#if there's something you want to know but are nervous to look for yourself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dawngyu · 2 days ago

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AHHHH i feel excited reading the second from this series ahdgjbdgdhsg

spoilers under the cut

got instant whiplash from being thrown right into the middle of her breakdown over the positive test—like ugh, imagine that. i know i’ve said it before, but you seriously nail inner monologues every single time. i’m a fan, a big one!! asdhdhjsk

Jake. His name crashes through your thoughts, and a fresh wave of nausea rises up in your throat. Oh my god. There’s only one person it could be. Jake.

WHAT A FCKING WAY TO INTRODUCE HIM TO ME????? HELLO???

Your stomach lurches. You press a hand to it instinctively, but it’s still just you. Just your body, your life—except it’s not just yours anymore, is it? A shuddering breath leaves you, and suddenly, you feel so, so small. What are you supposed to do? You’re in your second year of college. You have plans, dreams, a future that doesn’t include cribs and lullabies and tiny fingers clutching at yours. You can’t be a mother. Not now. Maybe not ever. And Jake?

what a paragraph. like, i felt that. why am i nervous now too?? i could never do the whole fwb thing, i’d get emotionally ill in 0.2 seconds fr.

The house was packed. Bodies pressed together, the air thick with heat and sweat and the sharp bite of liquor. Music pounded through the speakers, rattling the walls, the bass thrumming through your chest. The whole hockey team was celebrating their win, and Jake was at the center of it all, grinning like he owned the night. Heeseung had won it all, again. Except he was too busy pulling his girlfriend into a random room to really celebrate much.

GIRLFRIEND???? IS THIS A COLLIDE READER MENTION???? OMG ILYSM TOO i’m so glad they’re doing well like ugh my heart is full rn 🥹

“It’s fine,” you whispered. You’re on the pill. It’s just one time.

RUN

A sob rips through your chest, raw and unrestrained. You fold in on yourself, pressing a hand over your mouth to smother the sounds, but it doesn’t stop the tears from coming. They fall in hot, messy streaks, slipping down your cheeks, soaking into your shirt. Your whole body shakes with it, shoulders curled forward, knees pulled up as if making yourself smaller might make this moment disappear. But nothing disappears. Nothing changes. You’re still here. Still alone in this room. Still pregnant.

ugh yeah it’s so scary. even the tiniest shift in life can mess us up emotionally and pregnancy? that’s a major change. you wrote it so beautifully, it’s haunting. like i’m actually scared now, for her and what’s coming next.

You can’t be pregnant. You can’t be a mom. You can’t tell Jake. A fresh wave of nausea churns in your stomach at the thought of him. Of his reaction. Of what this will do to him. To you. Jake, with his whole future mapped out in skates and ice and championships. Jake, who has never even hinted at wanting something serious with you—because this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Because it never has. And now, you’re carrying something that means everything. You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your hands against them. If you don’t see the test, if you don’t look at it, maybe—maybe—No.

if i was emotional before, this paragraph straight up brought tears. like, i’d be so fucking scared too, and you’re making me feel every inch of it. ughhh you write so good it hurts.

He pauses. “Why not?” Because in less than two hours, I’ll be staring at an ultrasound screen, listening to a doctor tell me how many weeks pregnant I am. Because I don’t know how to look you in the eye, knowing that inside me—inside us—something is changing, something we never planned for, never wanted. “I'm sick,” you say instead. It’s a rushed excuse, flimsy and weak. “I think I caught something.”

idk why but this absolutely wrecked me. the way she’s thinking one thing but saying something totally different out loud?? women.

Your throat is too tight to answer. You don’t know what you expected, but not this. Not something so small, so fragile, so real. You nod. And then—sound. A rapid, steady rhythm, impossibly fast but undeniably there. Your vision blurs, and it takes you a second to realize you’re crying.

:(((( i'm unwell

now i’m scared. like genuinely. we haven’t seen her and jake interact in the present yet and it’s driving me insane bc i can’t tell if he really likes her or not—and i’ll die if he doesn’t. i’ll probably spill more thoughts later but omg everything’s written so beautifully, i had to force myself to slow down bc this deserves a live read, moment by moment.

oh and also?? i’m loving this so much more. i don’t even know if it’s just that i love this more or if you just keep outdoing yourself every damn time you write something. :( like how is that even fair.

Jake: Practice just ended. Thinking about you.

maybe i’m just a simple-minded woman too but i squealed. like imagine being stressed out of your mind and then seeing this?? hasgdhagd i’d combust.

You suck in a sharp breath, a lump forming in your throat so quickly it nearly chokes you. Thinking about you. He doesn’t even realize what those words do to you right now, how they cut straight through your ribs, cracking something open inside you. You can picture him perfectly—his damp hair, his flushed cheeks, the easy way he leans against his locker while texting you, probably half-distracted, expecting you to reply with something simple.

girl is so in love. and the mental gymnastics she’s doing trying to figure out how to tell him??? it’s destroying me. i love yuna so bad btw :(((

“If I tell him this, he’ll—” You stop, choking on the words.

He’ll what? Walk away? Shut down? Look at you like you’ve just ruined his entire world? You don’t even know. That’s the problem.

I SCREAMED.

“Listen, whatever happens, you won’t be alone in this, okay? You have me. And when you tell Jake, you’ll have him too. And even if—even if he’s an idiot about it at first, I’ll kick his ass into shape.” That actually makes you let out a weak, teary laugh.

GIVE YUNA EVERYTHING. THE UNIVERSE, THE WORLD.

You spend most of your day in the dorm, curled up on the couch with the TV playing some random show you’re not even paying attention to. The volume is low, just background noise to fill the silence, but it doesn’t stop your mind from racing. Jake has been calling all day. Text after text, call after call—his name keeps flashing on your screen, but you can’t bring yourself to answer. You know you should. You know avoiding him won’t make this easier. But every time you reach for your phone, your stomach twists, and your fingers freeze, and the weight of what you have to tell him slams into you all over again. So you do nothing.

this is seriously making me so nervous ahhhhhhh

He shifts his weight, tilting his head. “…What’s going on with you?” You grip the edge of the door tighter. Your throat closes. Jake exhales, his expression softening as he reaches up, brushing his fingers over the side of your face like he’s trying to pull you back to him, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “You’ve been ignoring me all day.”

it’s been literally one day and he shows up like that??? i’m actually stomping my feet fr. men written by women… it’s just ughhhh peak fiction every time

“Because if I did, just—tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.” His jaw clenches. “I just—fuck, I don’t know—I miss you.” Your heart stutters. You stare at him, the weight of his words pressing into your ribs, making it even harder to breathe. “I’ve wanted to run here to you all week, tell you about my game, watch movies with you. Anything, but you're shutting me out.” This is Jake. You’re jake. And suddenly all of it feels so much worse.

ahhhh i told you earlier i wasn’t sure yet but yeah… this?? this is a full-on slap to my face. i love it so much i’m actually losing itttt

So you just say it. “I’m pregnant.”

I DONT KNOW HOW MANY TIMES IVE SAID OMAYGOD

OMYFCKINGGOD

i love how the reader laid it all out for him, clear and firm. it’s her body, her choice. she gets to decide, she gets to set the rules. period. YES.

“You’re in?” You ask with a strained voice.

“I’m in.”

tears. actual tears. i love that he started driving her around, like?? the care?? the softness?? and those little notes he leaves?? all of it. every single thing. i’m losing my mind sdhgjasgdghs

“You’ve been slow all practice. Missing passes, losing pucks—you’re a vital part of this team, Sim. You don’t get to check out like this.” His voice drops slightly, but it only makes the words hit harder. “Get it together. Now.” Jake nods stiffly. He doesn’t say anything. Because what the hell is he supposed to say? That he can’t focus because his whole life changed forever? That there’s a baby now—a real, growing baby—and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with that? That every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is that ultrasound?

i’ve been wondering how you’d take this story ever since jake said yes to it all and now i see it unfolding and i’m begging… please don’t break my heart T^T i’m hanging by a thread here </3

Or at least, he tries to. It comes out more like a broken, choked sound. His throat feels tight, his chest squeezed so hard it physically hurts. “She’s pregnant,” he says again, voice cracking. And then, before he can even stop it — He’s crying. Right there, in the middle of the locker room, surrounded by his teammates, Jake fucking breaks.

I JUST SAID DONT BREAK MY HEART

I love the bond you gave to the boys. :((((9

A takeout bag. Your throat tightens. “I, uh…” Jake shifts on his feet, glancing down at the bag like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with it. “I remembered you said you were craving this, so I thought—” He hesitates, clears his throat, then lifts the bag slightly. “I figured I’d bring you some.” Something cracks inside you. Because it’s such a small thing—just food, just a meal—but the fact that he remembered that he went out of his way after practice when he was probably exhausted, when he could have avoided all of this — You swallow hard and step aside, voice softer than you mean for it to be. “Come in.”

this song started playing when i got to this part, btw. and yeah, i'm crying over this little thing. or is it really little? if someone’s stuck in their head, overwhelmed, caught in that hazy kind of day… but still remembers what you said you were craving, what you liked and brings it to you anyway, despite everything; if that’s not love, then i’ve been lied to my whole life.

rain, i love your brain sm. :(((

For a few minutes, it’s like things are the way they used to be. Like there’s no giant, life-changing revelation hanging over your heads. Like it’s just you and him. Like it’s always been. But that’s the thing about pretending. Eventually, reality always catches up.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, you realize, You’re not the only one whose world is changing.

OH GOD.

I LOVE THEIR CONVO. I LOVE HOW EASY IT WAS, AND IM FLOORED WHEN JAKE DIDNT WANT HER PREGNANCY TO BE CALLED CONSEQUENSES. I MELTED.

Jake is always moving, always carrying some kind of restless energy on the ice, at parties, even just sitting next to you. But right now, he’s still. His hair is a mess, sticking up at odd angles, his lips parted slightly as he sleeps. You can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the subtle weight of his arm over you, and for a brief, fragile moment, you let yourself just exist here. In this sliver of morning where nothing has to be said. Where nothing has to change. But eventually, Jake stirs.

MY HEART I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE

For a second, you think about pretending you’re not home. But then his voice comes through, firm but edged with something else. Something raw. “Open the door, please.”

ARE U KILLING ME. I CAN'T EVEN STOP READING BECAUSE I GOT SUCKED IN. HIS CARE, THE DIFFERENCES FROM BEFORE, HEESEUNGS GF ONCE AGAIN, HER GUILT.

i just inserted that because WHAT A LINE.

“Baby,” he says, his voice low but steady, cutting through the tension that’s been hanging between you for days. “I used to think hockey was the world, that I lived for it, breathed for it. that it was my life. That hockey was the reason I woke up in the morning. I love hockey, hockey will always be my passion and it will always be what I want to do, and who i want to be. But it’s not my life. you are. you two are my life, you and this baby and I wouldn't want it any other way.”

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he murmurs. “I’m staying. I’m gonna be here for you, for the baby… for us.”

MOM I WANT HIM

“Win or lose,” he whispers, echoing the words he had said to you weeks ago. “I’ll always come home to you.”

wow. just… wow. i think it’s safe to say this is the one i’ve loved the most so far. it’s so simple, so gentle, laid back in the most beautiful, real way. you wrote it like life itself. and that last scene… when everyone’s gathered for the baby shower, for the baby, but jake? he’s focused on her. asking what she needs, reassuring her. and it hit me, he’s there for her. not the moment, not the crowd. just her. like it’s still just the two of them.

and that gave me such a sense of closure. maybe they didn’t begin like a “normal” couple; no long dates or fairy-tale start, but i know they’re going to hold on to this little window of time. their last chapter as just two. falling in love in a new way. preparing not just for a baby, but for a life. as a whole. together.

they're gonna be okay.

OFF THE ICE s.jy

synopsis ⤑ You were having fun. That’s all. You were young, in college, readying yourself for true adulthood. You didn’t know adulthood would come so quick, in the form of a baby you didn’t plan for. With a man who was more in love with Hockey than anything else. This wasn’t supposed to happen, and it definitely wasn’t supposed to happen with him.

pairings ⤑ hockey player!Jake x pregnant!reader word count ⤑ 18k

warnings ⤑ pregnancy trope, smut, friends with benefits, angst , depictions of hockey injuries , probably more

crossing the line series.

read heeseung's story here.

Two pink lines.

They stare back at you, unwavering. Bold. Permanent.

Your breath catches in your throat. A dull roaring fills your ears, like the moment before a crash, when you see the impact coming but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You blink once, twice, waiting for the second line to disappear, for reality to snap back into place. It doesn’t. It stays. Pregnant. A hollow, sinking feeling settles in your stomach. No. No, no, no. This can’t be real. Your fingers tighten around the plastic stick, your knuckles aching from the grip. You were careful. You were always careful. Birth control, condoms, every precaution. You did everything right. So how the hell did this happen?

You shake your head, your breathing ragged. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe the test is faulty. They mess up sometimes, right? You should take another one. Five more. Ten. You should drive to the store right now and buy every test on the shelf, because this? This can’t be happening. Your legs feel unsteady beneath you as you sink onto the closed toilet lid, one hand gripping the edge of the sink to ground yourself.

Jake. His name crashes through your thoughts, and a fresh wave of nausea rises up in your throat. Oh my god. There’s only one person it could be. Jake. Your friend. Your friend with benefits. You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them. Your mind flickers through the memories—late nights tangled in sheets, whispered jokes between kisses, the unspoken agreement that this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It was fun. Easy. No strings attached. Except now, there are strings. Big, life-altering, impossible-to-ignore strings.

Jake has hockey. The game is his whole world—the early-morning practices, the late-night workouts, the way his eyes light up when he steps onto the ice. He has a career to chase, a future that doesn’t include this.

This will ruin everything. Tears burn at the edges of your vision, but you blink them away. You can’t cry. Not yet. Not until you’re sure, not until you go to the doctor and they tell you this is all some cruel mistake. Because if it’s not… You swallow hard, gripping the test so tightly it feels like it might snap in half. You can’t tell him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. If you don’t say it out loud, if you don’t give it weight, maybe it won’t be real. Maybe you can find a way to make this all go away. But deep down, beneath the panic, beneath the sheer, suffocating terror— You already know. This is real. And there’s no undoing it.

Your breath shudders as you stare at the test, the past clawing its way back to you. You’re racking your brain trying to find when the two of you went wrong, when you stopped being careful. You know exactly how. The memory slams into you, sharp and unforgiving—that night.

Two months ago.

You weren’t even supposed to be here—you had a paper due, an exam creeping up—but when Jake texted “Where are you? We won. Get your ass over here,” you rolled your eyes, threw on something half-decent, and showed up anyway. And now you were here. Back pressed against a bathroom door, your fingers tangled in Jake’s hoodie, his mouth hot against yours. A breathless laugh escaped you between kisses, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins. “I just came to say congrats.”

Jake grinned against your lips. “This is how you say congrats?” You smirked. “I was gonna buy you a beer, but—”

His hands slid down your sides, rough and familiar, pulling you flush against him. “This is better.” And god, it was. You had always liked this about Jake—how easy it was, how uncomplicated. No messy feelings, no awkward expectations. Just heat, just want, just the press of his body against yours as he backed you up against the bathroom sink. Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging it up, your mouths moving together in that frantic, greedy way they always did when neither of you could be bothered to make it back to one of your apartments.

“Quickie?” you breathed against his lips, teasing. Jake groaned, already fumbling with your jeans. “Fuck, yeah.” It was fast. Dizzying. His hands were everywhere, pushing, pulling, unzipping. Your back hit the counter, your fingers in his hair, his mouth tracing fire along your throat. Your skin was hot, your pulse erratic, and nothing else mattered—not the party raging outside the door, not the alcohol humming through your system, not the fact that you weren’t exactly thinking.

It wasn’t until he was pressed against you, skin to skin, that something in the back of your mind lurched. You blinked up at him, breathless. “Wait—do you have a—”

Jake cursed under his breath. “Shit. No. I didn’t—” He moved like he was about to pull back, but god, you wanted him. The ache was unbearable, your body screaming at you to just— “It’s fine,” you whispered. You’re on the pill. It’s just one time. Jake hesitated, his hands gripping your waist like he was giving himself a second to think, but then your mouth was on his again, and whatever sliver of self-restraint he had vanished.

With one delicious roll of his hips against yours he was a goner. “Holy- f-fuck.” Jake hissed, his mouth agape and eyes heavy lidded as he looked down at where the two of you were perfectly intertwined. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“How’s that feeling, champion?” You purred in his ear, your hands playing in his hair as he continued his assault on your pussy.

“Such a pretty pussy..” Jake groaned. His grip on your thighs was almost bruising but you didn't care, you welcomed the pain. Your head leaned back, hitting the mirror as moans fell from your lips like a mantra. Jake’s lips found the column of your neck sucking and biting at the skin. “You like that, baby?”

“Uh-huh” You nodded your head finding it hard to find the ability to speak when Jake was doing unspeakable things to you. Jake’s thrusts were starting to become frantic, his moans higher and more frequent as it became apparent he was closer and closer to the edge. The music outside the door thumped, sounds of muffled voices passing by the door fell on deaf ears. You were too wrapped up in the way Jake was making you feel, coupled with the buzz of alcohol flowing through your veins. It was almost euphoric when your orgasm hit. Your legs shaking in Jake’s grip.

“God-” Jake breathed. Your orgasm served as a catalyst for his own. His hips slamming against yours with finality. It was reckless. It was careless. It was just once. Except once was enough.

Present day.

Your stomach lurches. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the memory away, willing yourself back into the safety of denial. But it’s useless. The test is still in your hands. The two pink lines are still staring back at you. And no matter how much you wish you could undo it— You can’t.

Your hands are still trembling. Your fingers ache from how hard you’re clutching the test, but you can’t let go. If you set it down, if you let it slip from your grasp, that means you’re accepting it. That means this is real.A choked sound slips past your lips before you can stop it. Your vision blurs. Then it happens—you break.

The word echoes inside your skull, over and over, until it drowns out everything else. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. The panic tightens around your ribs like a vice, and suddenly, you can’t breathe. You gasp, swallowing down air, trying to steady yourself, but it’s like you’re stuck underwater. Like you’re drowning. You don’t know how long you sit there—minutes? Hours? Time blurs, slipping through your fingers like sand. All you know is that you can’t do this.

You inhale sharply, forcing your mind through the fog of panic. There’s only one thing you can do right now. Only one thing that makes sense. Before you tell Jake—before you even let yourself fully believe this—you need to be sure. A pregnancy test is just plastic and dye. It could be wrong. It could be wrong. A doctor. You need a doctor.

The thought latches onto you like a lifeline. If you go to the doctor and they tell you this is a mistake—if they tell you that somehow, someway, those pink lines don’t mean what you think they mean—then you can pretend this moment never happened. You can wipe it from existence. You have to know. Your phone is on your nightstand, facedown, dark. You force yourself to move, to function. Your limbs feel heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and fear and the sheer impossibility of what’s happening, but somehow, you grab it. Your fingers are still shaking when you pull up the campus clinic’s number.

You hesitate. Your thumb hovers over the call button, the moment stretching out in front of you. Because if you make this appointment—if you hear a doctor say the words out loud— Then it’s real. And once it’s real, you can never go back. A single tear drips onto the phone screen, smudging the numbers. You close your eyes. And you press call.

The next day feels like a fever dream. You go through the motions, pretending your world hasn’t tilted off its axis. But every breath, every step, every blink reminds you that something is different. That there’s something inside you—growing, forming, changing everything. You haven’t said a word to anyone.

Yuna had texted this morning to let you know she was crashing at her friend’s place again. You almost told her. You almost begged her to come home, to sit with you, to make you feel like you weren’t completely alone in this—but you couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not until the doctor confirms what you already know deep in your bones. So, you’ve spent the entire day in silence. Sitting with this information like a stone in your gut, waiting for the inevitable unraveling.

You didn’t sleep last night. Every time you closed your eyes, the thoughts crept in—images of Jake, of your future, of what this means for the rest of your life. Of every possibility, every terrible outcome. You’ve always thought of pregnancy as some far-off, abstract concept—something that happened to other people, to people who were ready, to people who wanted it. But not you. Never you.

And now, in just a few hours, you’ll be lying on an exam table, hearing a doctor tell you how far along you are. How long ago your life changed without you even knowing. The thought makes your stomach twist, nausea curling in your throat. You’re so lost in your thoughts that when your phone rings, the sudden sound makes you jump. It’s Jake. Your heart stops. His name flashes on the screen, bold and unmistakable, and for a second, you consider letting it ring. But that’s suspicious. You never ignore Jake’s calls. That would only make him ask questions.

So, you force yourself to breathe, force yourself to steady your voice, and answer. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he echoes, his voice easy, warm. There’s the faint sound of voices and clattering sticks in the background, and you picture him in the locker room, probably shoving his gear into his bag while talking to you. The image is so painfully normal that it makes your chest ache. “What are you up to tonight?” he asks, casual, unaware of the chaos inside you. “Practice should be done around eight. You wanna come over?”

Your grip tightens around the phone. It’s a simple question. A question you’ve answered a hundred times before with some variation of yeah, sure or your place or mine? But tonight, everything is different, and Jake has no idea. You swallow hard, throat dry. “I—I can’t.”

Jake hums, like he doesn’t quite buy it but isn’t ready to push. “You okay?” No. Not even close.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Just tired. I think I just need to sleep it off.” Another pause. You know Jake well enough to know he’s debating whether or not to call you out. But finally, he just sighs. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”

His voice is so normal. So Jake. And for a moment, you almost break. You almost say, Actually, there is something I need. I need you to know. I need you to tell me what the hell we’re supposed to do now. I need you to promise that I’m not in this alone. But the words don’t come. Instead, you rush out, “I gotta go,” before he can say anything else. You don’t wait for his response. You hang up, your hand shaking as you set your phone facedown beside you.

The room is too quiet again. Your heart is pounding, adrenaline making your whole body feel light and untethered. You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when everything inside you is breaking apart. And yet, that’s exactly what you do. You wipe at your face, stand up, and grab your coat. The appointment is waiting. And whether you’re ready or not— You’re about to find out exactly how much time you have left before you have to tell Jake the truth.

The air outside is sharp, biting against your skin as you step out of your dorm. It’s early evening, but the sky is already dark, winter pressing its cold fingers into everything it touches. Streetlights flicker to life, their glow hazy against the fog of your breath as you exhale, pulling your coat tighter around yourself. The clinic isn’t far. Just a short walk across campus. Still, every step feels heavier than the last.

Your stomach churns with nerves, your hands stuffed deep in your pockets to hide their trembling. The closer you get, the more the reality of what you’re about to do sinks in. There’s no turning back after this. Once the doctor confirms it—once they tell you exactly how far along you are—you’ll have no choice but to face this head-on. No more pretending. No more hoping the test was wrong. You wish Yuna were here. You wish someone was here.

But instead, you walk into the clinic alone, head ducked, shoulders curled in like you can make yourself disappear. The receptionist barely looks up as you check in, only nodding before motioning toward the chairs in the waiting area. You sit. The room smells like antiseptic and old magazines, too-bright lights buzzing overhead. Your legs bounce restlessly, fingers twisting in your lap. The other people waiting don’t even spare you a glance, but you still feel exposed, like someone could look at you and just know. Your name is called.

Your body moves on autopilot, following the nurse down the hall, into a room. She asks questions. You answer without really hearing yourself, your voice robotic, like you’re reciting lines for a role you never wanted. Then the real part begins. You lie back on the table, cold gel spread across your stomach. The machine hums to life, and your heart pounds. You don’t know if you want to look. You don’t know if you can. But then the doctor says, “There it is.” And you do. You look.

The screen is grainy, shifting black and white, impossible to make sense of at first. Then she moves the wand, adjusting the angle, and— Your breath catches. A tiny flicker. Your whole body freezes. “That’s the heartbeat,” the doctor says softly. “Would you like to hear it?”

Because this isn’t just a concept anymore. This isn’t just two pink lines or a mistake or a problem you don’t know how to solve. This is real. And whether you’re ready or not, this is happening. The doctor speaks again, gentle but firm. “You’re about seven weeks along.”

Seven weeks. You squeeze your eyes shut. Because now there’s a heartbeat. Now there’s a timeline. Now there’s no way out of this moment, no way to pretend it hasn’t already changed you. You leave the clinic with a small printout in your hands, the black-and-white ultrasound photo pressed between your fingers. You don’t even know why you took it. Maybe because part of you knows that after tonight, everything is going to change. And Jake still has no idea.

Back in the dorm you're still alone, Yuna not having come back yet. You were grateful for that as you just needed the time alone to process. Your phone buzzes. You flinch at the sudden vibration, your fingers tightening around the ultrasound printout still resting in your lap. It takes a second for you to move, to blink, to tear your gaze away from the tiny, grainy image on the paper. Another buzz. Your stomach twists.

Slowly, like you already know what you’ll see, you reach for your phone and tilt the screen toward you.

Jake: You feeling any better?

You stare at the message, your pulse hammering in your throat. A third buzz.

Jake: Practice just ended. Thinking about you.

What could you even say? Actually, I’m in my dorm having just left the doctor, staring at an ultrasound of the baby I never meant to have with you. But don’t worry, I’ll get back to you when I figure out how the hell to tell you. Another buzz. This time, it’s a call and you panic. Your heart slams against your ribs, and before you can stop yourself, you flip the phone over, screen-down, silencing it. The call cuts off. A few seconds later, another text comes through.

Jake: You good?

Your breathing is uneven. Your hands are shaking. You can’t do this. Not right now. You toss your phone away on the bed, like that will somehow make it all go away. Like that will somehow delay the inevitable. But you know it won’t you have to tell him soon, or it will eat you alive.

For the next few hours you sit in silence, still not having left the dorm. The room is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock above your desk. You’re curled up beneath your blankets, exhaustion pressing down on you like a weight. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep after getting back from the clinic, but your body had other plans. It wasn’t restful, though. Even in sleep, your mind wouldn’t stop spinning, replaying the sound of that tiny heartbeat over and over and over again.

Suddenly a soft click of the door was heard. You stir, blinking blearily as the light flicks on. “Hey, are you awake?” Yuna’s voice is gentle, cautious. You push yourself up, rubbing at your eyes as you watch her drop her bag by the door. She looks guilty. “I’m sorry for being gone so long,” she says, brushing a hand through her dark hair. “Our study session ran late, and we figured, why not just turn it into a sleepover? I should’ve texted you more. I feel bad.”

You shake your head, forcing a small, tired smile. “It’s fine. You don’t have to check in with me every second.” Yuna eyes you for a beat, like she’s trying to gauge if you really mean it. Then she sighs, kicking off her shoes before flopping onto the bed beside you. “I missed anything exciting?” Yes. No. everything.

You swallow, shaking your head again. “Not really.” Yuna shifts, turning onto her side to face you. Then, her brows furrow. Her eyes scan your face, tracing the dark circles beneath your eyes, the tension in your jaw, the way you keep fidgeting with the edge of your blanket. “Okay, what’s wrong?” she asks, blunt as ever.

Your heart stutters. “What? Nothing’s wrong.”

Yuna doesn’t buy it for a second. She gives you a look, her sharp, knowing gaze cutting right through your weak attempt at indifference. “Don’t lie to me.” You open your mouth—ready to deny, to deflect, to do anything but tell the truth—but something inside you breaks. The weight of it all, the sheer impossibility of holding it in any longer, crushes you. You don’t say a word. You just reach under your pillow, where the crumpled ultrasound printout is still hidden, and pull it out with trembling fingers.

Then, without looking at her, you hold it out. Yuna blinks, confused for a second—until she takes the paper from your hand and sees. Her entire body goes still. Silence. She stares down at the black-and-white image, her lips parting slightly. Her throat works like she wants to say something, but no words come out. Seconds stretch, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, she looks at you. Her voice is quiet, but sharp with shock. “Is this…?” You nod, your chest tight. Yuna inhales sharply. “Holy shit.” She sits up straighter, like the weight of the moment is finally hitting her. She looks at the ultrasound again, like if she stares long enough, it’ll make sense. Then, eyes wide—voice barely above a whisper—she asks, “…It’s Jake’s? Right?” You let out a dry, humorless laugh, wiping at your face. “Of course, it is.”

She looks up at you, eyes still wide with shock. “He’s the only one I’ve been with in a year,” you add quietly, voice almost getting lost in the space between you. Yuna swallows, nodding slowly, like she’s just now processing how real this is. Like she’s flipping through all the memories she has of you and Jake—of the nights you’d leave your dorm with a smirk and come back in one of his hoodies, of the way you never quite called him your boyfriend, of the way he was always just there. Her gaze sharpens. “How did he take it?”

Your stomach twists. You hesitate just a second too long. Yuna’s face drops. “Oh my god.” She leans forward. “You didn’t tell him?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling deeply before shaking your head. Yuna groans, throwing her head back against the headboard. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Yuna—”

“No.” She sits up straight again, looking at you with something between exasperation and concern. “You have to tell him.”

“I know,” you say, voice tight. “I just—”

“No,” she interrupts. “Not later, not eventually—you need to tell him now.” You shake your head quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your whole body feels cold, like the weight of this conversation is seeping into your bones. “You don’t get it,” you say, your voice almost breaking. “Jake loves hockey. More than anything. More than school, more than his own goddamn life sometimes.” You sniffle, shaking your head again. “If I tell him this, he’ll—” You stop, choking on the words.

He’ll what? Walk away? Shut down? Look at you like you’ve just ruined his entire world? You don’t even know. That’s the problem. Yuna softens. She reaches out, placing a warm hand over yours. “Jake is a good guy,” she says gently. “He would never do that to you.” You stare down at your lap, at your fingers twisting in your hoodie sleeves. She says it like it's a fact. Like there’s no question, no possibility of anything else. But she doesn’t know what you know.

She doesn’t know how much Jake lives for the game, how hockey is the thing that keeps his blood pumping, how he lights up when he talks about it in a way he never has about anything—or anyone—else. She doesn’t know that you’re terrified. Because if you tell Jake, if you say the words out loud— it’s real and it’s scary.

The tears come fast. Faster than you expect. One second, you’re staring at your lap, chest too tight to breathe. The next, your vision is blurring, and your shoulders shake, and a broken sound rips from your throat before you can stop it. Yuna reacts instantly. “Hey—hey, no, don’t cry,” she says, shifting closer. Her arms wrap around you before you even realize what’s happening, pulling you into the warmth of her embrace. “I got you. It’s okay.” but it’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. You bury your face into her shoulder, gripping the fabric of her sweatshirt like it’s the only thing tethering you to the earth. She doesn’t let go, just rubs circles into your back as you fall apart.

“I—I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice muffled. “I’m so scared, Yuna.” She sighs, resting her chin atop your head. “I know.” A fresh wave of tears spills over. You wish you didn’t feel like this. Wish you could be stronger, steadier, more in control. But right now, you’re none of those things. Right now, you’re just a girl who made a mistake and is staring down the consequences. Yuna squeezes you a little tighter. “Listen, whatever happens, you won’t be alone in this, okay? You have me. And when you tell Jake, you’ll have him too. And even if—even if he’s an idiot about it at first, I’ll kick his ass into shape.” That actually makes you let out a weak, teary laugh.

Yuna gasps, dramatic as always. “Did you just laugh? Oh my god, it’s a miracle.” You sniffle. “Shut up.” She pulls back just enough to grin at you, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m serious, though. If worst comes to worst, you and I will just get married and raise the baby together. Two badass moms against the world.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, real this time. “You’d hate being married to me.”

“Yeah, but I’d do it out of love. I’d be the hot, rich, wine-drunk mom. You’d be the stressed one who has to actually parent.” You roll your eyes, but the weight in your chest feels just a little bit lighter. Yuna smiles. “See? You’re gonna be okay.” and you think, maybe she’s right, maybe you will be okay.

The next day feels like a blur. Again. Like you’re going through the motions of life with no real end goal. You know you have to get up, do something. Tell Jake that he’s going to be a fucking father because the longer you keep this a secret the more its eating you up inside out.

