#its unfair there is only one fic with it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ponderingmoonlight · 7 months ago

Text

Sharing a bed with kny men

Pairings: Yoriichi x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,7k (lmao)

Warnings: injury in Yoriichi's part, smut in Sanemi's part so read if you're 18+, this is a long ass fic y'all, not proofread

This is actually my first time posting Sanemi smut and I'm super scared. Let me know what you think 🥹🤍

Also, do you want me to do other characters too?🫶

Yoriichi

I heard you @laurencrsnt 🫶

All your life, you never even thought about the possibility that maybe, you’ll encounter a demon someday. Why you, out of all people? Why especially you?

Even now with its cold eyes glaring down at you and your shoulder ripped open by its claws, you fail to find an answer for that. Is it your fate to die right here, when you only went out at night in order to buy medicine for your little sister who has fever? Is dying the cruelest death really your destiny when you wish for nothing more than growing old and watching your own children live their lives?

It’s unfair.

You shouldn’t lay here, crumpled onto the still wet street. You shouldn’t feel the sensation of your eyes watering, your hands trembling, your heart racing.

This shouldn’t be your last day walking on this earth. You didn’t even have the chance to find the man of your dreams yet…

It’s ridiculous and you know it, that spark of determination that rushes through your bones. All of the sudden you spring back onto your feet and start running. Out of the city, away from the lit streets straight into the dark woods.

Even if you have to die here, you won’t give up this easily. You won’t allow this demon to end your life without putting up a fight.

“Why do you girls always think you can run away, huh? It’s too easy to sweep you off your feet”, the demon behind you comments dryly.

With a swift motion of his hand, it digs open your tender flesh all over again, sends your violent scream echoing through the lonely forest. You fall to the ground like a bag of rice, your torn leg now refusing its service completely.

“Let me go!”, you shriek in horror.

No, you don’t want to die here, you just want to go back to bed and forget about this.

But the forest ground isn’t your bed and the demon in front of you who’s ready to slice through your throat isn’t only a nightmare.

Your heart sinks to the floor, body suddenly feeling numb and lifeless. You will die here.

“I’ll keep you in good memory. Well, at least for tonight”, the demon jeers at you.

You close your eyes, desperately try to imagine your little sister. She’ll find herself a loving husband and her very own family without any doubt. Even without you around, her life will turn out alright. Even without you around, life goes on. You don’t have to feel sad or guilty, you just have to let go…

“Get away from that woman.”

A low male voice, so charismatic that you think you might dream. He sure must be handsome. Men with voices like that always have a matching face.

A slicing blade, a dull thud. But no claws that dig into your flesh one last time, no bow of relief that you’ve been awaiting for quite some time by now. Your eyelids start shivering. When is this finally over?

“Are you alright? Please allow me to help you up.”

The second something touches your skin, your eyes snap open in an instant. But they aren’t greeted by those venomous red orbs from earlier. No, these ones are soft but strong and have that calming fuchsia color. This isn’t a demon.

This is a man.

“Don’t be afraid. The demon is gone”, he continues speaking with his low voice.

You have no control over your own body and shivering limbs. It’s impossible for you to say a single word. Are you really out of danger? Is it really over?

When he pulls you off the ground, a violent scream escapes your lips. No, you don’t want to die, you don’t want your life to end tonight. Not like this, not without saying goodbye.

“Please calm down, everything is alright now”, the stranger tries to reassure you, but his words don’t even reach your ringing ears.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, forehead now covered in ice cold sweat. This can’t be your end.

If Yoriichi doesn’t act now, you might faint due to your stress. But what is he supposed to do? You don’t seem to listen to his words and touching you might only make it worse. Maybe you need, assurance?

“I won’t hurt you, see? My hands have no intention of doing you any harm.”

Gently, he glides his fingertips up and down your uninjured harm. Despite the look of horror on your face and your gaping wounds, you do have a lovely face and truly remarkable eyes.

“I came here to help you”, he continues until his fingertips finally brush over your tear-soaked face.

What is this feeling of warmth deep inside his chest? You aren’t the first woman he saved from the claws of a demon.

“I would like to accompany you on your way back home-“

“No”, you suddenly blurt out.

Even though lying in bed on your own was all you were able to think about just a few moments ago, the thought feels like a threat now. What if another demon follows you back home? What if your little sister gets attacked because of your foolishness? No, you simply can’t go back now. But on the other hand…Just the thought of sleeping alone here in the woods runs shivers down your spine.

“I…I’ll find a place to stay. Otherwise…they might harm my sister…”, you mutter.

“Allow me to escort you to my estate, then.”

You yank your head to the side in sheer disbelief, eyes searching for a spark of humor in his calming orbs. Is he really serious about that? After all, you’re a stranger. He doesn’t even know your name. Now that you think of it…who is this?

“How can I know for sure that you aren’t a demon yourself?”

“Take my hand”, he instructs you gently.

Is this really a good idea? You take a deep breath in, try to calm down your pounding heart. What do you have to lose?

When your shaky fingers wrap themselves around his much larger hand, you get ingulfed by warmth. His palms feel rough but also comforting against your bruised skin.

“Demons are cold since they are dead”, he explains briefly.

“But I am not. I am a demon slayer. It is my only destiny to safe innocent souls from their death.”

Oh. Your gaze drifts towards a katana that hangs dangles from his belt. No, demon don’t find with those weapons. So, are those words really true?

“You…You want to help me?”

“I’d love to help you if you allow me to.”

What has gotten into him? Did he really offer you to hold his hand, let alone to sleep at his house so you don’t have to fear the night on your own? Never in his life, Yoriichi allowed himself to develop feelings apart from empathy for those around him.

But those eyes. Those eyes of yours really captivate him, devour him fully. How is he supposed to leave you out here, soaked in your own blood with bruises all over your body?

“You…really would?”

Is this really okay? When you were a child, your mother told you over and over that you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers, let alone man.

But…does that also include the handsome, charismatic and armored ones?

“I keep my word. Also, your wounds need care as well. Please, allow me to help you.”

What do you have to lose.

“If that’s the case, I’d love to take your offer”, you reply shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that. I will show you the way-“

A loud groan escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. His charismatic eyes almost made you forget about the gaping wound the monster from before inflicted on you.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t move your leg with a wound like that. I will carry you to my estate.”

“You will…carry me?”, you mutter with widened eyes.

But just when you try to take a step forward, his words become painfully clear. No, there really is no way you’ll be able to walk anywhere with that leg. But allowing him to carry you?

“I might be a little heavy.”

“Let me assure you, you aren’t heavy at all.”

“Fine…”, you grumble.

“But only a few meters.”

Gently, he stranger wraps his arms around your shoulder and knees before he starts walking.

He smells good. Like a field of flowers on a sunny day. And the way his heart beats against your cheek reminds you that you’re still alive, that you survived somehow.

This man saved you.

“I didn’t even thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. This is the least I can do for you after I almost came too late.”

He stares blankly at the blood that still drips from your leg. Just a few seconds later and that demon would have killed you with him simply watching. Why? Why is he not able to save them all, why is he still not good enough to stop this madness?

“Don’t tense up, don’t think anything less of yourself because I was injured. I was a fool for leaving the house this late at night on my own.”

Despite the fact that cold sweat still runs down your forehead and even though your fingertips still shake in shock, you cup his cheek and force his troubled eyes to look at you.

“I am beyond thankful for my rescue. The worst thing about dying today would have been leaving my little sister behind. But you saved me. And not only that, you even offered me a safe place to stay for the night. I really don’t know if…If I’d be able to sleep on my own tonight…”

The stranger doesn’t say a word, his eyes roaming around your face without a real aim.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”

“My name is not important-“

“I’m (y/n)”, you introduce yourself friendly.

“My…my name is Yoriichi”, the man carrying you mumbles.

Yoriichi. An unusual name that you’ve never heard before.

“That name suits you well.”

“We’ll arrive soon. I hope you don’t expect a big mansion since I am living in a rather small cottage-“

“I’m living in a tiny barrack in the city. A house in the woods sounds like a dream”, you mutter.

The second you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a wooden cabin with a plain futon lying on the floor and an improvised kitchen in the back of the house. Nothing special, very fitting for the man who gently lowers you onto the futon.

“I will take care of your wounds now”, he announces before taking off his haori and katana.

Without his threatful weapon dangling from his belt, he looks like a normal man.

If it wasn’t for those captivating eyes. He has to be the most breathtaking man you’ve ever seen.

“Fortunately, the cut on your leg isn’t deep. I’ll disinfect the wound and bandage it”, he explains briefly before his skilled hands spring into action.

“You really are good at everything”, you comment.

He’s so gentle that even the alcohol that disinfects your wound doesn’t seem to burn. Why have you never stumbled across him? You were so sure that you know each and every man around that it almost drove you insane. But him? He’s different from all the others. He’s truly special.

“You will have to take your kimono off. I need access to the wound on your shoulder.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, sure…”

Hesitantly, you pull the blood-soaked fabric down your shoulder so that only your chest is still covered. Yoriichi’s eyes seem to gleam in the moonlight like liquid metal.

“You look lovely”, he flusters into the night.

He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. Is it the alcohol rising up his nose, the smell of blood that radiates from your bruised body that makes him say those strange things?

No. It has to be because of those eyes of yours. Those eyes that captivated him from the moment he first saw them.

"Thank you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing as you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You too," you add quickly, immediately regretting your awkward response.

Both you and Yoriichi swallow hard, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing.

“I am finished. You should rest for tonight. After all, this was a draining fight for you”, he mutters while getting up.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heart still hammering so roughly against your ribcage that you’re almost sure he’s able to hear it. What was this tension?

“But…this is your futon-“

“You are my guest. Of course, I will sleep on the floor on the other side of the room.”

Oh. A wave of disappointment rushes over you before you’re able to stop it. What were you expecting, secretly hoping? That this man will share a bed with you?

Honestly, yes.

“You…you really don’t have to…”

Oh, how much Yoriichi wished he wouldn’t have to.

“I insist on taking the floor.”

“I actually want you to sleep by my side. Please.”

The begging tone in your voice stops him mid-track.

“This night was…horrible. A little company would definitely help, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all”, he replies a little too hasty.

“I just don’t want to invade your personal space. After all, I’m a stranger.”

“A really kind stranger”, you add shyly.

Are you acting out of line? You shouldn’t push him to sleep next to you when his offer to let you sleep here is already generous enough, right?

“Forget my question, I was acting out of line-“

“No, not at all. I would love sleeping besides you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and kneels down next to you.

“But let me know whenever I become too much.”

What a ridiculous thought. Why would he ever become too much? Him, your savior, that remarkable man.

You scoot over until your back is pressed against the cool wall, eyes still fixated on his gleaming eyes. Will you really be able to sleep tonight when this is the first time ever a man lies beside you?

And what a handsome one on top.

“You should try to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here”, he reassures you.

That is the least he can do after failing to protect you in the first place.

“Again, thank you for all of this. I definitely own you a favor”, you mumble.

Suddenly your lids start to get heavy, your mind slows down bit by bit. Maybe this rough night really took its toll on you. Is It the safety he radiates, his calming smell? In the matter of seconds, only your low and even breath is heard.

Finally, Yoriichi is able to allow himself a closer look at you. You look so peaceful and innocent with a face so remarkably beautiful that he can’t stop staring. You have to be the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A man like him really doesn’t deserve lying next to a woman like you. Maybe he should give you space, leave you now that you fell asleep-

With a quiet groan, you draw closer to him in your sleep until your head rests on top of his chest and with your arms wrapped around his upper body.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch, eyes widen in utter surprise. Is this…cuddling? His mind races back and forth, eyes resting on your calm features. What is he supposed to do now?

Hesitantly, he allows his hand to rest on your back. What an unknown sensation, all those feelings that rise up his chest right where your hand rests.

For the first time since forever, he is the one who feels safe.

He is the one who feels loved.

He is the one who feels warm.

And you? You cuddle yourself against him until the sun rises all over again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

This one's for you @muichirolover14 🤍

“This is bullshit”, the man walking next to you mumbles under his breath.

“Keep focused. It was Kagaya-sama’s personal wish that the two of us go on this mission together”, you mumble with a fake smile decorating your bright red lips.

And that’s the only reason why you agreed in the first place. Why else would you pretend to be Sanemi Shinazugawa’s personal concubine if it wasn’t for Kagaya-sama and this undercover mission?

The plan is pretty simple. Countless people, including other demon slayers, lost their lives in this little innocent village that becomes a red-light district at night. Nobody knows why or who is responsible for this.

One of the upper moons, maybe.

It just made sense to dress you up as a concubine. After all, you are the light hashira, a mighty swordswoman and probably the most talented out of Mitsuri and Shinobu when it comes to acting.

And then there’s him. You glance at Sanemi’s annoyed face from the side. Why on earth did Kagaya-sama choose him? What about Rengoku, Giyu, Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei? Aren’t they a way better fit?

You sign to yourself.

Truth is, they aren’t. While Rengoku, Obanai, Tengen and Gyomei would stand out immediately, Giyu would never be able to sell you as his concubine. No, no one except the wind hashira is able to make this look natural.

No one but him looks this good in a dark green kimono.

What?

“Stop staring at me like that, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I was just hoping you might disappear if I stare long enough, idiot”, you bite back in frustration.

Why does he always have to be so mean, though? You really tried to get along with him countless times, put on the most precious smile whenever you talked to him and made sure to always bring him ohagi whenever you had the chance to. But Sanemi Shinazugawa never stopped hating you. And eventually, a part of you started to dislike him as well. That one part though…

You allow your eyes a minor glimpse at his barely exposed chest. That tiny part deep within your head is somehow still drawn to him. And you hate it.

“Aren’t concubines supposed to shut up?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll leave immediately.”

“Both of us know you wouldn’t do that.”

You let out your shaky breath, your hand crushing his while you wear the same friendly smile as before.

“Don’t mess with me, Shinazugawa”, you speak out with low voice.

His face tenses up ever so slightly, hand fighting for freedom out of your merciless grasp.

“You’ll regret talking to me like that when we’re alone, brat.”

-at the estate-

“I’d like to show you to my newest possession. Please introduce yourself”, Sanemi speaks out.

Like Amane-sama showed you, you bow in front of the man that looks you up and down with his filthy eyes.

“My name is Kiyomi”, you introduce yourself oh so sweetly.

“That name really suits you. What a beauty you are. I’m sure I’d find a lot of paying customers for you here”, the disgusting man purrs and stretches out his hand in order to touch your face.

“Don’t touch the goods”, Sanemi barks at him immediately before slapping his dirty hand away.

Who does this guy think he is, trying to touch you so casually? No. That jerk isn’t allowed to caress your face. The plain thought of men like him getting to put their hands on you…

Sanemi’s guts turn.

“Aren’t you here to sell her and yourself for the night? If that’s the case, she won’t be your good anymore for the next few hours but mine.”

He smiles at you through rotten teeth, his breath almost forcing you to choke. You are only here to detect the demon who is responsible for the countless deaths in this area. You don’t have to touch any of these men. None of them will touch you.

What about Sanemi, though? An uneasy feeling rises up your chest when your eye catches a group of women who stare him up and down with lust in their eyes. Will he allow himself a taste before continuing with this mission? Will he find a woman he is attracted to? All of them look flawless, too good to even consider the service of a paid men. But if that man looks like Sanemi…

“You will find your room to the right. This is where the female customers choose their good. After paying, you belong to them”, the man explains briefly while showing both of you around.

“Why would these women pay for the services of a man? This is a noble region that is well-inhabited by countless men”, you blurt out.

“It’s not about them being men. It’s about looks. Only the fine-looking men even get the chance to work here for the night”, he explains briefly.

Fine-looking man, huh? Well, there is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi suits that description way too good. With his firm muscles highlighted by scars from countless battles, he looks like a walking god. Let alone his perfect face, his eyes that now look soft and seducing without being irritated constantly. His white hair that frames his features perfectly.

“As for the women, we look for a broad variety of bodies, looks and personalities. You are very easy on the eye and mysterious. I’m sure countless customers will fall for that.”

“And what…what services do they expect?”

The man in front of you bursts out in hysteric laughter, you can feel Sanemi’s eyes piercing through your skull.

“What they expect? Intercourse and everything that revolves around it, of course! Do you think they pay you for some cuddles and nice words?”

You swallow hard. There is no need to do that, right? You’ll somehow shrug them off and investigate this place at night. Maybe you’ll find the demon right away and-

“Now, you are a fine-looking man. Who is this?”, a woman suddenly purrs out of the shadows.

“A new worker for the night”, the disgusting man explains with a dirty smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll definitely make a reservation.”

“It would be an honor, my lady”, suddenly replies in the same cheeky tone

Your guts turn in an instant, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch how a smile forms itself on Sanemi’s usual resting lips.

“What a gentleman he is. I cannot wait to meet you.”

“The honor is on my side, my lady.”

And then he steps in front of her. Elegantly, he grabs the hand she already holds out and kisses her knuckles. Your heartrate quickens, the warm flush that starts creeping up your face barely covered by your makeup.

Fucking asshole. So he’s acting like a jerk towards you all this time while treating other women like this? You hate the knot that forms itself in your throat, the disgusting feeling of disappointment that rushes over you.

Does he really hate you this much?

“Well, I think I should introduce myself to the customers as well. Have a pleasant night, Sir”, your monotone voice speaks out on its own.

With one last bow towards him, you follow the man into the women’s corridor without even gifting him a single look. Sanemi can’t help but furrow his eyebrows at your sudden reaction. Did you really want to get rid of him so badly? Maybe you’ll actually meet up with some of those guys and…

“Are you interested-“

“I will meet up with you later this evening, my lady. Please excuse me.”

Without another look or word, he storms into his assigned room and closes the door behind him.

Sanemi’s mind starts going insane. What if you actually like one of those guys? Or what if one of them hurts you, tries to force you into something you don’t want? He heard the worst stuff about places like this.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. Why you? This mission is way too dangerous for someone like you, for someone this gorgeous-

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters through gritted teeth.

“I can’t do this”, you breathe out in sheer panic while lying in bed.

No, just the thought of Sanemi having the fun of his life with that girl from earlier feels like ripping your beating heart out of your chest. Will he really share a bed with them?

If it’s for the mission, he definitely would. Nothing is greater than his urge to kill demons, especially when it comes to an upper ranked one. That little sacrifice wouldn’t stop him.

And it breaks your dumb heart.

