allowing you to move beneath him. So you rocked back against him, pushing up each time he was thrusting into you. It only took a couple of more strokes before the coil in your core snapped, and you were sent to another climax. 

And he joined you in your release, falling into a smaller climax of his own as you clenched tightly around him. 

He came with a deep groan. His whole body quaked against you before he finally fell on top of you. While you were trying to control your breath, his lips came brushing your neck, kissing you gently to help soothe down the shudders running through your body.

“Fuck…so perfect,” he sighed between his kisses, his voice came in and out through your senses, and the sparks you felt rushing through your body started waning as you were slowly drifting away into the night, with his words echoing in your dreams,

“You are perfect.” 

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading so far. Any likes, kudos, comments, and feedbacks will be appreciated. The story continues in part 2.

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