You let the calls go to voicemail. You leave the texts unread. And now, as the sun sets and the room is cast in a dim, golden glow, you’re still here—still stuck, still waiting, still pretending for just a little longer that none of this is happening. But then there's a knock on your door. And you're scared shitless because you think you know who it is. For a second, you don’t move, barely even breathe. Then another knock—firmer this time.

Slowly, legs unsteady beneath you, you rise from the couch. Your hands feel cold as you grip the doorknob, pulse hammering in your ears as you turn it and pull the door open. And there he is. Jake. Standing in the dimly lit hallway, his hair still damp from a shower, his brows drawn together in confusion and concern. His eyes—those warm, familiar eyes—scan over you, taking in your messy hair, the exhaustion written all over your face, the way you’re not meeting his gaze.

His voice is quieter now, tinged with something almost like worry. You swallow hard and your chest tightens, because this is it. There's no more running because Jake is right here in front of you. Jake doesn’t wait for permission. The second you hesitate, the second you shift like you might try to close the door on him, he pushes inside.

The door clicks shut behind him, sealing you both in. He stands there, shoulders tense, his eyes scanning over you like he’s trying to read your mind. His brows are furrowed, frustration flickering behind his gaze. “What the hell is going on with you?” he demands.

Your stomach knots. “Jake—”

“No, seriously,” he cuts in, voice sharp. “Why the hell have you been ignoring me all day? You haven’t answered a single one of my texts, didn’t pick up any of my calls. I had to come here just to get you to look at me.” You take a step back, wrapping your arms around yourself. The room feels too small, the air too thick. “I told you. I’m sick.”

Jake scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s bullshit.” Your breath catches. He shakes his head, eyes narrowing as he watches you. “You don’t just disappear like that. You don’t just cut me off without a reason.” He exhales sharply, like he’s trying to keep his temper in check. “Did I… do something?” His voice is quieter now, more cautious.

Your voice is small when you finally speak. “You didn’t do anything.” Jake takes a step closer, searching your face. “Then what is it?” You inhale shakily. Your hands tremble at your sides. Your throat burns. It’s time. There’s no easy way to do this. No way to soften it.

So you just say it. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence. It crashes over the room like a tidal wave. Jake doesn’t move, for a moment it looks like he doesn’t even breathe. Completely still. His face goes blank, his lips parting slightly like the words haven’t fully registered. His fingers twitch at his sides, his whole body stiff with shock. You stare at him, heart pounding, waiting—waiting for something. Some kind of reaction. Some kind of response. But he doesn’t say a word. Your stomach twists. He just keeps standing there, frozen, staring at you like you’ve just rewritten his entire reality. And maybe you had.

You bite your lip, blinking back the burn in your eyes. When you finally speak again, your voice is quieter. Sharper. “This is your only chance to take the out.” Jake’s brows pull together slightly, but he still says nothing. You swallow the lump in your throat. “If you don’t want this, if you don’t want to be responsible for a baby, you can walk away. Right now.” Your voice shakes. “No one would blame you. I won’t blame you.” Jake blinks. Still silent. Still motionless. Your heart slams against your ribs. You hate this. Hate this. Hate that you don’t know what’s going through his head. Hate that you feel this vulnerable, this exposed, this small.

You force yourself to look him in the eyes. “I know hockey is your life..” You trail. “ I know that’s what you’re thinking about right now. You forget that before..this, we were friends. good friends. I know what hockey means to you and I would never in a million years ask for you to choose. So I'm giving you a choice. be a dad or walk away. Neither of those involve not playing hockey. but i’m telling you right now. if you choose this, if you’re all in you better be all in because this is your only time to tap out. don’t get my hopes up then crush them when it gets too hard because i’ll never forgive you for that.”

Jake just stands there. Still silent. Still unreadable.

“Why are you not saying anything?” You whispered brokenly, the silence almost too much to bear. “Please say something.”

Finally, Jake’s mouth opens but then it shuts again like he’s trying to find the ability to speak. Like a failing fish out of water. It’s nerve wracking, your body feels like it's on fire. “Please Jake.” You beg, at your wits end.

“You’re giving me an out..” He trailed off, and your heart sank at the words. Was he really going to walk away and leave you to raise a baby alone? The thought terrified you to no end. “You’re giving me an out and a very big part of me is screaming at me to take it. it would be the smart thing, the easy thing and maybe the best thing for my career. My brain is ticking, yelling over and over ‘take the out, take the out. but there is a small part of me that outways the rest, a part that won’t let me be like the man who didn’t have the guts to raise me. that refuses to leave this kid, my kid, without a father. so, yes I'm quiet and yes I'm not saying anything. because my mind is going to war trying to think of a way to be a dad and a damn good hockey player at the sametime.”

“Okay.” You said simply. And for a while you both sat in silence, neither of you finding the right words to say. Until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Did you figure it out?” You asked him. Jake’s eyes closed, a deep breath falling from his lips.

“No.” He said simply, “but I will.” Your head shot up in surprise, your eyes wide and glassy with tears threatening to spill.

“You’re in?” You ask with a strained voice.

“I’m in.”

Jake and yourself had a lot more that you had to talk about, that was for sure. But the confirmation of him staying and raising this baby with you had definitely lifted a large weight off your shoulders and although you were less terrified it didn’t mean you were prepared. You were having a baby for god's sake. That scared you to death. And you weren't sure if you were entirely ready for it.

Over the next few weeks Jake does things that prove he's all in. The first time Jake shows up, you don’t expect it. You step out of the campus doors, arms wrapped around yourself, still shaken from your last appointment. The air is crisp, biting at your skin as you take a deep breath, trying to center yourself. And then you hear it. The sound of footsteps. The rustling of fabric. And then - “Hey.” Your head snaps up. Jake is there, leaning against the side of his car, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. His hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it all day, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder like he just came from practice.

Your stomach flips. “What are you doing here?” you ask. Jake shrugs, pushing off the car. “Thought you might need a ride.”

You hesitate, tightening your grip on the sleeve of your hoodie. “I can take the bus,” you say, voice quiet. Jake raises a brow. “You could. Or you could let me drive you home.” You don’t have the energy to argue. Not today. So you nod. Jake doesn’t say much on the ride back. He keeps his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel, but every so often, his gaze flickers toward you — like he’s checking to make sure you’re still there.

It keeps happening.

A few days later, a jersey appears on the back of your desk chair. One of Jake’s, the fabric worn in places, his last name sprawled across the back in bold letters. You pick it up, running your fingers over the lettering. There’s a note tucked into the sleeve. "Just in case you need something warm." Your breath catches.

The next time you see him, you don’t bring it up. But when you wear the jersey around your dorm, you pretend not to notice the way Yuna raises a knowing brow. Jake keeps showing up. Not in the obvious ways, not in ways that force anything. But in the background. In the small things. A decaf coffee left on your desk when you step out of class. A text asking if you’ve eaten. A moment at the rink where he catches your eyes before disappearing into the locker room. He doesn’t say anything about the pregnancy. Not yet. But he’s there. And that terrifies you just as much as it comforts you.

Jake isn’t there. Not really. His body is on the ice, his skates cutting across the surface, his hands gripping his stick, but his mind—his mind is still sitting in that sterile doctor’s office, staring at a screen where a tiny, flickering heartbeat had filled the room. "There’s your baby." He can still hear the doctor’s voice, still feel the way his stomach had plummeted as the reality of it settled in, pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake. "Your baby." Jake clenches his jaw, gripping his stick tighter.

“Jake!” The sharp bark of his name barely registers before — CRACK. The puck flies past him, a blur of black and white as it slams into the boards. “Jesus Christ, Sim!” Jake blinks, snapping back into focus just in time to see his coach skating toward him, fuming. His teammates shift uncomfortably, casting wary glances between them as Coach Bennet stops in front of Jake, eyes blazing.

“You wanna tell me where the hell your head is at today?” Coach snaps. “Because it sure as hell isn’t here.” Jake swallows hard. His grip on his stick tightens, knuckles going white. “I—” Coach doesn’t let him finish.

Coach exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Take five.” Jake doesn’t argue. He skates off the ice, his heart pounding. He needs to get his head straight. Now. Because if he doesn’t — He might just lose everything.

Jake barely makes it through the rest of practice. He’s off. Way off. His passes are sloppy. His shots lack power. He’s slow to react, too caught up in his head to play the way he’s supposed to. By the time Coach blows the final whistle, Jake is drenched in sweat and running on empty. His entire body feels tense, like his muscles are wound so tight they might snap. He just needs to get out of here.

He needs to shower, grab his stuff, and go check on you. But before he can make it out of the locker room — “Yo, Sim!” Jake glances up, spotting Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon making their way toward him. Jay slings an arm over his shoulders, still dripping wet from his shower. “We’re heading to a party tonight. You coming?”

Jake doesn’t even hesitate. “No.”

Jay pulls back slightly, raising a brow. “No?”

“Dude,” Sunghoon snorts. “It’s a Friday night, and you’re passing up a party? Who are you?” Jake exhales, shaking his head as he shoves his gear into his bag. “I just—” He hesitates. “I have somewhere to be.”

Heeseung leans against the lockers, crossing his arms. “You’ve been weird as hell all day, man.” Jay nods. “Yeah, what’s going on with you?”

Jake grips the strap of his duffel so tight it hurts. He could make something up. Should make something up. But instead — it just spills out, before Jake could stop it. “She’s pregnant.” The words hang heavy in the air. None of them move. None of them speak. Jay blinks. “Wait. What?” and Jake laughs.

His head falls into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he lets it out. Because he’s scared. Because he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. Because this isn’t part of the plan. And for the first time in his entire life, he doesn’t know how to fix it. “Fuck, man,” Heeseung breathes. Jay is the first to move, stepping closer and clamping a firm hand on Jake’s back. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jake shakes his head. “No, it’s not.” His voice is raw, shaky. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

Sunghoon exhales through his nose. “Okay, first? Breathe.” Jake tries. And fails. He sucks in a breath, but it feels like nothing is getting in. His heart is racing, his mind spinning, and everything is just — “Jake.” Jay squeezes his shoulder. “You’re not alone in this.” Jake lifts his head, eyes red, glassy.

“We got you, man,” Heeseung says quietly. “No matter what.” Sunghoon nods. “Yeah. And, I mean—” He gestures around. “This isn’t exactly news you should be dealing with alone.”

Jay nudges him lightly. “Have you told her how you feel?” Jake wipes at his face, sniffing. “I don’t even know how I feel.” His voice wobbles. “I just—I need to see her.” Jay exchanges a glance with Heeseung before looking back at him. “Then go”

Jake doesn’t wait. He grabs his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and leaves.

The knock at your door startles you. You freeze mid-reach for your phone, heart suddenly hammering in your chest. You already know who it is. For a second, you consider ignoring it. Pretending you’re asleep. Pretending you’re busy. You’re not sure you want any company. But you can’t do that forever.

So you force yourself up, smoothing down the front of your sweater as you cross the room. You take a steadying breath, gripping the doorknob with fingers that tremble just slightly, and pull it open. Jake stands there. The first thing you notice is the hoodie—dark gray, pulled up over his head, casting a shadow over his face. His duffel bag is slung over one shoulder, his hockey gear probably stuffed inside. His posture is a little tense, like he had to talk himself into coming here. But the real thing that catches your attention is what he’s holding.

Jake hesitates for just a second before stepping inside. The door clicks shut behind him. He doesn’t look around, doesn’t hesitate, just walks straight over to your desk and sets the bag down before collapsing onto your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like this is normal. Like nothing between you has changed. He stretches out slightly, fingers drumming against his thigh before he looks at you.

“So,” he says, voice easy, like he’s not breaking some invisible barrier by being here. “How was your day?” You blink. It’s such a simple question, but it feels heavier than it should. Because what does he want to hear? That you spent most of it overthinking? That you barely slept last night, kept up by the thought of everything crashing down around you? That every time you close your eyes, you see your own future in a way you never imagined it before? Instead, you inhale deeply and say, “It was fine.” Jake gives you a look. You fidget slightly under his gaze before sighing and elaborating.

“I had class this morning,” you start, perching on the edge of your chair. “Yuna and I grabbed coffee after, but the barista completely messed up my order, so I ended up drinking the strongest espresso of my life. I swear I could hear colors after that.” Jake snorts, shaking his head. “Then I came back to my room, tried to take a nap, but the guys across the hall decided to have a full-on garage band session at, like, peak volume.” You groan, rubbing your temples. “It sounded like someone was murdering an electric guitar.”

Jake tilts his head. “Were they at least good?”

You deadpan. “No.” He chuckles, the sound low and familiar, something that almost makes you feel lighter. So you keep talking. You tell him about your classes, about how Yuna dragged you into watching some new drama that she’s absolutely obsessed with. About how you got sucked into a rabbit hole of cat videos on your phone, and one was so funny that you laughed until you cried. And the whole time, Jake listens. Not just in the polite, half-distracted way people sometimes do. No—he really listens. He nods at the right moments. Asks questions. Throws in sarcastic comments that make you roll your eyes but also bite back a smile. And it’s so… easy.

You shouldn’t be staring at Jake. But you are. It’s not your fault, really. He’s sitting on your bed like he belongs there, hoodie still pulled up, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on your blanket. The room is dim, just your bedside lamp casting a soft glow, making everything feel warmer. Closer. And maybe it’s the lighting, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s here, but — he looks good. Really, good. You could blame it on the hormones but you know that’s not entirely true, you were attracted to Jake enough to fuck him on the regular.

Which is so not what you should be thinking about right now. Especially when everything between you is so much bigger than it used to be. Still, you can’t help but glance at him as you chew your food, watching the way his jaw tenses like he’s caught up in his own head. So, to fill the silence, you ask, “What about you? What did you do today?”

Jake blinks, like you’ve just pulled him out of a thought he wasn’t ready to leave. Then he sighs. “Practice.” You raise a brow. “That’s it?” He huffs out a soft laugh. “That’s pretty much all I do.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back against your pillows. “Yeah, yeah. Hockey is life.” Jake smirks. “Glad you’re finally getting it.” You nudge him lightly with your foot, and for the first time in days, something feels normal. But then you see the way his smirk fades slightly, the way his fingers keep fidgeting.

“How was practice?” you ask. Jake hesitates. And you can tell — whatever it is, he doesn’t want to say it. But after a moment, he sighs. “It sucked.” That makes you pause. Jake never complains about practice. Even when he’s exhausted, even when he’s been chewed out by his coach, even when he’s sore and bruised—he always shrugs it off. It’s just part of the game. So the fact that he’s saying it now means something.

“Why?” you ask, setting your food down. Jake drags a hand through his hair, exhaling. “I don’t know. I couldn’t focus. Coach was on my ass all day. Kept telling me to get my head in the game.” He shakes his head, voice quieter now. “I just… couldn’t.” Your chest tightens. Because you know. You know why he couldn’t focus. And it hits you, suddenly — Jake is scared. Maybe not in the same way you are. Maybe not in the overwhelming, spiraling, how-will-I-ever-handle-this way that’s been sitting heavy in your chest since you saw that test.

But still—Jake is scared. And for the first time since this whole thing started, you realize, You’re not the only one whose world is changing. Jake won’t look at you. His eyes stay fixed on some invisible point in the room, his jaw tense, fingers still picking at the frayed thread on your blanket. He looks like he wants to say something, like there’s too much sitting on his tongue, but he doesn’t know where to start. And for some reason, that makes your chest ache.

“Jake…” you start carefully. His head tilts slightly, but he still doesn’t meet your gaze. You swallow. “Is it because of—”

“You,” Jake says suddenly. The word is soft. Quiet. But it still punches the air right out of your lungs. Your breath catches. “Me?” Jake finally lifts his eyes to yours, and god, they’re unreadable. Dark, searching—like he’s trying to figure out what the hell to do with everything inside him.

“Yeah,” he mutters. His voice is rough, like he’s only just now admitting it to himself. “It’s you. It’s… this.” He gestures vaguely, and you know he means all of it. The pregnancy. The secret you held onto for weeks. The way everything between you is shifting, unsteady, the ground cracking beneath both of you in real time. And it’s weird. Because part of you has spent so long thinking about how this will change your life—how everything is unraveling for you—that it didn’t even occur to you that Jake is unraveling too.

That he’s scared. Just like you. The thought makes something twist deep in your stomach. You exhale, shifting slightly so you’re facing him completely. “I didn’t mean to mess everything up for you.” Jake’s brows knit together immediately. “What?” You glance down at your hands. “I know hockey is your whole life, Jake. I know you’ve got… plans, and dreams, and this wasn’t supposed to happen. And now it’s just—” You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek before whispering, “I don’t want you to hate me for it.”

Jake stiffens. The room is silent for a long, painful moment. Then, suddenly, he shifts—pushing himself off the bed and moving toward you so fast that your breath stumbles. He doesn’t touch you, but he’s closer now. Close enough that you can see the way his knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping his hoodie sleeves.

“Don’t say that,” he says, voice low. “Don’t ever say that.” You blink up at him, startled by the sudden intensity in his eyes. Jake shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “I could never hate you.” Your throat tightens. “But I—”

“You didn’t do this alone.” His voice is firm, certain. “You didn’t just wake up one day and decide to flip my life upside down. I was there, too.” You let out a weak, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m the one carrying it.” Jake flinches slightly at the word carrying, but he doesn’t look away.

“I know,” he says. His voice is softer now. “And I know it’s different for you. I know I’ll never fully get what that feels like.” He swallows hard. “But this isn’t just on you, okay? I’m scared too.” Your heart stutters. Because this is Jake. The Jake who’s always been so steady. So sure of himself. Who skates like nothing in the world could shake him. And now he’s sitting in front of you, looking like he’s the one who can’t find his footing.

You don’t know what to say. So you just nod. Jake exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before falling back onto your bed. He stares at the ceiling for a long second, letting the silence settle between you again. Then, with a small, almost bitter laugh, he says, “God, no wonder Coach was on my ass all day.”

That startles a laugh out of you. It’s small, barely there, but Jake notices. His lips twitch. “Oh, so now it’s funny?”

You sniffle, shaking your head. “I mean… kinda.” Jake groans, throwing an arm over his face. “Glad you’re enjoying my suffering.” You roll your eyes, nudging his foot lightly with yours. “It’s not suffering, it’s called consequences.” Jake drops his arm, lifting his head to give you a flat look. “I don’t like that word.”

You smirk. “Well, get used to it.” For a moment, you just sit there, looking at each other. And something settles. The air is still heavy, the weight of everything still pressing down on both of you. But… It doesn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

The rest of the night kept going just like that, sat next together watching reruns, laughing about everything. You’re trying to focus on the show playing in front of you. Really, you are. But it’s hard—and not just because Jake keeps making little comments about the plot, half-serious, half to mess with you. It’s because you can’t stop thinking about it. Something that has been plaguing you these past few weeks. The feeling has been creeping up on you for weeks now, an itch under your skin that only seems to get worse. At first, you thought it was just stress, or maybe a weird symptom of everything your body was going through. But now, sitting here next to Jake, your legs tucked up under you, his thigh warm where it brushes against yours —

You know exactly what it is. And god, it’s humiliating. Because there’s no good way to say it. Hey, Jake, I know our lives are changing forever, but by the way, I’m really, really horny. You press your lips together, eyes flickering toward him. He looks relaxed, his arm slung lazily over the back of your bed, fingers occasionally tapping against the blanket. His hoodie has shifted slightly, revealing a strip of skin above the waistband of his sweats, and why are you even looking at that?

You force yourself to look back at the screen, gripping your blanket like it might physically restrain you from saying something stupid. But then Jake shifts, turning toward you slightly. “You good?” You freeze. “What?”

Jake gives you a look. “You keep making weird faces.” Shit. You clear your throat, shaking your head quickly. “I’m fine.” Jake raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You sure?”

No. “Yeah.” but he doesn’t look away, god can he just look away. “Because if something’s wrong—”

“I said I’m fine,” you blurt, a little too quickly, a little too defensive. Jake blinks. You clamp your mouth shut. Then, slowly, his expression shifts. Like he’s figuring something out. Like he’s putting a puzzle together, piece by piece. And suddenly, you regret everything. Because this is Jake.

Jake, who knows your body better than anyone. Jake, who has spent the last year reading your little shifts and signals, knowing exactly when you wanted him—when you needed him—even before you ever said a word. And now he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what’s on your mind. Your stomach flips. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something — But you panic, snatching the remote and turning the volume up way too high.

Jake flinches at the sudden blare of noise. “Jesus—”

“Sorry!” You fumble with the remote, lowering it again. “My hand slipped.” Jake stares at you. Then—slowly—he smirks. Your stomach plummets. “Your hand slipped?” he repeats, amusement dripping from his tone. You nod quickly. “Yep.” Jake tilts his head, still watching you. Your heart is pounding. And you realize, with absolute horror, that there is no way you’re getting out of this.

Jake is still watching you. And you can tell by the glint in his eyes, the way his smirk is growing, that he knows something’s up. So, before he can start teasing you, you blurt out the first thing on your mind. “Are you gonna sleep with other girls?”

Jake stills. His smirk drops instantly. His whole expression shifts from amused to completely caught off guard. “What?” You don’t back down. You cross your arms, looking straight at him. “Now that I’m, you know…” You gesture vaguely toward your stomach. “Are you still gonna sleep with other people?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “No.” Just that. No. No hesitation, no confusion, just a simple, matter-of-fact no. And that does something to you. Because you weren’t even sure why you asked it. Maybe because you never really talked about exclusivity before. Maybe because things between you have felt so different lately, and you needed to know. Or maybe because part of you was scared that nothing was different for Jake that he’d still be going out, still be with other girls, while you were here, pregnant with his child.

But now, sitting here, watching the way his brows are still pulled together like he can’t believe you even asked Something inside you loosens. You exhale. “Good.” Then, before you can overthink it, before Jake can even process what’s happening You lean in and kiss him.

Jake freezes. It’s so different from the way things used to be. Before, your kisses were quick, hungry, never filled with anything but need. But this is slow. This is intentional. And it’s Jake who responds first.

He melts into you, his hand reaching up to cup your jaw, tilting your face just right as he deepens the kiss. His lips are warm, familiar, but there’s something new in the way he kisses you now, something softer, something that lingers. And god, you need him. Every built-up thought, every moment of tension from the last few weeks, crashes into you all at once. You press closer, hands fisting into his hoodie, pulling him in.

Jake makes a low sound in his throat, his grip tightening slightly, his other hand sliding down to your waist. His fingers skim the hem of your shirt, hesitate — Then he pulls away just slightly, forehead resting against yours, breathing hard. “Are you—” His voice is hoarse, strained. “Are you sure?” You nod. Jake studies you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. But when he finds none, his lips crash into yours again. And this time Neither of you stop. Jake kisses you like he’s making up for lost time.

Like he’s been waiting for this, just as much as you have. His hands slide up your sides, slow and careful, like he’s still giving you a chance to change your mind but you don’t. You can’t. You press closer, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie, and that’s all it takes. A low curse slips from his lips as he pulls the hoodie over his head, tossing it aside. The sight of him, his flushed skin, his rapid breathing sends a shiver through you. He’s so warm, and when his hands find your hips, you let him guide you back against the pillows, your body reacting on instinct.

Everything feels different. Not in a bad way. Not in a way that makes you hesitate. Just in a way that makes you aware of the weight of his body, the way he touches you, the way he looks at you. Because for the first time, it’s not just mindless. For the first time, Jake is looking at you like he actually sees you. And god, you want him.

His lips trail down, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your neck, your shoulder everywhere. His hands are careful, slower than usual, like he’s savoring the moment instead of rushing through it. And that’s the thing there’s no rush. Because tonight isn’t about just getting lost in each other. Tonight is something else. Something neither of you have had before. And as Jake’s lips find yours again, breathless, desperate, needing you let yourself fall.

He took his time peeling off every layer of clothing that stood in your way, his sensual kisses leaving butterfly like feelings in his wake as he moved them up and down the expanse of your neck. It was more romantic than you had ever experienced. He was taking his time with you, cherishing your body as he helped you, cradled you. There was beauty in the way the two of you were finally joined, again.

You are on top of him, your knees on either side of his hips, lifting yourself up than crashing down to the tune of your own heartbeat in your ears. Jake drank in the sight of you, his hands running up and down your body, squeezing at your breasts like a vice. They were noticeably bigger and it was apparent that Jake loved it.

Your moans and groans grew in tandem as Jake whispered dirty things into your ear. The gasps he let out everytime your hips slapped against yours served as a catalyst to your already awaiting orgasm. It hit you like a tidal wave, washing over your body in its wake. Jake followed not long after. His body is shaking along with yours. And when it was over, you sat atop him with him still nestled deep inside of you and fell asleep. Feeling more peaceful than you have in weeks.

The next morning, the first thing you register is warmth. It’s different from the usual comfort of your blankets or the lingering haze of sleep. It’s heavier, grounding, and when you blink your eyes open, it takes you a second to realize why. Jake is still next to you. He’s lying on his stomach, face half-buried in the pillow, one arm stretched lazily across your waist. His breathing is slow, deep, even, and in the soft morning light filtering through your curtains, he looks so peaceful. So different.

He shifts against the pillow, letting out a low hum as his lashes flutter open, still heavy with sleep. His grip on you tightens for a second before he pulls away, rubbing at his face. You watch as he blinks a few times, clearly still waking up, before his gaze finally settles on you. A small, lazy smile.

"Mornin’," he murmurs, his voice low, hoarse. You swallow, forcing yourself to look away from the mess of his hair, the sleep-drunk warmth in his eyes. "Morning." Jake shifts onto his side, his movements slower than usual, more relaxed. His eyes flicker toward the bedside table, where his phone buzzes quietly, before he turns back to you.

"The frat’s having a thing tonight," he says, voice still rough from sleep. "Not a party, just a small get-together. You should come." You hesitate. "A get-together?"

Jake nods, stretching one arm above his head before letting it drop back onto the pillow. "Yeah. Just the guys, Yunjin, Yuna, Heeseung’s girl. No crazy shit." He tilts his head slightly, studying you. “It might be good for you.” There’s something careful in the way he says it. Like he’s watching for your reaction. And the truth is, you don’t know how to feel. You haven’t really been out since everything happened. The idea of being around everyone again of feeling like things are normal when they’re so clearly not makes something twist in your chest.

Jake notices. "You don’t have to," he says, quieter now. “I just thought—" He stops, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I just thought you might wanna get out for a bit. Clear your head.” And the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker to your stomach for the briefest second before meeting yours again. You know what he means. He’s giving you an out. If you don’t want to go, he won’t push. If you say no, he won’t mention it again. But the idea lingers.

Because part of you does miss it. Misses laughing with Yuna and Yunjin, miss sitting around and watching Heeseung get bullied by the guys, miss feeling like yourself. Even if things aren’t the same anymore. You exhale slowly, biting the inside of your cheek. “…Okay.” Jake blinks, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually agree. Then slowly, a small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah?” You nod, and something inside you eases. This could be fun and god knows you need that in your life right about now.

That night, air is crisp as you step outside, carrying the first whispers of winter on its breath. You tug your coat tighter around you, relishing in the warmth as you walk alongside Jake. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, the fabric pulled over his head, but you can still see the easy grin playing at his lips. There’s something light about tonight, something you hadn’t expected. It’s been weeks of suffocating thoughts, of holding your breath, of feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on your chest. But tonight, for the first time, that pressure isn’t there. Maybe it’s because you’re choosing this. Or maybe it’s because Jake's here with you.

Jake glances at you as you walk. “You good?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” He nudges your arm lightly with his elbow, playful, teasing. “Because I don’t wanna show up and have you ditch me two minutes in. That’d be kinda embarrassing.” You roll your eyes but can’t fight the small laugh that escapes you. “I’m not gonna ditch you.” Jake hums, side-eyeing you like he doesn’t quite believe you. “I dunno. You’ve been real unpredictable lately.” You nudge him back, a little harder this time, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

The sidewalk stretches ahead, illuminated by the golden glow of streetlights. It’s late enough that campus is quiet, the usual bustle of students reduced to only the occasional passing group, muffled laughter carrying through the air. The night feels calm. Jake walks beside you in that familiar, effortless way—like being near you is second nature. And maybe it is. Maybe, despite everything, it always has been You glance over at him. “So, what exactly is this get-together?”

Jake shrugs. “Just a small thing. Heeseung and Jay wanted to do something before our next away game. No crazy party, just hanging out.”

“And you’re sure about that?”

“Swear on my life.” He presses a hand over his heart. “No surprise kegs, no random strangers passing out in the hall. Just us.” It sounds… nice. Like the kind of normalcy you hadn’t realized you missed until now. The thought makes you exhale softly, your steps slowing just a fraction. You hadn’t expected to feel good tonight. Hadn’t expected to look forward to anything, let alone this. Jake notices your pause and turns slightly, walking backward now so he can face you. “Hey,” he says, tilting his head, “we can still turn around, you know. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” But you do.

So you shake your head. “I wanna go.” Jake studies you for a second, like he’s searching for any hesitation. But there isn’t any. Not tonight. Eventually, he nods. “Okay,” he says. Then, his lips twitch into something softer. “Good.” And as you near the house, the sound of laughter spilling out onto the porch, the glow of string lights hanging from the windows, You realize you’re glad you came.

The warmth of the frat house greets you the moment you step inside, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The air is thick with the scent of garlic bread and pasta, something home-cooked and rich, filling the space with a kind of comfort you hadn’t expected. Laughter hums in the background, the low murmur of conversation weaving between the sound of utensils clinking against plates. It’s not the kind of party you’d grown used to at this house. No booming music rattling the walls, no overwhelming crush of bodies moving in tandem, no spilled drinks coating the floor in sticky regret. Instead, it feels warm, familiar. Like a gathering of people who actually care about each other. Jake’s friends greet him instantly, throwing easy nods and teasing jabs his way. Jay claps him on the shoulder, Heeseung tosses some offhand comment about how “Wow, Sim, you actually showed up for once?” but then their attention shifts to you.

“Hey!” Yunjin grins, pulling you into a quick hug. “We were wondering if you’d come.” You smile. “Yeah, Jake convinced me.”

“Good. You needed to get out,” Yuna says, appearing at your side with her usual knowing smirk. “You can’t just sit in the dorm watching Netflix and eating fruit snacks for the next few months.”

You narrow your eyes. “That was one time.”

Yunjin snickers. “Sure, babe.”

There’s no judgment in their words, though, just familiarity. That easy friendship that makes your chest loosen. Everyone settles into a comfortable rhythm as the night unfolds, plates passed around, laughter spilling over casual conversation, Jake leaning back into the couch beside you, his arm draped along the back of it, close but not quite touching. And then, at some point, the conversation shifts.

“So,” Yunjin says, sitting forward, her eyes flickering between you and Jake. “We have to talk about something important.” You blink. “Uh… okay?”

Yuna grins. “A baby shower.” You choke on your drink. “A what?”

“A baby shower!” Heeseung’s girlfriend nods eagerly. “Come on, you have to have one! It’ll be so cute!” You stare at them. “I mean, I—”

“It’s not really up to you,” Yunjin interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ve already decided. We’re throwing one.” Jake huffs a small laugh beside you, shaking his head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“You’re having a baby, dude. This is happening.” Jay gestures between the two of you. “You might as well have a party for it.” You glance at Jake, unsure what to say. The idea of a baby shower hadn’t even crossed your mind yet. There’s been so much to think about. doctor’s appointments, your classes, the slow, terrifying reality of your life shifting that something as normal as a baby shower hadn’t even made it onto the list. But the way everyone is looking at you excited, hopeful, like they genuinely want to do this for you makes something warm settle in your chest.

Jake’s knee bumps against yours as he shifts beside you. “What do you think?” he asks, voice low enough that it’s meant just for you. You hesitate for only a second before nodding. “I think…” You exhale, looking back at your friends. “I think it sounds exciting.” The girls cheer. Heeseung claps Jake on the back. “Guess you better start making a registry, man.” Jake groans, but there’s something soft in his expression, something light. Something you’d love to see over and over again until you die.

The conversation drifts naturally, flowing from one topic to the next like the rise and fall of a tide. The laughter still lingers in the air, the warmth of it curling around you like a blanket, but then the topic shifts. Jay leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “Man, this schedule is gonna kill me.”

Heeseung snorts. “You say that every year.”