A hard knock on the door rips you out of your running thoughts. Is this your first customer? All color drains from your face, eyes widen in horror with every bow against the wooden door.

“Just a moment”, your shaky voice shouts.

You…Do you have to look presentable? You have to think about the things you can tell him. Maybe you don’t even have to sleep with him, maybe this will distract you from the things Sanemi is probably doing right now.

You open the door.

And stare straight into the furious eyes of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Before you’re even able to react, he pushes himself into your room and closes the door behind him before yanking you against the wall.

“What did you do?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your heart starts hammering roughly against your ribcage. Him? Here?

“What the hell are you doing he-“

“Answer my question right now!”, he barks into your face.

“I didn’t do anything!”, you shriek.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“Has somebody touched you?”

His rough hands start running up and down your neck, yank the sleeves of your kimono upwards in a haste.

“What?”, you breathe out.

What the hell is going on? Just when you managed to pull your arm away from him, he grabs your wrist again with his face only inches away from yours.

“Did somebody touch you?”, he screams into your face.

“No!”, you cry back.

“But why would you even care? It looked like you had plenty of fun!”

He shakes his head while looking at you in utter surprise and confusion.

“What non-sense are you talking now-“

“Did you sleep with that woman from earlier when I was gone?”

God, you hate the way your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, you hate the way your eyes fill with hot tears. He came here to confront you with all those accusations while he was out there having the time of his life, while all you were able to think about is him?

“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You’re the only one I want!”, he suddenly blurts out breathlessly.

“What?”, you utter in hushed panic.

This has to be a cruel joke, an unforgiving way to stop you from doing anything. Sanemi Shinazugawa, wanting you?

“Since I first saw you with your fucking perfect face and so melodic voice, I can’t think about anything else! You, sleeping with some random guy while I’m just a few doors away. I can’t take it!”

He grabs your head with both hands, eyes staring at you so intensely that you feel like collapsing any minute. If that’s really true, if that’s really how he feels…

“But…I want you too”, you squirm.

“I always wanted you, Sanemi.”

His lips crash against yours with so much power that you almost fall over. Suddenly his hands are all over your body, tongue unforgiving as he discovers your mouth with a passion you’ve never felt before. You allow your very own hands to finally discover the deep valleys of his muscular back, to let your hasty fingertips wander over his tight chest.

It becomes unbearable. Everything starts to become unbearable. That minor gap between your bodies, the clothes that still deny you full access to his naked skin, the feeling of not having enough.

“I need more”, you whimper against his lips, not even knowing what exactly you’re asking about.

Sanemi lifts you up with ease, not even breaking the kiss when he pushes you onto the bed with his massive body lingering on top of you.

You feel like suffocating in the most exquisite way.

“I’ll give you whatever you want”, he breathes against your lips that now find your neck.

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can stop his, body rearing up underneath him.

“S-Sanemi!”

“Fuck”, he hisses before his dark eyes meet you again in distress.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I…what?”

You can’t produce a single logical sound, head still spinning from the unknown sensation that starts building up inside your stomach. Is this what desire feels like?

“Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me.”

“I wanted you all this time”, you reply without thinking twice.

With a swift motion, you find yourself engulfed by his arms with his lips caressing yours all over again. Like in trance, you begin opening his kimono, expose his bare skin to your merciless eyes.

“You look so shamelessly good”, you whimper.

Oh, how often you pondered about how his chest feels like, if his scars are soft or as rough as his walls.

“Can I…?”

His hands grab the ends of your kimono, eyes staring down at you flustered. Is that blush creeping up his cheeks?

“It’s just…You know…I’ve never done this before…”, you stammer.

“Do I look like I did, idiot?”, he mutters while gently taking off your kimono until you lay underneath him.

Completely naked.

“I mean, yes…”

“No, I didn’t”, he barks.

“I guess I waited for someone special…”

“I did as well”, you reply in an instant.

Is this real or are you dreaming? Sanemi Shinazugawa laying on top of you fully nude. Sanemi Shinazugawa stating that he likes you. Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand that start moving downwards…

Until he reaches between your legs and simply takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?”, he mutters, eyes filled with worry.

You nod absently, eyes rolling back into your skull. God, this feels like heaven. When a groan escapes his lips, you completely lose yourself. Out of instinct, you grab his neck and yank him even closer towards you, your hot breath clashing against his face.

“Sanemi!”

His name sounds like a prayer coming from your mouth, forces his fingers to move even faster. Is this good? Is he doing everything alright? Your whimpers grow louder and louder, nails digging into his now oversensitive skin with so much pressure that it threatens to burst. You look so gorgeous with your eyes pressed shut, your delicate mouth forming an “o”.

And then you burst right underneath him, scream his name over and over again with your legs shaking. He can’t wait no longer, can’t contain himself another second.

“I need you”, he mutters.

“Please, let me have you.”

“Yes”, you breathe out, mind still spinning when the firework that just exploded in your lower body slowly starts wearing off.

Until you feel him all over again. But this time, not his fingers. Your glossy eyes widen in utter surprise when he carefully stretches you out and disappears inside of you, hands holding onto him for dear life.

“Are you okay?”, he whimpers.

“Please…give me…more…”

He almost loses his mind, the new sensation almost eating him up alive. Countless nights, he dreamed about what it might be like to have you, what it would feel like. But the reality is so much better than any dream.

Sanemi picks up his pace and grabs your waist passionately in order to keep you in place. Over and over, again and again your sticky skin collides with his until he threatens to burst.

“You’re mine”, he presses out through gritted teeth while pounding into you.

“I’m all yours, Sanemi!”, you cry out, nails now leaving marks on his skin.

“I need…ah! I need you! Please!”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for. One last time, he picks up the pace while holding onto you for dear life.

Until finally, you scream his name. Finally, he’s able to let it all go.

“(y/n)!”

He collapses on top of you, his weight leaving you dizzy and unable to move. None of you dares to make a move, the only thing that’s filling the room being your shaky and sharp breaths.

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally mutters, his hand caressing your cheek oh so gently.

“I love you too-“

“Mission report, mission report! Kagaya-sama requires a mission re- AH!”

“Get out of here right now!”, Sanemi barks at the crow that casually entered the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

“Get out!”, Sanemi screams on top of his lungs before yanking up and hunting the crow butt-naked through the room

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

3K notes · View notes

piastappies · 2 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝜗𝜚

⋆ pairing. oscar piastri x wife!leclerc!reader

⋆ summary. christmas is never calm, when the piastris are involved, or one would think.

⋆ notes. another part of dad!oscar series 😁😁😁 its honestly one of my favorites ever. this is a small christmas fic, but i might write another part of christmas at the piastris 😁 not proofread (i will do that one day i promise)

BEFORE YOUR DAUGHTER WAS BORN, you and oscar never spent christmas together. it was pretty understandable, he went back to australia to see his family, while you ended up in monaco, spending the festive moments along your family and your brothers’ girlfriends. however, you’d always spend new year’s together — whether it was australia or monaco, no one could make you leave each other’s side. nevertheless, as suspected, the problems started occurring as soon chloe’s second christmas came up.

her first christmas happened just after she was born, so there was really no conversation about going anywhere with a newborn baby, while pandemic was still going crazy. christmas in the following year was putting more and more stress on top of your shoulders. you barely seen your family all year, so the need to fly home was even stronger than ever, you couldn’t though. beside his dad, oscar hasn’t seen his family much either and asking him to go see yours for holidays seemed unfair, you were not the only one, who missed the warm embraces of their mothers.

“why don’t we all just come to your place, love?” nicole, oscar’s mum, suggested on one afternoon, making the tension in your shoulders loosen a bit. “there’s no point in stressing yourself out about flying with chloe, when we can just come to you.”

it almost seemed like a plan put together beforehand, because a few hours later your mum has called you, suggesting the exact same thing. even if it was a plan, you really appreciated trying to ease your nerves about christmas.

and it became a tradition, one you held dearly to your heart.

it’s been still a few days left till the twenty-fifth, so it was only nicole, who flew to monaco, her daughters would arrive near twenty-fourth to have a day to recharge. you were bundled up in a blanket, a small girl sitting on your lap, not wanting to be away from you as her tiny fists had tightened their grip on your shirt.

“i get puppy?” chloe asked, tipping her chin upwards to have a look at you before turning her head — so fast you thought it would snap in seconds — to look between your husband and his mom. “please, please puppy?” she repeated, jutting her bottom lip and flashed her brown eyes at oscar.

you raised an eyebrow at the aussie, awaiting his response. the possibility of him cracking and accepting your daughter’s pleas was high, considering that chloe had him wrapped around her little finger, or rather around her wrist like a leash she could tug on, and at first thought her dad would do whatever she wanted him to. his gaze shifted towards you as he let out a sigh, his heart breaking as he’s about to disappoint his only daughter.

“ah, squish, but you have a dog already, don’t you?” nicole started, catching her daughter’s attention. chloe’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. she has a dog already? is he invisible? “basil and rosie are yours too, aren’t they?” she asked in a gentle tone, the four years old perking up at this revelation.

“i do!” she exclaimed happily, letting go of your shirt to clap her hands, a big beam creeping up on her lips. “basie and rosie!” she said, her head bobbing up and down ecstatically. “my doggies.”

“and leo.” you chimed in, gently rubbing your hand against chloe’s back. the mention of your brother’s daschmund made the beam falter. “you don’t like leo anymore, squish?” you asked, a bit taken aback at the sudden change.

a pout appeared on your daughter’s face, her tone slightly bashful as she tried to explain. “leo pee-ed on me.” oscar’s lips were pulled into a tight line as he tried to suppress a chuckle. “s’no funny!” she frowned at her dad’s antics.

“he was just excited to see you, baby.” you tried your best reasoning with your daughter. “leo’s still just a baby, you know? babies pee when they get excited, it means he reaaaally likes you.”

“daddy’s baby, too an’ he don’t pee on me.” she scrunched her nose, unmoved by your explanation. “daddy don’t like chloe?”

baby. that’s how you’ve been referring to oscar for as long as you could remember, making chloe think that her dad is as much of a baby as she is. in different circumstances, you’d just start laughing — some guys, your friends’ boyfriend or fathers, random people on the street, probably acted like babies towards their partners or maternal figures, but not your oscar. he was the eptiome of a great partner, friend, and a parent, despite being a bit messy and leaving socks on your bedroom floor a few times, if you wished for someone better, you’d still get your oscar, because there couldn’t be anyone better than him, not for you and your daughter.

“well… daddy loves you so, so much, squish.” he began coyly, kneeling in front of the couch, to brush his nose against chloe’s, as an act of affection. “but i’m not a doggie, am i?” he asked, and while your reasoning seemed completely off to chloe, she bought oscar’s within seconds.

“no, silly.” the four years old giggled, putting both of her hands on oscar’s cheeks, leaving a small, sloppy kiss on the tip of his nose. “you papa.” a beam stretched across her mouth. “no doggie.”

THE CHRISTMAS CAME QUICKLY, which you were profoundly content with. it was one of the rare moments, when you could spend the time with your entire family, both sides. there wasn’t enough words to describe the amount of love you held in your heart for oscar’s relatives. you spent lots of hours, talking to your in-laws on the phone, when you couldn’t see them in person. it was natural that you wanted them in your daughter’s life as much as possible.

usually, the apartment was as quiet as it could be with a preschooler, although with almost twenty people inside, it was a mess. a positive one, one you would cherish every time it happened. your mum chatting away with nicole, tim, and chris, your brothers engrossed in conversations with oscar, while you talked to alex, and oscar’s sisters as your soon to be sister-in-law played with your daughter on the carpet, leo sleeping on his usual spot on the couch.

when you all sat down to open gifts, chloe was no longer playing with charlotte as she occupied the spot on arthur’s lap, giggling quietly, when he tickled her once in a while just to pretend he didn’t as she tried to pat his hands away.

“i give gifts, too!” she suddenly spoke up, her voice filled with excitement, pointing to a dozen of tiny boxes standing neatly next to (or on top of) one another.

it was small figurines made out of modelling clay that your husband has bought for your daughter. it wasn’t much, but it made your daughter feel involved in the gift-giving tradition. of course, you helped her throughout the process, so the figurines wouldn’t be just colours mixed together with no shape.

“oh, mon étoile. did you make them yourself?” your mum asked, a warm smile stretching across her lips as she unpacked the tiny star made out of modelling clay. that’s what pascale always called chloe, étoile, which meant a star, because she was the brightest star in your mom’s universe.

chloe nodded proudly in response, puffing her chest as she unpacked arthur’s box for him. “‘s me!” she giggled in happiness, placing the figurine in her uncle’s hand. “now, you ‘ill ‘lways remember me!”

“i could never forget you, squish.” arthur whispered into her ear, though loud enough for you all to hear, making the girl laugh from the sensation of his face in such close proximity to her ear. “i’ll always have it with me, okay?”

in the end, everyone was enamoured with the small gifts made by your daughter, which made her feel super proud of herself. she got a few toys (that you’d previously accepted, because if you had one more loud toy, you’d shred yourself into pieces) and… a racing helmet.

“we are not doing a project piastri, or whatever you’d call that.” you announced, giving your older brother a judgemental look. was it a surprise that charles gifted your daughter a racing helmet? not really, as he’s been talking about taking chloe karting. “she’s four.”

“i was four, when i started too.” he argued, a bit playfully.

“look what that made you. crazy.” you shook your head, taking a glimpse of the mesmerised look in your daughter’s eyes. “she’s too small for a go-kart. you’d have to put velco strips on her back and the seat, so she wouldn’t fell out of the thing.”

“that’s doable.” the ferrari driver shrugged, as he helped chloe put on the purple helmet. “uncle charlie wouldn’t let his squishy face get hurt.” he cooed at the girl, making you roll your eyes in exasperation.

cheering and stressing over your husband’s career was a thing you could live with, but having both oscar, and your daughter racing and karting? your poor heart wouldn’t handle it.

“i drive like daddy soon?” the four years old in question said, her voice slightly muffled by the helmet. once again, she clapped her hands happily.

and somehow, after a nice meal and gift openings, you were stuck in a conversation with your brother about taking chloe karting, while she quietly asked one of your sisters in law what karting exactly was.

1K notes · View notes

lovscb97 · 1 month ago

Text

— STEP OUT ! ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆

❛ 八命合一心 ; eight lives united as one heart ❜

about: welcome to step out! this is an ot8 stray kids series containing solo fics for all members based off of their respective songs from the newest album "合". here, you'll be able to choose and explore from a variety of themes and universes, and each world is handcrafted to revolve around one out of the eight, whether the inspiration for it came from the lyrics, melody, concept or more. though the stories are not directly connected with one another, each of them has its own flair. with any hope, they'll be to your liking, so do stick around to find out & enjoy your stay!

status: ONGOING.

pairing(s): ot8!stray kids x fem!reader

disclaimer: all fics contain MATURE content along with smut which is not appropriate for minors. viewer discretion is advised & you are the only one responsible for the content you consume.

add. notes: hello n welcome 2 lovscb97 first series debut ... this idea came to me on a whim when i was listening to seungmin solo on a walk n i was like "yk what would be cool ? ot8 fics based off their solo songs. Yea." n boom! step out was born. special thanks to jamsie n nico for their help n i hope u guys enjoy it loads!!! plz mind the tags for each specific fic before reading (more detailed ones will come with each chapter so as to not spoil much about the stories) but other than that have a great time n lmk what u think if u wish <3 details for specific fics are under the cut btw!

last updated: 01/01/2025.

TAGLIST: OPEN!

. . .

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 001.

READ HERE.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 002.

title: railway

featuring: best friend's ex!bangchan x fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: angst, forbidden romance, toxic relationship, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, etc

READ HERE.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 003.

title: youth

featuring: camp counsellor!lee minho x fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: strangers to ???, some angst, summer fling, found family, protected sex, bittersweet, etc

READ HERE.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 004.

title: ultra

featuring: roommate!bff!seo changbin x fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: roommates to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, heavy tension, dry humping, rough sex, unprotected sex, etc

READ HERE.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 005.

title: so good

featuring: tour guide!hwang hyunjin x singer!fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: black cat x golden retriever, family trauma, confessions, protected sex, angst, open ending, etc

READ HERE.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 006.

title: hold my hand

featuring: guardian angel!han jisung x fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: 'she fell first but he fell harder' trope, kissing, sweet lovemaking, some religious undertones, character death, etc

READ HERE.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 007.

title: unfair

featuring: beast!lee felix x princess!fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: royalty au, premodern timeline, shapeshifting, fairytale-esque romance, monster-fucking, breeding kink, etc

READ HERE.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ TRACK 008.

title: as we are

featuring: baseball player!kim seungmin x fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: childhood best friends to lovers, first love, sports injury, grief, healing, slowburn, protected sex, etc

READ HERE.

. . .

title: hallucination

featuring: church boy!yang jeongin x delinquent!fem!reader

word count: n/a.

tags: good boy x bad girl, religious guilt, blasphemy, unprotected sex, corruption kink, etc

869 notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 3 months ago

Note

Omg hiii! I saw that your requests were open again! Please take your time and prioritize your rest, and as always your writing is such a delight to read! I always look forward to your posts! 💖💖💖

That being said, can you please write for a Yuu/reader that has a love for painting (but is shy about showcasing their skill) , and was absolutely taken by Vil's beauty even before they met him? Of course they didn't know that he was a famous actor at first. What if Vil one day finds their sketches and paintings of him after months of knowing him? (hmm preferably after the events of book 6..? 👀)

SO CUTE!!! kicking my legs back and forth at this anonnn

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the picture of vil schoenheit

type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

How were you supposed to know?

It's not like Crowley had given you a guide on Night Raven College or its students (though, wouldn't that have been nice?)

I mean, you had to reminded of Trey's last name not two weeks ago. How were you supposed to know who Vil Schoenheit is?

You'd only seem him at a distance. Passed him by in the halls while he scolded some poor first year. He even looked beautiful when he was angry.

He was just made to be painted.

You didn't show your friends the art. You didn't need to give Ace another reason to tease you, and being a stalker would've really been the cherry on top of your weirdness sundae.

Besides, it was just drawing. Practice! Sketches from a distance, doodles done in the margins of your notes, watercolors and paintings from memory...

It felt familiar. This man, this stranger, someone you hadn't even spoken to, made you feel a little closer to home.

"Really, you should have some sort of organizational system,"

Vil leafs through pages of alchemy reports and history of magic homework. "Might I suggest a recycling bin?"

You smile. It's not often that your friend- Vil Schoenheit, that is- has a day off. But today is Saturday, and your room is in desperate need of his touch.