“Yeah, and I mean it every year.” Jay groans, letting his head fall back against the couch. “Back-to-back away games? We barely get time to breathe.” Jake lets out a low chuckle beside you. “You’re so dramatic.”

Jay lifts his head just enough to glare at him. “Shut up, Sim. You love this shit.” Jake shrugs, unbothered. “I mean, yeah. It’s hockey. What’s not to love?” And just like that, the floodgates open. The guys dive into a conversation that feels almost foreign to you, play schedules, practice drills, strategies for upcoming games. They speak in a language that’s second nature to them, that thrives in their bones, their voices animated, hands gesturing wildly as they argue over stats and game plans. And at first, it’s nothing. At first, you just sit there, listening. But then — Then it starts to settle.

Jake does love this. It’s not just a hobby, not just a college sport—it’s his life. The hours, the dedication, the grueling schedule—it doesn’t seem to weigh on him the way it does the others. He thrives in it. He needs it. And this is just college. If he’s this busy now…

The thought creeps in, slow but merciless. If this is what his schedule looks like now—morning practices, late-night workouts, weekend-long away games—what the hell is it going to look like when he goes pro? Because he will. You know it as sure as you know the sun will rise in the morning. Jake was built for this. It’s what he’s worked for, what he’s bled for. Hockey isn’t just something he loves. It’s his future. And where the hell do you fit into that?

You blink, barely registering that the conversation is still going, that the guys are still talking and laughing and teasing each other, that the warmth of the room hasn’t faded—but suddenly, it feels distant. A dull, steady ache starts in your chest, creeping up your throat, tightening around your ribs. You stare at the flickering candle on the table, at the way the wax pools and hardens, melting and reforming in an endless cycle. They keep talking. And you go quiet.

You don’t even realize how still you’ve gone until Jake nudges your knee with his own. “Hey.” His voice is softer now, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. You look up, meeting his gaze, and there’s a slight furrow between his brows, that subtle shift that tells you he notices. “You okay?” he murmurs, low enough that the others don’t hear. You should say yes. Should push down the thoughts clawing at your chest, the creeping fear that tells you this is a mistake, that you’re deluding yourself into thinking this can work, that you won’t get left behind in the wake of his future.

But your throat is tight. So you just force a smile, nodding once. Jake doesn’t buy it. His gaze lingers, sharp and searching, like he’s trying to figure you out. But before he can press, someone calls his name, dragging him back into the conversation, and you take the out for what it is. You breathe. And the doubt lingers. The room is still alive with conversation, laughter curling at the edges of words, but your mind is somewhere else. Distant. Tangled.

Jake is talking again something about next week’s game, about how they need to tighten their defense but the words barely reach you. They swirl around the room, carried by voices that belong in this world, that fit. And then there’s you. Sitting here, stomach heavy with something that feels like lead, pressing against your ribs, against your lungs. Because how does this work? How do you fit?

You glance at Jake from the corner of your eye. He’s leaning forward now, elbows resting on his knees, brows furrowed as he listens to Heeseung explain something about their last game. He’s so focused. So in his element, like this is exactly where he’s meant to be. And then there’s the baby. And you. Where do you fit in all of this? It was easy, easier when the thought of being pregnant was still something distant, something you were still getting used to. But now it’s real. You’ve seen the ultrasound. Heard the heartbeat. There’s something inside you, someone that’s growing, changing, becoming more real every single day. And Jake..

Jake is here. He’s showing up. He’s bringing you food and taking you to appointments and rubbing the back of his neck in that nervous way every time he catches himself looking at you for too long. But for how long? Because this is just college. This is before the contracts, before the NHL scouts come knocking, before his entire life shifts into something so much bigger than campus arenas and team dinners. You bite your lip, fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. Jake loves hockey. It’s the one thing he’s never wavered on, the one thing that’s been steady, unwavering, untouchable.

And you, You’re just a detour. A pause in his story. A moment in time that he never planned for. He’s already stretched so thin. His schedule is already brutal. Morning practices, games, travel, training when would he even have time for you? For a baby? For late-night feedings and diaper changes and God, what were you thinking? This isn’t sustainable. This isn’t something that fits neatly into his world.

The realization crashes into you all at once, so heavy you almost feel sick. You need to talk to him. But then Jake laughs beside you, head thrown back, voice warm and unbothered, and when he looks at you, his smile is easy, soft. And for a second, just a second you wonder if maybe you’re wrong. Maybe he’s trying. Maybe he wants this. Maybe…

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice low, meant only for you. “You’re quiet.” You blink, jolted from your thoughts, your heart hammering against your ribs. You force a small smile. “Just tired.” Jake’s eyes linger for a second longer, like he doesn’t quite believe you. But then Jay nudges him, pulling him back into the conversation, and the moment is gone. And you, You’re still stuck wondering.

The night air is crisp when Jake pulls up in front of your dorm, the distant hum of campus life still lingering in the background, laughter from passing students, the occasional roar of a car engine down the street, the muffled bass of music from a party somewhere nearby. But inside the car, it’s just you and him.

The warmth of the heater hums softly, filling the silence that has stretched between you since you left the frat house. Jake’s hands are still wrapped loosely around the steering wheel, but he’s not in any rush to move. His eyes flick to you as you shift in your seat, your fingers curling and uncurling in your lap. “You want me to come in?” His voice is careful. Not forceful, not overbearing gentle. An offer. A quiet attempt to be there, to be with you.

You shake your head almost immediately. “No, it’s okay. I think I just wanna sleep.” The words leave your lips too quickly, too practiced, and you can tell by the way Jake’s brows furrow slightly that he catches it. That he knows you’re lying. He doesn’t call you out on it. He just exhales slowly, watching you for a long moment before nodding once. “Alright.” His fingers tap against the steering wheel, a restless little rhythm, like he wants to say more but doesn’t know how.

You push the car door open before he can change his mind and insist, before he can see through you too much. The cold air bites at your skin as you step out, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. You feel Jake’s gaze on you as you turn back toward the car, gripping the edge of the door. “Thanks for the ride.” Jake gives a small nod, his lips pressing together. “Yeah. Of course.”

You linger. For some reason, you linger. Your fingers tighten around the door, the weight in your chest heavy and pulling.Like there’s something that wants to slip out, some small confession that’s buried too deep for you to name just yet. But then Jake shifts in his seat, glancing toward the windshield, and the moment shatters. You clear your throat, forcing a small smile. “Night, Jake.”

His lips twitch slightly, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “Night.” You shut the door and walk away before the doubt in your head can make you turn back.

Inside your dorm, it’s quiet. Too quiet. The air is still, untouched by Yuna’s usual presence—her music, her laughter, her constant, grounding presence that keeps you from feeling like you’re alone with your thoughts. But tonight, you are alone. You toe off your shoes and drop your bag by the door, shrugging off your jacket and letting it slip from your fingers onto the chair nearby. The room feels colder than usual, or maybe that’s just you.

You sit on the edge of your bed, fingers threading through your hair as you stare at the floor. The doubt is back. That creeping, suffocating feeling that has latched onto you ever since the conversation about hockey at dinner. How does this work? You feel like you’re standing at the edge of something. A reality you’re not prepared for, a future that you don’t know how to step into. Jake is here now. But what about when the season gets more intense? What about when the scouts come, when contracts are on the table, when suddenly he’s got offers from teams that are miles and miles away?

What about when the NHL swallows him whole and you and this baby become nothing more than a footnote in his history? Your fingers tremble slightly as you rest them against your stomach. It’s still flat, still unchanged, but you know you know something is growing, shifting, taking root inside you. And yet, you still don’t know where you fit in Jake’s life. Maybe he’s showing up now. Maybe he’s trying. But what if this, this thing between you was never meant to last? You press your lips together, blinking rapidly against the sting behind your eyes. You’re exhausted, your body heavy with the weight of your thoughts, but sleep won’t come easy tonight.

It’s been a week. Seven days of silence. Seven days of unanswered texts, of ignored calls, of messages left on read. You knew it wouldn’t last forever, that eventually, Jake would force his way in. That he’d demand answers, refuse to let you keep pushing him away. But still, when the knock comes; sharp and insistent against your dorm door and your stomach drops.

For a second, you think about pretending you’re not home. But then his voice comes through, firm but edged with something else. Something raw. “Open the door, please.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers curling against the fabric of your hoodie. There’s no running from this. No delaying the inevitable. So you inhale, force your hands to stop shaking, and pull the door open. Jake is standing there, still in his practice gear, sweat dampening the strands of hair curling against his forehead, his hockey duffel slung over one shoulder. He must’ve come straight from the rink, must’ve been thinking about this the entire time because his eyes are already burning with frustration. “What the hell is going on?” he demands.

You cross your arms over your chest, stepping back just enough for him to push past you into the dorm. He does, kicking the door shut behind him, and suddenly the room feels too small. Too full of him. He turns to you, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “You’ve been ignoring me.” You scoff, arms tightening around yourself. “Yeah, well. Maybe that’s because I needed some space.”

Jake shakes his head, running a hand down his face. “Space from what? Me? The baby? This whole situation?” He exhales, something heavy behind it. “You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t know when something’s wrong with you?” You look away, fixing your gaze on the floor. “Jake—”

“No.” His voice cuts through the room, not loud, but firm. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.” Your throat tightens. “I’m not shutting you out.”

“Then tell me what’s going on,” he says, stepping closer. “Tell me why you suddenly don’t want me around. Why are you acting like I’m already failing at something I haven’t even gotten the chance to do yet.” The words hit you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You don’t mean to let it slip out, but suddenly, it’s there.The fear that’s been clawing at you, the doubt that’s been growing like a weed. “Because I don’t know if you can do it, Jake.” Silence.

His expression shifts, the frustration flickering into something else—hurt. You swallow hard, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “You might think you can handle it, but… this isn’t just a game, Jake. This isn’t a season, or a practice, or something you can walk away from if it gets too hard.” Your voice shakes, but you push forward. “This is a baby. A whole life. And you’re already stretched so thin. Your schedule is insane, your life is already moving in a direction that—” You shake your head, looking away. “What if I’m just setting myself up for disappointment?”

Jake exhales sharply, stepping closer again, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are stormy, filled with something desperate, something pleading. “I don’t know how to convince you,” he says, voice rough. “I don’t know how to make you believe me when I tell you that I want this. That I want to be here.” Your lip trembles, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “You can’t just say it, Jake. You have to prove it.” Jake flinches like the words sting, like they land somewhere deep inside him. He presses his lips together, dragging a hand through his hair. “And how am I supposed to do that if you won’t even let me try?” The words linger between you, thick and heavy, suffocating the space between breaths. You don’t have an answer.

So you just whisper, “I need space.” Jake’s shoulders rise and fall with a slow, controlled breath, like he’s forcing himself to accept it. He nods once, lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine.” But then his voice softens, just barely. “I have an away game this weekend. I’ll be gone until Monday.” His eyes search yours, like he’s looking for something, anything to tell him you’re not slipping too far away. “But I’ll be back. And when I am, we’re talking about this.”

You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Okay.” Jake lingers for a moment, like there’s something else he wants to say. But instead, he just exhales, shoulders still tight with tension as he steps back toward the door. And then he’s gone. And the second the door clicks shut behind him, the weight in your chest pulls you under.

The dorm is cloaked in darkness, save for the faint blue light spilling from the television screen. The glow flickers across the walls, illuminating the mess of blankets you’ve curled yourself into on the couch. The volume isn’t high, but it doesn’t need to be. The sound of the game filters in clearly, the scrape of skates on ice, the sharp whistles, the distant roar of the crowd.

You’d told yourself you wouldn’t watch. That you’d let the game pass without so much as checking the score. But now you’re here, heart hammering against your ribs, watching him. Jake. The camera zooms in as he weaves through the defense, his body moving like something fluid, something effortless. His hair is damp with sweat beneath his helmet, strands sticking to his forehead as he skates into position. He’s good. He’s so good.

You can see it in the way he moves, in the way the opposing team struggles to keep up. They’re aggressive, irritated because they know they can’t outplay him, so they’ll try to beat him down instead. And that’s exactly what they do. The hits tonight have been brutal. More than usual. It’s a grueling, ruthless game, bodies slamming against the boards with resounding cracks. The referees aren’t calling much, letting things slide, letting them play too rough.

And then, Sunghoon goes down. Your breath stutters as you watch him crash against the ice, his body crumpling on impact. He tries to get up, his gloved hands pressing against the rink, but something is wrong. His leg. You can tell immediately. The way he winces, the way his teammates circle him in concern, the way the trainer rushes onto the ice. The cameras cut in close. His face is tight with pain.

It takes two people to help him off the ice. Your stomach is twisted in knots, your hands clenched into fists. You hate this. You hate watching them get hurt like this. And then, Jake. He’s too fast, moving up the rink, his stick handling the puck with precision. The opposing team is trailing behind him, trying to keep up, trying to stop him.

They can’t. So one of them doesn’t even try. The moment it happens, you feel it, the wrongness. The guy comes in too fast. The check is too high, too hard, too reckless. And Jake never sees it coming. Your breath stops. Jake’s body is airborne before he crashes into the boards with a force that shakes the glass. The sound of it is sickening,a violent collision of bone, plexiglass, ice. His head snaps back. His helmet slams against the wall with a brutal crack. And then he slumps. He doesn’t move.

Your vision blurs. The game fades into the background, the commentators talking too calm, too casual as Jake remains still. His limbs are tangled awkwardly beneath him, his hand curled slightly over his side, his helmet tilted askew. He still hasn’t moved. Oh God. Move, Jake. Your stomach is in your throat, a sharp, rising panic clawing up your chest. Your hands are shaking. Your breath is coming too fast, too shallow, and you feel like you might be sick.

Then, slowly, he stirs. Not much, just a twitch of his fingers, a subtle shift in his shoulders. But it’s enough for the trainer to rush onto the ice, teammates circling him as he tries to push himself up. The camera zooms in, his face is twisted, his brows drawn together in pain.

His hand is gripping his ribs. Your throat tightens. You can see it, he’s hurting. Even as he shakes his head at the trainer, even as he tries to play it off. He’s trying to act fine, trying to prove he can keep going, but you know him. You can see through it. Jake’s not okay. Tears burn at your eyes, and you don’t even try to fight them. You don’t care that you’ve spent the last week avoiding him, don’t care that you’ve been drowning in doubts, don’t care that you still don’t have all the answers. Because none of it matters right now. Jake is hurt. You just want to be with him, you need to be with him. You have to get to him, and fast.

You barely remember how you got there, your feet pounding the pavement in a haze, the world a blur of motion as you rushed toward the hospital. You’re too frantic to think, too scared to process anything more than the fact that Jake was hurt, hurt in a way you couldn’t ignore, couldn’t pretend didn’t matter. The lights from the hospital sign flicker above you as you stumble through the entrance, the sterile scent of antiseptic and disinfectant hitting you like a wall. Your heart is hammering, the fear sitting heavy in your chest as you make your way to the front desk, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

"I—I’m looking for Jake Sim," you stutter, your voice shaky, too soft as you try to push past the thick knot of panic that clings to your throat. The receptionist eyes you, takes a moment to type something into her computer. “Room 214,” she says flatly, barely glancing up. “He’s being kept for observation.”

Room 214.

The number echoes in your head as you make your way down the hallway, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing faintly. You can hear your pulse pounding in your ears, a steady thrum as you walk faster, too fast, the air around you seeming to constrict with every step. You reach the door. For a moment, you just stand there. Your hand is trembling as you push the door open, the sight of Jake in the bed almost too much to bear. His face is pale, too pale, and his eyes are closed, though he’s awake. He’s hooked up to an IV, his forehead glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

He looks - fragile. Your breath catches in your throat as you step into the room, and it takes everything in you to swallow the rising lump of emotion that threatens to spill out. You’ve seen Jake take hits, seen him get back up from injury after injury. But this feels different. His head turns when he hears the door, his eyes opening slowly, a small smile curling on his lips when he sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, his voice rough but warm, like he’s trying to ease the tension in the air. His smile is weak, his usual confidence stripped away by the injury, but it’s still there. It’s still him.

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” you whisper, your throat tight. You move to his side, hovering for a second before reaching out to touch his hand, your fingers trembling against his. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, the solid reassurance you’ve been craving, yet his grip feels fragile in a way you can’t quite shake.

“I didn’t mean to freak out like I did,” you murmur, your voice cracking. “I know you love the baby, and I know you’ll be there for them. I—I know you’ll be a good dad.” He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes softening as he looks at you. There’s a faint wince on his face as he shifts his weight, but the way his lips curl into something resembling a smile makes your heart ache.

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath until the air rushes out in one long, shaky exhale. Jake’s hand reaches up, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the pain he’s in. “I’ve been an idiot,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been so focused on everything else, and I didn’t stop to think about what you needed. What we needed.”

Tears sting your eyes, a sudden rush of emotion overwhelming you. You hadn’t known how badly you needed to hear those words until they were out in the open. “Jake—” But he’s not letting you finish. He pulls you closer, gently, not forcefully, as though he’s afraid you might break. And when his lips meet yours, it’s soft, soft in a way that makes the world feel like it’s finally falling into place.

You close your eyes, the weight of everything you’ve been carrying melting away in an instant. His kiss is tentative at first, just the brush of his lips against yours, a delicate reassurance that he’s here. That he’s not going anywhere. But then, as if the words he’s spoken have unlocked something inside both of you, the kiss deepens, slow and aching, full of the longing that’s been building between you for weeks. The warmth of his lips against yours is the grounding force you needed to remind yourself that everything was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze full of tenderness, full of something real.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he murmurs. “I’m staying. I’m gonna be here for you, for the baby… for us.” The words resonate deep inside you, a wave of warmth flooding your chest. You don’t know what the future holds, but in this moment, you believe him. You lean your forehead against his, closing your eyes as the world seems to slow down. The hurt, the uncertainty, all of it seems to fade into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your hearts beating in sync.

“I love you,” you whisper. And this time, it’s not a question. It’s not something you’re trying to convince yourself of. It’s just the truth. He smiles, the familiar glint of something unbreakable in his eyes. “I love you, too.” In that moment, you realize that everything’s been leading to this, a moment of vulnerability, of surrender, of knowing that no matter what comes next, you’ve got each other. And maybe that’s all you really need.

AFTER.

The baby shower is a blur of light and warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of happy conversations filling the air. The room is decorated with soft blues and yellows, little stuffed animals and pastel balloons drifting lazily overhead. It’s a cozy, intimate gathering. more like a family get-together than a grand celebration, and everything feels perfect. The air smells faintly of sweet pastries and flowers, and there’s an undeniable sense of anticipation hanging in the air, as if everyone is waiting for the moment when you and Jake’s little one will finally arrive.

Yuna is by your side, her bright smile radiating as she hands you a piece of cake, teasing you about cravings you’d been indulging in the past few months. You laugh along with her, feeling lighter than you have in ages. There’s a sense of peace in this room — a fleeting, magical calmness that you don’t want to end. Every now and then, your hand drifts to your swollen belly, gently pressing against the soft curve of it, as if the little life inside is dancing along to the rhythm of the moment.

Jake, ever the protective figure, is right by your side, his hand resting on the small of your back, his gaze never straying too far from you. His face, always so expressive, is filled with an emotion you can’t quite name, something soft, something cherishing. It’s hard to imagine a time when things were uncertain, when you wondered if he could be the father you needed, the partner you dreamed of. Because now, standing here with him, you know the truth. He’s already there. Already doing everything he can to show you he’s in this for the long haul.

“Do you need anything?” Jake asks, his voice low, full of the kind of care that only someone who loves you like he does can muster. You shake your head, the warmth from his touch making your heart swell. It’s moments like these, quiet, simple moments that remind you how far you’ve come from the uncertainty you once felt. How far you’ve both come.

“Just you,” you smile up at him, the words coming out without a second thought, and he grins at you like it’s the best compliment he could ever receive.

The guests are all mingling now, with the occasional burst of laughter ringing out as the game ideas you and Yuna came up with take full effect. Everyone is gathered around, exchanging baby gifts, newborn clothes, soft blankets, bottles, stuffed animals. Your friends and family are here, laughing and celebrating this new chapter of your life. The people you love most are sharing this with you. And even though there’s a bittersweet ache in your chest, because Sunghoon is absent, recovering from that god-awful injury, there’s a deep sense of thankfulness that wraps around you like a warm blanket.

“Hey,” Jake says, breaking you from your thoughts. His voice is so gentle, his hand finding yours in the crowd. “I need to step outside for a minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”

You nod, watching as he slips through the door. You know he’s been feeling the weight of everything lately, the pressure of balancing his career, school, and this new role as a soon-to-be father. You trust him to make it all work, to prove to you that he can handle the responsibilities. But there’s a piece of you, a vulnerable part, that still worries. The doubts always seem to rise like whispers in the back of your mind.

“Win or lose; I want to come home to you,” Jake had said to you not long ago, those words echoing in your memory like a melody. They settle in your heart like a promise, something real, something that matters. The door opens softly, and you look up to see Jake reentering the room, his eyes catching yours immediately. His smile, though small, is genuine, and you feel your breath catch in your chest. The way he looks at you, the way his hand rests against your back once more as he steps closer. it’s as if he’s still trying to wrap his mind around the miracle of everything that’s happening.

“We’re gonna be okay, right?” he asks, his voice full of tenderness, vulnerability slipping in beneath the surface. You nod slowly, your hand resting over your belly as you meet his gaze. “We already are, Jake. I already know we are.” The words settle between you both, and for a brief moment, the noise of the party fades into the background. All that matters is this. this feeling of being connected, being here, in this moment, together. The baby, the future, it’s all a little clearer now.

Jake’s hand slides to your waist, pulling you just a little closer as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. The room seems to hum around you, the laughter and chatter distant, but in this small space between the two of you, the world feels as if it’s standing still. Everything has changed. The uncertainty, the doubts, the fear. it’s all been replaced by the certainty of one truth: You’re in this together. And when you see Jake’s face soften with that same familiar warmth, you know it’s true. He’s here. He’s home. “Win or lose,” he whispers, echoing the words he had said to you weeks ago. “I’ll always come home to you.”

Your heart swells in your chest, the weight of his promise settling deep inside you. And in that moment, you know it’s all going to be okay.

reg taglist. (★) @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1 , @hwanghyunjinismybae, @ch4c0nnenh4, @kristynaaah

series taglist. (★) @saejinniestar , @chwesun , @vixialuvs , @slut4hee , @xylatox , @ghstzzn @skyearby @m1kkso @jakeswifez @heartheejake @hommyy-tommy @yunverie @lalalalawon

@strayy-kidz @wolfhardbby @kwiwin @immelissaaa @fancypeacepersona @starfallia @mariegalea @adoredbyjay @strxwbloody @lovingvoidgoatee @beeboobeebss @zyvlxqht @weyukinluv @flwwon

@guapgoddees @demigodmahash @cloud-lyy @heesky @ikaw-at-ikaw @shuichi-sama @shawnyle @kwhluv @iarainha @ikeuwoniee @mora134340

#raya recommends #i love this series sm

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softaestluv · 9 hours ago

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Nine Lives

Simon Riley posts an ad for a stray cat he does not want, and you answer.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!reader

Tags: fluff, short n’sweet, eventual romance/smut

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | ao3 | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

Friday comes as planned, Simon’s week consumed by anticipation of seeing his girl and his cat.

But Churro doesn’t seem to have the same plans, doesn’t come to see her self-proclaimed father.

She doesn’t show, no aggravating meowing or grating scratching on his porch. All he’s met with is silence, a noise grown far too unfamiliar, leaves something in his core unsettled in its absence.

You show up on his doorstep anyway, don’t seem to realize Churro hasn’t made an appearance, smiling wide at him when he opens the door.

At least now he knows you’ll still smile so sweetly at him even if he doesn’t have a furry cat in his arms.

“Hi!”

“Hi, bird. Is Churro at home?”

Your brows pinch, confusion painting your expression, “No, I thought she was visiting you? Came to pick her up like always.”

“She’s not here,” He explains, “Didn’t show up earlier, that’s why I didn’t text you yet.”

The corner of your lips droop, “Well, she wasn’t at home. I figured she was with you even if I didn’t get a text.”

You fidget from heel to heel when he shakes his head in disagreement, shifting your eyes swiftly as worry etches into your irises, wringing your fingers together.

“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” He reassures, attempting to dry the flood of emotions that are surely surfacing in your lungs before they burst out of control, ushering you in with a hand on your back, “We’ll lay out her favorite food, yeah? She came real quick that first time remember? Wait an hour tops before we start worrying too much, okay?”

You nod quietly, following his lead to his couch, but your face stays stiff, each curve contorted anxiously. Doesn’t smooth the entire time the two of you wait, reminiscent of the first time you met him, except this time you’re nerves aren’t alerting you to run from him, flee from the danger of a man he appears to be. Instead, you’re looking to him for comfort, darting your wide eyes to his every time he starts to speak like you’re clinging to every word in an attempt to distract you from the fact that Churro isn’t in either of your laps.

By the time forty-five minutes passes he’s sure you ripped the skin around your fingernails tender and bloody, burnt a hole in your shoe from the speed you're bouncing it. Maybe before he knew you, before he knew Churro, he would’ve thought you were being dramatic, caring for a bloody cat entirely too much, but you’ve grown on him. Maybe a little too much because the sight of you nervous, anxious, scared, upsets him, doesn’t want to spend another second watching you peel yourself apart.

Maybe he’s a little upset at Churro— don’t you know you’re worrying your mom, his girl, too much, pest?

It’s enough to make him stand, waiting does nothing to ease your nerves, so he prepares a search for a cat he used to cast away, a cat he used to wish got lost on the trail to his house. The two of you should’ve expected it to happen one of these days, it wasn’t necessarily a short distance between your homes, but Churro had seemed smarter than that, memorized her trek through town to find Simon.

You start on foot, separating in two to cover more ground, walking through Simon’s neighborhood calling for her at the top of your lungs. The search lasts for an hour, scavenging through every nook, bush, tree, and alleyway the two of you can find to no avail. Simon even goes to his neighbors, asks if they’ve seen the fawn-colored cat. Maybe the cat lady ended up taking her in by mistake, but they all deny, haven’t seen her.

When you don’t find her, your search widens, desperately exploring multiple blocks around his neighborhood until the sun starts to set, desperately searching with the flashlight from your phone in the dark. It takes some convincing and negotiation on his end to get you to return to his porch without Churro in your arms, argue that you won’t be able to sleep unless you know she’s safe. Still, he manages to wrangle you back to his house, promising that the two of you will search for her tomorrow, that she’ll make her way to his home in the night like she always does.

You agree begrudgingly, but when he finally gets you to his front door and looks down at you, your eyes are downcast, your bottom lip wobbling as you shift your eyes to his. You’re dewy-eyed and beady, fists balled at your side in an attempt to stop the inevitable dam from cracking.

It doesn’t work, of course, it doesn’t, not when the look in his eyes is sincere, slams the finishing wedge in your control with one look.

“Sweet girl.”

His voice is softer than he’s ever used before, more tender than he even realized he could use, foreign to his own gruff ears, but it doesn’t help your restraint from breaking on the spot. He reaches out, placing his hand on the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair before pressing you into his chest, snug under his chin.

The embrace punches the breath straight out of your lungs, inhaling a shattered wheeze before a sob wrecks from your core. Fisting the fabric of his shirt in your palms as you hiccup over your breaths and tears, staining his shirt wet.

The constricting in his chest is unfamiliar, burns strangely, painful, and bitter at the mere sounds you make, at the way you cling to him like he can absolve you of your pain, like you need to feel his touch to mend your weary heart. It congeals something protective in the back of his mind, large palms finding the backs of your thighs to hoist you in his arms. You don’t even pull away, just band your arms over his shoulders like it’s where you need to be.

He carries you to his kitchen, grabbing a water before maneuvering you to his bedroom because he’s not going to send you home crying and distressed when he can keep his girl comforted in his arms. You fall onto his bed willingly, sitting on the edge of the mattress as you watch him rummage through his drawers. He presents a pair of shorts, to which you nod teary-eyed, let him peel your jeans off, and replace them with his own clothing.

He climbs into bed with you, guides you under the sheets with him, and into his arms. Pulls you flush against his chest once again, smoothing his touch down your back and through your hair in his best attempt to soothe your nerves.

“Don’t worry,” He murmurs when you shift to look into his eyes, “Won’t do us any good looking for her when you’re all teary-eyed will it?”

You huff a laugh, not entirely amused as it should be, only making more tears well in your eyes, but he takes it, pressing a kiss against the crown of your forehead.

“We’ll look for her first thing tomorrow morning, yeah? Our pretty lady will come home to us.”

@lighthousebats @cococococ @sai-int @tessakate @starboykel @imrandomstuffsblog @your-internet-tenshi @glossy01 @orangegreensun @uriahs-barn @ye-olde-trash-panda @akkahelenaa @h0lydrag0ns @pukbadger @dawnnightshade666 @lizziesfirstwife @little-b33 @topaz125 @v1x3n @hadassery @afanofbeans @definitely-not-sammie

#nine lives #cherri writes #cherris fics #call of duty #cod #softaestluv #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost cod #fanfic

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leriexoxo · 2 days ago

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Pinned And Pierced

Dom! Hyunjin x Reader

Tags: Piercing scene, sexual tension, dom!Hyunjin, obsession themes, public teasing/risk (mall tattoo shop, window sex), explicit oral (f receiving), choking (light), spanking, cockwarming, praise/degradation mix, public display risk, possessive behavior, heavy aftercare, jealous behavior, minors do not interact.

Word Count: 5k

Summary: You should’ve known better than to get a nipple piercing on a whim. You definitely should’ve known better than to let the mysterious new boy from school — the one who won’t stop staring at you like he wants to eat you alive — be the one to do it. But now it’s too late. Hyunjin’s got his hands on you, his mouth on you, his name all over your skin.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t know what possessed you. Maybe it was the way the whole school seemed to orbit around him — Hwang Hyunjin, the gorgeous transfer with the kind of presence that made even teachers pause mid-lecture. Maybe it was the way he always looked at you, dark eyes dragging over your body like he was memorizing it, without a single word ever exchanged. Like he knew something you didn’t.

Or maybe, it was because you just needed a reason.

A reason for him to really see you.

So here you were, heart hammering against your ribs, standing under the harsh fluorescent lights of the mall’s tattoo and piercing shop, flipping through the jewelry catalog with sweaty palms.

The bell above the door chimed behind you.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was him.

“Appointment for…?” a low, disinterested voice called out from behind the counter.

You turned.

And froze.

Hyunjin

In black latex gloves, a tight black tee clinging to his lean frame, one eyebrow arched lazily as he tilted his head at you. His hair was tied up, messy strands falling over his forehead, and the silver hoops in his ears gleamed under the neon lights.

Your tongue felt stupid in your mouth.

“I–uh. Piercing. Nipple piercing,” you blurted.

Smooth. So smooth.

For a second, something flashed behind his eyes.

Recognition. Amusement.

Something darker.

“Right,” he said, voice dangerously soft. “Follow me.”

You barely registered the fact that you were moving until you found yourself in the small, sterile room at the back of the shop, the door clicking shut behind you.

“Shirt off,” Hyunjin said, reaching for the tray of sterilized needles like it was just another Tuesday.

You hesitated — and his eyes finally met yours, a flicker of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

The teasing lilt in his voice made your skin prickle.

God. You had no idea what you’d just gotten yourself into.

You swallowed hard, fingers fumbling at the hem of your shirt.

Hyunjin just stood there — arms crossed, body loose, but his stare sharp as a blade. Watching. Waiting.

You peeled your top over your head, dropping it onto the chair beside you.

The chill of the room kissed your skin, pebbling your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

Hyunjin’s gaze dropped — deliberate, unapologetic — and stayed there for a beat too long before dragging back up to your face.

A slow smirk ghosted across his lips.

“Lie down,” he said, voice a rough command. Not a request.

Your thighs squeezed together on instinct.

God, this was dangerous.

This was so much more than you thought it would be.

You moved to the padded chair in the middle of the room, lying back, heart hammering against your ribs so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Hyunjin pulled on a fresh pair of gloves with a snap, stepping into your space, and your breath caught when he reached for you without hesitation.