"This is... chaotic," he says, brushing a clump of Grim fur off his shoulder. "And you live like this?"

You shrug. "I try,"

"Well, try no more. We'll have this done before dinner,"

His commitment is touching. Millions of screeching fangirls would give anything just to spend five minutes with Vil, and here he is, tidying your room for you.

It's almost cute. He's humming to himself, hair tied back in a ponytail, in one of your shirts (his are too nice to get dirty), sweeping Grim fur out from under your bed.

"Rook and Epel couldn't make it?" you ask, pretending not to care that it's just the two of you.

"I told them not to bother,"

"Oh?"

Vil tsks. "They would get in the way. We're much more efficient on our own- we work well together, after all,"

That's something he'd said before. You'd always wondered what it meant.

"Right,"

You switch places, going to strip your bed of its sheets for washing while Vil tidies your desk.

Off go the pillow cases, the comforter, the blankets. You're wrestling with your mattress when you notice that he hasn't moved in a while.

He's looking through some of the papers from within the bowels of your desk, smiling to himself, a finger held to his perfect lips.

"What?"

"Hm?" he hums, but he doesn't look at you. "Oh, just... admiring your work. You have quite an eye for detail, have I ever told you that?"

He's being weird. You let go of your bundle of bedding and look at what he's holding, but it's just your sketchbook.

Oh. Oh, no. It's your sketchbook.

"OH! Um, wait-" you say, rushing to his side. "Don't- don't look!"

Vil smirks, and he holds the art over your head. "How unfair. The muse should always be the first to see, you know,"

Damn his height and perfect, slender arms!!! Your eyes widen. "It's not what it looks like! I didn't know you when I did those!"

"Yes, I saw the dates. You could make a career out of admiring me, you know~" he chuckles. "I'd pay for these. I'm sure Rook would like a few, as well."

You're practically melting with embarrassment. "Come on- give it back!"

Seeing your pathetic, embarrassed whining, Vil relents, handing you the sketchbook with an eye-roll.

"What are you ashamed of? They're fine pieces,"

"It's not that," you clutch the book to your chest. "It's just- uh- weird, isn't it?"

Vil scoffs. "I'm weird?"

"NO! I meant- I didn't even know you, and I drew you almost every day- that isn't... strange?"

He takes a moment to study you, your body language, the embarrassed look on your face. From head to toe. And then he smiles, warmly.

"I am in a dorm with Rook. There are very, very few things that I find strange now. You admire me- I'm flattered,"

He gingerly takes sketchbook out of your arms and opens it again. "Not to mention, you have an artistic eye that any director would kill for."

You stand there, a little dumbfounded, but mostly very, very grateful that he's your friend, and that you can laugh about this together.

"I'm... well... thank you," you finally say.

Vil smirks, and pinches your cheek. "You're precious. Now, back to work. I want this room over with. These paintings won't frame themselves, will they?"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #vil schoenheit x reader

795 notes · View notes

samkerrworshipper · 8 days ago

Text

lights are on, but nobody’s home

barca femeni x reader

it’s unedited. i’m not sorry about it, if it puts u off then soz icbf. this fic has been in my drafts since october so it was about time i finished it! combined to fics lol to get it done and its a fast paced very vague mess but have fun :) loved the idea not the execution!

warnings: kinda angsty?

Red cards exist in the game for a reason. You don’t deny that. Red cards are needed to keep people safe, to set a boundary between safe and unsafe play. But there had been something so undeniably unfair about yours.

You’d hurt somebody, you weren’t going to lie about that. It had been unintentional, but a risk you’d taken had ended up with the world’s best player being stretchered off the pitch, and for just that, you deserved a yellow. But a red, for a tackle that was mostly legal, seemed ridiculous. Tackles happened. As a defensive midfielder, it was your job to get the ball off attackers, it was your responsibility to make sure that you stopped the ball from being kicked in the direction of your keeper or down the field to another player. It was what cemented your spot in the English midfield; you weren’t just a good attacker; you were ferocious in defence. You averaged at least 5 tackles per game; it was the most crucial part of your game; it was fundamentally what made you a good footballer.

Arguing with the ref and using some particularly vulgar language definitely didn’t help your case but in your defence it hadn’t been a red cardable offence. It was all pointless though, the card had already been raised and pointed in your direction, you’d been booked, in a friendly of all games.

It was bad, you’d know that from the moment your cleats had stepped over the line, the incessant booing being directed towards you as you walked past Sarina the grim frown etched into the details of her face was enough of a sign. You were in a bad situation, but you’d just put your team in an even worse situation with a one less player on the field to continue the fight in the world cup final rematch. It wasn’t good, it was your job to make sure that your team was in the best situation to achieve success on the pitch and you’d jeopardised that. What you hadn’t realised was that action wasn’t only jeopardising your team, it was jeopardising you as a whole.

It had begun from the moment you’d gotten back to your hotel room later that night. Your teammates had focused all of their energy on trying to lift your spirits, with the game ending in a 1-1 draw, everyone was happy. The England team was your second family, and considering you didn’t play in the WSL like the vast majority of them, national team time was valuable to you. You sat next to Beth on the ride back to the hotel, happy to listen to her non-stop talking as a distraction for the disappointment that had settled inside of you. At team dinner, you sat sandwiched in between Grace and Ella; most dinners spent on your normal table, you struggled to get a word in, but it was the constant surrounding buzz that kept you out of your head and specifically off of your phone, and you were more grateful than usual that you had that. By the time you’d even made it to your room and gone through your nighttime routine, you still hadn’t checked your phone. It was only as you began to prepare yourself to get into bed that you headed towards your bag to fish it out. You climbed into bed, finally opening your phone for the first time, and instead of it having a handful of messages from your family and a sprinkle of Instagram notifications, there were thousands. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, newsforums, both English and Spanish; as you scrolled down the list, it only got bigger. All of it was the same, about how you’d ‘intentionally’ injured your own club teammate to benefit your national team, how you were malicious, how you had played beyond the line of safe play, how you deserved to be penalised, how you had ruined sportsmanship. It was never-ending, and the more that you read, the worse it got. You felt like a shell of yourself as your eyes scanned the different words; you completely dissociated it all. It felt like you were reading about somebody else, like there was absolutely no possibility that the sentences you were absorbing could possibly be about you. There was so much falsity behind all of it that it was hard to understand it. You’d played the same you always did, you hadn’t played dangerously, you’d played within the rules as you always did. Beyond that, you’d visited Aitana in the change rooms after the game, desperate to apologise and make sure that you hadn’t done any damage or hurt her in any way. Your play hadn’t been malicious, there hadn’t been any ill intention or hatred fueled behind it, even though every single article or post was making it seem that way. Aitana had come off after the clash purely as a caution, when you’d gone to see her, all she was dealing with was a little bit of inflammation. By the time you were both back in Barcelona, she’d be as good as new. Even after watching the replays, it was clear to anybody with eyes that all you were doing was fighting for the ball, the same as every other 1-on-1 battle throughout the game. Yet as soon as a spotlighted player got injured, it was suddenly a different story being told.

Normally you would shake it off, in general, you were the kind of person who didn’t get bothered by much, You were a bubbly and happy person, you were the kind of teammate who was always smiling and trying to make other people laugh. Usually, if you had a teammate who was in the same situation as you were now, you would be the one picking them up and trying to help them shake off all of this. It wasn’t normally a struggle for you to overcome a little bit of hate, but there was something so shattering about this. Whilst you still believed deep down that you’d done nothing wrong, it was hard to convince yourself of that when there were so many people who were telling you otherwise.

You weren’t the kind of person who regularly fell into the mind numbing action of doom scrolling, you weren’t big on social media in general, it was something you had to do because of your job but not much else beyond that. Yet right now it felt impossible to deviate away from it, every time you saw your name pop up again somewhere you were drawn to another dark place of the internet where you kept reading until you were mentioned or tagged in another post and your phone lit up with a new piece of media.

It was never ending, it just kept coming, and the longer you indulged in it, the sicker you started to feel. Had you done something wrong? Were you truly as malicious as everyone wrote? Were you the bad person they were painting you to be?

It was impossible to not consider that potentially everyone else was right, maybe you were the problem.

It was a good day to be roomed with Lucy, she’d been in bed before you’d even made it up to the room and asleep whilst you’d been showering. If the sounds of snoring were anything to go off of then she was long gone, which made you feel more secure as you muffled a sob into your pillow. It was going to be fine, by the time morning rolled around it would be forgotten. Or at least that was what you thought.

The convenience of playing your games in Spain was that unlike majority of your teammates, you were able to sleep in the following morning instead of flying back to their club teams. Lucy was gone long before you woke up, something you were specifically grateful for because whilst Lucy was mostly oblivious, you weren’t sure if you would have been able to hide your red eyes and puffy face. You hadn’t had much sleep, but even in the few hours that you had managed to get, the notifiations on your phone had only multiplied significantly. Every second your phone lit up again, and for the sake of your own brain you chose to switch it off completely. If you stayed in the shower a little longer because you got so lost thinking about it all that your feet started to go numb from the water pressure there was nobody around to say anything about it. If you happened to space out halfway through your skincare and accidentally spill half of your serum down the sink it was nothing a bit of water from the sink couldn’t fix. Every time you thought you’d forgotten about it all, like you’d drifted away from everything you’d read and then suddenly it all came back to you like some sick fever dream. It was the same words that kept circulating, and every time it came back to you it was impossible to just let it go.

You were half way dressed when your door was knocked on. It was what woke you up to the fact that you had absolutely no idea what time it was or how long you’d spent spaced out and in your brain.

You weren’t shocked to find Keira waiting outside your door, looking significantly more put together then you were.

“Mate, I’ve texted you about 30 times. The taxis here to take us to the airport.”

Fuck. You’d forgotten that you were taking a group taxi instead of leaving the hotel individually.

“Give me five minutes, I slept in and forgot to pack up last night.”

Keira cut you off before you continued your ramble of excuses.

“I’ll help you pack up, you focus on getting dressed and sorting yourself out, okay?”

Keira wasn’t your closest friend, she was one of the few people on the Barcelona team that spoke fluent english which grouped the two of you together. She was also one of your idols coming through as the youngest midfielder in the English and Barcelona squad. But personality wise the two of you didn’t jell, you were too energetic and a little bit too immature to buddy up with her. It didn’t change the fact that she was basically an older sister to you. She wasn’t exactly the person you’d go to for relationship advice or confess your troubling thoughts to. But she was the person you could rely on to help you in any situation without asking questions, and this really was an extension of that.

Keira made quick work of packing up your things from around your room whilst you finished getting dressed and putting your hair in a messy bun.

By the time you’d made yourself look just enough presentable for the public eye Keira was done, all of your bags piled together at your hotel room door.

“I found your phone at the bottom of your bag, looks like you might want to charge it before the drive.”

Right now, your phone felt like a block of dynamite, balancing in Keira’s hand, ready to explode at any second.

“No, I just turned it off.”

You didn’t really think about how odd your words could sound until they’d left your mouth, and Keira’s eyebrows were raising quickly.

“You just turned it off?”

It’s an unusual behaviour for you, one that Keira has clearly picked up on by the tone in her voice. Your phone is practically an extension of you, the team didn’t joke about you having square eyes for nothing. Always getting people to film tiktoks or do stupid challenges.

“Yes?”

You actively observe all of the cogs in Keira’s brain turning, she looks like she has a lot to say, but then she glances down at her watch and it’s clear that the fact that you are running well behind time takes priority.

“Let’s go, the taxi is waiting.”

Keira practically pushed you out of the hotel room, all of your bags in her hands and ushering you straight towards the elevator.

As she’d said, the taxi is waiting in front of the lobby, the driver looks particularly ticked off as he waits outside the drivers side door, his foot tapping and a cigarette hanging halfway out of his mouth. Keira loads your suitcase into the boot of the car whilst you take your backpack off of her and hop into the back of the car, Keira follows and sits down across from you.

The first five minutes of the ride are silent, Keira flicks through her phone whilst you stare out the tinted window and pretend that you can see the things passing by.

“You can talk to me you know? I know we’re not exactly the closest, but I’m here for you.”

You don’t bother to look in Keira’s direction, you keep your eyes and facial expression schooled and focused on the window.

“Anything the media writes is bullshit, you ought to just ignore it.”

You wished you could have ignored it last night, when theoretically you were at your most vulnerable. Maybe if you hadn’t of read so much when you were already in a bad mindset it wouldn’t have imprinted so much, regardless it has and you can’t just ignore it.

“Kei, I’m fine. When have I ever cared what the papers write about me?”

Now, right now is when you care. It’s a fair statement though, you’ve never been affected when tabloids have written far worse things about you, when you came out and for months there was homophobic slander everywhere you looked. In the past it hadn’t been based off of facts, it had all been fictitious. But now that there is just a inkling of truth behind what’s being written it feels far more real and you aren’t sure how to get past that.

“I’m just saying that there isn’t anything wrong with being affected by it. Especially after last night, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that.”

This is the trouble between you and Keira, she’s a lot more frank. In your opinion it’s a thing that comes with age, whilst she’s very happy to admit when she’s going through a hard time you’d rather cover it up with jokes and pretend that it doesn’t actually bother you. The trouble with your approach is that it only works for so long before people start to see you fraying at the edges or you completely break down from the pressure.

“Just mad I hurt your bestfriend, huh?”

The only response you get from Keira is a loud exhale, the same a mother would when her child makes a immature joke at a immature time. Immaturity is your coping mechanism, because by default people tend to be put off by it, they naturally gravitate away from it. Furthermore they gravitate away from whatever conversation or confrontation they were going to have.

“I’m not mad, I’m concerned for you and how something like this can affect a persons career.”

It’s too many feelings, to much concern, too much. You don’t deserve it and you definitely do not want it.

“I’m fine, we play football, it’s part of it all.”

You still haven’t looked at Keira but you could make an educated guess and assume that she looks deflated. It’s another reason that out of Keira and Lucy you’d always gotten along better with Lucy, you didn’t care to admit it but she knew how to get to the bottom of all of your weird cues and knew what was right and wrong to say. Keira’s too smart for her own good, and it doesn’t work on you, it never has. She’s all you have at Barca now though, besides Roebs, whose been too focused on her rehab and getting back on the pitch to be much of a friend.

“Hate shouldn’t be part of it. If you need to talk about the fact that some part of it is clearly bothering you then I’m here, anybody else on the team is here. Okay?”

You nod purely for the sake of ending the conversation, you can’ even figure out how you feel about it all, let alone trying to rationalise it with Keira. You’re upset, yet you can’t quite get to the bottom of it. You’ve never been upset before when your actions have ended in somebody else getting injured, it’s a rare occurence and when it happens you feel a little bit of guilt but usually it fades. Injury is part of the game, it happens all the time right in front of your eyes. You suppose Aitana isn’t actually injured though, she’s sore and has a low grade ankle sprain but it’s nowhere near the same as her tearing her acl or breaking a bone because of you. You just feel drained, it’s odd, you put it down to the fact that you hardly got any sleep last night but you have this underlying feeling that it’s somehow more than that, yet you have no explanation for it.

After a long break of silence Keira and yourself fall into a fairly bland conversation about the upcoming fixtures and winter break plans. It’s so evident that there is tension in every word each of you speak, like you’re both a few syllables away from saying something that neither of you want to.

Luckily Keira is a lot more cautious than most people, unlike most of you friends or teammates in general she can control herself to a respectable level and can stop herself from word vomiting emotion fueled spieles.

By the time the driver pulls up in front of your apartment building not much has been said at all, but the overarching feeling is tense, it doesn’t feel good and the mixture of it with the everything else is making you feel sick. Keira gives you a hug after helping you unload your luggage and then leaves you. You know that outwardly you’re presenting that you want to be left alone yet everything in you is being used to stop yourself from clinging onto Keira and asking her to stay with you.

Your week is a lot of the same feelings. You have two days to yourself before training starts again and the two days are spent in bed. If you aren’t scrolling on your phone andreading every single thing that has your name mentioned then you are sleeping, or crying, or lying in bed thinking about it all. Every text from one of your teammates is left unopened, none of it matters when every single waking moment of your life is being spent thinking about the moment over and over again. It’s not just your career, not just the fact that you’re going to have to sit out in the next fixture and potentially tarnish your relationship with Sarina. You hurt Aitana, you hurt your ownt teammate. Your own actions had caused harm to somebody that you cared about. Every article, tiktok, post they were all painting you in some kind of negative light, like you were a demon hiding behind smiles. It was hard not to consider the truth behind it all, had you done what you did with malicious intent?

By the time training finally rolled around you were feeling even worse than you had a couple of days ago. Even though you’d been sleeping for hours a day there wer ebig eye bags under your eyes, you were pale and looked like you were sick. It was noticed by your teammates almost immediately, you weren’t even fully dressed in the change rooms before Pina was punching on you, talking rapidly in Catalan that you didn’t remotely understand.

“Chica, you missed our games night last night. To busy sleeping off the four goals you scored over the break, no? You need to leave some goals for other people.”

You shook Pina off as quickly as you could, you had a focus for the day and that was getting all of this over with. You had a game in three days, a game that you couldn’t ruin for your team again.

“Estas bien?”

You finish pulling your training top on and sit down on the bench in front of your locker.

“Estoy Bien.”

You focus on getting a sock on each of your feet and then your boots.

“Chica?”

There is concern laced in Pina’s voice, she’s still standing in front of you. Almost everybody else has made their way out onto the pitch, leaving the two of you and a couple of stragglers behind.

“You don’t look so good chica, are you feeling okay?”

Your boots are easy enough to lace up, once you’re done you reach behind you for your jacket, not quite sure if it’s warm enough to train in just your shirt.

“Estoy Bien. Vale?”

Before Pina can ask much more, you begin to walk towards the doors of the locker room. It’s breezy enough outside that you choose to put your jumper on, as do most of your teammates.

Aitana is doing individual training, because of her ankle. Pere says that it’s precautionary.

If you weren’t already feeling like you were on the brink of vomiting then now it’s the only thing you can feel. You feel ill, you feel completely absorbed by the sickness pooled at the bottom of your stomach. When Pere asks if you’re feeling alright you can’t say no, because you have no reason to feel as badly as you do. But it’s all the words, they’re spinning around in your head, every article, every single word.

It shows on the pitch, every decision, every pass, every shot, every tackle is helf back. You’re fearufl and it shows.

When training finally does finish, and Aitana is still working by herself with one of the coaches on another pitch you feel like it’s almost your breaking point. Until Pere pulls you over again and lets you know that you’ll be starting for the match on the weekend as a replacement for Aitana.

That’s your breaking point. You have nothing to say, nothing to think. You feel like a zombie as you walk towards the locker room. You sabotaged your teammate for your own good.

As soon as the team list is out that’s the only thing people will be saying, You don’t even want to think about what people will think when they see the photos of Aitana training by herself with her ankle all taped up. Whilst you were out on the pitch with all of your teammates. What was just starting to get better for you was only bound to relapse with the new information.

All of the girls notice your shift in behaviour. It’s Pina though who approaches Alexia on your third day of training back. Aitana is still training individually, purely for precaution and preservation. There are more important games then the one coming on the weekend and it’s not worth aggravating the small injury. It doesn’t feel like that to you though, and it’s been abundantly clear to everybody that something is up with you.

“Alexia, can I talk to you for a second?”

Alexia’s been talking to Irene about ….. for at least ten minutes and whilst Pina has no interest in interrupting it’s getting boring waiting around for a conversation to end that’s clearly dragging.

Alexia looks so care free, and Pina asking to talk to her shouldn’t change that, but the look that’s on her face changes Alexia’s demeanour almost immediately.

“What’s up?”

Pina looks at Irene awkwardly, like she’s not sure if the information she’s about to share with Alexia is for Irene’s ears. Irene seems to get the message, farewelling the two of them before heading off.

“I’m worried about y/n.”

Alexia’s silently been wondering whether to approach the subject. She’d thouyght about asking Keira is something had happened on England camp, considering that your particularly filthy mood had seemed to start afterwards. It was out of character for you, and originally Alexia had thought it was all part of some sort of prank plot. But as the last couple of days had passed it had become drastically clear that there was something else wrong. She’d thought it would be smarter to give you the benefit of the doubt, everyone had bad weeks. Alexia wasn’t aware of any relationships you were in but she wouldn’t have been shocked if your mood had been due to a breakup or something of similar origin.

“Ale, she’s been acting strange. She comes in everyday and hardly talks to anybody, she doesn’t joke around with use like she normally does, she hasn’t been answering our groupchat, she’s been avoiding all of our plans to hang out. Out on the pitch she’s been cautious but so unphased and she won’t talk to me or Ona or Patri or Kika or Esmee and I don’t know what to do anymore. Somethings really wrong, normally she’s so happy, I mean everyones noticed that the locker room has been more quiet. I thought it was going to pass, but she’s seemed really upset, like somethings really wrong and what’s happening on the internet can’t be helping it.”

The problem is that Alexia doesn’t disagree with anything that Pina is saying, she can’t dismiss any of it as overreaction because whether it’s been conscious or not she has noticed all of the things that she’s being told. She hadn’t yet pieced it all together as one thing but now that all the puzzle pieces are being laid out in front of her it seems impossible to ignore that it’s all coming together.

“On the internet? De qúe estás hablando?”

Alexia is the first to admit that she’s not exactly the best with technology, sure she’s got all the social media apps and Olga is constantly trying to teach her the ways of all of them but it doesn’t particularly interest her. She finds it easier to look at them as another means of work, it’s how she makes money, posting about football and endorsements. Otherwise she finds enjoyment in places besides her phone. Does it keep her slightly out of the loop? Yes. Does she have younger teammates to keep her up to date? Also yes.

“All the stuff about Aitana. I haven’t read into it much, but I know it’s not good. The media have been slaughtering her for that red card. She punishes herself enough after a bad tackle or pass, I can’t imagine what a red card would do.”

Alexia makes a mental note to look into it later but for now she knows that she needs to deescalate. Because if Pina is telling Alexia now then it’s not long before it blows up within the team.

“Okay. I’ll talk to her tomorrow after the game, if she’s still off I’ll talk to her. I’ll have a chat with Keira and ask if anything asked on camp, bueno? Whatever it is Pina, it can be fixed, all problems can be fixed. I’m sure it’s just been a rough week with all the travel and games, not everybody can adjust well, mixed with the recent fixtures it would be expected that everyone is feeling a bit more exhausted.”

It’s the rationalisation that seems to calm Pina down more, which was ultimately Alexia’s end goal. She can deal with you tomorrow but for now it’s crucial that she stops this from escalating within the team. When things spread it all becomes more drama and it’s not good, distractions are not what everybody needs leading into the next fixtures.

Alexia honestly forgets about the conversation completely. Between organising dinner the night before, stretching, spending quality time with her girlfriend and generally just getting herself game ready and in a good head space. She woke up feeling rested and prepared for the game ahead.

You however, were quite simply a mess. You’d hardly slept in over a week now, if you did sleep you woke up in a sweat after a particularly brutal nightmare, you were hardly eating because you always felt so nauseous from the anxiety and your performance on the football pitch had been dismaying.

Alexia, and your teammates, weren’t noticing the smaller things. You lived in your own apartment, in your own building. Nobody was aware of everything that was contributing to all the things that were beginning to show.

Alexia, hyper vigilant after Pina’s admission decided that she’d try and find you before everyone hopped on the bus to head to the opposing stadium, yet you were nowhere to be found. As everyone loaded onto the bus she almost missed you. Usually, you sat at the back, with the younger girls. Normally, Alexia gravitated somewhere in the middle of the bus, she was too old to be singing or messing around at the back but she liked to still be kept in the mix.

It was why she almost missed you, hunched into a seat almost at the very front of the bus.

“Chica?”

The way your whole body darted upwards as soon as you heard Alexia was another concerning thing that she was adding to a mental list.

“Capi.”

You pull your headphones off as a courtesy, but the reintroduction to the sounds of earth and the environment around you brings you right back to everything you’ve been feeling.

“Are you waiting for Kika or Vicky?”

Alexia feels like she already knows your answer, but she’s hanging on to a thread of hope that whatever Pina is feeling isn’t as bad as it seems.

“No, I need some sleep and it’s impossible to get any back there without somebody sticking something in my mouth or posting videos of me with my mouth half open.”

Alexia laughs, it’s the exact reason she can’t sit up the back anymore, it’s too much stupidity in a concentrated space.

“Ah, normally you’re more than happy to terrorize the rest of us, normalmente eres la reina de los estupidas.”

When your face doesn’t even respond slightly to Alexia and you have no witty comeback about her being boring or something else it’s another clear sign that something is up, she just can’t quite pin point what.

You’ve tuned out from her though, and as much as she is worried and thrown off, the bus is not a place to make a scene, specifically before a match. You will not take well to Alexia interrogating you and potentially causing any kind of emotional distress.

So, even though it pains her to do so, she walks on, she leaves you in the sinking ship you’re currently n in, taking on more and more water as every minute passes.

You’re at a point where you can admit to yourself that you are in no way fit to play.

You don’t want to be on the pitch, the fans don’t want you on the pitch, your teammates musn’t want you on the pitch, Pere wouldn’t have you on the pitch if Aitana was available and when you think about it the whole footballing world doesn’t want you on the pitch.

You flinch when you walk out to warm up and are met with boos, the Spanish fans are unlike all other fans, their passion is palpable and when one person starts booing everybody follows suit. It’s not even Barcelona fans, which is undecidedly worse and better. The overall impression is that you’ve aggravated the Spanish people.

It takes your teammates a couple of seconds to catch on to who it is the anger is being directed at but once they do it’s a domino affect of everybody turning to you, and then turning to each other and back to you. You try your best to not let it affect you, you’ve been booed before and have dealt with many angry fans, but when it starts to echo from the away side of the stands you honestly question if you’ve pushed yourself a little bit too hard.

Alexia regrets her decision not to say something to you when she sees the complete fear in your eyes as you look around at the crowd, who are vehemently booing you. It’s not a good feeling on any day to clearly have a crowd so against you but when you’re clearly off kilter as it is it’s clear that it all throws you off even more.

Before Alexia can think about it, she’s beelining straight to Keira.

“What happened on camp?”

Keira is just as thrown off by what is occurring as everyone else.

“England camp?”

It’s clear in the bewilderment in Keira’s face that she’s not understood what Alexia’s asking.

“With y/n, did something happen that nobody knows about?”

The booing finally comes to an end, but it doesn’t change the overall energy in which a whole crowd is sending your way.

“She was fine all camp, being an idiot with grace and beth and being her usual self. All the other games she was fine, and then after the Spain game, after the red card, she’s just been acting different. It’s like G at Man City all over again.”

Alexia understands everything that Keira’s saying, until the last sentence. Her English is pretty good, hger understanding is almost perfect, speaking less so but the last few words completely surpass her level of interpretation.

“G? Man City?”

Alexia notices you in the corner of her eye doing shooting practice, every time you miss and echo of cheers erupts.

“Georgia? Stanway? A couple of years ago, when she was young she got a stupid red card, it wasn’t pretty not dissimilar to the challenge on Aitana. Big mess with the media, got some really nasty messages.”

She doesn’t remember the moment itself, but she does remember reading something about it a couple of years ago.

“Gracias.”

You’re red hot with rage already, the crowd has you amped up. When Pere questions you in the locker room about your state of mind, you are quite literally in a blinding fury. It the kind of sadness fueled anger, youa re literally ripping apart at the seams and instead of actually feeling all of the innate anguish you are experiencing you turn it into anger.

“Why the fuck did you go to Pere and tell him I wasn’t ready to play.”

The tunnel is the only time you’ve been able to talk to Alexia, she’d been so held up with the pep talk, then talking to Pere, then giving inspiration to everybody else. But now that you have the opportunity you can’t ignore it.

Alexia’s eyes are ahead, you’re stuck standing behind her but she can hear you perfectly clear.

“After the game.”

It had taken enough effort for you to convince Pere that you were fine. You were begging for a starting spot that you didn’t even want, a spot that is actually making you feel sick to your stomach. It’s the doubt though, you doubted yourself in that stupid tackle that got you the card, so if you doubted yourself what was to stop everybody else from doubting you?

“No, what makes you think that you can talk to our coach about my game fitness without even talking to me? Do you have any respect for me at all?”

Alexia turns around, and it makes you feel slightly validated and slightly less like you’re about to punch her in the head.

“It’s not about your fitness.”

The punching in the head feeling returns pretty quickly.

“Not about my fitness? What the fuck else is it then? Just because I don’t act like a dickhead on the bus and decide to take a nap?”

Alexia gives you on final look before turning around, the look on her face only adds to your sickeningly consuming anger.

You go onto the pitch angry, which isn’t good for anything. Every time the ball lands at your feet, boos echo out. Every time you get tackled, which is fairly frequently because the opposition has chosen you as the punching bag for the game, cheers erupt. The game is easy enough, 90 percent of possession is with Barcelona, with you spot in the midfield the ball comes to you every few seconds. It’s mostly fine, for the first ten or so minutes. Until the tackles start to get rougher, and you’re mad, and the crowd is loud and everything feels so incredibly wrong.

It’s working you up at a fast rate, then the ball lands at your feet for the 50th time in the match already, and without even looking up at your defender, who three seconds before was standing right in front of you, her studs are placing themselves directly into your calf. It’s not a comfortable feeling, to put it lightly. You manage to clear the ball before you’re on your back, clutching at your leg and trying your best to breathe as the crowd cries out, your opponent mutters something aggressively in spanish and your teammates argue with the referee.

It’s all too much. Your just angry, and upset. Not even at your defender or at the tackle, just at all of it. You think in a roundabout way that this is all karma, that this is your punishment for whatever you did to anger everyone and yourself. You’re tired and fed up and want it all to go away.

You want to sink into the grass of the pitch and just disappear, it would make your life so much easier if in this moment you could just disappear and not face any of the stuff that is happening.

Then there are hands on you and you’re reminded that it’s nowhere near that easy.

“Estas bien? Necesitas la medica?”

You force yourself to stand up, push through, get it over with. You need to prove everybody wrong.

Whether you can see it or not, you are spinning out. Everybody else can see it, you’re frantic, timid and shaken. Patri is the one to put her hands on your shoulders and steady you before you try to return to play.

“You need to go off.”

Twenty minutes have passed, you aren’t going to force a sub when it is unnecessary.

“I’m fine.”

Patri shakes her head, in the same way Irene or Marta would when they are being tough.

“You are not okay, and you need to go off before something worse than that happens.”

You shake Patri off, and when she tries to come back you give her a shove.

“I’m fucking fine. I know when I can and cannot play.”

Like every other attempt that’s been made to try and stop you, she just frowns and walks away. The ref gives you a once over before allowing the game to return to play.

It’s not fine, nothing is fine. Your defender continuously gets away with dangerous tackles that should be continous yellow cards, the crowd is getting to you with every passing second. By gods grace three goals are scored in a few minutes, not only does it silence the opposition it puts you at ease a little bit. For the most part, you’re doing okay, or as okay as possible.

Until it gets to a corner.

There is two minutes of stoppage time, which have well and truly been used up. The corner is going to be the last play and it’s impact is not super important but the pressure is still there. You end up sandwiched between the two centre backs, and for whatever reason when the boot releases off of Patri’s foot from the corner instead of running to make room like you’re supposed to, you are yanked directly to the ground, with two boots stepping directly onto your legs.

It’s not agony, it’s definitely not good but you’re spending more time trying to not cry and collect air then focusing on everything else.

You can’t breathe, and you physically can’t stop the sob that leaves your mouth, it’s pathetic but it’s been building and you can’t stop it.

You don’t bother with listening to the call, or letting your teammates help you up or worrying about the play. The whistle has blown and you have one mission, to go anywhere away from people. You force yourself to stand up even though your back hurts from falling flat on it and your thighs hurt from being stomped on, and walk off.

Pere and the bench are still waiting in the dug out, normally you’d hug or talk or anything but right now the only thing on your mind is getting away, because if you don’t then what is now only tears is going to turn into a full panic attack. You’re working simply off of pure instinct, you have the shutters on and the only thing you are focusing on is your end goal and getting there. When you get to the changing rooms it’s empty, you bee line straight through to the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall before you actually let yourself think beyond the orders that have been set out in your mind.

Like everyone had said, you aren’t ready. You are living with the knowledge that because of your actions, your stupid actions you are being given a spot and opportunity that you didn’t deserve, you got it purely based off of the fact that you injured one of your teammates. Now you can’t even live up to the expectation of being a replacement.

The feeling that was initially what you had thought to be anxiety sickness builds up and all of a sudden you’re grateful your in the bathroom because within a couple of seconds you are kneeled on the floor letting your whole stomach contents out. It’s not a good feeling, you’ve been slowly descending towards rock bottom for days now but you’ve come to the realisation that this is it, this is your lowest point. Every time you think about the pitch you subsequently think about the crowd which leads you to think about everything happening inside your phone and then the sick feeling is back full force. The you think about Aitana, her ankle, her spot, her training, everything. All of that combined and all you can do is cry, it’s the only emotional outlet that you have enough energy for. You’d love to be able to punch something or throw something but you don’t have the energy, you’re running off of no sleep, hardly any food and now the fatigue of playing a half of football.

“Chica, can you open the door?”

Truthfully there are not many people you want to see in this moment or really ever again but Alexia might be at the top of the list. You’d been a little bit star struck when you’d gotten to Barcelona, you were an up and coming and to be on a roster with the best midfielders in the world was something you were in awe of. You were still slightly in awe of the fact that you were sharing a bench with two ballon d’or winners.

“I’m fine.”

You force yourself to stay as silent as possible even though it’s hard with the constant sobs building up inside of your chest.

“Please open the door.”

You’re at rock bottom and even if you try to swim out you’re going to need some help at some stage you suppose.

As soon as you open the door there is a resounding gasp, you close your eyes to keep a little bit of your inner peace whilst Alexia steps into the stall and locks the door behind her. There is just enough room for her to squeeze down on the floor next to you so she does without any hesitation.

“I don’t need you telling me that you were right to question me playing and that it was a bad idea, I’m already aware.”

You’re not sore from the match and yet everything hurts, you actually feel like your limbs are slowly being ripped off of your body and everything is being split open.

“I wasn’t going to say that, I was going to ask if you’re okay.”

It’s a complicated question.

“Physically yes.”

Your eyes are still closed, if you look at Alexia then suddenly this all becomes a whole lot more real.

“Mentally, emotionally?”

Just the question is enough to essentially demuzzle you, everything you were doing to stop yourself from crying out fails, and you start sobbing, in the loudest and ugliest way possible.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Alexia bunches up jext to you, slings an arm around your shoulders and brings you in closer.

“Don’t apologise when you didn’t do anything wrong, even if everyone else is making it seem like you did.”

Deep down you do believe you did something wrong, you don’t exactly know what but you must have, you must have done something because why else would all of this have happened.

“I hurt Aitana, I took her spot, I sabotaged her.”

The crying is cathartic, you’ve been crying for days but in an unemotionally detached way to expel some of the depression instead of actually feeling it.

“No you didn’t. You mis-timed a tackle that ended in a very minor injury. Football is a game of injuries, it happens. I don’t care what you’ve read online or what you’ve heard, the facts are simple. Anyone on our team or the england team can tell you that. Nobody blames you for what happened, not even Aitana. So you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

It’s easier to blame yourself you think.

“Everybody hates me, all I’m getting are messages about how I deserve to die and how people wish I’m never able to have kids or that I get injured as payback.”

Alexia’s deep breath makes you feel queasy all over again.

“What we’re going to do is delete all of your social media apps for the next few weeks, nothing is going to make people stop being putas, si? So for your own sake you’re going to delete all of them, turn all of your comments off, turn your messages off. There is nothing more important then your peace of mind, once that’s gone then this happens. You deserve better than this, you deserve to feel better than this. You also deserve to have fun and enjoy being a part of this team, nobody thinks you sabotaged Aitana, nobody blames you. You are just as welcome here as you were before the break, you are just as valued here as you were before the break. This stupid situation is not worth your health, si?”

You wipe away some of your tears, even though they’re still coming and nod.

“You deserve better, and until people realise that we need to focus on making sure that you know that.”

You feel specifically worthless, and it’s completely your own doing.

“Now, we need to get up before my legs go to sleep and my old body is stuck on the floor in here. Not everybody has young bones like you kids.”

You flush whatever parts of your stomach decided they wanted to resurface and force yourself to stand up, but as you do so the realisation that you are midway through a match comes back and all off a sudden you feel the need to sit down again.

“I told Pere to take you off for the rest of the game, I was coming off anyway, managing minutes. You can get dressed or shower, or do whatever you need to do and then we’lltalk a bit more about how we can turn this around. I’m serious when I say that the main focus is you right now and supporting you.”