“Arms at your sides,” he murmured, fingers brushing your skin as he adjusted you how he wanted.

He was careful. Professional. But it didn’t matter.

The heat of his touch seared into you, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

When his knuckles grazed the underside of your breast, you swore you saw his jaw tighten.

Like he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted you to think.

“You’re gonna feel my hands on you,” he said, tone low, clinical — but there was an edge there. A warning.

“I need you to stay still for me.”

God, the way he said it.

For me.

You nodded, throat dry, and he rewarded you with a quiet hum of approval — a sound so soft it shouldn’t have made your stomach drop the way it did.

Then his hands were on you again — pushing the cup of your bra up, exposing your breast, baring it completely to the cool air.

You gasped, heat flooding your cheeks.

Hyunjin’s gaze locked onto your chest, dark and heavy.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Just looked.

Looked like he had every right to.

You shifted, thighs rubbing together — and his eyes snapped up to yours immediately.

There was no mistaking it now.

The tension crackling between you.

The hunger barely masked behind his carefully blank face.

“Stay still,” he repeated, voice dipping lower, rougher, like gravel over velvet.

Commanding. Final.

Like you belonged to him in that moment.

You swallowed a whimper.

Your hips pressed harder against the chair without you meaning to.

Hyunjin noticed.

Of course he noticed.

One corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile, more like a promise.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, so quietly you almost missed it.

As he leaned down — so close you could feel his breath on your chest — he lined up the needle, his gloved fingers firm and unyielding around your breast.

“You’re mine for the next five minutes,” Hyunjin said under his breath, just before the sharp sting of the needle pierced your skin.

“And you’re going to take it like a good girl, aren’t you?”

You nearly moaned.

Nearly.

Instead, you bit your lip so hard you tasted blood.

And Hyunjin — Hyunjin smiled.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Like this was only the beginning.

The piercing was fast. Brutal.

A sharp, searing pain that bloomed into a hot, throbbing ache.

You gritted your teeth, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Hyunjin’s hands were still on you, still steadying you through it, still warm even through the barrier of his gloves.

“There you go,” he murmured, voice dangerously low, as he slid the jewelry into place with careful fingers.

You sucked in a sharp breath as his thumb grazed the swollen, sensitive skin — and this time, he definitely smirked.

“You’re sensitive,” he commented casually, but his tone was anything but.

It dripped.

Thick with dark amusement. With knowledge.

Your cheeks flamed.

You could barely think straight.

When he was finished, he leaned back, surveying his work — or maybe surveying you, the way your body trembled slightly under his gaze.

The way your chest rose and fell too fast.

“You’ll need to come back in two weeks for a check-up,” he said smoothly, peeling off his gloves with a soft snap.

“You think you can behave until then?”

You stared at him, breathing hard, too dizzy to speak.

Hyunjin chuckled low in his throat — the sound was pure sin — and scribbled something on a card before sliding it into your hand.

His fingers brushed yours deliberately.

“My number,” he said. “In case you have… concerns.”

The way he said it — voice rough, dark, loaded — made it sound like he wanted you to have concerns.

Made it sound like he wanted you to call him, desperate and needy, late at night.

You clutched the card like a lifeline and bolted out of the shop, heart slamming against your ribs.

⸻

A Few Days Later — At School

You thought you could forget about it. About him.

You thought the memory would fade, like a fever dream.

But Hyunjin found you again.

Of course he did.

You were at your locker, shoving books into your bag, when you felt it — the heavy, suffocating weight of his gaze.

You turned — and there he was, leaning lazily against the opposite wall.

Casual. Sin incarnate in ripped jeans and a leather jacket.

He didn’t say anything.

Just looked at you.

Like he could see right through your clothes.

Like he could still feel you beneath his hands.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up — chest tightening, thighs clenching, heat flaring between your legs so fast it made your head spin.

Hyunjin’s lips twitched.

He knew.

He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Slowly — painfully slowly — he pushed off the wall and sauntered past you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.

His voice brushed your ear, so low you barely caught it:

“Miss me?”

And then he was gone.

Leaving you breathless, trembling, burning.

—-

Two Weeks Later — The Check-Up Appointment

You were shaking by the time you walked into the piercing shop.

Not from fear.

From anticipation.

From the way your body still remembered the weight of his hands, the rough velvet of his voice.

From the way he looked at you in the hallway like he could still taste you.

The bell above the door chimed, and he was already there — sitting on the counter, scrolling through his phone, looking devastating in ripped black jeans and a snug black tee.

He looked up — and smirked.

Slow. Sinister.

“You came,” Hyunjin said simply, hopping down from the counter.

The way he said it made your knees weak.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak.

Just nodded, swallowing thickly.

“Back room,” he ordered, jerking his chin toward the hallway.

“Strip to the waist.”

You should have been used to this by now.

You weren’t.

Not when it was him.

Not when he looked at you like that.

Like you were already spread out under him, whimpering.

You slipped off your jacket and top with trembling hands, laying down on the same chair, bare from the waist up except for your bra.

Waiting.

Hyunjin shut the door behind him with a soft click that sounded so much louder in the charged silence.

He pulled on gloves with a snap, walking over to you, towering above you.

“You healed well,” he murmured, tugging the cup of your bra down again, baring your breast without ceremony.

“You took care of yourself like a good girl, didn’t you?”

Your body jolted.

Your thighs squeezed together helplessly.

He leaned closer, inspecting the piercing, face so close you could feel his breath.

His gloved fingers ghosted around the sensitive area, not quite touching, just… hovering.

“You’re still sensitive,” he said, almost to himself. “You feel it here, don’t you?”

He pressed just beside the piercing, where the skin was still tender.

You gasped, hips bucking without meaning to.

Seeking more.

Seeking him.

Hyunjin’s gaze flicked up to your face — dark, dangerous, hungry.

“You want more,” he said softly.

Not a question. A fact.

You whimpered.

“Ask me,” he said. “Beg for it.”

You blinked up at him, lips trembling.

“Hyunjin, please…” you whispered.

He smiled.

Predatory. Patient.

Like a wolf circling a trembling rabbit.

“Please what?” he coaxed, voice a rasp. “Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me exactly what you want.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, shame and need warring inside you — but when his thumb finally brushed over the pierced nipple, sending a bolt of pleasure straight to your core, you broke.

“Please touch me,” you gasped. “Please—need you to make me feel good, please—”

The groan he let out was low, guttural, primal.

Like he’d been holding himself back for weeks.

“Good girl,” he murmured, finally, finally dropping all pretense of professionalism.

He pushed your bra down completely, baring both breasts to the air.

His gloved hands were everywhere now — rough, greedy, possessive — cupping, squeezing, thumbing over your swollen, needy peaks.

You cried out, arching into him shamelessly, and he caught your jaw with one hand, forcing you to look up at him.

“So predictable,” Hyunjin growled, mouth just inches from yours. “You came back to me. You begged for me.”

You whimpered, nodding frantically.

You would’ve agreed to anything he said.

He finally — finally — crushed his mouth to yours, devouring you like he’d been starving.

His hands didn’t stop moving — tweaking your nipples, tugging at the jewelry, making you gasp and sob into his mouth with each teasing flick.

“You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?” he hissed against your lips, grinding his thigh up between your legs.

“You touch yourself thinking about my hands on you?”

You sobbed out a desperate, broken little “yes,” grinding down on his thigh helplessly.

So needy. So wet.

The denim against your soaked panties was almost too much — and he knew it.

Of course he knew it.

“You’re gonna come for me,” Hyunjin growled, voice pure filth, hand sliding down to pin your hips to his thigh.

“Just like this. So fucking pretty. So desperate. All because of me.”

And you did.

Shaking, sobbing, body wracked with pleasure so intense it left you trembling in his arms.

Hyunjin held you through it, murmuring low praises against your neck, hands firm and possessive on your waist.

Your body was still trembling when Hyunjin pulled back slightly, surveying you like he wasn’t finished — like he’d barely even started.

“You’re not done, are you?” he asked, voice low, dangerous.

“You’re gonna give me another one, sweetheart.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, lips swollen from his kisses, shirtless and panting in the middle of the piercing room.

Hyunjin’s gloves were gone now — peeled off and tossed aside like he couldn’t stand anything between you anymore.

His bare hands were rough and hot as they skimmed down your trembling thighs, spreading them wide enough that the cool air kissed the soaked fabric of your panties.

“So wet for me,” he muttered, almost to himself.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.”

You whimpered helplessly, hips lifting toward his touch, chasing it like a shameless thing.

You didn’t even care anymore.

You needed him.

Hyunjin smirked — and then he dropped to his knees between your legs.

Without warning, he leaned in and licked a slow, deliberate stripe over the wetness darkening the crotch of your panties.

You choked on a gasp, hips jerking.

Hyunjin just laughed — low, dark, possessive.

“You taste good even through the fabric,” he rasped, nuzzling against you like he couldn’t get enough.

“Bet you taste even better when I really get in there.”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs slowly, savoring it, groaning under his breath when your bare, glistening core was finally exposed to him.

He didn’t give you time to be shy.

Didn’t give you a second to think.

Hyunjin grabbed your thighs, pinned them wide open around his shoulders, and buried his face between your legs like a man starved.

The first pass of his tongue over your dripping folds was devastating — hot, thick, greedy.

You sobbed, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling helplessly, and he growled against your cunt like he loved it.

“That’s it,” he muttered against your skin, tongue teasing your clit with slow, devastating circles.

“Ride my face, pretty girl. I wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue.”

You whimpered, grinding against his mouth without even meaning to, and he fucking moaned — the vibration shooting straight through your core.

He licked you like he owned you — slow, deep, messy — alternating between filthy, open-mouthed kisses and sharp, teasing flicks of his tongue against your swollen clit.

Every time you gasped or cried out, Hyunjin tightened his grip on your thighs, holding you still, forcing you to take it.

He didn’t rush.

He wanted to wreck you slowly.

“You taste better than I imagined,” he growled against you, voice rough and full of hunger.

“You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Gonna soak my tongue like a good little slut?”

You were already teetering on the edge — sobbing his name, grinding down on his mouth like you needed him to breathe.

Your body tensed, trembling.

And when Hyunjin sucked your clit into his mouth — hard, greedy, ruthless — you shattered.

You screamed his name, thighs clamping around his head, cumming so hard it blanked your mind.

Hyunjin didn’t stop.

He kept licking you through it, milking every last drop of pleasure from you, groaning against your cunt like it was the best meal he’d ever had.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth was shiny with you, lips swollen, eyes dark and wild.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking down at you like he owned you now.

And maybe he did.

“No one else gets to do that to you anymore but me,” he said simply, voice wrecked and rough. “You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded weakly, barely able to breathe, heart hammering against your ribs.

“Good,” Hyunjin murmured, leaning down to press one more filthy kiss against your trembling thigh.

“Because next time, baby…”

He smiled — a slow, dangerous smile that promised ruin.

“Next time, I’m not stopping until you’re crying on my cock.”

—-

The days after the piercing shop incident were pure torture.

You couldn’t focus.

You couldn’t think.

Every brush of fabric against your skin, every stolen memory of Hyunjin’s mouth between your legs, sent you spiraling.

And he knew it.

Of course he knew it.

He texted you. Constantly.

Hyunjin: Still sore, sweetheart?

Hyunjin: Thinking about my tongue?

Hyunjin: Be good. Or I’ll make you beg harder next time.

Each message made it worse.

Each cocky little taunt twisted the ache inside you tighter.

And then, a few days later — finally —

Hyunjin: Come over tonight.

Hyunjin: Another check-up.

Hyunjin: Wear something easy to take off.

He attached his address. No extra explanation.

Just pure, unshakable command.

You showed up at his apartment that night, heart hammering out of your chest, legs trembling inside your thin, stupidly short skirt.

The city lights were a blur behind you, the apartment windows wide and high and open, letting the night seep inside.

Hyunjin opened the door already looking like a sin you couldn’t say no to — shirtless, hair messy, low-slung sweatpants clinging to his hips like he’d just rolled out of bed thinking about ruining you.

You barely got inside before he was on you.

Pinning you against the door, caging you in with his arms.

He didn’t kiss you yet.

He just looked at you.

Hungry. Dangerous.

“You wore a skirt for me,” Hyunjin murmured, voice rough with approval. “Good girl.”

You shivered, feeling your panties stick to you — already soaked from the anticipation, from the way he looked at you like he could devour you alive.

Hyunjin ran a finger along the hem of your skirt, teasing.

“So eager,” he purred. “You want me to check how well you’re healing?”

You nodded, breathless.

You’d agree to anything right now.

He smiled — slow, wicked — and tugged your top over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him.

His fingers were gentle as he peeled your bra down, baring your pierced nipple to the cool air.

He cupped your breast in his palm, thumb brushing over the jewelry — not enough pressure, just enough to tease.

“Perfect,” he said, almost to himself.

“You’re still sensitive, though. Aren’t you?”

You whimpered, body arching helplessly into his hand.

He chuckled darkly.

“You need me to take care of you again?” he asked softly.

“You need my mouth, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you whispered, eyes wide, desperate.

Hyunjin caught your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look up at him.

“You’re gonna ask so pretty when I’m buried between your thighs again,” he said. “But not yet.”

He grabbed you suddenly, lifting you off the ground like you weighed nothing.

You gasped, clinging to him instinctively, and he carried you through the apartment — dropping you onto his massive bed, sprawled and panting.

Hyunjin climbed up after you, slow and predatory, pushing your skirt up to your waist, baring your soaked panties to his greedy gaze.

“You’re dripping through them,” he murmured, smirking. “Such a needy little thing.”

He leaned down — and bit the inside of your thigh, hard enough to make you yelp.

He soothed the sting with a slow, filthy lick.

And then he pulled your panties aside, exposing you completely, and settled between your legs like he was home.

His mouth was on you again — but this time it was worse.

Better.

Hyunjin was slow.

Meticulous.

Every flick of his tongue was designed to drive you mad.

He teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, feather-light flicks that made you sob.

He fucked you lazily with his tongue, slipping inside you with filthy, wet sounds that made your cheeks burn.

He sucked your clit between his lips and hummed like he was enjoying a meal.

And every time you got close — every time you trembled and gasped and bucked your hips — he pulled back.

“You don’t cum until I say,” Hyunjin said, voice low and brutal.

“You hold it, sweetheart. You hold it like a good fucking girl.”

You nodded frantically, tears pricking at your eyes.

It was torture.

It was bliss.

It was everything.

He kept you right there — teetering, shaking, ruined — until you were whimpering his name like a prayer.

“Please,” you sobbed. “Hyunjin, please, please—”

He pulled back, licking his lips, face shiny with you.

He looked like the devil himself.

“You’re ready now,” he said softly. “You’re ready to be fucked.”

He stood, dragging his sweatpants down, cock springing free — flushed, leaking, massive.

Your mouth watered.

Hyunjin chuckled darkly.

“Next time, baby,” he said, stroking himself slowly.

“Next time, you get the real thing. And you’re gonna take every fucking inch.”

He knelt over you, slipping two fingers inside you — thick, relentless — fucking you with slow, punishing strokes as you writhed and sobbed under him.

“You’re gonna think about me every time you sit down tomorrow,” he growled, curling his fingers just right, making you scream.

“You’re gonna feel me for days.”

And when you finally came — gushing around his fingers, soaking the bed — Hyunjin kissed you hard, stealing your broken little cries into his mouth like he couldn’t get enough of your ruin.

He held you through it, fingers still deep inside you, still working you through the aftershocks.

Still owning you.

This was only the beginning.

You barely had time to catch your breath.

Hyunjin didn’t even give you a chance.

Didn’t give you a choice.

He yanked you up by the wrist — rough, urgent — dragging you across the room until you were standing right in front of his floor-to-ceiling window.

The city lights burned behind the glass.

A million strangers.

A million chances to be seen.

You shivered, but not from fear.

Not from shame.

From the way Hyunjin stood behind you, towering, chest heaving, starving for you.

“Hands on the glass,” he ordered, voice low and dangerous.

You obeyed instantly, palms flattening against the cold window.

The coolness bit into your overheated skin, making you gasp.

Hyunjin pressed up behind you, one hand sliding around your waist, the other fisting in your hair — pulling your head back so you were arched, vulnerable, at his mercy.

“You want the city to see you, sweetheart?” he growled into your ear, grinding his cock against your bare ass.

“You want them to see how pretty you are when you’re getting ruined?”

You whimpered, helpless.

You couldn’t speak — could only nod, desperate, dizzy.

He laughed — low and dark — and then he shoved inside you in one brutal, devastating thrust.

You screamed, forehead dropping to the glass, the stretch burning, overwhelming, perfect.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin groaned, voice wrecked. “So tight. So fucking good.”

He didn’t move yet — just stayed buried deep inside you, one hand splayed over your stomach, the other still fisted in your hair, holding you in place.

“You belong to me now,” he said, dragging his cock out slow, torturous — then slamming back in so hard the window rattled. “You understand that, sweetheart?”

You sobbed, nodding frantically, nails scratching uselessly at the glass.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t nearly enough.

Hyunjin started fucking you in earnest then — hard, brutal strokes that had you gasping, crying out, pressed against the window like a ragdoll.

Every time he bottomed out, his hips slammed into your ass with a sharp smack that echoed in the room.

Every thrust forced a broken little cry from your lips, your breath fogging up the glass.

“You’re so fucking loud,” he rasped, tightening his grip in your hair.

“Bet the whole city can hear you begging for my cock.”

You tried to answer, tried to say yes, but all that came out was a desperate, high-pitched whimper.

Hyunjin chuckled — dark and delighted — and leaned in to bite the side of your neck, hard enough to leave a mark.

“You’re gonna cum all over my cock, sweetheart,” he growled against your skin.

“Make a mess all over the fucking window.”

You were so close — so fucking close — your legs trembling, the glass slick with your sweat and breath and need.

Hyunjin’s hand slid from your stomach to your throat — not squeezing, just holding, just claiming — and the added pressure made your vision blur, made your orgasm rise like a tidal wave.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered, voice pure sin. “Cum for me. Show them who fucking owns you.”

You shattered with a scream — a white-hot explosion that ripped through you, wracking your body with violent, helpless spasms.

Your walls clenched around him, milking him, dragging a deep, broken groan from his chest.

Hyunjin cursed, pulling out just in time to jerk himself to completion across the small of your back — hot, filthy, claiming.

You collapsed against the window, boneless, gasping for breath.

Your body still trembling from the aftershocks.

Hyunjin gathered you up in his arms immediately, whispering low praises against your hair as he carried you back to the bed.

He wiped you clean with gentle hands, tucked you under his blankets, kissed your forehead like you were something precious.

And you were.

To him, you always had been.

—

The world blurred for a while after that.

You didn’t know how long you lay there, wrapped up in Hyunjin’s arms, the faint sounds of the city humming behind the glass.

All you knew was him.

The warmth of his skin.

The slow, steady thud of his heart.

The way his fingers traced lazy patterns over your back like he didn’t ever want to stop touching you.

At some point, you stirred — stretching slightly, shifting under the heavy weight of his arm draped possessively across your waist.

Hyunjin groaned sleepily behind you, voice rough and gravelly.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You smiled, cheek smushed against the pillow.

“Nowhere,” you mumbled. “Just getting comfortable.”

He pulled you tighter against him immediately, caging you against his chest.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, quieter this time.

You shivered — not from the cold — and melted into him completely.

For a while, you just stayed like that — tangled up in each other, the heat from your bodies filling the quiet space between breaths.

But then you shifted your hips just a little too much — and you felt him.

Hard again, pressing insistently against the curve of your ass, thick and hot and aching.

You turned your head, looking back at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“You’re hard again?” you whispered, teasing.

Hyunjin smirked lazily, hair falling into his eyes.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, grinding against you slowly, just enough to make your breath hitch. “You’re warm, you’re naked, and you feel so fucking good.”

He slipped a hand between your legs, cupping your still-sensitive core, groaning softly when he felt how wet you still were.

“You’re soaked again, baby,” he rasped, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “Didn’t even have to touch you yet.”

You whimpered, hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more.

Hyunjin chuckled — low and dark — and nudged your thighs apart with his knee.

He slid his cock between your folds — not pushing in fully, just nestling it there, thick and hot against your dripping entrance.

The stretch made you gasp, even though he wasn’t moving yet.

Just filling you.

Just being there.

“You’re gonna hold me,” he murmured, voice thick with sleepy lust. “Nice and deep, baby. Just like that.”

You nodded, too blissed out to even think, letting him guide you.

Hyunjin kissed your temple, murmuring soft praises against your skin as he settled inside you — not fucking, just cockwarming — slow and deep and intimate.

“Feel so fucking good,” he whispered. “Could stay inside you forever.”

You whimpered, clenching around him involuntarily, and he hissed through his teeth.

“Behave,” he warned, voice rough. “Or I’ll have to fuck you again.”

You giggled — breathless, drunk on him — and snuggled deeper into his chest.

For a long time, you just stayed like that — him buried inside you, your bodies tangled together, your hearts beating in perfect rhythm.

And then, when your breathing evened out, when you were just starting to drift —

Hyunjin shifted slightly, sliding his hand down your stomach, between your legs again.

“One more,” he whispered, voice like velvet. “Let me taste you again, angel. Please.”

You couldn’t have said no even if you wanted to.

He pulled out slowly — making you whimper at the emptiness — and flipped you onto your back, settling between your thighs like he belonged there.

This time was different.

Slower.

Softer.

Hyunjin licked you like he was savoring dessert — slow, tender strokes that had you gasping and trembling almost immediately.

He whispered sweet nothings against your skin, praising every shiver, every moan, every helpless little cry.

When you came this time, it wasn’t explosive.

It was deep — a slow, rolling wave of pleasure that left you boneless, panting, clinging to him like you’d drown without him.

Hyunjin kissed your trembling thighs, your stomach, your breasts — working his way up your body until he was hovering over you again, his forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, kissing your nose, your cheeks, your eyelids.

“You’re mine.”

You smiled sleepily up at him, heart swelling so full it hurt.

And then — almost shyly, almost like he was afraid you might say no —

“Hey,” Hyunjin murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“Can I… take you out tomorrow?”

You blinked, dazed and dizzy and completely wrecked by him in every way possible.

“You want to… date me?” you breathed.

He laughed softly, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Pretty sure I already do,” he said, grinning. “Just wanna make it official. Take you somewhere nice. Show you off.”

You nodded, tears prickling at your eyes for some inexplicable reason.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’d like that.”

Hyunjin kissed you then — slow, deep, honest.

And when he finally pulled back, his smile was so blinding you could barely breathe.

“Good,” he whispered against your lips. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: Listen babes, dom hyunjin??? Chefs kiss!! 💋

Leave that comment and like and if you loved it that much, reblog! Also Thank you for 500+ followers! We’re growing really fast!

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botanicsoul · 9 hours ago

Text

Behind the Screen

Pro Hero | Bakugou Katsuki x (fem) Blogger Reader | Aged Up

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

—

You post it as a joke. Kind of.

It’s late, and you’re curled up in bed with your fanfic draft open and half a Twix in your mouth. Your followers are going wild in the replies, and you’re riding the high of being the “unofficial Dynamight smut queen” of the timeline. You’ve been known for your over-the-top thirst tweets, but this one? This one’s feral.

—

@/blastyourbackout

“Dynamight wouldn’t even take the suit off. He’d fuck you with the gauntlets still on, breathing heavy through gritted teeth, all ‘Shut up and take it—this is what you wanted, right?’”

—

You toss your phone. That’s enough unhinged behavior for the night. Until the morning comes—and you wake up to hell.

Your tweet is trending. His name is trending. People are tagging him.

—

“this is NASTY and i love it.”

“@Dynamightofficial please read this and confirm or deny.”

“If Dynamight didn’t do this, I’d be shocked.”

“SOMEONE CHECK ON HIM”

“@Dynamightofficial thoughts??”

Then it happens.

—

@Dynamightofficial :

“Who tf is behind this account.”

“If you’re gonna talk like that, be brave enough to show your face.”

You nearly throw up. Your DMs? Melted. And sitting right at the top.

[Private Message – @Dynamightofficial]

“You write a lotta shit for someone who hides behind a screen.”

“You really think I’d leave the fuckin’ suit on?”

“Show me your face if you’re gonna say it like you know me.”

Your heart is pounding. And you shouldn’t. But you do. You send a selfie. Just a soft one. T-shirt, messy hair, bare face. You look like someone who absolutely shouldn’t be writing the filth he just read.

There’s a long pause.

He starts to finally type:

“…fuck.”

“You’re cute.”

“like super fuckin’ cute”

“You don’t look like someone who says I’d blow your back out against a fuckin’ window.”

You:

“I mean… would you?”

Him:

“You really wanna know?”

“You clearly think you know it all, writing the way you do.”

“So what—wanna let me show you what it’s really like?”

You pause. Breathless. Fingers trembling.

“Yes.”

⸻

A few days later, the meet-up actually happened.

You gave him your address—half-joking, half-panicking when he immediately replied with a thumbs up and a “Bet.”

You spent the next two days spiraling.

Cleaned every inch of your apartment. Shaved, exfoliated, moisturized places you didn’t even know needed it. Practiced how you’d open the door without looking like you were seconds from passing out. Told yourself it was just casual, just fun, just… whatever. you totally weren’t about to get fucked dumb by your fav pro that you write smut about.

Except it wasn’t. Because now. He’s at your door.

And he’s in the fucking suit.

Mask off. Jaw set. Gloves still on. That big, broad chest rising and falling.

Black and orange, thick with tension and sweat and that sharp smoky scent that clings to him after a patrol. His hair’s a mess. One gauntlet is attached, the other dangling from his hip. And he’s just standing there—broad, massive, silent—like he owns the whole building.

You freeze. Your heart slams.

“…Hi,” you manage to say.

His eyes drag over you—down your legs, over the shorts you probably could’ve made smaller and the tank top that wasn’t technically meant to be seductive, but absolutely became that under stress.

“Damn,” he mutters. “You look even better when you’re nervous.”

You try to laugh but it comes out breathless. “You really wore the suit?”

“uuuh yeah? did you think I was gonna show up here in a hoodie after all the shit you wrote about this thing?” He steps closer. “Thought I’d let you see it up close before I ruined your sheets.”

Your knees go weak.

You try to respond—something witty, something smug—but your words get caught somewhere between your throat and the fact that he’s already inside. Pushing the door shut behind him. Glancing around like he’s checking for cameras, or exits, or maybe just where he’s gonna lay you out first.

“You ready?” he asks, voice low. Rough. Already undoing the gauntlet from his wrist with one hand, tossing it aside.

You nod, dazed. “Yeah.”

He smirks—steps in closer until you’re backed up against the nearest wall, breath catching.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’ve been losing sleep over the way you said I’d fuck you in this suit.”

You stare up at him, completely wrecked just by his presence, and whisper, “Was I right about some of this stuff I wrote?”

He dips his head down, lips brushing yours—barely.

“I’m here to fact check it.” he growls.

You shudder.

He pulls back just enough to smirk, eyes dragging down your body like he’s mentally ripping off every layer.

He hasn’t even touched you properly yet—but your back’s against your door, your legs are trembling, and Bakugou’s towering over you like he’s already won.

“That tweet got me thinkin’ about you all fuckin’ day, baby. Let’s see if you write better when you’re sore.”

His hero suit creaks with every breath. Heavy-duty gauntlets still locked around his wrists. His undersuit clings to him, black and orange and unforgiving across his chest, his thighs—everything.

“You scared?” he asks, voice low. His hand comes up—gloved fingers trailing under your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Or just nervous I’m actually gonna live up to that filthy little imagination of yours?”

Your breath catches.

“…both.”

He smirks. Then his mouth is on yours.

It’s not sweet. It’s not careful. It’s everything you wrote about—demanding, rough, obsessed. He kisses like a man starved. Like he’s been reading your tweets on loop.

And god, when his hand slides down your waist—those big gloved fingers gripping your ass, hoisting you up—your back hits the wall and you let out a soft, stunned whimper.

“That the sound you make when you’re not behind a screen?” he growls, lips dragging along your neck. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re even better in person.”

You try to answer, but he’s already slipping one hand between your thighs, dragging his knuckles over your heat—still covered by your shorts.

“Wrote that I’d be mean with it,” he murmurs. “That I’d tease you. Make you beg.”

His gloved finger presses just right over the damp spot in your underwear.

“So beg.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders. You feel insane.

“P-Please.”

He groans. “That all I get after all those filthy paragraphs?”

“Dynamight—”

His eyes flash. “Katsuki.”

You pant, skin burning.

“Please, Katsuki.”

“Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He carries you to your room practically kicking the damn door down. Your back hits the mattress, but he doesn’t follow right away. He stands at the edge of the bed, breathing heavy, gaze dark and hungry.

His suit’s half-unzipped now—exposing his chest, glistening with sweat and tension—but everything else stays on. That thick black material clings to his arms and thighs like sin. The gauntlets drop to the floor with a heavy thud, but the gloves? Still on. And he flexes his fingers slow—just to watch you squirm.

“You’re fuckin’ dangerous,” he mutters, eyes dragging over your body like he’s trying to memorize it. “Sittin’ there on your little blog, makin’ people think you’ve got me figured out.”

Your thighs squeeze together. He notices. Smirks. “Lemme show you how right you were.”

He crawls over you like a storm. Muscles shifting under his suit, voice dipping low, filthy, as he shoves your shirt up, lips ghosting over your stomach.

You arch when his teeth graze your hip. “Katsuki—”

“That’s right, baby,” he mutters, pulling your shorts off slow. “Say my name when you write about this later too.”

He pushes your thighs open, and he goes down. Tongue eager. Desperate. He eats you out like he’s proving a point—like he’s got something to prove to every single tweet you’ve ever posted. Groaning into you, gripping your thighs tight like he wants to leave handprints. You’re moaning, shaking, gripping the sheets, and he’s just eating it up—literally.

He comes up with his mouth slick and eyes wild. “Not even close to done with you.” And he isn’t.

He flips you. Presses you into the mattress. One hand on your hip, the other grabbing your wrist and dragging it up the bed.

“Hold that headboard, princess.” You feel him line up—still in the damn suit—and your breath catches as he sinks in.

Slow. Deep. Bruising.

“Fuck,” he hisses, jaw clenched. “You feel like I imagined. So fuckin’ tight, so wet—shit.”

You cry out. He starts moving. Harder. Deeper.

Every stroke is a claim. His hand slides down your back, then back up to wrap around your throat—not choking, just holding. Just letting you feel it.

“Write about this next time” he growls into your ear. “Write about about me makin’ you cum multiple fuckin’ times.”

You whimper—high, breathy, wrecked.

“That’s right. Take it. You wanted this.”

“I did,” you gasp. “I wanted you—”

“You fuckin’ got me now.”

When you fall apart—completely, wildly, back-arching and moaning his name like a prayer—he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow.

Because he’s obsessed now. Addicted.

Your thighs are trembling. Your voice is hoarse. Your sheets are a mess—twisted, damp, clinging to your skin like the heat of him isn’t already enough.

He’s still going.

“One more,” he grits out, thrusts snapping into you slow and deep. “C’mon, baby—just one more for me.”

You’re barely hanging on—nails dragging helplessly down his back, vision blurry with overstimulation, body trembling under him as he rocks into you, all tight grunts and low, broken groans.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he pants, sweat dripping down his temples. “Takin’ me so good—fuck—you feel like you were made for me.”

You moan, shattered.

He growls, fucks you harder, chasing his release like a wildfire. And when he finally gets there—when you clench around him, gasping out his name in a breathless sob— He snaps.

“Knew it,” he groans, hips stuttering. “Knew I’d fill this pussy the second I saw you.” oh, and he does. Deep. Warm. Heavy. Flooding you.

He keeps moving—shallow, deep rolls—just to push it in. Just to feel it drip. Just to make it last. His head drops to your shoulder, lips brushing your skin.

You barely register him pulling out until you feel it—messy, hot, dripping down your thighs.

“fuuuck you’re beautiful” he murmurs smirking down at you. Wrecked, ruined, glowing. He lays down beside you, just looking at you like you were a fucking trophy.

He then reaches for his phone.

—

[New Tweet – @Dynamightofficial]

“Just fact-checked one of your little fantasy tweets. 11/10 accuracy. Would reread. Would re-enact.”

—

You see what’s he doing and it snaps you out your daze, your eyes go wide. “You didn’t—!”

“Too late,” he shrugs. “Let ‘em guess which one it was.”

You grabbed your phone just as quick to quote it.

—

[New Tweet – @blastyourbackout]

“Just know the gloves stayed on.”

—

The internet breaks.

You can barely feel your legs.

And Katsuki Bakugou? THE pro hero Dynamight?

He’s already rolling over, tugging you to his chest, muttering in your ear, “Hope you’re not tired, princess. I’ve got a lot more tweets to prove right.”

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tarosunshine · 2 days ago

Text

성훈 ﹕ ℱEELING⠀﹐

﹕⠀your bestfriend has been avoiding you.⠀✦

park sunghoon female reader ⊹ bestfriends to lovers misunderstandings﹙1158﹚ . . . shelf !

since a couple of days ago sunghoon, your best friend, has been not answering your calls, not reading your texts. and you don't even know what's going on.

you're starting to get anxious because his friends told you that he is going to college and his job as usual so that made you think that maybe you did something wrong.

today was saturday midnight, so you just put on your hoodie to go to the store to buy some snacks. you usually do this with sunghoon, but since the actual situation you two are in, you're on your own this time.

watching the clock on the wall. you sigh before shutting the door after you.

luckily, the grocery store was just one block away from your apartment, so you got there quickly, entering to grab some bags of random snacks. you are feeling kinda sad, so you just want to eat and watch a movie or something.

once you made your way to give the bags to the cashier, you heard the doorbell ring, and you never turn to look at it, but this time, you casually do, meeting nothing more than your lovely best friend who has been avoiding you.

right, he lived in the neighborhood, and you could have gone to his place to ask him what happened, but you wanted to give him some more days. and it seems like it was tonight. the final day.

he was wearing a black hoodie with the hood covering almost all of his face, bangs over his forehead, dark circles under his eyes, and a death stare. he looked awful.

you keep watching him, hoping he will notice you and explain, but he doesn't. he just entered without looking at nobody, going straight to the snacks section, and grabbing the same one as you.

you paid quickly and left the place, waiting for him outside. you didn't want to make a scene there.

biting the inside of your cheek, you wait another couple of minutes until you finally hear the door. immediately you turn your head and meet his gaze when he raises his head. sunghoon's eyes widened with surprise when he saw your face, blinking twice.

“park sunghoon, what a coincidence..” you say, raising both eyebrows. the anger all over your face is noticed by him.

“hey.. look, i can explain” he started, a smile trembling in his mouth as he approached you with slow steps. you frowned, crossing your arms.

“explain what? that you completely ghosted your best friend without saying a word or giving life signals at all in an entire week?” you pretend to think, staring at him. sunghoon sighed, looking now at the floor.

“you want to come over? i'll.. explain to you” meeting his dark and shiny eyes, your expression softened a little, losing the grip on your arms, making them fall on your sides with the bag in your left hand. you nodded in response.

. . .

ten minutes later, you were entering his apartment, which was all in order as always, the clean smell on the air and the tv on. after looking around his place, you looked at him. he made his way to the sofa, and then patted the spot next to him.

“okay, explain” sitting on the sofa by his side, you turn yourself a little to face him.

“actually i don't have an excuse..” his eyes were pinned on his interlocked hands over his thighs. “it was stupid to just ghost you. i just.. i was thinking..?”

“thinking? may i know about what?” you sighed, staring at his hands. he was nervous. “and why you can't look at me?” slightly tilting your head, you try to search for his eyes. sunghoon finally looks up, staring at you.

you had missed him.

“i.. i thought about this a lot, and i didn't want to come this way. i didn't want to happen either, but.. this is so stupid” he sighed, rolling his eyes, biting his bottom lip because he didn't know how to explain. the hood over his head didn't let you see his face properly.

“hoon..” you came closer to him, reaching his head to slowly take the hood off so you could see him. and he let you do it without looking at you.

once you're done, you rest that hand over his, trying to give him some comfort.

“what is it?”

“i like you.”

you stared at him, frozen in place, and he was giving you some eyes that you had never seen on him before.

starting to get more nervous, he tried to get away from your touch, feeling the coming rejection from you. but before he could get up, you grabbed him by his shoulders, keeping his body in place.

“that's why you have been avoiding me? that's the reason why you have those dark circles?” you looked at him with furrowed brows, still grabbing his shoulders. he stared at you in silence. “you're an idiot, y'know?”

“what?”

“why didn't you come to me and talk instead of avoiding me? sunghoon, i was worried. i thought i made something bad to bother you or hurt you, don't know. i was overthinking it all” his face went full of worry when he heard you saying that, and feeling guilty.

“i thought.. i was afraid. i still am” he chuckled, still looking nervous.

“hoon, i like you too. you're so dumb” you start laughing, slipping your hands until they both grab his hands again. sunghoon looked at you with surprise all over his face. “i had a crush on you for almost a year” you shake your head.

“you're kidding.”

“i'm not.”

a bright smile appeared on his face, almost illuminating the whole room. he interlocked his fingers with yours, and before you could talk again, he pounced on you, making you fall over your back, giggling about his sudden affection.

his hands hugged your waist, and his face went on the side of yours, feeling the warmth of it.

“sunghoon are you red?” still laughing, you caress his hair, and he immediately shakes his head, brushing his hair against your cheek. “yeah, you're hot” noticing your own words, you shut your mouth, making sunghoon rise his head, holding a laugh.

“i am?” a smirk appears on his lips, letting you see his fangs. you rolled your eyes, putting one of your hands on his cheek, feeling the heat of his skin.

you nod, smiling. “yeah.”

you finally noticed how close your face was to his and how shiny his eyes looked right now.

caressing his face, your fingers touched his cheeks. and when you were about to take off your hands, he stole you a quick kiss, surprising you.

“i like you,” he said, hiding his face on the crock of your neck again.

giving you a cuteness attack, you squeezed him against your body, hugging him by the neck.

“i like you too.”

#lim ⋆#˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #enhypen fluff #enha #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon enhypen #park sunghoon #sunghoon soft hours #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon oneshots #enhypen soft hours #enha scenarios

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half-of-a-gay · 3 days ago

Note

PART 4 OF RUGBY VIKA X MANAGER READER PLEASEEEEE ITS SOO CUTE <\3

[A/N: You guys keep asking for this and I have a problem saying no so here you go. Enjoy!]

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3

PART 4:

Rugby player!Sevika x Team manager!Reader

The morning after the date starts slow.

You're in bed longer than usual, half-buried in blankets and replaying everything from the night before on a loop - the warm light of the diner, the way Sevika’s laugh had turned unguarded by the end of the evening, the brush of her hand finding yours.

You try not to think about it too much. You try to school your expression and put on the best poker face you could muster. But the second you step into the coffee shop to meet your friends, you know you’re not getting away with anything.

They’re already at a booth by the window, hands wrapped around steaming mugs, mid-conversation until one of them spots you and immediately smirks.

“Well,” she says before you’re even seated. “Someone’s looking suspiciously well-rested this morning.”

You slide into the booth and fight the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m just in a good mood.”

“Mhm. Spill.”

You hesitate for a moment. It’s not that you don’t want to tell them - it’s just that talking about it out loud makes it feel… fragile. But they’re your friends, and you did promise to fill them in.

“We went out last night,” you say finally. “Me and Sevika.”

You keep going, your words measured. “She took me to this old diner. Said it was kind of her safe spot. We just talked, ate pie, nothing wild. But it was… good. She was different than I thought she’d be.”

There’s a brief, telling pause. One of your friends glances at the others, exchanging a look that’s hard to miss.

“She didn’t even kiss me until I did it first,” you add quickly, almost too quickly. “She was actually kind of nervous.”

Another pause- longer this time. The weight of it hangs between you, and the air feels suddenly thick.

“I thought she ghosted you after the away game,” one of them says, their tone carefully neutral, but the undertone is there. It’s pointed. “Didn’t you say something happened, and then she just… disappeared?”

You feel your chest tighten at the reminder. Your hand wraps around your cup, fingers tightening around it, but you force yourself to stay calm.

“It wasn’t like that,” you insist, a little too forcefully. “She didn’t ghost me. She just… shut down for a while.”

“Isn’t that worse?” someone else chimes in. “I mean, you barely said what happened but we just don’t want you getting blindsided again.”

You stiffen. “It’s different now. She opened up. She took me somewhere that matters to her. I don’t think she does that with everyone.”

“Are you sure?” one of them asks gently. “You’ve had a thing for her for ages. You really think you’re seeing this clearly?”

You blink. The warmth from earlier starts to feel thinner. Shaky.

Another one of your friends leans back in her chair, arms crossed. She’s quiet for a beat, then speaks slowly, as if weighing her words. “I don’t know… I mean, it sounds nice and all, but you’re talking about Sevika. The same Sevika who’s kind of known for sleeping around and disappearing when things get real? And, I don’t know, you really think she’s different with you? After all that… history?”

Her words are gentle, but they sting, the undertone of doubt there- unavoidable.

You shake your head, trying to keep your voice steady. “She’s been different. I’m telling you, she’s not what you think.”

They exchange another look. You know they’re trying to be careful, but there’s something in the way they’re looking at you- something a little too knowing.

“She’s got a reputation,” another says, a shrug in her voice. “It’s not personal, it’s just… you said yourself she doesn’t let people in, right? How do you know she’s not running the same play she always does? Maybe that diner’s her move. Sob story, meaningful eye contact, pie, boom. Hooked.”

Your heart sinks, but you fight it. You’re not going to let them make you doubt this. Not yet. Not when you know, deep down, it’s been real between you two.

“She’s not like that,” you say, quieter now. You take a breath, then meet their eyes, more firm. “You don’t get it. Sevika’s… complicated. But I’m telling you, she’s trying. And she’s not the person you think she is.”

There’s another long pause. This time, the silence feels different- not like understanding, but like uncertainty.

—

The conversation with your friends lingers in the back of your mind as you walk towards the field for practice. The buzz of the café around you fades, but their words, the doubts - they stick. You had been so sure of yourself before, so open, so willing to jump in without hesitation. But now, a voice in the back of your head asks: What if they’re right? What if you’re just another one of Sevika’s fleeting moments?

You push the thoughts away, trying to focus on the here and now, as you arrive at the field earlie like you usually do. The sun paints the world in soft, golden hues. The morning air is cool, a contrast to the rising heat of the day. It's quiet, just the sound of your footsteps echoing across the grass, your mind still tangled from your conversation with your friends. You tell yourself it’s no big deal, that you’ll shake it off, but a little knot of doubt lingers.

As you make your way across the field, you spot Sevika already warming up. She straightens when she sees you approaching. Her posture is relaxed,arms crossed, but there’s a quiet tension in the way she watches you approach. She’s early. You weren’t expecting her to be, since she’s late for practice. For a moment, you can’t help but feel a little warmth in your chest. That’s what she does to you - makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room, even when it’s just the two of you.

You step closer, the soft crunch of grass beneath your shoes the only sound between you.

A slow smile tugs at the corners of Sevikas lips as she greets you. “Hey,” her voice is low but warm. “I didn’t think I’d beat you here.”

“Neither did I,” you say, chuckling softly, though you can’t help but feel a little lighter in her presence. You don’t want to overthink it, but it’s hard not to. “How long have you been here?”

“Not too long,” she replies, not offering more than that, but the way she glances at you - just a little longer than necessary - lets you know she’s been waiting for this. For you.

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel the familiar stir of doubt creeping in. Your friends' words still echo in your mind. You try to push them away, but they linger, casting a shadow over everything. You bite your lip, not sure if you should say anything. You should just act normal, but you can’t help the way your heart stutters when Sevika looks at you like that.

You don’t say anything right away, just stand there in front of her, your eyes bouncing from her to the side and back, not quite sure how to act. It’s quiet, uncomfortably so. There’s an expectant hum beneath it . She doesn’t tease, doesn’t smile - just looks at you with that open, steady expression of hers that always makes it hard to hide.

"You’re being kinda quiet today,” she says finally, tone low, careful. “Everything alright?”

You hesitate. There’s a soft warmth in your chest at her asking, at the way her voice dips, gentle just for you. You nod, but it's shaky, uncertain. “Yeah, I just... stuff’s been on my mind.”

She doesn’t push. Just tips her head slightly. “Want to talk about it?”

You almost say yes - almost spill all your insecurities - but then your chest tugs and twists and you find yourself unable to loosen your tongue. Your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Sevika just waits patently, eyes locked on yours. You’re about to finally spit it out, about to open the door to the mess you’ve been carrying all morning - when the sharp crack of a cleat on gravel pulls your attention.

Voices. Laughter.

The sound of Sevikas teammates spilling onto the field bursts the quiet little world you'd just started to build between the two of you.

You blink, shoulders tensing. Like you’ve been caught. You take a step back before Sevika can say anything. “I- uh- I’ll see you out there.”

Her brows knit, confused. You don’t wait to see if she calls after you.

Practice is a blur and Sevika can’t focus at all.

Not on the drills, not on the plays, not on her teammates shouting out positions or the coach barking through a megaphone. She runs the plays, hits her marks, does everything right on paper- but her mind keeps drifting.

To you.

You, on the far side of the field, planner in hand, expression tight. You’re not watching her. Not like you usually do. Usually, you steal glances when you think she’s not looking- those little flickers of interest, that slight raise of your brow when her muscles flex. Sevika's always noticed. Always looked for it.

But today? Today, you're all business.

Eyes on the team. Voice clipped, efficient, distant. And Sevika hates it.

She catches herself glancing over at you again- fourth time in ten minutes. Her steps stutter. She curses under her breath and pushes harder through the drill, jaw tight. "Focus," she mutters to herself.

But she can't- not when something’s wrong and you won't even look at her long enough to say what it is.

On the other side of the field, you're trying to look like everything’s normal. Pen tapping the cover of your planner in a controlled rhythm. But your eyes keep drifting too. To her and worse- to the girl beside her- number 9.

A newer teammate, a year younger, shorter than Sevika but just as quick on the field. You’ve noticed the way she hovers around Sevika for a while now. Always close. Always laughing at anything Sevika says. Always “accidentally” brushing against her arm when they line up. And Sevika never pushes her off.

You’d told yourself it didn’t bother you. That it didn’t mean anything. That Sevika’s body language was stiff- barely engaged. And besides who were you to be bitter about it, she wasn't even yours.

But you couldn’t help it. Today your chest is tight with every little interaction. Every time she stretches way too close beside her. Every time she leans in, grinning like she knows something you don’t.

And Sevika just stands there. Not encouraging it- but telling her to fuck off either.

It gets to you even if it shouldn’t. Because you can’t help but think: Was there something between them? Did she ever bring her to the diner?

You shake your head, trying to shove the thoughts down. Trying to focus on your job. On the team. On not caring.

But your eyes find Sevika again, just in time to see the girl laughing too loudly at something and resting her hand on Sevika’s arm- too casual, too familiar.

And the way Sevika doesn’t flinch- doesn’t shrug her off- It hits you right in the stomach. You look away before you can let it show.

But Sevika sees your eyes narrow, sees the set of your jaw shift, and her gut twists. She doesn’t know what she did, but she knows something’s off.

The rest of practice blurs by in a haze of second-guessing and tension. And the secondit+s over, you’re gone. Your strides are long and brisk, head down like you’ve got somewhere urgent to be. You don’t. You just can’t be here. Not with the weight in your chest getting heavier every time you catch Sevika out of the corner of your eye. Not with that girl still smiling at her like she knows her. Like she’s been there.

Maybe she has. Maybe that diner wasn’t special. Maybe all of it was just another version of a thing she’s done before.

You feel stupid. You told your friends they were wrong. That Sevika was different. That what you had meant something. But now, with every second that passes, you’re starting to wonder if you just saw what you wanted to see.

She didn’t even pull away from that girl…

Across the field, Sevika sees you move. Sees your sharp exit, the set of your shoulders, the way your head stays low. And her stomach drops.

She doesn’t move. Just stands there, eyes fixed on the corner you disappeared around. Her hands flexing at her sides like she doesn't know whether to chase you or punch something. And the only thought running through her head is: Fuck. I messed up again.

Behind her, number 9 walks up and bumps her shoulder bringing her out of her daze. “Hey, Cap,” she says, voice bright. “Drinks with the team tonight?”

Sevika blinks at her. “What?”

“You know. Post-practice. You in?”

She hesitates, eyes still on the space you just vacated. “…Not tonight.”

The girl’s smile falters. “Oh. Okay.”

Sevika doesn’t even offer an excuse. Just turns and starts walking toward the locker room.

—

Sevika sits alone in the locker room long after most of the team has cleared out. The only sound is the low hum of the overhead lights and the occasional creak of pipes somewhere in the walls.

She hasn’t moved in ten minutes. Just sits there, elbows on her knees, hands loosely hanging, staring at the floor like it might give her answers. But all she can think about is the way you walked off the field. And the way you refused to look at her. Her stomach churns.

What the hell happened?

The date had gone well. At least she thought it had. You said you had a good time. You wouldn’t have said that if it wasn’t true… right?

So what changed? Was it the diner?

She swallows hard, jaw tightening as her thoughts circle back there.

Was that too much? Too personal?

She wanted it to mean something. She thought it did. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe it scared you off. Maybe you saw too much of her, too much of the quiet, lonely parts and decided she was too much, too complicated.

She scrubs a hand down her face, leans back against the lockers with a dull thud. Her eyes squeeze shut.

She can’t remember the last time she felt like this. So off-kilter. You weren’t supposed to matter this much, this soon. But you do.

And now she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She replays every moment from the date again. The way you looked around the diner like it was magic. The way your fingers had brushed hers across the table. The way you kissed her so softly at your door.

She’d gone home that night feeling something she didn’t let herself name. Something that sat heavy in her chest and warm in her ribs. Now she feels like she’s watching it slip away. And she doesn’t even know why.

Behind her, there's a quiet scuff of feet and a soft thunk of a locker door.

Then a familiar voice- calm and too perceptive by half. “Hey.”

Sevika stiffens slightly. Looks up.

Ran.

They’re leaning against the lockers across from her, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded like they’ve been there long enough to read Sevika’s whole emotional state and draft a thesis on it.

But her expression isn’t mocking. Not this time. Just curious. Concerned. Sharp around the edges in that way only Ran can pull off without sounding like they’re lecturing you.

“You good?” she asks.

Sevika exhales, slow and tight. “Fine.”

Ran tilts their head, unconvinced. They sit in silence for a while. Sevika keeps scowling at the floor until– “...No.”

Ran’s arms loosen just slightly across their chest. They don't smirk, don't push. They’re reading the room, watching Sevika carefully like she’s a skittish animal ready to bolt.

“She left fast,” Ran says, voice even, like it’s just an observation.

Sevika’s jaw flexes. “I noticed.”

Ran shifts their weight but doesn't break eye contact. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

After a long pause, she adds, casually: “She looked upset.”

That lands hard. Sevika doesn’t respond, but her eyes flick up- sharp, stung. Ran watches her reaction. Tucks the confirmation away without comment.

“I don’t know what I did,” Sevika mutters finally.

Ran nods slowly, arms still folded. “Date go bad?”

“No. It went—” Sevika breaks off, shaking her head. “It went good. She smiled. She kissed me. We texted after.”

“Then maybe it’s not about the date,” Ran says.

Their tone stays light, neutral. But they watch Sevika closely. Measure the way her brow furrows, the way her hands clench tighter between her knees.

“Could be something else,” Ran adds, “or someone.”

The shift is subtle. Intentional. She doesn’t say the teammate’s name. But Sevika’s body goes still.

Ran sees it but doesn’t press. Just lets the implication sit. A nudge, not a shove.

“Shit,” Sevika mutters.

And that’s all Ran needs to hear. They push off the locker, stretching lazily like they’re just making conversation. “Look, I don’t know what happened,” they say. “But if it’s important maybe stop staring at the floor and start figuring out how to fix it.” And just like that, they turn to go.

No judgment. No teasing. Just their usual quiet brand of tough love, dropped like a stone in the middle of Sevika’s spiral.

Sevika stays where she is for a few more seconds. Then drags both hands down her face with a groan, before reaching for her phone.

—

You’re halfway through changing when your phone buzzes across the desk. You don’t even look at first. You know who it is. You feel it in your chest.

Eventually, you check– Sevika. Calling.

Your thumb hovers over the screen but you don't answer. Not out of spite. Just… you’re not ready. Still too wrapped up in your own head, caught between doubt and guilt and god, I wanted her to be different.

The call rings out. The screen goes dark. You sit back against the chair, heart pounding, mind racing. You tell yourself it’s fine. That she’ll get it. That you’re allowed to need space.

But a minute later- She calls again.

You stare at the screen longer this time. There’s a weird ache in your chest. The same ache you felt after that night at the away game- when she pulled away without a word. When she vanished and left you scrambling, wondering what you’d done wrong.

And now you’re doing the same thing. You sigh. Run a hand through your hair.

Then you swipe to answer.

“…Hey.”

There’s silence on the other end for a second too long.

Then: “You picked up.” Her voice is rougher than usual tense, but quiet. Like she wasn’t expecting you to actually answer.

“Yeah,” you say. “I didn’t want to ignore you. I just… needed a minute.”

Another beat. Then she asks, cautious: “Did I do something?”

You close your eyes.

“No,” you say softly. “I mean- not on purpose. I don’t know.” You pause, then add, “It’s not fair to make you guess.”

More silence. You hear her exhale through her nose.

“Can we talk?” she asks. “Like- really talk?”

You hesitate, then nod before realizing she can’t see you. “Yeah,” you say. “Okay.”

You don't know exactly what you’ll say yet, or how to explain the way your mind spun out all day over something that probably wasn’t even real. But you know one thing for sure: You don’t want to hurt her. Not like that. She doesn’t deserve that.

—

Twenty minutes after the call, there’s a knock at your door. You hesitate for a second, then cross the room and open it. And there she is- Sevika.

In a hoodie that’s a little too big on her, sleeves pushed up just enough to show the veins in her forearms. Her hair is still damp from the shower, pushed back messily like she didn’t bother with a mirror. Her jaw is tense, her mouth set in a line that tries to stay calm, but the twitch in her fingers gives her away. Like she couldn’t stay still after hanging up. Like she came straight here, nerves and all, just to make this right.

She looks beautiful. Your breath catches a little. Because somehow, she always looks the best when she’s like this- unguarded. Like she doesn’t know how fucking magnetic she is.

The hard line of her shoulders. The storm in her eyes. The rawness she doesn’t know she’s showing.

God, she’s too much.

“Hi,” she says, voice low and rough at the edges.

You blink, breath still caught in your throat. “…Hey.”

You step back. “Come in.”

It’s quiet for a while.

You sit on the couch with Sevika, the space between you charged with quiet tension. She’s waiting. Not pushing- just waiting. You take a shaky breath, looking down at your hands in your lap. You’ve been turning the words over in your head all day, but now they feel jagged in your throat.

“I know it’s dumb,” you start. “But… I saw you today. With her.”

Sevika’s eyes narrow slightly, not defensive- just focused. She knows who you mean immediately.

“That girl- on the team. The one who’s always- flirting with you. All over you.” You say it flatly, trying not to sound bitter.

“Oh,” Sevika says, voice low.

“And it just… got in my head,” you admit. “Because you didn’t push her away.”

Sevika shifts like she wants to explain, but doesn’t interrupt.

Your throat tightens. “And then I couldn’t stop thinking about what my friends- ” The words come too fast.

You freeze. Eyes wide. You cover your mouth with your hand like you could shove the sentence back inside.

Shit. You didn’t mean to say that. But it’s out now.

Sevika sits up straighter, eyes sharpening immediately. “…Your friends? What did they say?” she asks carefully.

You look away. “Forget it.”

“No,” she says, firm but low. “Tell me.”

You shake your head, but she leans in- voice softer now, but insistent. You stare at the coffee table like the grain in the wood might save you. Then, reluctantly: “They said some stuff. After the date.”

Her hands are already curled into fists in her lap.

You rush to soften it. “It wasn’t like- they didn’t mean it like that. They just… they’re protective. And they remember how upset I was after the away game. And they think I’m-”

Your voice drops to a near whisper. “-setting myself up to get hurt.”

That hangs there for a second too long. You look down again, swallowing hard. Sevika stills. Her hands curl into fists in her lap, slow and tight. And her jaw clenches so hard you see the muscle twitch. And when you finally glance up at her, her gaze is on the floor, her face holds an unreadable expression. But the silence is brutal.

She breathes in, shallow. Then finally says- soft, flat: “They think I’m not serious.”

You wince. “I’m not saying they’re right. I’m just- ”

“No,” she cuts in. “It’s okay. I get it. I know what I look like from the outside.”

You turn to face her. “Sev- ”

“I know what people say about me. That I’m cold, distant, not the relationship type. They're not wrong. I’ve always kept people at arm’s length, kept things short, casual. Easy to build a wall when no one expects anything from you.”

She swallows, jaw clenching.“So yeah, I get why it looks bad. Why they’d think I’m just doing it again.”

There’s no bitterness in it. Just cold honesty.

“But that’s not what this is,” she adds. She looks up, and her voice is rougher now. “I need you to know that.”

You don’t interrupt. You just watch the way her eyes shine more than they should, the way her jaw clenches like she’s holding something back.

“I’m trying,” she says. “I’m fucking trying.” Her voice breaks- just slightly. Her jaw flexes again. Her chest rises with a shaky breath, and her eyes flick down, then quickly away, like she doesn’t want you to see it.

But you do.

You see the way her eyes gloss over, the way her shoulders tense like she’s barely holding it together. Not crying, but on the edge of it. Misty and raw in a way Sevika never lets herself be seen.

And your heart just splinters.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, your voice catching. “I’m so sorry. I just-” You exhale shakily. “I got scared.”

You feel it more now- the weight of it. How unfair it was. The way her voice cracked. The way she’s sitting so still, trying not to fall apart.

“I let them get in my head,” you admit. “And that’s on me.”

She doesn’t respond, but her breath hitches. She blinks hard and presses her tongue to the inside of her cheek like she’s trying to choke the feeling down. Her hand in yours is warm and solid, but her fingers twitch, betraying the spiral beneath the surface. Then her eyes dart away, and you catch it- the tear that spills over before she can stop it.

She rubs it away with the back of her hand- rough and fast, like it embarrassed her just to let it fall. You reach up, gently, and brush your thumb along the other side of her cheek. She stiffens at the touch, but doesn't pull back.

You search her face. “You’ve been doing everything right, Sev. I just- got in my own way. And I’m so sorry.”

She blinks again. Breath shaky. Voice rough.

“I’m not good at this.”

You give a tired, self-deprecating little huff in response. “I’m not proving to be much better…”

“I mean- I let a couple offhand comments from people who weren’t even there outweigh everything I saw and felt that night. I’m not exactly winning any awards over here.”

Her mouth twitches, just barely. “So we both suck at this.”

You smile, just a little. “Yeah, well… at least it keeps us even”

She huffs something close to a laugh, but it tapers off fast. Her face still feels warm and flushed. “Fuck,” she whispers, sniffling. “I don’t cry. What the hell are you doing to me?” A shaky breath escapes her, half a laugh and half something else.

You lean in until your forehead presses to hers, your hand cradling the side of her neck. Her eyes flutter shut. Her shoulders finally drop. And for a long, quiet beat, you just sit there. Forehead to forehead. Fingers tangled between you.

After a while you pull back just slightly, just enough to look at her. Her eyes are still red around the edges, still glassy, but she doesn’t try to hide it anymore.

You tilt your head. “Wanna stay a while?” You smile, small and warm. “We could… put something on. One of those bad action movies you like. Something with explosions and horrible acting. Preferably violent.”

She huffs under her breath, but there’s the faintest lift at the corner of her mouth. “Watch it,” she mutters. “Those are classics.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Mmm, sure. Deeply nuanced storytelling… Nothing says emotional range like twenty minutes of slow-mo gunfire and a one-liner about justice.”

“Okay, now you’re just asking to be kicked off the couch.” she says, deadpan.

“I’d like to see you try, big girl” you murmur, grinning.

She looks at you, eyes a little softer now. Like she can breathe again. And then you tilt your head, tone dropping low, teasing around the edges.

“I mean… your shoulder must be acting up again. It’s been weeks since you crawled into my lap whining about how you needed to be held?”

She groans immediately, dragging a hand down her face. “Fuck’s sake.”

You smile—just a little. “I’m just saying. You made a very convincing case last time.I’m just trying to be a responsible manager here.”

“Don’t,” she warns, but she’s already fighting a smile.

You don’t say anything. You just tug her gently down with you, guiding her head onto your chest. And when she follows- quiet, still a little raw- you don’t push or tease anymore. You just cradle her into your arms, wrapping them around her and letting her sink into you, like gravity takes her.

And maybe that’s all they need right now- just this. Just here. And for it to finally feel like a beginning.

#arcane sevika #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #sevika arcane

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prettydaisygirl · 2 days ago

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OMG. I cant beleive I found a new writer who can feed my james potter delusion! Generally I'm a silent supporter but after reading your Aus, you literally have unlocked a new part of my brain. Your ideas are truly amazing ❤️ pls keep blessing us with your works🙏🏻

I feel like the au idea which I have in mind you can really express it.so may I pls request a college au with fratjames potter x reader.where they both are acquaintance and something happens.due to some misunderstanding reader is the receiving end of James wrath.after realising his mistake he makes a sweet apology gesture to reader and wants to get in her good books.

It's just a just my apology if you couldn't really get the idea( english is my 2nd language and I don't feel confident in it)

P.s pls feel free to ignore it ❤️Have a wonderful Day/Night💗

Hello, my love! Thank you so much for the request! This is my first request so I'm a little nervous haha, I hope this is what you were looking for :) Your words are so sweet, and you really made my day! Also, I'm kind of obsessed with frat!James now... Have a wonderful day/night yourself, lovely <3

frat!James Potter x fem!reader who was supposed to bring the beer ✿ 1.4k words

cw: fem reader, marauders as frat bros, alcohol (or lack thereof), armed store robbery with a gun (not described in detail), reader is James' lab partner

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

part 2

James is having a bad night. It’s 8pm on a Friday and he hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol yet. This is unusual, especially given the music blaring through the frat house with enough bass to shake the foundation. There are dozens of people here. Most of them know James even if he doesn’t know them, which is great until it isn’t.

Another one approaches him, some guy by the name of Marty or something.

“Dude,” The guy raises his arms and James’ annoyance skyrockets. He already knows what this guy is about to say. “Where’s the beer?”

“I know,” James grunts at him. Barty, that’s it. “I’m working on it.”

Barty scoffs but James is already pushing past him. He pushes through the crowd, many of whom move quickly to get out of his way. His eyes scan through, looking for someone in particular.

Where the hell are you?

James makes his way to the kitchen, seeing the counters still bare and no sign of you anywhere. He curses under his breath and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contact list. Just as he presses the call button, Sirius approaches him. James holds up a hand but Sirius speaks anyway.

“Prongs, where are the drinks? If one more Alpha Tau tells me my party sucks, I might go to prison.” James just glares at Sirius’ dramatics, the phone ringing endlessly in his ear. It goes to voicemail and he hangs up with a groan.

“I thought you said you handled it!” Sirius stresses just as Remus walks into the kitchen, beelining for the two of them.

“I did!” James argues, running a hand through his already unruly hair with a huff.

“What’s going on?” Remus asks, crossing his arms and looking between James and Sirius with a narrowed stare. “Is this about the beer?”

“Yes!” Sirius stresses again, and points at James, “It’s James’ week to get drinks. But here we are, at 8pm on Friday and…” Sirius gestures to the empty countertops. “No drinks!”

“You tell ‘em, Sirius!” James hears Barty shout from across the kitchen and James fears he and Sirius might both end up in prison together.

“I thought I handled it.” James tells both of his frat brothers, shrugging a bit.

“What does that mean?” Remus asks, his brow furrowing. “Did you buy the drinks or not?”

James at least has the decency to look sheepish, running a hand over the back of his hair as he inhales through his teeth. “I may have… asked my lab partner to get it for me.”