You ignore the fact that nothing was ever mentioned about Alexia managing minutes and just accept that it’s a pointless argument and you don’t exactly mind her company right now. It’s nice to know that there is somebody shining a light for you at the end of the tunnel.

653 notes · View notes

thedensworld · 23 days ago

Text

Reality Love Winner | K.Mg

Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, exes to lovers au!

Summary: Mingyu needs money, as well as you. So joining a reality dating show for money wouldn't hurt anybody right?

Hello everybody! First fic in 2025 and i hope you enjoy this lil fluffy fluffity fluff of Mingoo🥰

What he remembered about you the most?

A three-month relationship felt like a whirlwind—a fleeting moment of bliss before reality forced you both apart. It wasn’t that the love was absent; it was just overshadowed by the weight of your individual ambitions.

But even with its brevity, your time together left a searing mark on Mingyu. What stood out the most wasn’t the laughter, the conversations, or the shared dreams—it was the intimacy. He vividly recalled the nights when the two of you were tangled in his sheets, naked and desperate to escape the stress of your demanding lives. Heated kisses that turned into frenzied passion. Sloppy thrusts that silenced the chaos of the outside world.

Every encounter felt like an unspoken agreement to forget your struggles by losing yourselves in each other. Mingyu knew your favorite position by heart, learning your body as if it were a masterpiece he’d been tasked to perfect. He was meticulous, deliberate, obsessed. And every time, he was grateful for his early mornings at the gym, pumping iron and building strength—not just to look good, but to keep up with you.

On the wall, on the table, on the bed, or sprawled across the floor—Mingyu was always ready. Sitting, lying down, or standing, he gave you everything he had. It wasn’t just sex; it was an act of devotion, a way to show you how much he craved you, admired you, worshiped you.

What haunted him most wasn’t just the absence of those moments, but the fire you left behind. You were a storm he couldn’t forget, a fever that lingered in his veins long after you’d gone. He didn’t just remember you; he felt you, like a phantom touch, long after you’d both walked away.

For Mingyu, obsession wasn’t even the right word—it was something deeper, something primal. You were the one indulgence he never wanted to give up, the addiction he never thought he’d have to quit.

"Let's break up."

The words fell from your lips with a quiet finality, and he knew—this was it. The end. He had always known it would come to this, hadn’t he? Even from the beginning, there had been an unspoken truth lingering between the two of you.

You were too devoted to your work, pouring your heart and soul into a career that demanded every ounce of your time and energy. And Mingyu? He had his own empire to build, a business that consumed him in ways even he didn’t anticipate.

There was no space for you and him in the cracks of your busy lives, no room to nurture what little love you had managed to build. Every moment together felt like stealing time from a ticking clock, and the pressure of it all had slowly worn you both down.

Calling it quits was the better option, the logical one. Yet as he looked at you, standing there with that familiar fire in your eyes dimmed by sadness, he couldn’t help but wonder if logic was enough to soothe the ache in his chest. The ache of knowing that what could have been would never be.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to change your mind. He simply nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as the weight of reality settled over him. Because deep down, Mingyu knew that loving you had always been a beautiful impossibility.

However, Mingyu heard the news about you through Seungkwan, the friend who had introduced the two of you in the first place.

“She got involved with a senior and was manipulated. It wasn’t fair, but you know how companies work,” Seungkwan explained, his tone laced with disappointment.

Mingyu felt a rush of anger surge through him as the words sank in. You had worked your ass off, pouring everything you had into your career, only to be cast aside like that? It wasn’t just unfair—it was cruel.

As he stewed in frustration, an idea began to form in his mind. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to turn your current misfortune into an opportunity for both of you. He’d recently heard about Reality Show Love, a dating show still in the process of casting couples. The prize money was massive—enough to breathe life back into his struggling business and possibly even give you a fresh start.

All you had to do was agree.

When he called you one night to pitch the idea, your voice was sharp and unyielding. “I’m not doing it!”

“Come on, Y/n!” Mingyu countered, his tone pleading yet persuasive. “It’s not like we’re going to actually be a real couple. We just have to act a little, play the part, and scam the audience. Easy money!”

He quickly rattled off the prize amount, letting the number hang in the air. The silence on the other end of the line told him everything he needed to know—you were considering it.

“What do you think?” he pressed, the edge of excitement creeping into his voice. “We split it 50:50. Half for me, half for you.”

You exhaled, your hesitation audible, before finally muttering, “Alright. Deal.”

And just like that, the wheels were set in motion. The two of you now stood alongside three other couples in a luxurious villa meticulously prepared by the production crew. In the narrative crafted for the show, you were cast as a one-year-old couple—a boss and their assistant—an angle the casting team found intriguing enough to secure your spot.

“I think it’ll be more interesting if we have opposite charms,” Mingyu had suggested during one of your brainstorming sessions to make your ‘relationship’ believable. “Like a golden retriever and a black cat dynamic?”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across your face. “I don’t want to be the dog. That sounds exhausting.”

Mingyu huffed dramatically, crossing his arms. “Fine, I’ll take the golden retriever role. I’ve been a dog all my life, anyway. You can be the black cat—it suits your real personality.” His tone turned teasing as a sly grin spread across his face.

Your eyes narrowed. “Watch it, Kim Mingyu. You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself.”

The banter was light, but it was also necessary. Every detail of your fabricated relationship had to be convincing—not just to the production team, but to the millions of viewers who would be scrutinizing every interaction.

Once the introductions were complete, the couples were assigned their respective rooms, though there was a twist: men and women would be separated. It was part of the show’s strategy to create tension and test bonds. The host announced the premise of the competition. Over ten episodes, the couples would face various missions designed to showcase their dynamics and challenge their chemistry. Only one couple would make it to the end to claim the grand prize.

“Sounds pretty easy, right?” Mingyu whispered as the rules were being explained, leaning closer to you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “As long as we keep working together.”

You glanced at him, catching the rare blend of excitement and determination on his face. “Easy for you to say,” you murmured back. “Just don’t forget your lines, golden retriever.”

Mingyu smirked, the confidence in his expression unshakable. “Don’t worry, black cat. I’ve got this.”

And as the cameras rolled, capturing every calculated glance and practiced smile, the real game began.

As two episodes aired, the reaction to you and Mingyu was massive. No one had expected a couple that looked like they walked straight off the pages of a magazine to join a reality dating show—and with such surprising charm, no less.

Viewers were captivated, fully buying into the backstory crafted for your relationship: a boss who had fallen in love with his assistant after working tirelessly together to build a business from the ground up. The narrative felt heartfelt and relatable, leaving audiences touched and rooting for you both.

Mingyu’s likeable persona quickly became a hot topic on the internet. His name trended on search engines for two weeks straight, with fans gushing over his effortless charisma and warm personality. A particular clip of him cooking breakfast for all the contestants went viral, drawing millions of views and flooding comment sections with admiration.

“Boyfriend material!”

“Kim Mingyu is the blueprint.”

“How can someone be this handsome and good at cooking?!”

The buzz surrounding him was electric, turning him into an overnight sensation. Meanwhile, your poised yet subtly feisty demeanor perfectly balanced his golden retriever energy, solidifying the two of you as fan favorites.

With each new episode, it became increasingly clear—you and Mingyu weren’t just playing the game. You were stealing the show.

To keep up with the growing tension and maintain the audience's interest, you and Mingyu had a private meeting to brainstorm new strategies to market your relationship as even more likeable.

“Should we make you anxious about all the attention I’ve gotten these past two episodes?” Mingyu suggested, a teasing glint in his eyes. You chuckled, feeling a flicker of hesitation. You had never lived a life filled with worry, so the idea felt a little foreign to you.

“Should I try, Y/n?” he pressed, raising an eyebrow as if daring you to bite. Mingyu still couldn’t wrap his head around how someone could live so carefree, with no worries to weigh them down.

You considered it, then threw out another idea. “Or maybe we could stress the point that you’re completely obsessed with me because I’m so pretty?”

Mingyu groaned, clearly not impressed. “Please, Y/n. You’re not helping your case.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, the playful frustration in his voice making you smirk.

“Or you could act jealous,” you continued, clearly enjoying the banter. “I could flirt with one of the other cast members. Get some real drama going.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened in mock horror, then lit up with excitement. “Brilliant!” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “People love watching someone else get jealous. It’s perfect.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. As ridiculous as it was, you knew one thing for sure: the next few episodes were going to be a whole lot more interesting.

As the next few episodes aired, you followed through with the plan—interacting more with the other male cast members, engaging in lighthearted conversations, laughing a little too easily, and making sure the cameras were capturing every moment. You could feel Mingyu's eyes on you, though he pretended to stay calm. But it didn’t take long for his frustration to show. The subtle way his jaw tightened when you spoke to the others, the barely noticeable sighs, and the way his gaze lingered on you longer than usual—it was all too obvious.

And, of course, the cameras were quick to catch it. The production team loved the drama, and it didn’t take long for the clips to go viral. The viewers ate it up, with fans speculating whether Mingyu’s frustration was real or just another part of the act. Was he truly jealous? Was the "golden retriever" becoming possessive over his "black cat"?

Behind the scenes, the tension was palpable. The other women started to notice too, their glances sharp as you exchanged playful remarks with the other men. The whispers began to spread, and soon it was clear: they weren’t just jealous of your interactions with the men—they were envious of the attention you were getting from everyone.

“Did you see how Y/n was acting with him?” one of the women muttered, her voice low but full of disdain. “She doesn’t even care about Mingyu. It’s like she’s trying to make him jealous on purpose.”

“Exactly,” another woman added, eyeing you from across the room. “It’s disrespectful. If she really cared about him, she wouldn’t be all over everyone else.”

You could feel their eyes burning into your back, but you played it cool, smiling and continuing your act. After all, it was all part of the game. But the other women’s comments only made the drama more intense. The cameras were always watching, capturing every move, every subtle exchange, making sure the growing animosity was on full display for the viewers.

Meanwhile, Mingyu’s behavior was becoming more and more erratic. He'd snap at the smallest things, acting like every interaction you had with the other men was a betrayal. His reactions—though exaggerated—were feeding into the narrative the producers wanted: a couple on the brink of imploding.

“You’re making it hard for me to stay calm, Y/n,” Mingyu muttered one evening, when the two of you were alone, as the cameras rolled. “Everyone’s watching, and you’re just giving them what they want.”

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “What do you mean? I’m just being friendly.”

But you could see the struggle in his eyes. It wasn’t easy for him to pretend it didn’t bother him.

The drama between the two of you was escalating, and with it, the show’s viewership skyrocketed. Fans were torn between rooting for your playful chemistry and wondering just how far Mingyu’s jealousy would go before everything exploded. The producers were thrilled, and for the first time in the show’s history, the audience was completely invested in your “relationship.”

By the time the fifth episode aired, the tension had reached a boiling point. The producers, eager to keep the drama flowing, decided to bring up something that would really shake things up: the couples' pasts. The production team had asked each couple to submit stories from their past, their struggles, and moments from their present lives to add depth to their on-screen personas. You and Mingyu, caught up in the whirlwind of the show, had submitted a mixture of made-up tales and, honestly, a few true stories—mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to fabricate everything.

But the producers, ever the masterminds of manipulation, weren’t content with just the surface-level drama. They chose to highlight certain moments—stories that you didn’t expect to come to light. One of those stories was about your three-year relationship with your ex.

You sat there, feeling a lump form in your throat as the host casually brought it up.

“So, in your past, Y/n, you had a significant relationship that lasted three years,” the host began, looking at you with a knowing smile. “Can you tell us about that?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel the room shift. Mingyu shot you a concerned glance, but he quickly masked it with his usual carefree smile, trying to play along with the show’s narrative.

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. It wasn’t just another story—it was your story. The pain, the memories of that time, resurfaced like a wave crashing over you. You had tried so hard to bury it, to move forward with Mingyu and keep your focus on the present, but here it was, dragged out into the light.

“I… it was a complicated time,” you began, your voice shaky, trying to maintain your composure. "We were in different places in life. It ended because of... differences in what we wanted, what we valued."

The host nodded, prompting you to continue. "It’s just hard to let go of someone you spent so much time with, especially when the future felt uncertain. But I thought I had moved on… until now."

The words hit harder than you expected, and your mind raced with all the unresolved emotions tied to that past. You had moved on from your ex, yes, but the scars it left were deeper than you had allowed yourself to acknowledge.

As the story played out on-screen, you could see Mingyu's eyes flicker with a mix of concern and something else—something that felt too close to discomfort for comfort. The producers, with their expert timing, had turned a lighthearted conversation into something raw, something personal.

“And how does Mingyu feel about you sharing this part of your past?” the host asked, turning the spotlight onto him.

Mingyu’s smile faltered for a second, the weight of your past suddenly making him uneasy. He leaned forward, looking directly at you, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension rising. "It’s just a part of her story," he said with a slight chuckle. "I’m not worried about it. I trust her."

But you could tell it wasn’t as simple as that. The air between the two of you shifted, just for a moment, and the playful, teasing dynamic you had spent episodes building seemed to falter.

The room grew quiet, and the cameras were rolling, capturing every inch of your discomfort. Mingyu, ever the showman, quickly recovered, but his earlier comment about trusting you sounded more like a plea than a statement of confidence.

The host pushed on, sensing the discomfort. “So, Y/n, do you think you’ve fully healed from that relationship? And how does it affect your relationship with Mingyu now?”

You took a breath, trying to regain control of the situation. You didn’t want to seem vulnerable—not on national TV, not when you had built a persona of the confident, carefree woman. But the question hit you in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“I... I thought I had,” you said softly, eyes dropping to the table for a moment. "But sometimes, things from the past come up, and you realize there are still things you need to process. It’s not always easy."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension, the cameras capturing the moment for the world to see. You could almost feel Mingyu’s gaze on you, but you didn’t look up. He didn’t need to know how much that relationship still affected you. You were here now. You had him now.

But the damage was done. The audience, the cast, and even Mingyu were left to stew in the emotions that had been stirred up. The past was never truly gone—it was just waiting for the right moment to resurface, and now everyone could see the cracks in your carefully constructed armor.

As the episode ended, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a turning point. Mingyu had already taken the role of the jealous, possessive partner in this show, but this revelation might be more than he could handle. You couldn’t tell if it was the game or real feelings on his part, but something about this challenge had just gotten a lot more complicated.

Mingyu drove you home in silence, the weight of the day hanging heavy in the air. He hadn’t expected your real story to be exposed on national TV. It wasn’t just part of the game anymore—it was raw, unfiltered, and it had clearly shaken you. He parked his car in the basement of your apartment building, and without saying much, he helped you carry the bags and equipment from the shoot to your unit.

"Thanks," you said softly, your voice still a little strained, though you tried to mask it.

He nodded, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment, noticing how your mood had completely shifted since the shoot. The lightness you had carried with you before seemed to vanish, replaced by a palpable weight.

"Hey... You okay?" Mingyu finally asked, his tone careful, as though testing the waters.

You nodded, though it felt mechanical. "Yeah... just tired."

He watched you for a moment, but the tightness around your eyes and the way you held yourself told a different story. Something was off. Mingyu tightened the line of his lips, unsure of what to say next, but his instincts told him to push just a little more.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he said, his voice low but earnest.

You shook your head slowly, your palm instinctively rising to cover your face. The sob that escaped was uncontrollable, the emotion you had kept bottled up for so long suddenly breaking free. You hadn't realized how much of it had been building inside you until that moment.

Mingyu’s eyes softened, his heart sinking as he saw the vulnerability in you that you usually kept hidden. He immediately stepped forward, closing the distance between you, and pulled you into his arms.

"Oh... Y/n... it’s okay," he whispered, his hand gently rubbing your back as he held you. He didn’t say much more—there was no need for words. His embrace, steady and comforting, was all you needed in that moment.

He didn’t push you to explain. He simply held you as the tension in your body began to release, feeling the weight of everything you’d been carrying.

Mingyu held you tightly, his embrace warm and steady. The sound of your sobs was muffled against his chest, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The world outside your small apartment felt miles away as you allowed yourself to break down, to release everything that had been building up inside of you.

He gently stroked your hair, his fingers moving in soothing circles as he waited. His chest tightened, heart aching at the rawness of the pain you were carrying. He wanted to ask you what had happened, why the past hurt so much. But he knew better than to push too hard, too fast.

"You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready," Mingyu whispered, his voice soft but filled with concern. "I’m here. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll listen."

You pulled back slightly, your face still hidden behind your hand as you wiped your tears. It was a small, fragile moment, the kind of thing you didn’t allow anyone to see. You had built walls around your emotions, convinced that vulnerability only made you weak. But in that instant, with Mingyu, the walls began to crumble.

"I didn’t want them to know," you said, your voice breaking. "Not like that. Not on national TV. It feels like... like I have no control anymore."

Mingyu’s expression softened, and he reached up to gently lower your hand from your face. He looked at you with those warm, steady eyes of his—eyes that had seen your strength but never pressured you to be perfect.

"You don’t have to control everything," he said quietly. "It’s okay to let go sometimes. It’s okay to not have everything figured out."

You stared at him, feeling a mix of gratitude and confusion. You had always prided yourself on being independent, not needing anyone. But now, in this vulnerable moment, Mingyu’s words pierced through the walls you had built around your heart.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I didn’t mean to bring this into the show. I didn’t mean to drag you into it."

Mingyu shook his head gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a gesture of comfort. "You don’t need to apologize to me. You’re not dragging me into anything. I chose to be here, with you." His voice grew steadier, more certain. "And I’m not going anywhere."

The sincerity in his words settled around you like a blanket, comforting and warm. You had always admired Mingyu’s ability to stay calm under pressure, but now, seeing him so open with you, a part of you finally let go.

For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to lean into the comfort of someone else, to let your guard down without fearing rejection or disappointment. Mingyu didn’t look at you like you were broken. He didn’t judge you for your past, for the messiness of your emotions. He simply accepted you for who you were in that moment.

As the silence stretched on, you took a deep breath, your tears slowing. It wasn’t that everything was fixed—it was far from that—but for the first time, you felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe things didn’t have to be perfect. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to do it all alone.

Mingyu’s arms were still around you, his presence a quiet reassurance that you weren’t as alone as you thought. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe it.

It was a collaborative game, and the tension was palpable. Blindfolded, Mingyu had to follow your instructions to retrieve an item. The more valuable the item, the more points you and Mingyu would earn. You both managed to snag a teddy bear, worth 75 points—second only to a ring box, which was worth 100. The competition was heating up.