Sirius gasps, raising a hand to his chest as though clutching his pearls, “I thought pawning drinks off on someone else was against the rules!”

“It is.” Remus tells Sirius, looking at James with an expectant stare.

“I was using it as an excuse for us to meet up, you know? So the two of us can hang out…” James feels his stomach churn when Sirius’ face bends into a knowing smirk.

“Oh, I understand…” Sirius winks at James, “To ‘hang out.’” His air quotes make Remus roll his eyes and James glare harshly.

“Someone needs to go get drinks.” Remus reminds the two of them. The party crowd is getting routier behind him.

“James, it’s your week, so off you go.” Sirius nudges James toward the front door. “You never know, you might find your lover along the way!”

“Oi, fuck off!” James calls back to him right as the door slams closed behind him.

As he begins the trek to the store, he attempts to call you several times. Every attempt is met with voicemail. He texts you, and all of them are left unread. James finds frustration and anger building in his gut, not solely from the lack of alcohol but also from being stood up, apparently. James Potter has never been stood up in his life.

On his seventh attempt to call you, it doesn’t even ring. It goes straight to voicemail. His jaw clenches and his fists ball up and he finds himself spewing words he shouldn’t say, airing his frustrations out to you. He calls you things like selfish and rude, and even a bad friend.

By the time he turns onto the last street, his anger has mostly turned into disappointment. He’d really been looking forward to seeing you tonight, and though it hadn’t been to sleep with you like Sirius had suggested, he had been considering it your first date.

James is lost in thought as he approaches the store, steps scraping gently across the pavement. He’s thinking about what he might say to you during your lab on Monday when he hears your voice. It catches his attention immediately and he looks up, eyes searching for you.

There you are, just as pretty as always, but something’s wrong. You’re standing in front of the store, tear-stains evident on your cheeks as you speak to a police officer. James’ heart sinks into his stomach and he’s by your side before he can stop himself.

“Hey,” His voice is low and soothing, more comforting than he thought he could be but you look up at him like he’s saved your life and his heart pounds. “What’s going on?”

James’ eyes dart nervously between you and the police officer, but the uniformed man shakes his head a bit. “I’ve got everything I need. You gon’ be okay?” James is a bit confused but he realizes the officer’s words are directed at you when he sees you nodding.

“Yes, sir. Thank you very much.” Your voice is a bit choked and you wipe at your cheeks before turning to him. He feels like he needs to scoop you up in his arms, to do something to help put you back together and get that look out of your eyes.

“What happened?” James’ hands reach for your arms, settling on your elbows. His thumbs brush over your skin soothingly and you feel tears burning in your eyes again at his gentle movements.

“I was…” You swallow thickly when your voice cracks, “I was trying to get the drinks for your party and some guy came in and he was yelling at the cashier, and he… he had a gun, and I didn’t know what to do and you kept calling me and I was trying to answer but-”

James shushes you before you can continue spiraling, shaking his head. Guilt surges through him, knowing what his texts say. And that voicemail…

“Don’t worry about it.” He assures you, and his dark eyes meet yours. “Is it okay if I hug you?” As soon as you nod, he wraps you in a tight embrace, like he really is trying to put you back together. You both stand like that for a long moment until he feels your body relax, your soft sigh brushing his ear in a puff of warm air.

James pulls back and moves to cup your face with one hand, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You tell him with a soft nod and an even softer smile. It’s one that gives James butterflies and he suddenly feels bad having you look at him like that when…

“Just… delete all of those texts from me.” He says, and your brow furrows, lips parting a bit to question him but he speaks again before you can. “And please don’t listen to that voicemail.”

You look to the side before your eyes meet his again, a confused smile on your lips. “What? Why, what did you say?” The smile fades when James doesn’t play off his words like he always does.

“Okay, I’ll delete them.” His face relaxes a bit at your words and he looks back up at the shop. He hears his text notification sound, but he ignores it, his eyes settling on your face again instead.

“Do you… Are you still coming to the party?” He asks, and he hates the way desperation is plain in his tone.

“I was hoping to, yeah.” Your smile turns a bit shy and sweet now and James beams, his hands on your shoulders.

“Okay, great! So we’ll get drinks and then walk back together!” His smile falters and he hesitates then, looking back at the store. “Actually, you wait here. I’ll go get drinks. You don’t need to come back inside.” Your heart almost breaks at his consideration for your feelings. You move up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Okay,” You say, “I’ll be waiting right here.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

#daisy's writings #frat!james potter #james potter au #james potter #frat!marauders #marauders au #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter fanficiton #james potter fic #james potter drabble #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #hp marauders #marauders fanfiction

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piroulinewafers · 3 days ago

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HELLO FELLOW FREAK /affectionate :P i was wondering if u can do a fic w calebmc and guided masterbation...basically the readers inexperienced and its her first time and calebs had his fair share of experience maybe? KSJSKSJSJ hopefully my point gets through, idm u adding ur own elements to it, thank you have a lovely day<333

psssstttt i LOVE ur fics btw ♡

𝐚/𝐧: waaa hi fellow freak 😏 your brain is so big... i wasn't sure if you wanted something more specific, but i lowkey had so much fun writing this... when is it my turn for gege to teach me how to pleasure myself sigh.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: caleb x fem! inexperienced! reader 𝐜𝐰: smut, overstimulation. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

the regret was surely getting to her.

the second the words slipped past her lips, she wished she could chase them down and lock them away. her cheeks burned hot, her gaze fixed on the floor, unable to look at him.

caleb hadn’t said a word yet, but she could feel the weight of his stare— steady, unreadable and just a little amused.

she squirmed beneath it, twisting the hem of her shirt between her fingers. “i… i shouldn’t have told you anything. it was dumb,” she mumbled, voice barely over a whisper. “just forget i said anything.”

caleb didn’t move at first. he stood by the edge of her bed, one hand still resting on the waistband of his uniform slacks, the other braced on the doorframe. his dog tags shifted when he tilted his head, catching just a glint of light.

“you think i’m gonna forget you said somethin’ like that?” he asked, tone mild— teasing, but not unkind. there was a sparkle of something in his voice too. gentler. steadier.

she fidgeted more. she wished she could just disappear into the floorboards.

he finally stepped forward, closing the distance with quiet, even steps. “you’re nervous,” he said, not as a question, but as something already known. his voice lowered, soft but firm. “and you’re beating yourself up over it.”

he knew her too well. she gave a tiny nod, still not meeting his eyes.

caleb stopped in front of her and gently tilted her chin up with two fingers. his touch was light, careful— like he was afraid of pushing too hard and making her retreat, despite wanting to do so badly.

“i still shouldn’t’ve said anything— i sounded pathetic, i just— “

caleb cut her off with a look. gentle, but firm enough to close her mouth without another word, brows drawing to a furrow.

the mattress dipped as he moved to sit on the bed, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his uniform jacket. he reached for her, slow and easy, guiding her to sit between his legs like it was the most natural thing in the word. his. hands found her hips, warm through the fabric, thumbs brushing her waist as he leaned in close enough that she could feel his breath at her temple.

“you don’t sound pathetic, just honest. i’m glad you told me.”

her shirt wrinkled beneath his fingertips as he toyed with the hem, almost absentminded. the silence was thick, the space between them warmer than it should’ve been.

“you’re nervous still,” he murmured, caleb murmured, lips brushing just behind her ear. “but i can smell you, pips.”

her breath hitched.

“i could teach you, you know,” he added, voice soft like he was making an offer, not a demand. “show you how good it can feel… if you’d let me. i can’t believe my meimei’s never properly learned how to make herself cum… it’s cute.”

caleb leaned back just a little, enough to look down at her, framed between his legs like she’d always belonged there.

the creases in his uniform pants were sharp and pressed perfect, every line rigid and clean where hers were soft and uncertain. his tie was still knotted, though a little loosened now, collar open just enough to let her see the bronze of his throat.

he traced a slow circle on her thigh with one hand, the other resting firm at her waist. not moving further, just… holding.

“y’know,” he said, voice low and thoughtful. “it makes me a little mad.”

her eyes flickered to his, wide and unsure. “what does?”

“that no one ever took the time,” he murmured. “to show you. that you’ve been tryin’ to figure it out all by yourself, feelin’ like you’re broken or something just ‘cause you couldn’t get there.”

she lowered her gaze, shame prickling up her neck, but his fingers tightened gently— just enough to keep her grounded.

“i don’t like that,” he added. “hate thinkin’ of you feeling that way.”

but then, his mouth curved into something quieter. something warmer.

“still,” he said, almost to himself. “part of me is glad.”

“glad?” she blinked, parroting his words adorably.

caleb nodded slowly, like he was chewing on the words before saying them out loud. “means no one else got there first. means you’re still all soft and untouched in all the ways that matter.”

he let that sit in the air for a moment, thumbing the hem of her skirt again, this time with a little more purpose, his voice dipping lower. “it means i get to be the one who show you and teach you how to make yourself feel good. the right way. won’t you let your gege help?”

and maybe he shouldn’t enjoy that thought as much as he did, shouldn’t feel that selfish little swell of pride in his chest— but he did. because she was his, even if she didn’t know it yet. and if she was going to learn anything about herself, about her body… it’d be from him. only him.

caleb’s thumb brushed against the delicate skin of her inner thigh, his hand warm, even through the fabric of her shirt as he pressed again her back. she could feel the strength in his fingers, the calluses that spoke of a life spent in service and discipline. it was a touch that promised both control and comfort and she ocouldn’t help but lean into it, craving more of that intoxicating mix.

“you’re overthinking again,” caleb murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her chest. his other hand slid up her spine, the heat of his palm seeping into her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “stop trying to analyze everything to death. just… feel.”

his fingers tapped at her thigh. “i know you’re curious, pips. i can practically hear the questions spinning in that clever head of yours. so what are you thinking?” his words were muffled.

the heat of his breath fanned against her jaw, making her eyelids flutter. she let out a shaky breath. “i’m thinking a lot of stuff…”

caleb’s voice was low and patient, almost brotherly in its gentle guidance. “here, let me show you,” he murmured, taking her hand and guiding it to the soft swell of her breast. he encouraged her fingers to knead the supple flesh, shaping and squeezing in a way that made her breath catch. “like this, don’t be shy now.”

his other hand trailed slowly down her body, calloused fingertips skimming over her stomach, her hip, before reaching the hem of her skirt.

with a deft motion, he bunched the fabric in his fist and tugged it upwards, exposing more of her thighs to the cool air.

“spread your legs for me, pips,” caleb coaxed softly, his voice a low rumble that sent warmth unfurling in her belly. his thumb pressed against the centre of her panties, right where she was already slick and aching.

the friction made her gasp, her hips twitching forward involuntarily. “caleb,” she breathed out, his name falling from her lips like a plea. her chest heaved with each shaky inhale, nipples straining against the thin fabric of her shirt. the sensation of his touch, so intimate and new , set her nerves alight with anticipation.

he rubbed slow circles over her clothed slit, feeling the heat of her even through the barrier of her underwear. “shh, i’ve got you,” he soothed, thumbing her clit with a maddeningly gentle pressure that made her toes curl.

her hand moved from her breast, but caleb was quick to use his free hand to grasp her wrist, watching the way it twitched and squirmed under his touch.

“ah ah, i didn’t tell you to move it, did i?” caleb hummed out, leading to a faint pout to settle on her lips.

beneath her panties, she could feel her clit swelling, the delicate flesh throbbing with a desperate ache. caleb’s touch, his guidance, the low timbre of his voice urging her own… it was all too much and not enough, all at once.

caleb’s fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her panties, brushing against her sensitive folds. he could feel the slick heat of her arousal, the way her body trembled under his touch. his thumb easily found her clit, circling the sensitive nub with a maddeningly gentle pressure that made her arch her back against him.

“mm, you’re not shaved down here,” caleb murmured, his voice a low rumble in her ear. “all prickly and untouched…”

he could feel her squirm with a sudden shyness, trying to clamp her thighs together. “caleb, don’t…” she protested weakly, embarrassed by his intimate discovery. this was already quite embarrassing as is, having her childhood friend see her like this, and now…

but caleb was having none of it. his strong arms pinned her in place, holding her hips steady as he pressed firmly against her back, chin practically propped against her shoulder.

“hey, hey… none of that, pips,” he soothed, his voice gentling. “it’s cute, really. i like getting to see you all bare, so natural. ”

to punctuate his words, caleb rubbed her clit a little harder, a little faster. his fingers dipped lower, teasing along her slit. “i like it,” he declared again, as if that settled the matter. “it’s perfect on you.”

she whimpered, her hips twitching as she fought to urge to grind against his hand. caleb’s touch was electrifying, setting her nerves on fire until she thought she might combust. she could feel every inch of herself, from the aching swell of her breasts to the throbbing heat between her thighs, and it was all because of him.

“caleb…” she gasped out again, her voice high and breathy. her fingers moved up, digging into the soft flesh of her breast, kneading and squeezing just like he’d shown her. the sensation of her own touch, combined with his, was almost too much to bear.

caleb’s fingers stilled for a moment, and he looked at her with a quirked brow. “tell me something, pips,” he murmured. “ have you ever fingered yourself before? i’m curious.”

she immediately burned red, shaking her head and trying to hide her face away from him as best as she could, but with him sitting behind her, there was little she could do.

“when i put my fingers in, it’d just feels like… i don’t know. weird. not in a bad or good way.”

caleb chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest as he processed her shy confession. “wait… you’ve never actually done it properly, have you, pips?” he teased, eyes sparkling with amusement. “you just stuck a finger in there and wiggled it around until it felt weird?”

she scowled at him, brows furrowing as she pouted. “well, yeah… i mean, it did feel strange!” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “it’s not the same as when i see it in porn…” she blushed hard, realizing her admittance.

it was strange. caleb and her had known each other since they were kids, practically siblings, so all of this… it was foreign and a bit embarrassing.

caleb’s eyes widened slightly, a hint of surprise flashing through them before his expression settled into a more thoughtful one. “you shouldn’t try to compare everything to porn you know.” he let out a huff, almost sounding a little jealous. “you should have just asked your gege for help with this stuff.i could’ve shown you how to make yourself feel good ages ago.”

without waiting for a response, he slowly, steadily, eased a finger inside of her, groaning softly at the way her walls clenched around the thick digit.

“fuck, pips… you’re so tight,” he grunted out, pumping his finger in and out of her virgin hole. “no wonder it feels strange for you. your little cunny is gripping my finger like a vice.”

she moaned softly, hyper-sensitive from his teasing and his fiery-hot touch, a needy breathy sound. she pouted at his language, flustered and overwhelmed. “don’t… don’t call it that…”

he curled his finger slightly inside, brushing against a spot that made her feel stars. “shh, don’t pout,” caleb cooed, his thumb coming up to rub soothing circles on her lower belly. “i know its a lot to take in. the feeling of being touched like this… it’s overwhelming at first.” he gently pushed in a second fingers, stroking her insides in a way that had her toes curling and her breath coming out in sharp pants.

caleb watched her face intently, eyes roaming over her features, noting the way her nose scrunched up and her eyes were shut. “tell me, pips,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp. “has it ever felt this good when you helplessly rubbed your little clit all by your lonesome?” his fingers pumped steadily, curling and stroking along her walls in a way that made her thighs quiver.

she quickly shook her head, strands of hair swept across her forehead as she whimpered out. “n-no… it’s never felt like this before, gege…” her voice was breathy and high, straining with the intensity of the new sensations coursing through her.

caleb could feel her body tensing, her walls starting to flutter and clench around his invading fingers. he could sense her impending release, could feel the way her little cunt was already starting to spasm and tighten. his eyes darkened with lust as he watched her teeter on the brink of climax.

“that’s it, pips… just like that,” caleb encouraged, his thumb rubbing firm circles over her swollen, throbbing clit. “don’t fight it. let yourself feel this, let yourself cum for me…”

he knew he was supposed to only be helping her, and yet, he couldn’t help himself from inserting himself in the narrative to ensure she at least vaguely understood that he was the only one who could make her feel this way. she was his, forever and always and he had no plans on letting anyone touch— let alone see— her in this state aside from him.

with a sharp cry, she came undone, body convulsing as her very first real orgasm crashed over her. her inner walls clamped down round caleb’s fingers, gripping them like a silken vice as wave after wave of pleasure washed through her.

caleb couldn’t help but groan, feeling the way her cunt spasmed and quivered, dripping with her premature release.

“fuck, pips…. you cum so easily,” he growled, a hint of pride and possessiveness in his voice. he kept stroking her through her orgasm, fingers pumping steadily as he worked a third digit into her fluttering hole. “such a good girl, summing so hard and fast for your gege…”

she could only whimper and mewl, her body writhing beneath his touch as the intense pleasure consumed her. she’d never felt anything like this before, never known her body could feel this way.

her whole bottom was buzzing as caleb continued, her hands clumsily moving to push at his, but he paid no heed to her feeble attempts, easily overpowering her weakened efforts as his fingers kept pumping steadily.

“shh, shh, don’t fight it, pips,” he chided, voice a low rumble. “you can’t be humming already… so fast and sloppy, drenchin’ my fingers like this.”

he held her hips down, with his free hand, pressing it firmly where her hips and thighs met. her slick, swollen walls were so sensitive, still fluttering from the aftershocks of her climax. each thrust of caleb’s fingers sent bolts of electric pleasure shooting up her spine, making her writhe and whine helplessly.

“gege… please…” she gasped between ragged breaths, face flushed and eyes glazed. “it’s too much… too much… ahh!” her protests turned into a sharp cry as he increased his pace.

“too much? or not enough?” caleb countered, practically feeling her juices dripping down his fingers, her arousal making obscene squelching noises as he fingered her overstimulated hole. her panties, of which he had elected not to take off, were drenched, a very obvious damp spot against him that soaked into the sheets beneath them.

“look at the mess you’re making, pips,” caleb taunted, holding her chin and forcing her to meet his heated gaze. “squirtin’ all over the place, humming before i even got my fingers all the way inside…i swear, you’re going to be the death of me.

despite his words, there was clear pride in his voice, knowing he could reduce her to such a desperate dripping state. she was all his.

caleb’s fingers never slowed, never stopping their merciless pumping. he could feel her second climax building, body tensing and tightening as she hurtled towards the edge once more.

“that’s it, give me another one,” he commanded insistently. “show your gege what a needy little thing you are, humming over and over again on his fingers.” caleb punctuated his words by burying his fingers as deep as they could go, grinding against that spongey spot that he knew would make her completely collapse in his arms.

her lips parts in a. silent scream of pure ecstasy tore from her throat, her limbs trembling and chest heaving as she came again. finally, only then, did caleb retract her fingers, noting the way the evidence of her arousal clung to them in a sticky mess.

“good girl,” caleb praised, a rare softness entering his voice as he took in her utterly debauched state leaning against him. he gentled his touch, bringing his fingers to his lips and making a show of licking her essence from his digits.

“delicious,” he purred, holding her gaze. it only made her scrunch her nose up in faint disgust, a huffy sound leaving her.

too tired and sated to argue, a blissful smile played at the corners of her lips. she leaned heavily against him, small frame molding to his larger one like it was meant to be there. tilting her head back, she pressed a sloppy open mouthed kiss to his jaw, a muffled “thank you” whispering past her lips.

“you always take care of me…” she whispered, her voice barely a sound, fragile and full of trust.

“i always will,” caleb replied without hesitation, tilting his head to press a kiss to her temple. he shifted them both just enough to lay her back against the pillows, guiding her head to rest over his heart. he was still dress in his uniform, the material stiff at the this rate and vaguely damp with her body sweat. caleb ran his fingers slowly through her hair, brushing it away from her face with a tenderness that made her sigh.

“you’re too good…” she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut. “don’t deserve you.”

that made him huff, something low and amused, but he didn’t let it slide. “no,” he said softly, tipping her chin up so she’d look at him in her bleary, sleepy state. “you deserve everything.”

she looked up at him through her lashed, tired, but so, so content.

caleb watched her like she was the only thing that mattered. and maybe she was. he stroked his thumb over her cheek, then leaned down to kiss her forehead— slow, warm, reverent.

she was already half-asleep against his chest, her breath warm and steady through the thin fabric of his jacket. her fingers twitched faintly where they rested on his stomach, like even in sleep, she was still clinging to him.

caleb’s arms stayed wrapped around her, firm but gentle, his thumb tracing idle patterns against the curve of her spine. he could feel the faint flutter of her heartbeat through her back. slower now, relaxed. safe.

she trusted him. with this. with herself. that thought alone made his throat tighten.

she’d never been touched like that before and it had shown in every flinch, every shy glance, every nervous little laugh and embarrassed pout. she’d let him guide her, let him take care of her, let him love her all the way through it.

he knew it wasn’t fair. knew it was selfish. but as he held her, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest, caleb found himself clinging to the one truth he couldn’t shake.

he wanted to ruin it. all of it.

ruin sex. ruin pleasure. ruin any touch that didn’t come from him.

not necessarily out of cruelty, but out of love. a possessive, protective kind of love that rooted itself in the deepest parts of him. he wanted her to forget anyone else had ever existed before him. wanted her to only feel this full, this safe, this undone, this good— with him.

if he could rewrite the way she saw herself— teach her what it truly meant to be adored, desired, cherished— then he’d do it a hundred times over.

only him. only ever him.

she stirred slightly, sighing gin her sleep and caleb leaned down to press a kiss into her hair.

she didn’t know it yet. but she was his forever.

and he’d make sure she never wanted it any other way.

#caleb x reader #love and deepspace #caleb lads #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x mc #caleb x you #xia yizhou #caleb x fem reader #🍪 reqs #caleb x y/n #caleb smut #lads caleb #love and deep space #calebmc #lads #lads smut #cw smut #cw overstim

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hannahsturniolo · 2 days ago

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ᴄʜʀɪs ғɪɴᴅs ᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀɴ ᴏʀɢᴀsᴍ

Warnings: fingering, kissing, first ever orgasm, praise? Kinda

Summary: Chris is your best friend, and while watching a movie, a sex scene comes on, and he sees how uncomfortable you are, and asks you about it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You’re sitting next to Chris watching a movie, when all of a sudden a sex scene comes on.

Your heart stops. You didn’t want to watch a sex scene in front of him, that’s just weird.

So you pulled out your phone, and he notices.

“I can skip this scene if you want” he laughed.

You just looked at him and laughed. “It’s okay, I just won’t watch.”

“Why are you so uncomfortable with it? We’re not watching porn together, it’s just a simple little sex scene” he asked looking right at you.

“It’s nothing. I just… I don’t wanna talk about it” you replied shyly.

“It’s not like something you’ve never done before, it’s a natural part of a relationship.”

“I just don’t want to talk about it Chris- I just-“ you tried to talk, but he cut you off.

“You’ve never- uh had sex have you?” He asked.

Your heart raced, your heart stopped. You didn’t know what to say.

“Ummm.. no- I haven’t” you said shyly, looking away from him embarrassed.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Is there a reason you haven’t, you were in a relationship last year, you guys didn’t have sex?” He asked.

“No- we- we didn’t. He didn’t want to be with someone who was inexperienced, and when I told him I’ve never had- um- an orgasm before, he just didn’t want to be with someone who experienced nothing, ya know?” You said with your head down into your chest.

“You- you’ve never had an orgasm before?” He asked, moving closer to you.

You just shook your head.

“Not even, like by yourself?” He asked shyly.

“No.. I just haven’t been able to figure it out. What makes me feel good you know? Like I’ve tried fingering myself, but my fingers aren’t long enough to hit the right spot, and I- I don’t even know why I’m telling you this Chris. I’m sorry.” You kept your head down.

“No need to apologize. Would y-you want your first orgasm?”

“Yeah.. I mean I’ve wanted it for years just couldn’t get there.” Your cheeks were turning rosy pink, knowing exactly where this was going.

“Chris- would you want to try? Y-you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’m just curious.” You replied. Not looking at him, scared he’s gonna freak out saying you’re just best friends.

“Sure.” Chris said. You looked over at him and his cheeks were also very pink. “If you’re comfortable with that”

You just shook your head yes.

Chris moved closer to you so he was right beside you on the couch. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” He said leaning in.

You leaned into his kiss. It was a soft, and gentle kiss. And you felt him putting his arm behind your waist pulling you in closer.

The kiss turned passionate pretty quick.

He pulled away from the kiss. You laid back on the couch.

He passed you a pillow to put under your head. “You’ll be more comfortable if you have a pillow to lay on” he smiled.

He gently pulled down your pants and underwear.

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

You nodded.

He spread your legs apart gently. He was looking down at you like you were the most beautiful human in the world.

“You’re s-so beautiful” he said looking down at you with a gentle smile.

All you could do was smile. You were so nervous, your lower half exposed to Chris.

He started rubbing up and down your thighs, “take a deep breath, relax.”

You took a deep breath, trying to quiet down all of your thoughts that were going through your head.

“Are you okay if I touch you now?” He asked shyly.

all you could do was nod because of how nervous you were.

He reaches down, his right thumb on your clit while the other hand is rubbing up and down your thigh, hoping to relax you.

You jolted at the contact. “Breathe” he said with a warm soft voice.

He rubbed your clit in small lazy gentle circles. He felt you were getting a little wet. He took that as a good sign.

He started by putting one finger in your pussy, and you winced in pain.

He gently moved it in and out. “Remember, deep breaths it’s okay. We can stop at anytime if you’d like.” He reassured you.

He then noticed you weren’t making a face like you were in pain anymore, so he slipped a second finger in.

Again, you winced in pain, gripping the blanket below you. He kept rubbing his hand up and down your thigh.

But slowly, that pain turned into pleasure. He continued his thumb on your clit, and the 2 fingers hooking inside of you.

“Does this feel good?” Chris whispered.

“Yeah.. it does” you said shyly.

You seen Chris smirk.

It took a couple minutes for you to really feel the pleasure, and your body was jolting in front of him.

“It’s okay sweetheart, don’t be shy to express how you’re feeling?” He said reassuring you.

It felt so good, but you were so shy to let out the sounds that you were holding back.

It started to feel realllly good. You let out a soft moan, and your face twisted in pleasure.

“There you go, let it all out. It’s a safe space” he giggled.

He continued rubbing your clit and fingering you.

All of a sudden you felt something in your stomach you’ve never felt before.

“Chris… I think it’s going to happen. But I don’t know, I feel so-something I’ve never felt before in my tummy” you breathed out heavily.

He continued the same speed and motions he was doing because he knew you were almost there.

He felt you keep clenching on his fingers.

“I know baby, I feel you clenching my fingers” he said smiling down at you.

You felt your body going warm, knowing that it was probably an orgasm.

All of a sudden you felt insane pleasure you’ve never felt before, and an explosion feeling go off in your tummy.

You started shaking uncontrollably letting out soft moans.

Chris just kept doing what he was doing, and helped you ride out your high.

You just kept letting out soft moans, and you looked up at Chris and he was grinning.

You felt the pleasure slow down, and your body feeling warm and relaxed.

He pulled out his fingers, and smiled.

“That was definitely an orgasm sweetheart. You were squirming.” He said giggling, “how did that feel?”

“G-great” you said trying to breathe but you were still heavy breathing from experiencing your first orgasm.

“You did so amazing, you took my fingers so well.” Your tummy turned when he said that. Instant butterflies.

“I kind of want to do that again.” You said laughing.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt fluff #matt x reader #chris fluff #chris x reader

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mintyys-blog · 1 day ago

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HEADCANON | variants with s/o who have sex in the air

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: smut, sexual themes, swearing

this was a request and my second time writing this, I have no idea what happened my first draft 🥲

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work (AI generated or otherwise) without my permission. @mintyys-blog

MAIN MARK:

When you bring up the idea of having sex in the air, Mark isn’t exactly sure how to react at first. The thought of flying through the sky with you, no barriers, no limits — it sounds thrilling, but also a little daunting. He’s the type to stick to the ground, where things are more controlled, but the idea of something so… exhilarating, something that could bring you both even closer, definitely sparks his curiosity.

He watches you with a raised brow when you tell him, a little unsure. “You’re serious, right?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it — he’s trying to make sure you’re not joking, but when he sees the look in your eyes, he knows you’re not. You’re dead set on this idea, and he can’t help but feel the rush of excitement course through him.

When you both take off, he’s careful with you, holding onto you tightly. His body is tense at first as the wind rushes around you, but the moment you’re both settled, the only thing that matters is how good you feel together. His hands trace over your body, caressing your skin in the midst of the rush, the air feeling colder than usual, but somehow more alive.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and soft, making sure you’re not feeling overwhelmed. His concern shows, but there’s a palpable desire in the way he looks at you.

You nod, feeling the heat building in your body, despite the wind rushing past. You’re not nervous anymore — the thrill of being in the sky, with nothing but the world around you, only makes it more intoxicating.

As you lock eyes, Mark lowers his voice to a sultry whisper. “You know, I never thought I’d do this. But… with you? I’ll try anything.” His breath is shaky as he shifts his hands, the feeling of his fingertips brushing against your skin sending jolts of heat through you.

You let out a soft moan, feeling the rising desire as his mouth brushes against your ear. “Mark…” you say his name, the word slipping from your lips like a plea. The height, the risk, the exhilaration of the flight only makes the moment more intense. He picks up on your desire immediately and smiles against your neck.

His hands tighten around you, pulling you closer, his tone becoming darker as his words are laced with passion, a quiet but insistent command. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “and I’m gonna make sure you feel every damn thing.”

His mouth moves to yours, kissing you fiercely as his body presses against yours, taking full control of the moment. You let yourself go, fully trusting him as you both fall into the rhythm of the air and your connection. The wind whips around you, but all that matters is the heat between you both, the way Mark moves with precision, holding onto you like he never wants to let go.

“I’ve got you, Y/N,” Mark whispers, his voice hushed but firm. “And I’m not stopping until you’re begging me to.”

His pace quickens, the intensity of the moment building as he takes you higher into the sky. The sense of danger makes it feel like everything is more urgent, more thrilling. Your moans mix with the sound of the wind, but all you can focus on is Mark, his body, his presence — everything about him pushing you closer to the edge.

When he feels you tense, he slows just enough to whisper, “You’re perfect.” His voice is low and gritty, his hands gripping you tighter as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’m not letting go. Not now, not ever.”

The rush of the air around you doesn’t stop, but in this moment, Mark makes it feel like it’s just the two of you. Every sensation is amplified, every touch, every breath. And when you finally reach the peak together, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The sky is your only witness as he pulls you in close, holding you as the wind carries you both higher, your bodies trembling, hearts racing in sync.

Mark smirks softly against your neck, his breathing heavy but content. “That was… something,” he says, his voice warm with satisfaction.

As you both float there, suspended in the sky, the only thing that matters is that shared experience — a bond forged in the most unexpected of ways.

SINISTER MARK

The wind howls past you both as you soar through the air, the ground far below a distant blur. The feeling of weightlessness only makes the entire situation that much more thrilling — but also terrifying. As you cling to him, hands gripping tightly to his body, your heart races. You’re trying to hold yourself steady, but the fear, the height, it makes your body tense and your mind swirl.

Mark, ever the calm, collected one, notices your unease. His lips curl into a cruel smirk, dark amusement flickering in his eyes. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?” he taunts, his voice low and filled with malicious delight. His grip on you tightens, but only for a moment before he flips you around, spinning your body so that now, you’re facing him, forced to cling to him even harder to stay secure. Still, he slides inside you easily, mocking how wet you were.

You gasp, panic rising as you now find yourself vulnerable, body pressed against his, your legs dangling in mid-air. The ground is a distant thought, a faint memory. You try to steady yourself, to keep control, but he’s enjoying this too much. He laughs softly, darkly, at your desperation, at your attempt to stay calm.

“Cling to me, darling,” he murmurs, amusement dripping from his voice. “You don’t want to fall now, do you?” His hands loosen, just enough for you to instinctively wrap your legs and arms around him, feeling his strength.

You’re shaking, a mix of fear and anticipation taking over, but you cling to him, your body tightening as you feel the tension build. And Mark, doesn’t hold back. He leans in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “I can feel your heart racing. The fear’s delicious, but I think I can make you forget it for a while.”

Before you can respond, before you can prepare yourself, he flips you over again. Now, you’re on top, the air surrounding you both as you hover. The ground is still far below, but this time, you’re in control — or at least, that’s what it seems. Your legs instinctively move, your body guided by the fear and the need to feel grounded. But as soon as he senses your hesitation, his hands grip your waist, urging you into movement, pushing you to ride him.

“Come on,” he growls, his tone sharp and demanding, as he pulls you down onto him with an almost dangerous force. “Let go of that fear. You wanted this, didn’t you? To feel alive? To feel me?”

His hands guide you, pressing your hips down against his. You can’t help but moan, the feeling of control mixed with fear sending shivers through your body. You try to hold back, to keep some semblance of control, but his words, his touch, it’s too much. You begin to move, your body responding even though your mind is screaming at you to hold back.

He laughs again, this time a darker sound, something more sinister. “There we go. I knew you could handle it.” His hands are on you, on your hips, guiding you as he presses up into you, every movement calculated, deliberate. “I told you not to be afraid. You wanted to try this, didn’t you? Well, now you’re getting everything you bargained for.”

You can feel him beneath you, every inch of him. His grip tightens, pulling you closer, making sure you can’t pull away. There’s no escaping now — no fear of falling. All that matters is the pressure building, the rising sensation that comes with every move, every shift of your body.

It’s only when you can’t take it anymore, when you’ve pushed yourself to the edge and beyond, that Mark lets up, slowing the pace, but not stopping. He flips you over again, taking control once more, his face showing no mercy. His smirk is almost savage as he watches you try to catch your breath, your body trembling from the intensity. “I hope you don’t think this is over, sweetheart,”

MOHAWK MARK

The rush of wind is almost deafening as you both hover in the air, the dizzying height making everything feel surreal. His grip is tight around you, strong and unyielding, but there’s a teasing, almost mocking edge to his smirk as he holds you against him. He loves the way your body presses to his, your legs wrapped around his waist as you try to steady yourself in the chaos of the wind.

“You okay there?” Mark’s voice is thick with amusement, but there’s a dangerous undercurrent to his words. He leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he watches you struggle to keep your balance. His breath is hot on your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Seems like you’re not so sure of yourself up here,” he muses, his hands sliding down your sides, but not to steady you—instead, he’s enjoying the way you’re gripping him, your body instinctively pressing closer as you try to hold on. “If you’re scared, just say so. Or is this the kind of thrill you’re into?”

You try to control your breathing, trying to push through the fear that’s rising in your chest, but Mark’s grip tightens just enough to remind you that he’s in control. The air feels colder, but his body against yours feels like fire. His muscles flex as he holds you steady, but you can feel how much he enjoys the way you’re clinging to him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

“How long do you think you can hold on, huh?” he asks, a laugh escaping his lips, low and mocking. “Is this fun for you, or are you just trying to hide how much you’re freaking out?”

You can’t help but glare at him, frustration building as he teases you, but your heart is hammering in your chest. Despite the fear, there’s something thrilling about the danger of it all. You squeeze your legs around his waist, trying to steady yourself.

“Don’t try to act tough now, sweetheart,” Mark continues, his lips curling into a smirk. “I can feel you. You’re not as brave as you want me to think you are.”

You try to steady yourself, but with each word, he knows how much it gets to you. His hands slip lower down your back, his fingertips grazing over your skin, sending a jolt of heat through your body. The teasing in his voice is relentless, every word calculated to get under your skin.

“You can’t even look me in the eyes, huh?” Mark chuckles darkly, noticing how your gaze keeps drifting down, away from him. “You want this. Even if you’re scared. You can’t stop wanting me, no matter how much you try to hide it.”

You feel your pulse racing as you clench your legs around him, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. The wind is whipping around you both, but it’s Mark’s presence that has you entranced. The tension between fear and desire is almost unbearable, and you can tell he’s reveling in it.

Finally, his hands grip your hips, pulling you in closer to him, forcing you to feel every inch of his body as he presses against you. The teasing continues, but now there’s something deeper in his gaze—something more dangerous. “I bet you didn’t think you’d be this scared, huh? But you’re still here. Still clinging to me.”

You try to move, to shift your weight and give yourself a little space, but Mark’s hold is unyielding. “Don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and teasing. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until I’m done.”

He continues to hold you, neither of you moving much, just locked in the air together, feeling the wind around you as Mark leans down, his lips grazing your ear again. “You still want me, don’t you?”

His words are full of mocking amusement, but his touch, the pressure of his body against yours, speaks a different truth. It’s like a game to him, watching you twist in his hold, unable to escape the magnetic pull between fear and desire. He knows how you feel—how your body betrays you—but he isn’t going to let you off easy. Not yet.

PRISONER MARK

The air is cold as you soar through the sky, clinging to Mark’s strong form. The wind rips past you, and your stomach churns with the sheer height. You try to hold on, but fear starts creeping in, the realization of just how far above the ground you are sinking in. You grip him tighter, your nails digging into his skin.

Mark can feel your hesitation. His eyes flicker with amusement, but also with something darker. His grip on you tightens and, without warning, he flips you around. Now, you’re facing him, forced to cling to him even more desperately.

“Scared?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. His gaze is sharp, watching your every movement, and he’s enjoying the vulnerability in your eyes.

Your heart hammers, a mix of fear and arousal swirling within you. You try to steady your breathing, but the height, the rush, and Mark’s intense focus on you are overwhelming. His lips twitch into a smirk as he notices how much you’re struggling.

“You know… if you want to stay alive, you’re gonna need to cling to me a lot harder than that,” he taunts, his grip loosening just slightly as if daring you to slip. Your body trembles, instinctively wrapping your legs and arms around him tighter, trying to find some sense of security.

“You want to fall?” he asks, his voice like a low growl, his eyes dark with amusement. “I could make you fall. But I doubt you’d like that.”

The fear shoots through you again as he suddenly loosens his grip more, leaving you feeling like you’re dangling, helpless. Your arms and legs latch around him tightly, trying to hold on as the wind rushes past. He laughs under his breath at your response, obviously enjoying the terror that surges through you.

“Good,” he mutters, voice dripping with dark pleasure. “That’s it. Hold on to me.” His grip tightens again, but this time, he flips you around even faster, so that now, you’re the one on top, your body hovering dangerously over him.

You’re still trembling, the power dynamic completely shifted, and you try to maintain control. But his smirk never fades, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter—despite the fear.

“You’re not scared now, are you?” he sneers, his hands suddenly gripping your hips and guiding you. He pulls you down onto him with a force that makes you gasp. “You want this, right? Want to feel how hard I am? Want to feel what it’s like to truly be mine?”

You’re not sure whether to fight or give in. The fear still lingers, but there’s a burning need inside you that calls for more. Mark senses your shift, the tension in your body, and presses you down harder against him. He takes control in that way, manipulating your movements with ease, making you feel helpless but safe under his grasp.

“Not so scary now, is it?” he mocks, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and teasing. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted me. Wanting to feel me deep inside you, even if it terrifies you.”

His words are a mix of dominance and cruel amusement, but there’s something else beneath them: a twisted sense of ownership, like he’s claiming you. And despite the fear, despite the rush of anxiety, you can’t stop yourself from moving with him, your body betraying your hesitation.

He flips you again, taking complete control, and the ground seems like it’s a distant memory as he presses you harder into him. Your body is trembling under the weight of it all, but Mark is relentless, his hands gripping you tightly as he takes you again and again, pushing you to the edge. He watches you closely, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

“You’re mine,” he growls through gritted teeth, his voice dripping with possessiveness. “And you won’t forget that, will you?”

OMNI MARK

The air is cold against your skin as you cling to Mark, suspended high above the ground, and the world below seems so far away. His grip is unshakable, his strength a comforting presence in the chaos of the wind. But even with that comfort, your heart is racing. There’s something about being so high up, so vulnerable in his hold, that ignites a rush in you. His breath comes steady, calm, as if he were unaffected by the wind, but you can feel the heat between you both, pulsing under the surface.

“You’re not scared, are you?” His voice is low, almost playful, as he feels your body tighten around him, your legs instinctively wrapping tighter around his waist. “Because I gotta admit, I love the way you’re holding on to me.”

His hands slide up your sides, slowly, deliberately, and you can feel his fingers press into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You hate how much you love it, but you can’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch. He notices, of course. He always does.

“You’re acting like you’re trying to get away,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. The teasing edge to his voice makes you bite back a frustrated breath, but you’re so close to him, his body so solid beneath yours, that you can’t hide the way your pulse spikes. “Is this too much for you? You look like you might pass out at any second, but I’m not letting you go.”

You can’t help it—the thrill of it, the fear, the excitement—it makes you dizzy. You squeeze your legs around him a little tighter, trying to steady yourself, but your breath catches when Mark presses closer. His body, so solid and unmoving against yours, makes everything feel like it’s spiraling out of control, and yet, you’re unable to stop yourself from tightening around him, both out of instinct and need.

“You’re not even trying to hide it anymore,” he teases, his voice heavy with amusement as his hand grips your hip, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles. “You’re holding on to me like you need me more than you’ll admit.”

You can feel the heat building between you, both from his teasing and the way your body betrays you, every nerve ending on fire. “You’re not getting away that easily,” Mark adds, his hands now pulling you even closer, almost possessively, your faces inches apart.

His eyes gleam, a smirk playing on his lips. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you’re pressing against me? Don’t try to act all innocent. You want this as much as I do.”

You’re breathless now, caught between the fear of falling and the undeniable heat that’s building inside of you. He chuckles darkly, sensing the conflict within you, and he gives a small, teasing push, forcing you to cling to him even more desperately.

“Come on,” Mark murmurs, his lips just barely brushing yours as he leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I know you’re enjoying this… you’re not fooling me.”

The teasing continues as he slowly adjusts his grip on you, the way he holds you, pulling you flush against him in the most intimate way. His eyes never leave yours, watching your reactions like they’re the only thing that matters.

“You know, I could just keep you up here all night,” he says casually, as if the thought were entirely possible, his lips curling into a smile. “But I’m more interested in seeing how long you can hold on while I push you past your limits.”

He pulls back just enough to hover there, his hands still firmly gripping your body, keeping you anchored to him as the wind roars around you. The way he watches you, with that subtle amusement and control, drives you wild, but there’s no way out of it. His presence is overwhelming, and you can’t decide whether you want to push him away or pull him closer.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, his voice a low, smooth promise. “I’ll let you have your fun. But first, I want you to admit that you need me.”

VILTRUMITE MARK

The wind rushes in your ears as you cling to Mark, your body flush against his, suspended high above the earth. He’s the picture of control, every muscle in his body unwavering as he holds you steady. But you? You’re struggling to keep your composure. The height, the rush of adrenaline, and the sheer raw intensity of him beneath you—it’s all too much, but at the same time, it’s everything you need.

“You look a little nervous,” Mark observes, his voice deep, but there’s no sympathy in it. Instead, it’s a challenge. A slight smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he feels the way you tighten around him, your legs instinctively wrapping tighter around his waist. He can feel the way your pulse spikes. He knows what you’re feeling. “Scared I might drop you?”

His grip on you tightens just slightly, as if to remind you that you’re in his control—and he relishes it. He wants you to feel that. Wants you to understand that you’re not going anywhere without his say-so.

You shake your head, trying to steady yourself, but you can’t deny it—you’re more than just scared. You’re thrilled. And you hate how much it excites you. The power he has over you, the fear mixed with desire—it’s intoxicating.

“I didn’t think you’d be this sensitive,” Mark continues, his voice dark, almost mocking. “You’re trembling. You can’t even keep still. How embarrassing for you. You’re not going to fall, are you? You better not. Because I won’t save you if you do.”

You cling tighter to him, your legs locking around his waist in a desperate attempt to hold on, and it makes him chuckle. He can feel you against him, your body pressed tight, your breath coming quicker with every passing second. But he’s in control. And he wants you to know it.

He tilts his head, looking down at you with a smirk. “You know,” he says, voice low, “if you want to get a little closer, you don’t have to keep fighting it. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.”

You glare at him, trying to muster some bravado, but the way his eyes narrow, the way his gaze sharpens, it melts any ounce of resistance you have left. He moves, just slightly, so his body is pressing against yours in a different way, testing how much more you’ll give.

“You’re not even pretending anymore,” he observes with a sneer. “You’re enjoying this. You want this. And you know you do. But you’re too proud to admit it.”

The smirk on his face only grows wider as your breathing quickens, as your body betrays you in the most frustrating way. You try to tell yourself it’s the fear, the height—but you know that’s not all of it. You know he’s making you feel things you didn’t expect. Things you can’t control.

“Look at you,” he says with that deep, rumbling laugh. “You’re clinging to me like your life depends on it. You think you can keep pretending that you’re not aching for this? You’re not fooling me.”

His words, heavy with confidence, are like a match to a fire, sparking something deeper inside of you. He could easily let go, drop you if he wanted to—but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s waiting. Watching. Studying you like an experiment, like a prize to be won. He knows you’re not in control anymore. And that makes it all the sweeter.

“You’re mine, whether you admit it or not,” Mark murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction, before he shifts slightly again, pulling you even closer against him, every part of him aligning with yours in the most intimate way. “And the sooner you accept it, the better.”

You don’t know if you’re trembling from fear or from desire, but you know one thing for sure: you’re not getting away. Not with him in control. Not with the Viltrumite in him that’s built to dominate and conquer.

SHIESTY MARK

The wind rushes around you as you float above the earth, your body pressed against Mark’s in midair. You feel the strength of him beneath you, the unspoken dominance in every fiber of his being. Mark doesn’t speak immediately, but you can feel the smirk on his face, the way his eyes flicker with that cocky, confident gleam. It’s like he knows exactly what you’re feeling—and that just makes it worse.

“Yo, you sure you’re good up here?” Mark asks, his voice dripping with amusement as he feels you tighten around him, your breath quickening. You try to steady yourself, but it’s no use. There’s something about being this high up that’s getting to you. The adrenaline, the fear, the sheer intensity of being out of control, and the feeling of him being your anchor. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest, the pulse of heat between your legs, and damn it, he’s noticed.

“You’re clenching me, baby. You nervous or you just can’t help yourself?” he teases, his tone laced with that familiar swagger. He shifts his grip slightly, pulling you closer, almost like he’s daring you to get even more entangled with him.

“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re not feeling this,” Mark says, a laugh in his voice. “I know you’re scared, but you’re also tight as hell around me. You gonna admit it or do I gotta make you?”

You look up at him, your heart pounding. He can see the way your body betrays you, the way you’re instinctively clinging to him for support, and it only eggs him on. His cocky grin grows as he lowers his head, voice dropping low. “You’re so cute when you try to hide it. You think I don’t see how much you need me right now? I can feel it, baby. You can’t hide that from me.”

He pulls you in a little more, his chest against yours, his hands sliding down to your hips as he adjusts your position. “You’re not going anywhere, so stop pretending you don’t want this. You think I’m just gonna drop you? Nah, you’re staying right here. You’re safe with me. Just… don’t act like I’m not the only one who’s got your attention right now.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to fight it, but the combination of his words, the danger of the height, and the way he holds you in his arms makes you feel like you’re spiraling into him. You can’t lie. The fear mixes with desire, and it’s almost too much to handle.

Mark sees the way you’re reacting to him, the way your body shifts against his, and it makes him grin even wider. “That’s it, huh? I knew you wanted me, you just didn’t wanna admit it. But now? Now, you can’t stop yourself, can you?”

He chuckles darkly, leaning down to whisper in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. “You better hold on tight. We’re not done yet. I’m gonna make sure you get exactly what you need. And trust me, you’re gonna love every second of it.”

As he adjusts again, his hands grip you tighter, holding you securely, his body moving with yours in a teasing rhythm, keeping you on the edge of both fear and pleasure. Every motion, every shift, is calculated to keep you in this mix of need, teasing you with every moment he can control. “don’t forget it. I’m not gonna let you forget who’s in charge up here. So, hold on, sweetheart, and let me show you just how much you can handle.”

#x reader #reader insert #x female reader #mark grayson x reader #sinister mark x you #sinister mark grayson #mohawk mark x you #mohawk mark x reader #mohawk mark smut #sinister mark smut #omni mark smut #omni mark x reader #prisoner mark smut #prisoner mark x reader #shiesty mark x reader #mark grayson smut

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writeriguess · 19 hours ago

Note

can you do dabi x super reckless reader who is also in the league and like always puts themself in danger because they think its funny

Burn Before You Break

Dabi’s voice is sharp, low, and edged with something dangerously close to worry as he watches you dust yourself off. "Are you outta your damn mind?"

You're grinning—of course, you are. It’s not like you almost got crushed under a collapsing building or anything.

"That was kinda fun," you say, stretching your arms like you didn't just barely avoid death. Again.

Dabi runs a hand through his messy black hair, exhaling sharply. "Yeah? You get a kick outta makin’ me wanna bash your skull in?"

You tilt your head, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Is that a promise?"

His jaw clenches. "Not the way you want, dumbass."

Toga giggles from the sidelines, swinging her knife in lazy circles. "I think it's cute! You're like a little cockroach. No matter how much you should die, you just don't!"

Twice nods sagely. "Yeah, it's—it's honestly impressive. Or stupid. Or both. Mostly both."

You bow dramatically. "Why, thank you. I do my best."

Dabi's hand shoots out, fingers digging into the collar of your shirt as he yanks you forward. Your nose almost bumps against the scorched, stapled skin of his cheek. His breath is hot when he speaks.

"One of these days, you're gonna pull that shit, and I'm not gonna be there to drag your sorry ass out."

You roll your eyes. "Pfft, as if you wouldn't come running."

Dabi's eye twitches. "You think I like playing babysitter?"

"You kinda do," you tease, smirking up at him.

"Try me."

For a second, neither of you move. The tension is thick, but it's not the kind that makes you nervous. If anything, it just makes you wanna push him further. You lift your hands, resting them on his chest. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the faint scent of burning fabric clinging to his coat.

"You know," you murmur, eyes locking onto his, "for someone who claims not to care, you sure do get worked up when I do something stupid."

Dabi's fingers twitch against your shirt before he shoves you back—just hard enough to make you stumble.

"You’re not special," he mutters, but there's a roughness in his voice, something just shy of desperation. "I just don’t feel like dealin’ with another idiot getting themselves killed."

You smile. "Sure, Dabi."

And because you can't help yourself, you wink.

Dabi exhales sharply, turns on his heel, and stalks off.

"You really like poking the bear, huh?" Spinner mutters.

You shrug. "It's fun."

Toga sighs dreamily. "You two should just kiss already."

Dabi, already halfway across the hideout, flips you all off without looking back.

Toga gasps dramatically. "Oh no, look! He's running away from his feelings!"

"Tragic," Twice adds solemnly. "Such unbearable heartbreak. Someone should stop him before he drowns in denial."

You laugh, and even Spinner looks vaguely amused. "C'mon, guys, cut him some slack."

Toga giggles, skipping closer to you. "Why? You don't want us calling out your loooove?" She drags out the last word in a sing-song voice, grinning wildly when you roll your eyes.

"It’s not love."

"Uh-huh."

You glance toward where Dabi disappeared and shake your head. "He’s just—"

"The love of your life?"

"A pain in my ass," you correct.

"Oooh, but you like it," she teases, twirling her knife. "You’re totally obsessed with each other."

Twice nods rapidly. "Completely. Absolutely. A match made in arsonist heaven!"

Spinner snorts. "Dabi’s gonna fry you all if you keep this up."

Toga giggles again, eyes bright. "Maybe, but it’ll be worth it if it finally makes them admit they wanna rip each other’s clothes off."

You groan. "Oh my god, Toga—"

"What?" She grins. "Just say the word and I’ll plan the wedding."

"Not happening."

"You hear that, Twice? They said 'not happening.' That means it’s totally happening!"

Twice gasps. "Oh! Do I get to be best man? Or flower boy? Both. Definitely both."

You groan again, dragging a hand down your face. "I hate you all."

Toga giggles. "No you don’t! But if you wanna take your anger out on someone, I’m sure Dabi wouldn’t mind a little roughhousing~"

You grab a pillow off the couch and chuck it at her. She dodges effortlessly, still grinning.

Spinner shakes his head. "You’re all idiots."

You sigh. "Yep. And Dabi's the biggest one of all."

Toga winks. "Then it’s a good thing you love idiots, huh?"

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #todoroki #touya x reader #todoroki x reader #touya #touya todoroki #dabi #x reader #x you #x y/n #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader

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yamysunmoon · 3 days ago

Text

Give it to me

Pairing: jenna ortega x fem!reader

Summary: Jenna has a secret desire she's never told anyone. She knows it's not that big of a deal, but still scares and fascinates her by equal parts. She'd only trust her deepest wish to you, her dom, of course.

Word count: 9.1k

Warnings: dom!reader, sub!jenna, use of a plug, strap-on!reader, rimmering, masturbation, ass fingering, oral (J receiving), spitting, sextape, rough(?) sex, referring to the strap as "cock", begging, praise, overstimulation (a lot), both J's and R's first time doing anal.

Part 2- "Gentle"

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts since January. It's finally yours <3

MASTERLIST

The gentle sunlight of a new day slips through the cortains of Jenna's bedroom, making you blink and stir in her arms.

Fluttering your eyes open, you find Jenna's peaceful asleep expression in front of you. One of her arms is drapped across your waist and she's using the other as a pillow, cupping her neck.

She looks so serene like this, when the stress of her busy life isn't bothering her. Yesterday was her last day on set for the next three days, and she invited you over and asked you to spend this days off work with her.

You smile, remembering her flirty yet shy voice over the phone when she gave you the news, dropping in the information as if you were supposed to suggest the three days date instead of her.

You graze the side of her face with the back of your fingers, her eyes flutter and squeeze as soon as your touch is on her.

She opens her eyes, offering you a drowsy, glassy gaze. "Hi" she murmurs with that husky, sleepy voice.

You smile sideways. "Morning..." you lean in to kiss her forehead. "Slept well?" you look down at her as you ask, leaning back, and she stares back at you, her look thoughtful.

"I want to tell you something" she announces softly, withdrawing her arm from your wais and sitting up.

You frown, worried by her tone and shift in her demeanor. "What is it?" you sit up too, putting your hands on your thighs as you cross your legs and settle in front of her. You slide one hand closer to her, but then you stop yourself, hesitant.

She notices the doubt in your moves, and smiles sheepishly. "Oh don't worry, it's nothing bad. I'm just a bit nervous" she explains, reaching out to hold your hand.

She holds it with both hands, fondling the back with one hand and the palm with the other. Her fingers grazing yours, intertwining with them and caressing you so tenderly immediately calms you down.

"Okay" you whisper. You clean your throat, realizing how nervous you've got all of a sudden. "Just say it, love."

She takes a deep breath in, steeling her nerves. She looks down at your hands together as she speaks, "Lately I've been thinking a lot about something."

You tilt your head down slightly, looking at her intently even if she's not looking at you. "About what?"

You witness her cheeks flush a pale pink. "About... A fantasy of mine" she offers, warily. She glances up very briefly, her cheeks go a little darker when her eyes meet yours.

You scoot up your eyebrows in amused surprise. You were taking the situation in a very different way. "Oh" you let out, still very much oblivious to say something else, "well, what's it about?"

She ducks her head, her bangs hiding her eyes. You wait patiently, but she stays silent for some long seconds, playing with your hand between hers. You decide to give her some reassurance.

"You know I'm not gonna judge you, right?" you pause, gauging her reaction. She doesn't move much, but you know she's listening.

"We've done some pretty freaky stuff already, and I absolutely love to try new things with you. I think it helps us bound more, and it's definitely fun and hot as fuck. You don't have to worry."

You pause again and bend forward a little. Your hand was meek between hers, but now you move it a bit to caress her forearm.

She sighs and whimpers quietly, her shoulders scoot up a bit when she inhales deeply. "Okay" she breathes out, emptying her lungs.

She finally looks at you and you offer a soft, encouraging gaze. "There goes nothing, then" she murmurs and then winces, immediately regretting her words.

You smile gently and nod, supportive. She tries to keep eye contact, but her gaze ends up drifting nervously between your eyes and the features of your face as she explains.

"I've been... Picturing you— inside me."

You tilt your head, curious. "Okay...?"

"But not where you usually... Are."

She looks at you intently, hoping you get the hint.

Understanding dawns on your face, but your eyes narrow with suspicion and you smile mischievously.

"What do you mean?"

She observes you, then realizes you're just playing. She blushes violently now and looks away. "Don't" she grumbles, flush spreading down her neck and up to her ears.

Her adorable reaction makes you chuckle lightly. "Oh, come on" you tease, "all this mystery and you can't at least say it?"

She pouts, stubborn. You scoot closer to her, your knees graze and your voice comes out softer now. "We can't even attempt to do it if we can't talk about it openly."

Her pout deepens for a moment, but then her expression relaxes as your words sink in. She sighs once again, knowing you're right.

"Okay" she concedes, looking at you. Her eyebrows were still frowned, but your gentle body language and attentive attitude move her.

"Okay" she repeats, lighter. "I'd like us to try pegging."

You smirk, satisfied. "I thought it was called that way only when a woman does it to a man."

"Oh, shut up" she rolls her eyes and waves her hand, but you both chuckle a little, the goofy joke easing the atmosphere.

She taps at your thighs, scooting closer and looking down at your lap. "Okay, so..."

You engage in a playful yet honest conversation about how you'd approach this fantasy of hers. She explains how she's pictured it and her concerns about it, given its fame of being painful and uncomfortable.

You soothe her, pretty confident about it all because of the endless conversations you've had in this regard with your male gay friends, who have given you plenty information about it.

You suggest a specific sex toy to try on before moving to the strap.

"Plugs are small and smooth. Their characteristic shape helps accomodate to it gradually, and I've heard they bring a one-off feeling once it's inside."

Jenna takes in your words, considering your suggestion with thoughtful nods.

"OK, so... Since I have a couple days off..." her hands slide up and down your thighs as she looks at you with a glint in her eyes, much comfortable now. "What if we try it... Today?"

You smile as she leans closer, her eyes on you and her breath mingling with yours.

"That's perfect by me" you mutter.

Her lips curl up in a shy smile, and she gives you a peck. "I'm gonna make an order then. I know a very discreet sex shop that can make the deliver for us to have it in the evening." She kisses you again, making you feel a bit dizzy. "Also, I'm gonna douche as well, I don't wanna feel all self-concious mid scene" she adds in a whisper.

Her honesty makes you grin. "Whatever, okay. I don't mind that much..."

"You've said you wanna try rimmering" she interrupts you, poking your nose, "I ain't letting you do that without the douche situation happening."

You laugh out loud, your eyes crinkling at the corners, causing her to smile fondly.

"Okay, okay" you concede, blushing slightly and waving your hands in dismiss. "Deal."

--------------------

You're wearing nothing but your underwear -boxers for women- and a bra. She's wearing sport shorts and a loose shirt

The box is resting on the table in front of you two. Jenna steals glances at you, yet her eyes remain mostly fixed on the object.

"Should we open it already?" she mutters anxiously.

You look at her, exhaling air you weren't aware of holding. Emptying your lungs, you nod.

"Yeah. Let's open it."

Jenna doesn't hesitate and opens the box, revealing several plugs of different sizes and two bottles of lubricant. She opens one of them, of neutral taste and smell.

"I prefer this one" she whispers, handing it to you. Your eyes flicker between her and the bottle, realizing how breathy her voice already has become.

Jenna is so excited, with no need of you doing anything in particular.

Just the thought, the reality, of doing this with you; of finally experiencing this fantasy that's been in her head for way too long; has her bothered enough to be already trembling just at the sight of you holding that bottle.

You inspect the bottle, sniffing. You pour some of it on your index finger, then brush it against your thumb.

Distracted as you are testing the product, takes you some seconds to glance at Jenna, feeling her strong, needy stare.

When you finally look at her, you find her intense, longing stare fixed on your fingers, then snap up to your face. The sparkle in her eyes, the gleam that lights up her entire face with a hint of deep yearning, almost pulls a moan out of you.

She doesn't prevent that same reaction from happening within her, and so she does moan. A ver weak, quiet whimper reverbing against her lips, right before her jaw relaxes dropping slightly, her tongue sticking out slightly to sweep her bottom lip in a wet gesture.

The tension could be cut with a knife. She's standing there, silent, waiting for your orders in a freezed yet more than available stillness. She's waiting for the gun shot, she's expecting the signal.

You lick your lips yourself, in a deliberate way that makes her frown her eyebrows slightly, clearly doing a big effort not to complain. But she looks too adorable waiting for your instructions like this, so you decide to be benevolent and give her some sort of direction.

"Bend over, princess. Over the table."

Your voice is almost soft, almost polite. It drives her insane when you use that tone on her, as if your words were a suggestion, an idea. As if she was gonna consider not doing what you ask her to do, even for a second.

Also, the nickname gives her the mark she needed. When you call her princess, you both know it's all started. The game begins.

She obviously complies, presenting herself to you. Her hands fumble on her sides, she hesitates about where to put them. And so you give her a hint, how helpful of you.

Settling the bottle on the desk, you run your fingers along the length of her arms, finally reaching her hands. You cover the back of her hands and curl her fingers with a gentle caress, molding her body as if she was clay.

Her hands end up holding the edge of the table, over her head. This position allows her to arch her back and stretch her body, presenting herself even further.

"Hmm, that's right... You look so sexy, princess" you coo in a husky murmur as you gently grind your hips against her backside.

She stifles a high-pitched whimper, and turns her head to rest her right cheek on the table. You notice how blushed she's become, how the rosy flush is taining her cheeks.

She's nervous, you can tell. She wants it, you can also tell.

She pulls her hips back, pressing herself against you boldly. Then she nods, eyes fixed on the wall. She's too shy to glance at you for now, but her body language and head gently tilting tells you everything you need to know.

Hooking your fingers on the waistband of her shorts and panties underneath, you pull it all down.

Grazing her smooth skin on the way down, you squat between her legs, facing her ass.

She kicks off the clothes ragged on her ankles, throughing them away in a fervid movement. This makes you smirk.

Splaying out your fingers, your hands easily envelop her buttocks, You give her two playful, testing squeezes. She whines again, this time you catch her looking at you over her shoulder.

You two share a stare. Your is joyful, shinning with excitement and the unquestionable pleasure of control. Hers is pleading yet patient, the vivid image of trust.

That look in her eye is what makes you slip you digits lower, sliding between her folds to spread her already gathering wetness all over her slit.

She breaks eye contact, rolling her eyes as she turns to look to the front, but it doesn't take her long to throw her head back, blessing you with her always sultry, tempting pants.

You've decided to start by something she knows, a sensation she's used to. However, it always feels like the first time with Jenna.

Doesn't matter how many times you've masturbated her in the past months, doesn't matter how many times she's felt your fingertips circling her clit, the length of your fingers covering her slit, gently warmed by her pussy lips.

Doesn't matter to her, doesn't matter to you, because she's never failed to throw her head like that, to squirm wiggling her hips invitingly, to whisper silent pleas for more. Each and every time.

And so you get your wrist to work, touching her in that side-to-side motion that causes her arousal to soak your fingers, spreading it all over her core, keeping her nice and wet for you.

Her breath is labored as she grinds against your fingers, and you can feel her weight, her body relaxing under your touch.

Your other hand has never stopped gropping her ass, experimenting with the patterns and pressure. But then something shifts. Guessing she's ready, you use your fingers to spread her cheeks.

She inhales sharply, pausing her grinding for a moment. She squints at you, then her eyes wide as she realizes what's about to happen. You look at her intently, seeking any sign of discomfort or withdraw.

You find none.

Instead, she pushes her hips back again, then rolls forward, brushing herself against your hand bluntly.

Her cautious restlessness has always been your weak spot.

Leaning forward, you start by spreading kisses all over her buttcheeks. She whines louder, encouraging you. And so, you use your teeth.

Nipping gently, you map out her entire roundness, deliberately ignoring her hole for now.

She grasping onto the edges of the table lively, and although she doesn't complain for your languid teasing approach, her adorable whines let you know she's getting impatient.

But here's the thing, there's nothing you desire more than to push Jenna's buttons; than to drive her to a mindset where she'll do anything in exhange of the vigorous, wrecking touch she knows she can get from you.