The next game was a chase. You and the other female contestants would chase after your partners and try to rip off their sticker. The energy was high, and it was clear that both you and Mingyu were in it to win. Mingyu had always been competitive; winning was almost a reflex for him. And you? You were determined to do anything it took to secure the victory. It made for the perfect dynamic between the two of you.

You sprinted after Minho, Suji’s partner, moving with precision, waiting for the perfect moment to slyly rip the sticker from his back. Meanwhile, Suji, who was supposed to be focusing on Mingyu, couldn’t help but get distracted by the sight of you in full chase mode.

With a triumphant grin, you tore the sticker off Minho’s back and bolted toward Mingyu. You threw your arms around him in celebration, his smile wide as the buzzer signaled the end of the round. His sticker had remained intact, and your victory was assured.

As everyone gathered for a well-deserved break in the gazebo, refreshments were passed around, and Mingyu handed you a glass of orange juice and some sweets with a thoughtful smile. You couldn't help but think that his gesture was more for the audience's benefit—especially since all the other women were stealing glances at the two of you. The chemistry between you and Mingyu was undeniable, and it wasn’t lost on the others.

Teasingly, you reached up and softly rubbed his cheek, your fingers grazing his skin as you leaned in closer. "Good job, baby," you murmured with a grin.

Mingyu froze for a moment, genuinely surprised. The blush creeping onto his cheeks was almost impossible to hide, his ears tinged with the faintest shade of red. He turned quickly to grab his own drink, still flustered, trying to compose himself. The effortless chemistry between the two of you was apparent, and though the cameras caught it all, neither of you seemed to mind.

As the cast mingled around the gazebo, you noticed Mingyu standing nearby, fidgeting slightly while sipping his drink. His earlier blush hadn’t completely faded, and it made you smile to yourself. Stepping closer, you nudged him gently, making sure the cameras had a clear view.

"Hey," you said softly, your tone full of warmth. "Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself during the game, did you?"

Mingyu turned to you, his expression softening immediately. He set his drink down, leaning slightly toward you as if to close the gap. "Me? Hurt? Come on, babe, you know me better than that," he replied with a playful smirk.

You crossed your arms, feigning a skeptical look. "Oh, really? I saw how Suji almost tackled you earlier. It looked intense."

He chuckled, his hand instinctively reaching out to rest on your arm, a small but noticeable gesture caught by the cameras. "She tried, but you know I wasn’t going to let anyone mess with my sticker. Besides," he added, his voice lowering, "you were the one I was worried about. Did Minho give you a hard time?"

"Not even close," you replied with a grin, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "He underestimated me, and I had him cornered in no time. But honestly, you didn’t have to worry about me."

Mingyu tilted his head, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Of course I worry about you. You’re my girlfriend. It’s kind of my job, you know."

You laughed lightly, but his words and the gentle way he looked at you made your cheeks heat up. Playing along for the cameras, you reached out to adjust the collar of his shirt, letting your hand linger just a bit. "Well, if it’s your job, you’re doing pretty well so far," you teased.

His ears turned a little pink at the affectionate gesture, but he recovered quickly, placing his hand over yours. "And you? You were incredible out there. Honestly, I couldn’t have done it without you."

"Stop," you said with a playful shove, though your smile was genuine.

Mingyu caught your hand before you could pull away, intertwining his fingers with yours just enough to make it look natural but undeniably intimate. "I’m serious," he said, his tone softer now. "You’re the reason we’re killing it out here."

The subtle touch, the way his voice dipped just enough to make it personal, and the little glances exchanged were all perfectly timed for the cameras. From the outside, it looked like a real moment of connection—and for a fleeting second, even you weren’t sure how much of it was just an act.

The night air was cool, but the crackling fireplace in the center of the group cast a warm glow, creating a cozy atmosphere. Everyone sat in a loose circle, bundled in blankets, sipping warm drinks, and buzzing with energy. The production team had introduced a truth-or-dare session as part of the episode, and it didn’t take long for things to heat up.

Each couple was put on the spot, tasked with either revealing secrets or proving their chemistry through daring challenges. You and Mingyu were relentless, using every opportunity to push the other couples to their limits.

"Truth or dare?" Mingyu grinned devilishly at Suji and Minho, leaning forward slightly.

Minho sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dare," he finally said, clearly regretting it the moment Mingyu’s eyes lit up.

"Alright," you jumped in, smirking as you exchanged a look with Mingyu. "Minho, we dare you to serenade Suji. Let’s see if you can melt her heart with your voice."

The group erupted in laughter as Minho reluctantly grabbed a nearby guitar. Suji’s amused but skeptical look was priceless, and the whole scene played out perfectly for the cameras.

But soon, it was your turn.

"Truth or dare, Y/n and Mingyu?" Minho asked, his earlier payback evident in his mischievous tone.

You glanced at Mingyu, who shrugged, his grin challenging. "Dare," you both said in unison.

Minho leaned back, his smile spreading. "We dare you two… to make out. Right here, right now, in front of everyone."

The group collectively gasped, the dare sending waves of anticipation through the circle. The cameras zoomed in, catching every reaction.

You turned to Mingyu, raising an eyebrow. "You game?"

Mingyu chuckled, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk. "It’s just for the cameras, right?" he whispered, leaning a little closer to you.

The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, the fire casting flickering shadows across everyone’s faces. All eyes were on the two of you, waiting. Mingyu reached for your hand, his palm warm and steady against your own. The simple touch sent a ripple through you, the intimacy of the moment amplified by the crowd and the rolling cameras.

He tugged you closer, his tall frame leaning down slightly to meet you. His free hand found its way to your waist, the pressure gentle but grounding, like he was anchoring you to him amidst the tension that seemed to thicken the air.

"Alright," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper meant only for you. His breath brushed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Let’s give them a show."

You swallowed, your pulse quickening. Mingyu’s gaze held yours for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, a flicker of something unspoken in his deep brown eyes. Was it amusement? Confidence? Or something softer, more genuine? You couldn’t tell, and it only made your heart race more.

As you leaned in, the world around you seemed to blur. Your lips met his, soft at first, a tentative touch that betrayed the scripted nature of the dare. But then, something shifted. Mingyu’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepened.

His lips moved against yours with a rhythm that felt almost too natural, too real. The crackle of the fire and the murmurs from the others faded away entirely. For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, wrapped in a bubble that no one else could penetrate.

Your hands instinctively found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of his touch seeped through you, mingling with the fire’s heat and the faint scent of woodsmoke in the air.

Mingyu tilted his head, adjusting the angle, and the kiss grew more deliberate. His thumb brushed your waist in a subtle, almost comforting gesture. Was he trying to reassure you? Or was he just as caught up in the moment as you were?

Your emotions were a whirlwind. There was the rush of performing for the cameras, the thrill of the audience’s attention, but also something deeper—something unexpected. The kiss felt too perfect, too seamless, as though it wasn’t just an act.

When you finally pulled away, the spell broke. The group erupted into cheers and whistles, their energy breaking the tension like a dam giving way. Mingyu didn’t let go immediately. His hand lingered at your waist, and his lips, now curved into a satisfied smile, glistened slightly in the firelight.

His gaze met yours, and for a second, the world seemed to slow again. There was a flicker of something behind his playful smirk—a softness, a warmth that made your chest tighten.

"Not bad," he said quietly, his voice teasing but layered with something else, something almost unreadable.

You tried to steady your breath, forcing a grin to match his. "Not bad yourself."

As you turned back to the group, the cheers and teasing chatter filled the air, but your mind lingered on the kiss. You couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something about it had felt undeniably real—and by the way Mingyu’s hand brushed against yours as he moved to grab a drink, you wondered if he might have felt the same.

The shoot for the next episode had wrapped up, but the atmosphere off-camera was far from celebratory. A lingering tension buzzed in the air, and it all traced back to a bombshell dropped by Woorin, one of the female cast members, during a game.

“Are you two really a couple?” Woorin’s voice had cut through the lively chatter like a knife, her words laced with suspicion.

The question wasn’t lighthearted. Her tone carried weight, and the shift in the room was immediate. The other cast members exchanged glances, while the production crew subtly stopped what they were doing, their attention now laser-focused on you and Mingyu.

You exchanged a fleeting look with Mingyu, your heart pounding. You both knew this question might come up eventually, but not like this. Mingyu was the first to speak, his voice steady despite the pressure.

“Of course, we are,” he said with a confident smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulders for good measure. “Why would we fake something like that?”

But Woorin wasn’t convinced. “Really?” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Because I heard something… interesting.”

Your stomach dropped as Woorin leaned forward, her demeanor more like a detective than a reality show cast member.

"You know,” Woorin said, her voice calm but calculated as she glanced between you and Mingyu. “This whole act of yours? It’s really convincing. Almost too convincing. Especially considering… you two are exes.”

Her words hung in the air like a storm cloud. The other cast members froze, their eyes darting between you and Mingyu. The production crew exchanged worried glances, unsure whether to keep filming or intervene.

You felt the blood drain from your face. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked at Mingyu, who seemed equally caught off guard.

“What are you talking about?” Mingyu asked, his tone attempting nonchalance, though his jaw tightened.

Woorin smirked, clearly enjoying the drama. “Oh, come on,” she said. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. A little digging, a chat with some mutual acquaintances… and voilà. You two used to date, didn’t you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. The cast members leaned in, their curiosity piqued. Even the cameras seemed to loom closer, capturing every flicker of emotion on your faces.

Finally, you found your voice. “That’s none of your business,” you said firmly, trying to regain control of the situation.

“But it is everyone’s business, isn’t it?” Woorin countered, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been parading around as this perfect couple for the cameras. Don’t you think the audience deserves to know the truth?”

The director immediately called for a break, and the cameras were turned off. The producer stormed onto the set, pulling you and Mingyu aside for an emergency meeting.

Inside a quiet room, the producer’s expression was a mix of frustration and concern. “Is it true?” they asked, their voice low but intense. “Were you two in a relationship before this show?”

You hesitated, your gaze darting to Mingyu. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. “Yes,” he admitted. “We dated. But it was a long time ago.”

“How long ago?” the producer pressed.

“A year ago,” you said quietly. “It ended on good terms. We’re just… friends now.”

The producer let out a deep breath, pacing the room. “This is a nightmare,” they muttered. “If this gets out, it’ll overshadow the entire show. The audience will think everything’s staged.”

Mingyu stepped forward, his voice steady. “We didn’t plan this to deceive anyone. We’ve been doing our best to play our roles and keep things professional.”

The producer stopped pacing, their gaze sharp. “Professional? You call this professional? Woorin just uncovered your past in front of everyone. How are we supposed to recover from this?”

“We’ll handle it,” you said, your voice stronger now. “We’ll find a way to address it without ruining the show.”

The producer shook their head but finally relented. “Fine. But we’re going to need a strategy. You two need to be on the same page, and no more surprises.”

As the meeting ended, you and Mingyu were left alone in the room, the weight of the revelation pressing down on both of you.

Mingyu finally spoke, his voice soft. “I didn’t think Woorin would dig that deep.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, leaning against the wall. “But now that it’s out, we have to figure out what to do.”

Mingyu looked at you, his expression serious. “We’ve been convincing so far. Maybe we can still turn this around.”

You nodded, though your mind was racing. “We don’t have a choice,” you said. “We either control the narrative or let it control us.”

Mingyu smiled faintly, a flicker of determination in his eyes. “Then let’s give them a story they’ll never forget."

Mingyu decided to stay at your place after the chaotic shoot, both of you desperate to pitch a salvageable story to the production team. The stakes were high, and the tension between you two was palpable, though you masked it with humor and exhaustion.

“He threatened to kick us off the show, Y/n! What about our money?” Mingyu groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch beside you like a deflated balloon.

You rubbed your face, equally frustrated. “Min Woorin must be insanely jealous to dig that deep into our past. I mean, I didn’t even talk to her boyfriend. It’s not my fault he’s the one trying to be overly friendly with me!”

Mingyu nodded vehemently, his annoyance bubbling to the surface. “Exactly! That Juyoung bastard couldn’t stop staring at your butt the entire time. I swear, I’ll kick him in the face the next time he even glances your way!”

A moment of silence settled between you, both of you letting out a deep sigh in unison, the absurdity of the situation hitting you like a wave.

“What should we do, Mingyu?” you asked, your voice softer now, tinged with worry.

Mingyu raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “This wasn’t part of the plan, Y/n. Getting caught? That wasn’t in the cards.”

You leaned into his shoulder, seeking some sort of comfort. “Neither was this for me,” you murmured.

After a beat, you spoke again, your voice laced with hesitation. “Should we just… be honest about our story? I mean, if the audience reacts well, I’m pretty sure the producers will let us stay.”

Mingyu sighed deeply, his arm instinctively draping over your shoulders. “And what exactly is so interesting about our past story, huh?”

You tilted your head to look at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “The fact that you were completely obsessed with me?”

Mingyu snorted, his lips twitching into a smirk. “And you, who kept disappearing on me for a job that eventually fired you? Real romantic, Y/n.”

You jolted upright, indignantly slapping his arm. “Hey! That was not my fault!”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head as you settled back into your spot, leaning against him again. His teasing tone softened. “I’m kidding, Y/n. Relax.”

A quiet stillness filled the room as both of you let the exhaustion seep in. “Let’s sleep on it,” Mingyu finally said, his voice low and steady. “We’ll figure out what to say to the producer tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, he wrapped his arm tighter around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. It was so natural, so instinctive, that neither of you questioned it.

The weight of the day melted away as you both closed your eyes, the warmth of his presence lulling you to sleep. Without even realizing it, the two of you fell asleep together on the couch, tangled in a quiet understanding and comfort that only the two of you could share.

The next morning, you and Mingyu were summoned to an emergency meeting with the production team. Both of you arrived feeling uneasy, expecting the worst after the events of the previous day. However, to your immense relief, the team had come up with a new, more thrilling storyline to salvage the situation.

“We’ve decided to take a different approach,” the producer began, glancing between the two of you. “We’re going to reveal that you and Mingyu aren’t actually a couple. Instead, you’ve been part of an undercover mission to test the other couples’ loyalty.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Mingyu, the tension in your shoulders easing as the producer continued.

“This means that from the very start, there were only three real couples,” the producer explained, leaning forward with an air of excitement. “Your role will now be to challenge the loyalty and trust between the cast members and their partners, adding a layer of drama and intrigue to the show.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what happens if none of them survive the tests?”

The producer’s lips curled into a sly smile. “If no couple manages to stay together by the end, the two of you will win the prize money.”

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at the audacity of the new twist. “So, we’re basically the villains now?” you asked, tilting your head as you tried to process the sudden shift.

“Not villains,” the producer clarified, though their tone suggested otherwise. “Think of yourselves as catalysts for truth. You’re here to reveal the cracks in their relationships—or prove their strength, if they can survive.”

You groaned in frustration as Mingyu drove the two of you home. The sound startled him, and he jolted slightly in his seat.

“What’s wrong? You’re scaring me!” Mingyu exclaimed, glancing at you with wide eyes.

“Won’t we look like villains?” you blurted out, the weight of your earlier decision sinking in. “We’re going to break somebody’s relationship, Mingyu!” You slapped his arm lightly in protest, and Mingyu winced dramatically.

“Think about the prize, Y/n,” he countered, his voice calm yet persuasive. “You said it yourself—you need the money to start your design studio. This is our chance!”

You slumped back in your seat, letting out a defeated sigh. “You’re right,” you muttered, though the guilt still gnawed at the edges of your resolve.

“But it’s still so wrong, Gyu!!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up.

Mingyu smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement as he processed what you had just called him. “Wait, did you just call me 'Gyu'?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s your name. Kim Min Gyu. What else would I call you?”

He let out a hearty laugh, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “But you haven’t called me 'Gyu' since we broke up. No one ever says it the way you do—so affectionately.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I know, right? I’m just so naturally affectionate,” you quipped, your sarcasm barely masking the flicker of emotion in your voice.

Mingyu chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. Without thinking, he reached over and pinched your cheek gently. “You’re so dramatic sometimes,” he teased, though there was a softness in his tone that made your chest tighten.

For a moment, silence filled the car, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with unspoken words, memories bubbling to the surface.

“Sometimes, I wonder why we broke up,” Mingyu murmured, his voice quieter now, tinged with regret.

You turned to look at him, your expression unreadable, before letting your gaze drift out the window. “Hm…” you hummed softly, as if lost in thought.

The air between you thickened with a mix of nostalgia, unresolved feelings, and the undeniable bond you shared. Neither of you said another word, but the weight of his question lingered in the car, refusing to be ignored.

As the car rolled to a stop outside your apartment building, you stayed quiet, your mind racing. Mingyu's words echoed in your head.

“Sometimes, I wonder why we broke up.”

It was such a simple sentence, yet it carried so much weight. You had been so sure you’d moved past what you and Mingyu had—so sure your relationship was part of a chapter you’d closed. But sitting beside him now, feeling the warmth of his presence and hearing the softness in his voice, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart stirred.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He was humming under his breath, his fingers lightly drumming on the steering wheel. The casualness of it all—the ease in which he fit into your life, even after everything—confused you.

Why does it still feel so natural?

“Y/n?” Mingyu’s voice broke through your thoughts. You blinked, realizing he had already turned off the car and was looking at you with concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a small smile. But the truth was, you weren’t sure if you were okay. Not with the way your feelings were starting to shift.

Inside your apartment, the atmosphere was quieter, but your mind wasn’t. Mingyu helped you unpack the stuff from the shoot, his usual playful banter filling the space. He teased you about the way you had tripped during the game, mocked your competitive streak, and even reenacted how he "heroically" protected his sticker during the chase.

You laughed, but the sound felt hollow to you. Because as he moved around your living room, so comfortably as if he had never left, you felt your chest tighten again.

You hadn’t let yourself think about Mingyu this way in a long time. After the breakup, you buried the memories of him deep, convincing yourself it was better that way. But now, those memories were resurfacing—his laugh, his protectiveness, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he cared about.

And the way he had looked at you earlier in the car—like he still saw the world in you.

“Hey, Y/n,” Mingyu called, snapping his fingers in front of your face. You hadn’t realized you were staring at him.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been spacing out all evening,” he said, sitting beside you on the couch. He leaned closer, his face just inches from yours. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Your heart skipped. He always knew how to read you too well, and that was terrifying.

“Nothing,” you lied, breaking eye contact. “Just tired.”

But as Mingyu leaned back, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, you knew it wasn’t nothing. Not anymore.

Because the feelings you thought you’d buried were resurfacing, blooming into something unfamiliar—something you weren’t sure you wanted to name yet. And sitting there beside Mingyu, you realized that no matter how much you tried to deny it, he was starting to become more than just your ex.

It was late afternoon, and Mingyu sat in a quiet corner of a chic café, laptop open as he skimmed through his emails. His attempt to juggle his business responsibilities with the chaos of the reality show had been taxing, but today’s meeting was a necessary step in keeping his plans on track.

The café door chimed, and Mingyu glanced up. A man entered, exuding quiet confidence. He was dressed sharply, his every movement composed and deliberate. Mingyu recognized him immediately—Wonwoo, the ex you had mentioned during the shoot, the one who had left a lasting impression on you.

Mingyu’s jaw tightened as Wonwoo approached. Of all the people he could have had a business meeting with, it had to be him.

“Kim Mingyu,” Wonwoo greeted as he extended a hand, his tone polite but distant.

Mingyu stood, shaking Wonwoo’s hand. “Jeon Wonwoo. Thanks for making the time.”

The two men settled into their seats, the conversation starting off professionally. Mingyu kept his tone measured, his questions direct, but he couldn’t help the nagging thoughts that crept in.

This was the man who had been with you for three years. The man you couldn’t fully let go of, even when Mingyu had been in your life. Mingyu hated how easily those thoughts consumed him now.

As their discussion moved forward, Mingyu noticed something about Wonwoo that made him uneasy. The man was calm, composed, and had a way of speaking that drew people in—traits that Mingyu knew had probably captivated you once.

Toward the end of the meeting, Wonwoo leaned back, his gaze steady on Mingyu. “So,” he started casually, “you’re working with Y/n on this reality show, right?”

Mingyu stiffened, his hand tightening slightly on his coffee cup. “Yeah. What about it?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Wonwoo’s lips. “Just curious how she’s doing. It’s been a while since we talked.”

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed. “She’s fine. Doing great, actually.”

Wonwoo nodded, his expression unreadable. “Good to hear. She always had a way of pushing through tough situations. Guess that’s why she stuck with me for as long as she did.”

The words were light, but they hit Mingyu like a punch. He forced himself to stay composed, but his frustration bubbled beneath the surface.

“Y/n’s strong, no thanks to anyone else,” Mingyu replied, his tone sharper than intended.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, but instead of responding, he simply smiled. “Interesting.”

As Mingyu sat in his car after the meeting with Wonwoo, the weight of unspoken emotions pressed heavily on his chest. The encounter had been professional on the surface, but beneath the veneer of polite conversation, a storm brewed within him.

Mingyu had always prided himself on being confident—bold even. But something about seeing Wonwoo, the man who had been such a significant part of your life, unraveled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

He couldn’t shake the image of Wonwoo’s calm demeanor, the way he carried himself with an air of assurance. It made Mingyu feel... small. He hated it. The jealousy gnawed at him, an unfamiliar and bitter taste he couldn’t ignore.

"He’s the kind of guy people don’t forget," Mingyu thought bitterly, gripping the steering wheel tighter. The words Wonwoo had said about you—how strong you were, how you’d stuck with him—echoed in his mind, fueling an insecurity he didn’t want to admit existed.

"Did you love him more than me?"

The question haunted him, the one he asked during the last time you were together. It wasn’t just about love—it was about lasting impact. Mingyu couldn’t bear the idea that, even after all this time, Wonwoo might still hold a place in your heart.

The drive home was silent, save for the sound of his uneven breathing. His mind raced through memories of your relationship—your laughter, the way you used to look at him like he was your entire world. Somewhere along the way, he had lost that, hadn’t he? He had let you slip through his fingers, and now he was left grappling with the fear that maybe, just maybe, someone else had filled the void he’d left behind.

Somehow he found himself in your way into your apartment and saw you sitting there, looking up at him with surprise, the storm inside him reached its peak. He hadn’t planned to confront you, but the words spilled out before he could stop them.

“Do you still think about Wonwoo?”

The question hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. Mingyu’s heart pounded as he watched your reaction. The way your eyes widened told him you hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to be so vulnerable, so shaken.

But he couldn’t hold it back anymore. The encounter with Wonwoo had forced him to face something he’d been avoiding: his growing feelings for you. They weren’t the same as they’d been before, during your relationship. This time, they were deeper, more desperate, tinged with the fear of losing you again.

“It matters to me,” he said, his voice unsteady. “Because I don’t know where I stand with you. And seeing him—hearing about your history—it made me realize how much I hate the idea of not being enough.”

He felt exposed, like he’d just ripped open his chest and laid his heart bare. Mingyu had never been good at admitting his insecurities, but with you, it was different. You had always been different.

As you reassured him, your words sinking into his heart like a balm, Mingyu felt the tension begin to ease. But even as relief washed over him, there was still a lingering ache—a reminder of how much he wanted to prove himself to you. Not just as someone you had loved before, but as the person you could love again.

For Mingyu, it wasn’t just about rekindling what you’d had. It was about building something stronger, something unshakable. And in that moment, as he looked into your eyes, he silently vowed to do whatever it took to earn that place in your heart again.

The memory played vividly in Mingyu's mind as he sat in silence, staring blankly at his reflection in the car window. It was a conversation from a year ago, back when the cracks in your relationship had just begun to show—back when he still didn’t understand the weight you carried.

The words he’d overheard echoed in his mind, carving a painful clarity he hadn’t been prepared for. The reason behind your relentless work ethic—the late nights, the unwavering drive—had never made sense to him before. But now, as the pieces fell into place, the weight of it all hit him like a punch to the gut.

It was because of Wonwoo.

You had loved him enough to change yourself, to push yourself beyond limits, all in the hope of becoming what his family deemed "worthy." The thought of you, the bright, fierce person he knew, bending under the weight of someone else’s expectations was enough to make Mingyu’s chest tighten. He hated it—hated the idea of you sacrificing so much only to be rejected.

The mention of your broken engagement felt like a dagger twisting in his heart. An engagement. He hadn’t known things had been that serious between you and Wonwoo. It wasn’t just a fleeting romance or a long-term relationship—it was a promise of forever, one that had been shattered by people who had no right to decide your worth.

Mingyu’s hands clenched into fists on his lap as he recalled the times he’d teased you about your workaholic tendencies. He’d never realized there was a deeper pain driving you, a history that had left invisible scars. Now, knowing the truth, he felt an ache in his chest—part anger at Wonwoo and his family, part regret for not understanding you sooner.

When he saw you later that evening, sitting at your desk with your laptop open, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"Y/n," he called softly, his voice unusually subdued.

You glanced up, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. "What is it?"

Mingyu hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching yours. He saw the weariness in your eyes, the traces of a past you rarely talked about. Taking a deep breath, he moved closer and crouched beside your chair.

"I heard about... Wonwoo," he said quietly, watching your expression carefully.

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, he saw the walls go up, the instinctive way you guarded yourself when the past came up. "Who told you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It doesn’t matter," Mingyu replied, his hand resting lightly on your knee. "What matters is that I know now. And I’m sorry."

You frowned, confusion flickering across your face. "Sorry for what?"

"For not understanding sooner," he said, his voice tinged with frustration—at himself, at the situation. "For not realizing why you work so hard. I thought it was just ambition, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? You were trying to prove yourself to someone who didn’t deserve you."

Your lips parted as if to argue, but the emotion in Mingyu’s gaze stopped you. He shook his head slightly.

"Don’t defend him," Mingyu said softly. "Don’t defend a man who let his family’s opinion dictate his love for you. You deserve better than that, Y/n. You always have."

Mingyu felt a lump form in his throat as he watched you, the pain in your eyes piercing through him. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on yours.

"Y/n," he said softly, his voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "You didn’t have to change yourself for anyone. Not for him, not for his family. They were blind if they couldn’t see how amazing you are."

You turned to him, your gaze searching his, and for a moment, Mingyu thought he saw a flicker of hope in your eyes. But then, you smiled—a sad, resigned smile.

"Maybe," you said quietly. "But it doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t enough for him."

Mingyu opened his mouth to argue, to tell you that you were more than enough, that Wonwoo’s loss was his greatest mistake. But the words caught in his throat, because deep down, he wondered if he was any different.

He squeezed your hand gently, his heart aching as he whispered, "You’re enough for me."

You didn’t respond right away, your eyes dropping to where his hand rested on yours. And though you didn’t pull away, Mingyu couldn’t shake the feeling that you were already slipping through his fingers.

It was a moment he would replay over and over in his mind, long after the breakup—wondering if he could have done more, said more, to keep you from walking away.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife as you stood by the refreshment table, filling your glass with water. Mingyu was off to the side, chatting with one of the cast members, but his eyes flicked over to you every few seconds, always keeping an eye on you.

That’s when you heard the sharp click of heels against the tiled floor. You turned just in time to see Woorin storming toward you, her face a mix of anger and hurt.

"Y/n!" she snapped, her voice loud enough to make heads turn. Before you could respond, she raised her hand, and the sound of the slap echoed in the room.

You staggered back, your hand flying to your cheek in shock. Gasps erupted from the surrounding cast and crew as everyone froze, unsure of what to do.

"What the hell, Woorin?!" Mingyu's voice roared across the room as he rushed to your side, placing himself between you and Woorin. His protective stance was immediate, his broad shoulders shielding you from her.

"She deserves it!" Woorin spat, her voice trembling with rage. "Do you think I don’t know? Juyoung’s been flirting with her—my boyfriend—and she just stands there like she’s innocent!"

Mingyu’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkened with fury. "Don’t you dare blame her for your boyfriend’s behavior," he growled. "If he’s flirting with someone else, that’s on him—not her."

Before Woorin could reply, Juyoung stepped forward, his face pale but determined. "Woorin, stop this," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. "You’re overreacting."

"Overreacting?" Woorin turned on him, her voice breaking. "You’ve been flirting with her since day one, Juyoung! Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her!"

Juyoung sighed, his frustration evident. "I haven’t been flirting with anyone! You’re making something out of nothing."

"Nothing?!" Woorin’s voice rose again. "How about the way you kept standing near her during the games, or how you laugh at everything she says? Even your friend said you couldn’t stop talking about her before the show started!"

Juyoung groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You’re twisting things, Woorin. I’m just being polite and friendly. It’s a competition—we’re supposed to interact with everyone!"

Woorin’s tears spilled over as she pointed an accusing finger at him. "Polite? Friendly? You’ve ignored me for days and acted like I don’t exist, but you have time to chat with her?!"

"Enough!" Mingyu barked, his voice sharp and commanding. "This isn’t the time or place for your relationship issues. Don’t drag Y/n into this."

Juyoung raised his hands defensively, his eyes darting between Mingyu and Woorin. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m not interested in Y/Nln that way—she’s not even my type!"

The words stung, though you weren’t sure why. You held your tongue, your cheek still throbbing from the slap, as Woorin scoffed. "Oh, now you’re backpedaling. How convenient!"

Mingyu stepped closer to Juyoung, his presence looming. "You’ve said enough," he said coldly. "If you’re not interested in her, make that clear to Woorin and leave Y/n out of your mess."

Juyoung nodded hesitantly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Fine. Woorin, can we talk about this privately?"

Woorin hesitated, her anger simmering but waning. She cast one last glare in your direction before turning on her heel and storming out, with Juyoung reluctantly following her.

The room buzzed with whispered conversations as Mingyu turned back to you, his expression softening as he reached out to gently touch your arms. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

You nodded, though your cheek still stung. "I’m fine," you murmured, but your voice betrayed the slight tremble in your chest.

Mingyu frowned, his hand moving to cup your face as he examined the red mark. "She had no right to do that," he said, his tone still simmering with anger.

"I know," you replied, your eyes meeting his. "But I can’t blame her for feeling hurt. Juyoung—"

"Juyoung’s an idiot," Mingyu interrupted, his voice firm. "And so is anyone else who can’t see how incredible you are without needing to blame you for their problems."

His words struck something deep inside you, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away. Mingyu’s thumb brushed gently over your cheek, as if he could erase the sting of Woorin’s slap with his touch.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere in the studio remained tense, with everyone still recovering from the incident with Woorin and Juyoung. But it seemed like there was no end to the drama. You noticed Suji walking over to Mingyu, her movements deliberate, her laughter just a little too loud. She stood a bit too close, touching his arm as she spoke, her eyes lingering on him in a way that didn’t sit well with you. You shifted in your seat, feeling an uncomfortable knot form in your stomach.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Minho standing off to the side, his gaze fixed on the pair. His posture was rigid, his eyes narrowed, clearly irritated by what he was seeing.

He didn't wait long before he made his way toward you, his expression serious. When he reached you, he didn't mince words. "Y/n," Minho started, his voice low but urgent. "I need to talk to you about Mingyu."

You raised an eyebrow, confused. "What about him?" you asked, glancing at Mingyu, who was still talking to Suji. His body language seemed polite, but there was a stiffness in it that made you wonder.

Minho hesitated, his eyes briefly flickering over to the pair again. "Suji," he said, his voice almost a warning. "She’s been trying to get his attention for a while now. She’s… impulsive, and honestly, I don’t think Mingyu understands how far she’ll go to get it."

You frowned, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. Suji was Minho’s girlfriend. "You think Suji’s flirting with Mingyu?" you asked, feeling a mixture of concern and confusion.

Minho nodded, his voice dropping lower as he stepped closer. "She doesn’t know when to stop, and she’s not as innocent as she looks. I’m telling you this because I care about both of you, and I know Suji can be manipulative when she wants something. She’s been acting like this for a while now, and I don’t want Mingyu getting caught up in it."

You glanced at Mingyu again. Suji was still leaning in, laughing a bit too much, her fingers lingering on his arm. You couldn’t deny the tightness that curled in your chest. Was she really pushing him in that direction? Was Mingyu even aware of what was going on?

"What do you want me to do?" you asked, your voice uncertain. Minho’s warning was ringing in your head, but you weren’t sure how to handle it.

"I think you should talk to him," Minho said, his eyes filled with concern. "Suji won’t back off easily. I just don’t want Mingyu to get blindsided, especially with everything else going on."

You nodded slowly, trying to process everything Minho had just said. "I’ll talk to him. Thanks for the heads-up, Minho."

Minho gave you a brief nod, his expression softening. "Just look out for him, Y/n. I know it’s complicated, but you’re the one who can get through to him. Just… make sure he doesn’t fall for her games."

You watched him walk away, but your attention immediately went back to Mingyu and Suji. There was no denying the way Suji was behaving, and you could feel that knot tightening in your chest. You knew you had to talk to Mingyu about it, but would he listen? Would he see the situation the same way?

With a deep breath, you made up your mind. You had to have this conversation with him before it spiraled any further.

The drive to Mingyu's house was quiet, the usual hum of conversation replaced by the low rumble of the car's engine. The tension from the day’s events still hung in the air, and it wasn’t lost on either of you. Mingyu’s grip on the wheel tightened, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

As you approached his house, you couldn’t shake the conversation with Minho from your mind. You needed to talk to Mingyu about what had happened, especially considering how closely he and Suji had been interacting. But how could you bring it up without it sounding like you were overreacting?

Finally, as he pulled into the driveway, you broke the silence. "Mingyu," you began carefully, watching him glance at you briefly. "There’s something I need to tell you about Suji."

He raised an eyebrow as he turned off the engine, but he didn’t look entirely surprised. "What about her?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of curiosity.

You sighed, feeling the weight of Minho’s warning pressing down on you. "Minho talked to me earlier. He said Suji’s been acting a bit too… familiar with you. Like, she’s been trying to get your attention, and he’s worried she might be more manipulative than she seems."

Mingyu’s expression shifted, though it wasn’t one of defensiveness. It was more like he was processing the information. After a moment, he finally spoke, his voice a little quieter than usual. "I’ve noticed it too," he admitted. "Suji’s been a little too clingy recently. But I don’t think she means anything by it. She’s just… been really forward. I’m trying to keep things respectful, but it’s hard when she doesn’t back off."

You felt a mix of relief and frustration. On one hand, you were glad Mingyu didn’t seem completely oblivious to the situation. On the other, you didn’t want him to brush it off too easily. "I just want to make sure you’re not caught off guard, Gyu," you said, using the nickname almost instinctively. "Suji can be pretty impulsive, and she’s done this before, according to Minho. She won’t stop until she gets what she wants."

Mingyu let out a deep breath, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "I get it, Y/n. I’ll keep my distance. It’s just… hard when she’s constantly around, and I don’t want to make things awkward, you know?"

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. "Just be careful. You don’t owe her anything, and I don’t want to see you get dragged into her games."

He gave you a small smile. "Thanks for looking out for me. I promise I’ll handle it."

With that, you both stepped out of the car, walking toward the door of Mingyu’s house. As you entered, you quickly gathered the few things that had ended up in his luggage after the last shoot. You could feel Mingyu’s eyes on you, and the silence between you seemed heavier now, like there was more to be said but neither of you was quite ready to speak it.

Once you were done, you followed him into the living room where he sat on the couch, clearly still processing everything from the day. It felt like everything was slowly unraveling — the complexities with the cast, the personal dynamics, and the ever-present tension that seemed to follow you both. Mingyu’s gaze was distant, his mind clearly still processing everything. Then, without thinking, you spoke again, breaking the silence that had comfortably enveloped you.

"You know, Gyu," you started, your voice quieter than before, "I haven’t thought about Wonwoo in a long time."

Mingyu's head snapped toward you, eyes widening slightly. The mention of his name had been unexpected, a slip of your tongue. You could see the surprise in Mingyu’s face, but there was also a flicker of something else — curiosity, maybe, or perhaps something deeper.

"I mean," you continued, trying to gather your thoughts, "I know it sounds strange, but after everything… after all the mess with our past, I just realized I haven't really thought about him in a while. Like, I don't dwell on what happened anymore."

Mingyu didn’t immediately respond, his eyes focused on you now, studying your face carefully. You could tell he was trying to process this, the idea that you were finally letting go of the past.

"That’s... different," Mingyu finally said, his voice tentative. He shifted slightly on the couch, his arm brushing against yours.

"His shadow was constantly over me, even when I was with you. But now... I guess I just don’t feel it anymore. I can’t even imagine going back to him."

Mingyu didn’t speak right away, his gaze steady as if he was carefully choosing his words. His hand moved slowly, then rested on the space between you both, his fingers brushing against yours.