After leaving her buttcheeks with faint reddish marks, you finally dart out your tongue.

Trailing a spiral drawing of open-mouthed kisses that gradually gets smaller, you finally reach the tight hole.

At this point she's distracted by your attention and she grinds against your hand absentmindedly. She can get like this sometimes during a scene; where her mind is focused in too many things, too many sensations, and this can lead her to feel overwhelmed and anxious at the end.

That's why you withdraw your hand in a tender, thoughtful touch.

"Thanks" she says in sotto voce, letting go a soft sigh.

Now, both of you are utterly focused in the stimulation at task.

Now that you have both of your hands at your disposal, you grab her fullness and spread her cheeks purposefully, revealing her pink tightness.

You are able to notice her pleasure dripping down her outer lips, but quickly drift your gaze to her hole. You've got other things to care about right now.

Leaning forward, you make contact with her most intimate part for the first time.

She lets out a curious noise, something between awe and doubt as you press your lips against her. But she gasps the moment your tongue makes its appearance; swirling around the area.

Reaching for the lube, you lean back slightly and pour a generous amount there, quickly being spread by your skillfull tongue.

With soft bobs of your head, you flutter your eyes shut and focus on the sensation of her cheeks against your face, your nose gently brushing her coccyx, your hands fondling her round cheeks.

She's tilting her head, uneasy, trying to get comfortable in her contained eagerness. She follows the bobbing of your head and rolls her hips backwards, pressing herself against you in a languid, sultry dance.

Her fingers clutch the table, she starts to bounce deeper, moving her body back and forth in a way that makes you moan against her flesh.

Your tongue swirls and laps slowly and determined, and you can feel her twitch against your touch, gently giving in to your attention.

You're curling your fingers rhythmically, squeezing her buttcheeks, pushing them against the sides of your mouth or spreading them wide.

Your game makes her squirm more, rolling her hips back and forth and to the sides, unruly. She's slowly losing control, the smoldering desire taking control of her body and thoughts.

When you handle her like this, you have a very clear purpose- to make her lose it. To use her trust in your advantage up to a point where her mind is blank, completely yielding to your wishes; utterly giving herself, body, mind and soul; to you.

She's jerking, pushing her hips against your face, shamessly grinding her backside against your lips, your tongue, your hands. So when you lean back she whines miserably, obviously disagreeing with your choice of actions.

"Why...?" she moans, looking at you over her shoulder.

But the question gets trapped in her throat when she takes in the sight of you looking at her as your index finger presses against her hole.

A shuddering sigh leaves her lips and she arches her back. Like a work of magic, her hole cedes to you, her muscles gently stretching around your digit.

With the lube having soaked your hand completely -task you took care of while she was busy complaining about your mouth no longer on her-, you have enough confidence in yourself and in her body to push your finger a little deeper.

A couple of inches slide in, and she frowns in a mixture of faint pain and a hint of pleasure.

You pause, awaiting for feedback.

"Go... On" she gasps out, hesitating.

You slide a little further, then pull out only to bump those couple inches over and over again, slowly.

She flutters her eyes shut and squeezes her eyes, sweaty creases on her forehead as she gets used to the fresh intrusion and gets to know the new pleasurable sensation.

Gradually, her hips start to move again, her body bouncing gently as she parts her lips to exhale soft gasps.

"Yeah? Feels good?" you breath out, transfixed by the intimacy and the sensuality of it all.

Locks of hair fall gracefully over the sides of her face, and they wiggle gently with each bounce. They tremble even more when she nods fervently.

"Yes..." She moans quietly, her cheeks painted with a fresh new wave of flush, "So fucking good, baby..."

You can see in her face that she's lost in the pleasure. She's pushing back at your finger as if she'd been doing it for years, her muscles twitching and pulsing around you.

You pound into her more firmly, curling your digit experimentally with each thrust, exploring her. Eventually, you find the perfect angle that makes her quiver and whisper urgent pleas.

"More... Please, baby, more..."

Before you know, you're fingering her knuckle-deep, sliding your finger in and out so comfortably it's obscene.

The strong smell of her arousal hits your nose, she wiggles uncontrollably, desperately seeking more, and her aching neglected pussy pulses insistent.

You almost feel sorry, but this new phase of her pleasure gives you free pass to the next step you're eagerly willing to discover.

In a swift move, you reach the smaller plug. She looks at you askance, a hint of defiance in her eye.

"I can take more" she murmurs in a husky voice, and purposefully impales herself on your finger.

You chuckle darkly, shaking your head in amusement.

"I'll be the judge of that, don't you think?" you coo.

She hoffs, but immediately inhales deeply as you withdraw your finger, using both hands to spread lube on the toy, preparing it for her.

She doesn't retort, secretly relishing on the bliss of the mocking way you always take care of her.

The way she inhales sharply when you insert the object urges you to plant a soft kiss on the small of her back.

"You're doing so good, princess..." you murmur, slowly sliding it in.

As you anticipated, her inner muscles relax in its wake, her body not betraying her at all. Instead, she starts grinding shortly after.

"God..." she exhales in a dry, low moan.

"Ain't no god implicated here, sweetheart" you quip, stading up behind her once the toy is comfortably inserted in her.

"Just me" you add feidging modesty, and that's when she feels your thighs caging her ass, hips rolling to increase the sensations of the toy inside her.

She gasps in surprise and agreement, pulling back against your thrusts, the toy shifting inside her.

"Oh my oh my oh my" she chants in a trembling whisper, feeling herself getting closer and closer.

You reach for her mound again, your fingers easily finding her bundle of nerves, and you gasp when you feel it swollen and damp.

She jolts urgently, her whole body at your disposal, violently grinding against both your hand and your hips pullings the toy inside her with the delicious rolling of her hips.

Your free hand explores her back, fingers trailing up her spine till you reach the back of her neck, which you hold in a firm, tender grip, wrapping your fingers on either sides.

She lets out bated breaths and breathy whimpers, and she shifts giving you better access to her neck.

She's pliant yet incredibly restless, her wetness coats your fingers letting you know how close she is.

"Can I... Can I please..." she moans desperately, bucking harshly against your hand and hips.

You rock your hips against her mercilessly, the flat base of the toy slamming deliciously against the fabric of your underwear, gratting you with a pleasant friction.

"Can you what, princess?" you coo, sliding your fingers into her hair, gently scratching her scalp.

This makes her shiver and throw her head back toward your touch.

"Come on, speak your mind... Tell me what you need..." you encourage her, your tender voice a deep contrast to your firm shoves and circling on her clit.

She lurches vigorously, rubbing her cunt against your fingers and swings her hips towards you, the toy shifting inside her.

"Can I... Can I come, please?" she coos at last in a husky, whimpering voice. "Please, let me come... I need it so bad..."

Her thin hoarse pleading voice does something to you. You can feel your heart slamming in your chest and your stomach twisting.

The way she asks for it, the way she begs for it, sinks you into the urgent wish of meeting her needs.

"Oh course, beautiful" you say out of breath, "show me what you've got."

Her movements turn more erratic, frenzied, and she cries out your name as she pulls back and forth, desperately rubbing herself against your fingers on her puffy clit.

You press your hand against it, granting her with more pressure than what she can reach for herself.

She inhales sharply and her body goes stiff, arching her back beautifully. This causes her ass you rise up, and you move your hips in circular motions, the toy provoking undescriptable sensations inside her.

With a final, air-piercing wail, she lets go. She grinds avidly as she comes undone, her body jolting and writhling with overstimulation, but she still shoves relentlessly against your hand, milking it for all it's worth.

You watch her in awe. Her hair falls down her back like a courtain, your hand slips down to her lower back, which you pamper soothingly.

She finally snaps her head forward, her forehead softly hitting the table. Jenna lets out trembling sighs, trying to gain some sort of control.

"Don't worry about it" you whisper, your hand caressing her slower, in a shallow touch, your hips slowing down, "I've got you, princess. You don't have to think at all."

She whines, plunging her hips against your touch. But she jolts involuntary, her body trying to tell her it's too much. She rolls her hips again, stubborn.

"Shhh..." you reach for her hair, stroking it lovingly. "You need a moment, sweetie... Don't be hard on yourself..."

She whines louder, in complain. She turns her head, resting her right cheek on the table. "But... I want more..." she whimpers in a husky, vulnerable thin voice.

"Oh... Don't worry about that, pretty girl. I'm not done with you, not at all" you say in a smug yet soft tone, causing her to shudder visibly.

"Not even remotely."

Your hand roams from her hair to her blades. You splay out your fingers and apply a little of pressure, while you gently withdraw your hand from her core and pull your hips back.

As your hand trails down her spine, she stands up and looks at you over her shoulder, following your movements like a puppet.

Her lips part releasing soft pants, and she looks at you through a hazy expectant gaze.

Your hands meet her hips, you hold her securely as she leans back, her back pressing against your chest. However, you make sure she doesn't press her backside against your mound.

The deep trust in her eyes moves you, and you lean in to press a soft kiss to her lips, which she welcomes placing her hands over yours.

You attempt to lean back, but she brings up one hand and cups your cheek, parting her lips to deepen the kiss, tracing your bottom lip with her tempting tongue.

You realize she needs this. She needs the comfort, the tenderness, after the good care you've taken of her and her body.

You tilt your head and part your lips as well, giving her access to your mouth. You both groan quietly as your tongues meet, displaying an erotic, languid dance.

She melts into the kiss, blessing you with soft whines that die in your mouth, her hand sliding to trace your jawline and cup your neck.

After a long minute, you break the kiss tenderly, leaning back. She whimpers pathetically, earning a wry smile from your behalf. Her gaze finds your eyes, and she frowns in adorable confusion.

Smiling fondly, you grab the hem of her shirt and pull it up. She helps you, and once the fabric hits the floor, you need a second to take in the sight of her fully naked before you.

Without taking your eyes off her, you point at the bed with a swing of your head. "Lie down." Your voice gets back its usual something, that mix between gentle suggestion and hoarse command.

Something in her eyes shift, and she returns to her subspace in a matter of seconds.

She wobbles her way to the bed, you watch her as she struggles yet complies eagerly, stifling soft whines her way there.

It`s just a couple of steps, and once her thighs touch the edge of the bed, she turns around facing you, and sits down. Keeping eye contact and with her lips parted with soft pants leaving them, she leans back and props herself up on her elbows, ogling at you.

You reach her and walk your hands along her legs, making her gasp and hold her breath. You grin.

"It's okay, princess, breathe."

Your hands catch her knees, and you cup them from the back and make her bend them up, so that her feet rest on the bed and she's more spread.

Your gaze goes down, relishing an unobstructed view of her puffy drenched folds, swollen clit and plug buried in her.

You glance briefly at her, finding her cheeks flushed in deep crimson, grossy eyes looking down at you.

Usually she'd complain when you get like this, all snoopy and nonchalant, just staring at her body like that. She gets shy and self-concious when you look at her with such attention, squirming and urging you to touch her already.

Nonetheless, this time she doesn't say a word. She just leers at you, awaiting. At first you assume she's just being more obedient today, but as you gape down at her, mesmerized, the answer is before your eyes.

She's sensitive as hell. One squirm and the toy will shift inside her. Her previous release is dripping down her outer lips onto her inner thighs, and judging by her bated breathing you can tell she's still worked up.

And eventhough you know she isn't ready yet, her stare and restless body language let you know how bad she needs it anyway.

And so, you deliver.

First comes the sharp inhale. Then, she squeezes her eyes shut, frowning in bliss and a glimpse of pain. She squirms, adjusting to the sensation. She's barely registering the feeling of your tongue on her cunt when she starts bucking.

You grin against her flesh, because even if her legs are trembling as you hold them firmly, even if she can't find a rhythm because her body is unwilling to cooperate, she still bucks eagerly against your mouth.

As she rolls her hips, the toy obviously shifts inside her, causing her thighs to tense against your temples, her instincs telling her to close her legs.

However, her fingers are lost in your hair, tangled, scratching your scalp and urging you deeper.

She's so avid, you think to yourself.

It doesn't even take you that long. She tries to delay it, because she loves it when you put your tongue on her, but not even her deep breaths in and steady sighs spare her from losing control.

She jerks and rocks her hips greedily, and her legs stutter, her weak moans coming out in shuddered gasps. With a final loud moan, her back arches off the bed and she comes hard in your mouth.

You lap at her eagerly, not giving her even a moment to catch her breath, earning weak whines seeking mercy.

"P-please..."

Once you're satisfied with your performance, you give her one last long lick from her entrance to below her swollen clit, chosing to be benevolent with the manhadled bundle of nerves.

"T-t-thanks" she stammers beautifully, barely above a whisper.

You climb up, leaving feather-touch kisses on her mound, lower stomach, midriff. She quivers each and every time.

"Oh you're being so good this evening, princess. I wonder how far we can take it, huh? How far you're willing to take it."

Your soft coos hiding a sultry threat always get into her. She's far gone in the real life fantasy you're both creating, in the risky yet safe mindspace you get her in.

"Much more" she breathes out, visibly trembling as you level her, pressing your breasts against hers ever so slightly. She inhales.

"I can take more."

Looking directly into her eyes, you find nothing but raw trust and deep desire. It bathes you in an intense feeling of affection and pride.

You both gasp quietly as you grab the base of the toy and carefully withdraw it from her. She lifts her hips, helping you, and she grasps onto your shoulders for anchor.

"There you go" you purr in a whisper, "you're precious."

She blushes again, her lips parted and plump. Your gaze drifts down to them, and she does the same, staring bluntly at your mouth.

Throwing the toy somewhere onto the lower bed, you lean in and kiss her passionately, feeling her arms wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you down.

She finds comfort in the kiss, and lets out a contented sigh as she feels you gently grinding against her, keeping some sort of contact between you and her aching, intimate parts.

After a heavy make-out session, she is the one that leans back this time, her head gently hitting the pillows. She gives you a hazy half-lidded glance, her chest heavy as she tries to catch her breath.

You smirk. Leaning in again, you avoid her lips and instead go for her neck.

Choosing a particular sensitive spot, you wrap your lips around it and suck firmly, gradually harder, hearing her whine and her throat vibrating until you release the flesh, watching proud as a more than visible hickey forms on her skin.

She slides one hand into your hair and strokes it lovingly. "You can mark me all you want" she murmurs with that vulnerable, sexy voice of hers.

You stare at your handiwork, brushing your thumb across it wiping off the saliva. You sit up, catching her off guard. "I'm gonna take a picture" you say as you fumble for Jenna's phone on the nighstand.

Kneeling between her spread legs, you hold the phone with one hand and you put your other hand on her cheek, gently pulling down to make her turn her head the other way. The tendons tense on her neck, making the hickey stand out.

"Gorgeous" you mutter, earning a soft lids fluttering from her. You smirk as you take the picture— seems like she'd do anything for a praise.

After taking several pictures, you put the phone down but your smile fades as you look at her, your expression turns thoughtful.

No longer feeling your hand on her cheek, she turns her head and looks up at you, curious. "What?" she asks breathier than intended, already sensing you've come up with a new way to ruin her.

You swallow, wondering if you're about to overstep. This is not something you two have ever discussed, and for a moment you fear the faith she's put in you will vanish.

But she looks up at you with such adoration, that you can't back down.

"Can I record you?"

Her eyebrows scoot up, and she sits up against the headboard. She looks at you with curiosity, rather than judgement.

"Doing what?"

Obviously, she's used to having cameras on her, but this is different. It's all different with you.

Now that's where the trick hangs. You swallow hard this time, and then dare to continue.

"I'd like not to tell you."

She frowns, confused, and for a moment you think she's gonna say the safeword.

"It's nothing that crazy" you rush to clarify as she was taking a breather. She halts, willing to listen.

"It's just, uh... It's..."

"Okay" she interrupts.

You stop mumbling and look down at her, hopeful. You find her smirking. Your slightly nervous behavior and need to reassure her is all she needs to know.

"Go ahead."

You hit record before you can think it through. Angling the lense towards her, your gaze moves from the screen to her. And you hope the camera is catching the vulnerable, tantalazing smile she's giving you.

Reaching for her chin, you make her tilt her head slightly. Her smile remains, giving you a perfect view of her profile side and the big hickey on her neck.

"You like it?" you coo, brushing your thumb over the mark again.

"Yeah" she purrs, "it's a bit sore and you make it tickle" she teases squinting at you.

You let go of her face, instead you trace her jawline with the back of your fingers. She turns her head slowly and glances at you, she bites her lip.

Her eyes are glinting with mischief, obviously enjoying the banter. She's looking at you, but her eyes flicker to the camera from time to time, making sure it catches the perfect frame of her seductive expression.

Her lip is still trapped between her teeth, she's got a smugly stupid smile on her face, and so you brush your thumb along the hidden bottom lip, and you press and pull down the skin. You watch the pale white skin turn rose as she releases her lip, coming out red.

You slide your thumb along the swollen lip, and she doesn't hesitate even for a second before slowly throwing her head forward, sucking on your digit.

With a skillful suction, she sucks your thumb up to the knuckle, then leans back, peeking up at you. A thin thread connects your thumb to her lips, and she gives you a knowing smirk before taking in your thumb again.

She bobs her head, naughty, and glances at you occasionally as your finger disappears and reappears, over and over again.

She's giving you a show.

Her cheeks hallow with the suction, and she raises her eyebrows each time she looks up, making you feel light-headed.

You can't take your eyes off her. Mouth ajar, you let her play with your digit as if she was giving you head, feeling her stretched lips around your thumb, her saliva soaking you, she's even drooling a little.

After a minute or so, you pull your thumb out, catching her off guard. She was with her eyes shut in bliss and so she looks up at you whining in protest.

Even in your stunned state, you smirk. There it is, that eagerness.

But as she looks up, she notices what you're doing. She sees your cheeks hollowing a bit as well, your jaw moving, your lips pressed together.

Realization dawns on her face as she finally gets why you wanted to record.

"Yes" she hisses, enthused about it. "Do it, please" she whispers, "spit in my mouth."

She relaxes her jaw letting it drop, pliant, and sticks out her tongue. She throws her head back a little, the perfect angle. She looks at you with hooded. yearning eyes. She's already panting heavily.

The whimpering, beautiful little mess she is.

You cradle her chin, pressing your fingers against her jawline, with your other hand firmly holding the phone.

Then, she closes her eyes, and you feel her hot breath against your fingers.

Bending your body a little as you do it, you spit directly in her mouth. A trikle drips down from your lips to her tongue.

The camera catches the view of her side, her inviting mouth and warm tongue, her eyes shut and the tiny whimper she exhales, the tip of her tongue curling up just enough.

She gasps when she feels it, and she opens her eyes ever so slightly, looking at you with heavy eyelids as she closes her mouth instinctively and swallows it without further question.

She makes you whimper in longing when she behaves like this. So willingly, so mischievous, reading your mind and doing what you want her to do even before you know it.

There's no need to ask.

She looks at you relishing on your expression of astonishment with a pleased smirk on her face, licking her lips.

A sudden rush runs through you.

The insatiable need to own her.

You stop the recording and block her phone, putting it on the nighstand with an anxious move. She goes rigid, holding her breath, watching your every move.

You scoot back on the bed, giving her some room. Then your voice comes up dry, not leaving any room for argument.

"On your knees. Now. Facing the headboard."

She complies eagerly, sinking her kness on the matress and giving you her back, clutching the edge of the headboard to steady herself.

"What are you gonna...?" she mutters, incapable of finishing her sentence as she hears the creak of a drawer opening.

She inhales sharply, her body tensing in expectation as she awaits your next move.

"You'll have to be a little patient, princess."

Her fingers curl slightly, holding the wood as she feels the bed sinking slightly with your weight when you climb onto it.

"So... How are you planning on behaving, sweetheart?" you murmur, adjusting the strands around your hips.

Her breath hitches, instantly recognizing the tickling of the belts being tied.

"Good," she retorts anxiously, "really good. I promise."

You can see her fidgeting, pacing her weight from one knee to the other, restless. She moves her head a little, but prevents from looking over her shoulder. She knows it's not allowed.

"Oh yeah?" you tease in a breathy, low tone. That specific voice she'd do anything for. "Are you certain about that?"

You watch her head moving, she nods fervently. "Hundred percent sure" she hisses, rubbing her thighs together.

"Well I hope you keep your sweet promise, because we're about to have so much fun, princess. But I'll need you to trust me and be good for me, can you do that?"

You're spreading lube along the shaft of your toy, and she's about to answer when she hears it. The wet, squelching sound of fingers wrapped around your cock, stroking it.

"Oh my..." she whines miserably, throwing her head forward for a moment, resting her forehead against the headboard.

You notice her hips moving, bucking against nothing, her butt tensing and relaxing with each move.

You stroke yourself vigorously, shamelessly showing off, provoking her with an image she can only enjoy in her imagination while you solely give her the chance to hear.

"Hmm..." you groan, enjoying yourself, rubbing yourself against the base through your underwear.

She stifles a moan. How she loves hearing you make those noises... She's already feeling dizzy, intoxicated. And utterly at your mercy.

"Well?" you purr, deliberately jerking in a way that makes the squelching noise even louder.

She nods effusively, locks of hair gently swaying over her beautiful back.

"Yes" she whispers, grasping onto the headboard for dear life, her thighs rubbing together, "Yes, my love. I trust you. I'll be so good, I promise" she keeps whispering, a deep longing tainting her words.

You crawl closer to her, and you hear her breath stucking in her throat as she notices your closeness, the warmth of your body enveloping her, your energy all over her.

She loves it so dearly, she's obsessed with it. She turns her head ever so slightly, but at the last moment she closes her eyes, giving you a perfect view of her insane profile, with her eyes shut and eyebrows frowned.

You stroke yourself harder, just at the sight of her. Her jaw drops slightly, letting go sweet gasps as she realizes she is the cause of your now faster speed.

"Touch yourself, gorgeous" you whisper, and she jolts a little when she realizes how close you are, your warm voice puffing at her shoulder.

She nods firmly and turns her head to be looking at the wall.

"As you please" she mutters in that husky, shy voice of hers; the one she uses when you command her to do something she desperately wants to do, yet she wouldn't if it wasn't because you told her to.

You watch her hips roll as she starts to fuck her hand slowly, dry pants leaving her lips. "Like this?" She breathes out, desperate to earn your approval.

You tilt your head, grinning. "A little faster" you tease, stroking yourself in a exaggerated motion just so that she can keep hearing it very clearly.

She whimpers, squirming slightly. You know her and her body enough to know that she wished she could do it slower, because she's already close and she knows she has to hold it back until you tell her to let go.

Touching herself faster is risky, which also turns her on even more.

She nods weakly, and you see her arm moving faster, her hips bucking following that rhythm.

You chuckle quietly, now you stroke your toy slower but very firmly, hitting the base with your fingers, creating a splashy thud each time.

She whines, turning her head a bit. She wants to follow your own pace, touch herself imagining you're inside of her.

But instead, you've got her ignoring her own instincts in favour of your desires.

"Slow down..." Your low voice interrupts her desperate thoughts, and she lets out a whine of relief as she pulls her hips down slower.

She grasps onto the headboard with her free hand, her fingers curling in helpless need.

You crawl a little closer and graze her lower back with the tip of your wet toy.

"Ah...." She whimpers very quietly, jolting at first but then pushing her ass up, arching her back.

"Faster"

She follows your lead, circling her clit vigorously, releasing hoarse, high-pitched moans.

Her whole body is glowing in a thin layer of sweat, she's writhling and her legs tremble, she's struggling to hold herself, both physically and mentally.

If it was for her, she'd be leaning against your chest, letting you use her as you please, relaxing completely onto you, not bothering to use her hands on herself.

But instead, you torture her beautifully. You force her to listen to her body and ignore it at the same time, she touches herself not like she'd like to, but as you tell her to.

"Slower"

You reach her wrist and shift it a little, making her stimulate her folds too, not just her clit. Her fingertips also graze her entrance, teasing herself.

Watching her from behind, you can see the muscles in her ass tense as she rocks her hips.

You give her forearm a soft caress, a deep contrast to how you're handling her.

"More pressure, princess. And fast."

You wonder how long will it take for her to loose it completely, for her to either plead you to pound into her or to come undone on her own fingers.

You decide to test her even further.

"Are you close, doll? Is my princess feeling needy for something else?" You coo, your arm moving fiercely, stroking your toy faster, finally meeting her own pace.

She nods, her bottom lip trembling as she whispers, "I'm... I am. I'm trying for you."

Her voice is so breathy, the words coming out quivering, barely above a whisper.

You arch one eyebrow, and for a moment you feel sorry for her. Not enough, though.

You pull your hips forward, tracing iddle patterns on her back with the tip of your cock.

"Trying what, gorgeous? I can't understand you when you whisper like that."

She stifles a moan, and even if she's visibly trembling, she still manages to push herself against your toy. "T-trying... not to..."

She mumbles and chokes a whimper when you slide your toy a little lower, walking it across her cheeks.

Her stammering makes you laugh softly, and she blushes and turns her head with her eyes closed. You look up, and by her expression you can tell she's both embarassed and excited by the way you're kinda mocking her.

"Oh, yeah? That close you are?" You purr, trailing lower.

She whimpers pathetically when she realizes you're not gonna slide the toy inside her stretched ass. Her reaction makes you bite your lip harshly, a primal need flooding in your veins.

She nods again.

"P-please... What do you need me to do? I can do it" she blurts out in a rushed whisper, her fingers moving frantically.

"N-need you s-so bad..." She hisses, "I'll do anything..."

You tilt your head, releasing a sharp gasp.

Oh, even in her current state, she knows how to push your buttons. She knows how to get what she wants.

She turns her head a bit more, the tendons in her neck tensing tantalazingly, and her parted plump lips let go tempting promises in hot whispers.

"Anything you want...."

"Haven't I been good...?"

"Whatever you need..."

"I wanna please you..."

Finally, you loose your patience.

"You're such a greedy girl, you know that?" You breath out, grabbing her hips firmly.

She gasps, her eyelids fluttering, wishing to open her eyes but still deliciously obedient to your orders.

"You just can't wait, can you? It has to be your way" you reach down to grab the base of the roy, your hand trembling as you place it on her entrance.

She arches her back immediately, giving you the perfect view of her ass up and pink folds spread and dripping. She's been ready for a while now.

She nods fervently. You didn't expect that. "Yes" she hisses, leaning against your chest a little, but still not touching you. "I'm so needy for you. I'm so sorry, I just can't bear it anymore."

You clench your jaw, your gaze hiding a smoldering raw desire.

You love this game. The back and forth, the tempting, the way you blame her as if it was her fault, as if you're about to use it because oh, look what she made you do, as if it was a way to show her who's in charge.

She's obsessed with it. She's addicted to following your orders like a docile, perfect patient girl, until her movements and words became so needy, so desperate, that she starts whispering these words to you, knowing that if she gently asks you to move forward, to hurry up a bit, she'll wake up the sleepy beast in you.

She's a sucker for the un-rushed, built up tension. She's grown really experienced in handling your commands that well, to follow your rhythm.

But she's also addicted to manipulate you with her husky, sexy voice; to suck a bit of your power and throw it back at you in the shape of her irresistible proposals.

"Open your eyes" you murmur.

She flutters her eyes open and looks at you over her shoulder. The mere sight of you makes her move her hand faster between her thighs. This makes her jolt, her body sensitive and needy.

Your gaze darts down, "and stop that" you say in a dry whisper.

She gasps and stops at the moment. Her lips are parted in awe, her eyebrows frown in pleasure and bliss, knowing something has shifted within you.

You clench your jaw, your gaze darkened and hard. Her eyes flicker between yours, the silent exchange being an unspoken question.

"You can do ir" she mutters before you can even formulate what you're trying to say.

She can see the deep, crude wish in your eyes. She can tell you're dying to ruin her. But she also can feel your brief doubt.

To highlight her words, she pushes her backside further, and whimpers hoarsly when the tip of your toy brushes her entrance more purposefully.

"Do it" she murmurs again, looking deep into your eyes. "Give it to me."

Her whisper turns into a sharp whine when you roughly shove the toy inside her, filling her completely.

"F—" she doesn't even have time to accomodate you before you start thrusting deep, thoroughful.

She reaches back one hand tangling it in your hair while the other squeezes your waist, and she pushes her hips back, meeting each of your thrusts.

You dig your nails into her flesh, dragging them along her skin, leaving red marks leading to her stomach.

You grope her midriff, breasts and back. You slide one hand to hold her by her neck, her moans vibrating against your fingertips as you bottom out, merciless.

Your other hand trails down until you reach her swollen, manhadled bundle of nerves, and you circle at it insistently.

She squirms, "Mmmph—" she mumbles, unable to even complain.

You can tell she's drowning in overstimulation, you can feel her body surrounding to every plunge of your hips, her inner walls clenching and unclenching around your cock, you can feel their tension when you push your pelvis against her cheeks.

She tilts her head back, resting it on your shoulder, and her body bounces and her breasts jiggle with each move, her lips parted and eyes half-lidded, taking you beautifully.

She glances at you through her eyelashes, deep trust and adoration glazing the watery deep brown stare.

The sight of her looking at you like this, wearing your hand around her neck like a collar, with her hands all over you, pulling you against her even more, with her body bouncing and writhling, dying from overstimulation but still craving more, drives you to the edge.

You slide your hand from her neck to the back of her head and push her forward, her forehead rests against the headboard and she arches her back, her hands clutching the edge of the headboard desperately.

Grabbing the back of her neck and with your other hand circling her clit, you rock your hips faster, harder, rougher.

"Mmph— ah— ah—!"

She moans and whines desperately, pleading, her mind foggy, eyes rolling back and eyebrows frowning.

She turns her head, pressing her cheek agaisnt the wood giving you a perfect view of her ravished state, thin drool coming out from the side of her lips, dripping down her chin.

You can't take it anymore. "Show off for me, princess" you groan between heavy breathing and sharp pants.

With her puffy lips twitching and swallowing your toy with eager willingness, her entire body convulses and she releases deep groans and high pitched wails as she finally lets go, coming hard.

With the dual stimulation of your hand on her clit and your cock insistently rubbing against her G-spot, she squirts profusely, her cum gushing out and coating the entire length of your toy while you continue sliding in and out of her, drawning out her orgasm.

"jesus fucking christ..." She whines with her voice trembling weakly as you finish against the toy, rolling your hips and using her just a little more to get off.

"ugh, fuck!" You groan and moan, releasing a final sigh before you crumble on her.

You both stay there for a moment, just panting heavily. She turns her head and meets your lips weakly, whimpering quietly against your mouth.

You let out a breathy chuckle, kissing her back. Even now, she stills needs you all over her.

She whines in return and wiggles her hips, silently reminding you to pull out.

"Oh, yeah" you murmur in a giggle, gently pulling back.

She nods and offers you a sated smole, and her eyelids flutter as she feels every inch coming out of her.

She loves it when your demeanor shifts after a scene and suddenly you turn into an almost shy, panting dom who treats her with care and love.

You lean back and look down, watching the toy come out of her.

Is in that moment when you notice her state.

Her cheeks are swollen and red, random marks all over them. You've left red lines all over her ass and back, and probably on her stomach.

She's literally dripping, a damp big spot tainting the sheets right below her.

You gasp, too much emotions mow you down like a tidal wave. You need a second to catch your breath.

Jenna was smiling, but she turns slightly to you, frowning as she tries to gauge your mindset.

"Baby...?" She murmurs warily.

You snap your eyes back at her, concerned. "Jenna" you breath out.

Her eyes drift across your face, now concerned. You calling her by her name instead of 'princess' lets her know that the scene is over, and your specific tone also lets her know something's off.

"What is it?"

But you feel your knees crumbling, your chest aching with a mix of emotions you can't quite comprehend.

Without saying a word, you let yourself fall on your knees onto the mattress, defeated.

She turns around completely, facing you. She puts her hand on your shoulder.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

Taglist: @ijustlovemaths @babyhumanoidpsychicnerd @ortegalvr @2thamax @oxt3n @aroooheartzzz @lailathegayqueeeen @freestarfishdinosaur @lightningirlz @bellward3456 @avaseye @christinaliner69 @dequiem @bbygrl008 @red1culous @bella423 @jennassamoanwife

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #d/s #d/s dynamic #lesbian #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega imagine #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader

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