"I’m glad you feel that way," he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of relief and something else, something unspoken. "I think... I think I’m glad you’ve come to this point. I can’t change your past, Y/n, and I won’t try to. But I want you to know that I’m here. I’m here for you — no matter what happened with Wonwoo or anyone else."

The sincerity in his words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. It was clear, though, that Mingyu had always been there, but this was different — more honest, more grounded.

"You’ve been so patient with me, Gyu," you said, your voice catching slightly, the emotions you had been keeping at bay bubbling up. "I don’t know what I did to deserve that."

Mingyu smiled softly, his thumb gently brushing against your hand. "You don’t need to do anything, Y/n. I’m not doing this because I feel obligated or anything. I’m here because I want to be." His eyes met yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

It was a shift in the air — a change that neither of you had expected. What had started as a complicated relationship, tangled with unresolved feelings and past wounds, now felt different. The emotional weight was still there, but there was a new layer to it — something that felt like it could build into something else, something neither of you had anticipated.

The quiet lingered, and the air between you both seemed to crackle with unspoken emotions. You could feel the weight of his gaze, the steady rhythm of his breath, as if he was waiting for something. It was almost as if the universe had conspired for this moment, and you both could no longer ignore it.

Mingyu slowly leaned in, his fingers still lightly brushing against yours, and you could feel his warmth draw closer. There was an uncertainty in the way he moved, but it wasn’t hesitation. It was as if he, too, was giving you space to decide, to let you know if you were ready for this next step.

Your heart raced, and for a moment, you wondered if you should pull back, but something inside you urged you to stay. Mingyu had always been someone you could rely on, someone who, even through the ups and downs, had never wavered in his support for you. And now, in the stillness of the moment, there was only one thing you could do — let him in.

You didn’t pull away as his face inched closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. His eyes flickered to yours, searching, asking without words if you were ready. The tension between you both seemed to thicken with each passing second.

And then, as if he couldn’t wait any longer, Mingyu closed the gap, his lips pressing gently against yours. The kiss was soft at first, slow and tender, as if he were asking for permission to dive deeper into the connection between you two. His hand moved to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you. Every touch, every brush of his lips against yours, felt more intense than the last. His kiss was a mixture of everything — of comfort, of longing, of a deep connection that neither of you had expected but were now willing to explore.

As the kiss deepened, you felt yourself respond instinctively, your body leaning into his, your hands resting on his chest. The warmth between you both was undeniable, and for the first time, you let go of everything else — your past, your insecurities, your doubts. In this moment, it was just Mingyu and you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your hearts racing in sync. Mingyu rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his voice low and filled with emotion. "I’ve never stopped caring about you, you know that, right?"

You nodded, your fingers still resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I know, Gyu," you whispered back.

The air between you two thickened, the energy palpable as Mingyu’s lips returned to yours with renewed urgency. The softness that once lingered turned into something more desperate, as if all the tension between you both was finally being released in that moment. His hands slid down your sides, pulling you closer to him, and you felt every inch of his body pressing against yours.

The kiss grew heated, the warmth of his lips and the feel of his body against you making your pulse quicken. His hand rested at the small of your back, pressing you even further into him as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that left you breathless.

Mingyu’s body hovered above yours, the weight of him both comforting and thrilling. His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your waist, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just beneath your ribcage. You gasped slightly at the touch, the sensation sending a ripple of warmth through you, and you instinctively arched into him, eager for more.

He broke away from the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked down at you, eyes darkened with desire. His gaze flickered to your lips, and then to your eyes, searching for some kind of sign — a sign that you were okay, that you were still with him in this moment.

Mingyu’s lips found yours again, but this time the kiss was deeper, more intense, filled with an intensity neither of you had expected. His hands moved to your hips, lifting you just enough for him to settle closer, his body now pressing firmly against yours. The heat between you two grew, and it was impossible to deny how much you wanted him.

His lips trailed down to your neck, his kisses burning against your skin. You shivered beneath him, your hands gripping his shoulders as the heat between you two escalated. Every touch, every movement, every shared breath seemed to make everything else fade away, leaving only the two of you in that moment, completely consumed by each other.

Mingyu pulled off his t-shirt in one fluid motion, and your hands instinctively reached for him, your fingers brushing against the familiar warmth of his skin. His toned muscles tensed under your touch, and for a brief moment, he paused, his darkened eyes locking with yours as though he were savoring the moment.

His hands worked with practiced ease, sliding your top over your head and unclasping your bra with the kind of confidence that only came from familiarity. His fingers brushed against your bare skin as he traced the contours of your body, a reverence in his touch that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

Leaning down, his lips brushed over your collarbone, trailing a line of slow, deliberate kisses to the swell of your chest. You gasped softly as his mouth made contact, the heat of his touch igniting something deep within you.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with awe and a sense of rediscovery. "You’ve always been beautiful."

With an almost effortless motion, his hands moved to unbutton your pants, sliding them down your legs in one smooth gesture, leaving only the delicate fabric of your underwear between you. His hands lingered, as though memorizing every inch of you, his gaze sweeping over you with a mix of desire and admiration.

Before you could fully process the moment, Mingyu’s strong arms scooped you up, lifting you off the couch as though you weighed nothing. The ease with which he carried you was both thrilling and grounding, his grip firm yet gentle. He held you close to his chest, his heartbeat pounding in rhythm with yours as he walked toward his bedroom.

When he reached the bed, he laid you down with care, his eyes never leaving yours. His lips claimed yours again, this time with an intensity that left no room for hesitation. His kisses grew deeper, more urgent, as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear.

The sensation of his touch against your most sensitive skin drew a soft moan from your lips, the sound muffled by his kiss. Every movement felt like a promise, every touch a reminder of the connection you once shared and the emotions that still lingered between you.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to look at you, his face filled with longing and tenderness. His thumb brushed against your cheek as he whispered, "Tell me if it’s too much. I need you to feel safe with me."

Your breath hitched, overwhelmed by the mix of his words and the fire igniting between you. "I trust you," you whispered, the words carrying more weight than you realized.

His lips captured yours again, his touch growing bolder yet remaining respectful of your boundaries, as though rediscovering the delicate balance between passion and care that only he seemed to know how to navigate.

As Mingyu pulled back slightly, his forehead resting gently against yours, the space between you both felt charged with a quiet intensity. His breath came in shallow bursts, and for a moment, everything was still— except for the rhythmic beat of your heart. He looked at you with micture of reverance and affection, the weight of the moment settling between you both.

"Are you sure?" He whispered, his voice soft, laced with the same desired that had filled the air. His hands were gentle, as though he was waiting forya signal from, for any hesitation or doubt.

You nodded, a silent reassurance in your gaze. There was trust there, a bond that ran deeper than anywof the words or touched that had passed between you. In that moment, you knew he would never push you further than you were ready to go.

With that he found yours once more, tender and slow, as though savoring every second of the shared intimacy. The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you— silent connected and united in that moment.

After the show ended, you and Mingyu returned to the real world, not as winners of the grand prize but as something far more valuable — partners in both love and ambition. The cameras stopped rolling, the bright lights faded, but the bond you’d forged under their glare remained steady.

Life didn’t slow down for either of you. The buzz from the show brought a wave of attention. Companies, producers, and directors sent offers for TV appearances, brand deals, and interviews. It was tempting to ride the wave of fame, but both of you had bigger dreams.

You decided it was finally time to build the dream you’d put off for too long — your own advertising studio. With the influx of opportunities, you knew you had the leverage to pitch your ideas to major companies. Your days were filled with back-to-back meetings, portfolio revisions, and late nights spent sketching out concepts. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours. Every deal you closed felt like a victory. Every successful pitch fueled your belief that you were on the right path.

Mingyu’s path was equally ambitious. The show gave him visibility beyond the restaurant scene, branding him as more than just a chef or businessman — now, he was a figure people admired for his charisma and strategic mind. Invitations poured in for him to speak at business forums, guest on entrepreneurial podcasts, and even lead masterclasses for young entrepreneurs. At first, he hesitated. "I'm just a guy who wanted to make good food," he told you one night. But you reminded him, "And now you’re a guy teaching others how to dream bigger."

His growth was undeniable. His brand expanded, his restaurant saw more foot traffic than ever, and he even started mentoring up-and-coming chefs and small business owners. Seeing him lead discussions and inspire others only made you fall for him harder. He wasn’t just chasing success — he was building a legacy.

But success came with its own weight. Long hours apart, sleepless nights spent working on deadlines, and the occasional clash of schedules tested your relationship. Some nights, you’d find yourself sitting on the couch at midnight, laptop balanced on your knees, while Mingyu’s side of the bed remained empty until the early hours of the morning.

"Hey," he'd call softly from the doorway when he finally returned. He’d sit next to you, still smelling faintly of the kitchen or the cologne he wore for his TV appearance. “You should sleep.”

“Not yet,” you’d reply, eyes still on the screen.

“Then I’m staying up with you,” he’d say, wrapping an arm around you and resting his head on your shoulder. It didn’t matter how tired he was. He stayed.

You didn’t win the show’s prize, but you won each other. And in the grand scheme of things, that felt like the ultimate victory.

The second chance you gave each other wasn’t just about romance — it was about believing in your potential and supporting each other’s growth. Mingyu often joked that you were like his "favorite investment." You’d laugh, rolling your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was true.

On your one-year anniversary after the show, Mingyu surprised you by renting out a small art gallery to showcase the work of local artists — but at the center of it was a display dedicated to your journey together. Photos, clippings from interviews, and even a mock advertisement with the words “The Greatest Partnership” were displayed on a wall.

"Cheesy, right?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Cheesy,” you admitted, eyes welling up. “But it’s perfect.”

Second chances don’t come often, but when they do, they change everything.

"Y/n, Mingyu," Jiyeon started, tilting her head with a grin. "You two are probably one of the most talked-about duos from the show. Not just for your chemistry but for what you did after. Advertising studio, business empire — it's impressive, really. But I have to ask, did either of you see this coming?"

The interviewer, a sharp-witted woman named Jiyeon, sat across from you with a notepad resting on her knee, a pen twirling between her fingers. Her smile was relaxed but knowing, like she already had her headline written.

You glanced at Mingyu, letting out a soft breath that turned into a laugh. He tilted his head toward you, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Honestly, no. We went on that show thinking, 'Okay, let's win some money, maybe get a little publicity.' But life doesn’t always work out the way you plan."

You glanced at Mingyu, eyes crinkling with affection. "Sometimes, it works out better."

“Better, huh?” Mingyu teased, nudging your arm. "She’s just being nice. We were a mess on that show."

The room filled with light laughter from the crew.

Jiyeon leaned in, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Come on, tell me the truth. The whole world saw the way you two bickered. Was it strategy, or were there… feelings?" Her gaze was pointed but playful.

You raised an eyebrow, giving her a knowing smile. "Let’s just say it wasn’t strategy."

Mingyu let out a low laugh, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "There were feelings. A lot of them. I think at one point, I didn’t know if I wanted to win the challenge or just win an argument with her." He glanced at you, his grin softening. "Turns out, I wanted both."

Your eyes flicked to him, heart squeezing in your chest. The air around you grew a little quieter, more intimate, and Jiyeon caught it instantly.

“Power couple energy,” she said, grinning as she scribbled something in her notes. "But speaking of power, I have to say, you two are the definition of 'fake it till you make it.' Advertising studio, business brand, guest speaking gigs — you’ve built something big. What’s the secret?"

Mingyu scratched the back of his neck, his classic "I'm about to sound wise" move. “For me, it’s realizing that everyone’s faking it,” he said, his voice casual but firm. "No one has it all figured out, and once I accepted that, I stopped stressing so much about looking like I did. I just acted like I belonged, kept showing up, and one day, I realized — oh, I actually do belong here now."

The crew murmured their approval, a few heads nodding.

You nodded along with them, picking up where he left off. “For me, 'faking it' meant trusting that my ideas were good, even if I wasn’t sure. I pitched my first concept to a company with zero experience behind me, but I talked like I’d done it a hundred times. It’s scary, but sometimes, you have to believe in yourself before anyone else will.”

"That’s good," Jiyeon said, pointing at both of you with her pen. "I’m stealing that for the headline. Alright, last question before we wrap this up." She flipped through her notes, eyes scanning until she found something. Her gaze lifted with a spark of mischief. "Actually, I lied. I have one more thing before we finish."

You glanced at Mingyu, suspicious. "What do you mean, 'one more thing'?"

Jiyeon smiled like she’d been sitting on a secret all day. "Well, Mingyu told our team earlier that he had a little surprise planned for you."

Your eyes darted to him, your brow furrowed. "A surprise?"

Mingyu leaned back against the couch, arms stretched along the backrest, looking far too calm for someone who was clearly up to something. “Yeah,” he said, lips twitching like he was holding back a grin. "Figured now’s a good time."

You stared at him, heart starting to pick up its pace. "Kim Mingyu, if you’re about to prank me in front of all these people—"

He shook his head, grinning like an idiot now. "Nah, not a prank. I promise."

Then, casually — too casually — he reached into the inside pocket of his blazer. Your eyes tracked his hand, and for a second, you didn’t register what you were seeing. A small, velvet box.

Your breath hitched.

“No way,” you muttered, eyes widening as your hands shot up to cover your face.

The entire room gasped, someone behind the camera whispering, “Oh my God.”

Mingyu shifted forward, already on one knee, and suddenly, the world became a soft hum around you. It felt like the lights dimmed, the cameras faded away, and the only thing you could focus on was him.

He looked up at you, his grin now gone, replaced by something raw and steady. His fingers flipped the box open, revealing a simple but breathtaking ring.

“Y/n,” he started, voice low but clear. His eyes didn’t waver once from yours. “I’ve done a lot of big things in my life — joined a show, started a business, made decisions I wasn’t sure about. But you…” He exhaled, his smile small but full of certainty. "You’re the only decision I’ve never doubted. You make everything feel possible. You make me feel possible."

Tears gathered in your eyes, one slipping down your cheek before you could stop it. You didn’t care.

“I’m not gonna do the whole ‘I can’t live without you’ speech,” he went on, eyes crinkling as he fought back his own grin. "Because I can live without you. I just really, really, really don’t want to." His voice broke just a little, and he cleared his throat.

Your chest tightened, and your hands covered your face again.

“So, I’m done waiting,” he said, eyes locked on yours with all the love in the world. “Marry me, Y/n. Be my partner for real this time.”

Silence. You could hear the click of a camera.

But none of that mattered.

You nodded, pulling your hands away from your face as tears spilled freely. "Yes," you choked out, voice trembling as a laugh escaped with it. "Yes, absolutely yes."

He let out a breath of relief, a wide, boyish grin spreading across his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, like it had always been meant to be there.

When he stood, you barely had time to think before you threw your arms around him. His arms wrapped around you instantly, his hand cradling the back of your head as he laughed into your shoulder.

“You didn’t cry this much when we lost the show,” he teased, his voice rough but filled with affection.

“Shut up,” you mumbled into his neck, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt.

The crew erupted into cheers, the sound of applause and whistles filling the room. Cameras flashed as photographers captured every second, but you didn’t care about the cameras. You pulled back just enough to look at him, still teary-eyed but grinning like a fool.

“Power couple, huh?” you said, sniffling as you wiped your cheeks.

Mingyu smiled, leaning his forehead against yours. "Yeah," he whispered, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Power couple forever.”

Jiyeon sniffled loudly, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve. "Okay, I did not come here to cry at work," she muttered, waving at the camera crew to cut the recording. "But you two are officially my favorite couple ever."

“Thank you,” you said, voice still wobbly but full of joy.

Mingyu kissed your temple, his arm never once letting you go.

No cash prize, no reality show win, but somehow, you’d still won everything.

422 notes · View notes

hirukochan · 1 year ago

Note

Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut

Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.

Severus and his sunshine

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader

warnings: Smut, loss of virginity

Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle.

It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!

“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.

“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.

You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink.

Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour.

One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.

This you can’t seem to figure out.

He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war.

Emotions are not Severus’ thing.

His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.

He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.

You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready.

“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”

“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd.

He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie.

Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.

But not in a bad way.

He looks good.

Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.

His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.

So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend.

You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.

Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.

Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.

You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.

You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work.

You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.

Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.

During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.

You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.

“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.

“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.

“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”

“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint.

“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.

“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.

“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.

Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you.

“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-

“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.

“As I said - I am here with someone.”

“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”

“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.

That’s right.

Severus is different.

He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.

“Let’s leave, Sev.”

“Come on, gorgeous!”

“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”

“Sev.”

“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

“She does not need you for that-”

“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that.

The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!

Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.

“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.

“Mh.”

“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”

“Drop it.”

“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”

“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”

“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”

“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.

“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”

“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.

“He made you cry!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean.

Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.

“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.

“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”

“I thought you’re tired.”

“Say it.”

“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.

“You sound like a spoiled child.”

“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”

“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.

“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad.

“Black’s a bastard-”

“This is Warren all over again!”

“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.

“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”

“I-”

“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it.

You have always been Severus’ safespace.

He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting.

Why can’t he tell you this?

Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod.

You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.

You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.

“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”

“Sunshine-”

“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings.

Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver.

“I love you.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely.

Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.

“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face.

You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner...

And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-

“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I thought you love Lily.”

“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”

Severus loves you.

Has loved you for years.

Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.

Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.

Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips.

As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him.

You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.

Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.

Everything is good.

“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you.

He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.

“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.

He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?

“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.

“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.

Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.

The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.

“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.

“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”

“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re here…”

“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.

“Warren-?”

“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.

“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.

“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”

“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”

“Me?”

“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”

“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.

“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile.

He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.

You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.

“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.

“Severus-”

“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.

“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”

“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.

“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”

“It will.”

“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.

“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you.

You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.

You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.

“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.

“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.

He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.

“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.

Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.

He loves you.

You still can’t believe it.

“Sev!”

“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.

“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans.

“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.

“Sunshine-”

“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.

“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.

When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.

But he’ll never lose you.

You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”

“It’s your first time I will not-”

“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”

“Sun-”

“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”

The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.

“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind.

Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.

“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.

Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long.

It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure.

Severus is not good with words.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.

“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.

To you he is worth it.

He always was and will always be.

You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.

“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.

He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.

“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”

“Sev-”

“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder.

You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.

Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.

“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.

“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.

“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.

“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”

“Hmm…very metal.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why’d you get it then?”

“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.

“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”

“Idiot.” You giggle.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Cum inside me.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.

His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Severus!”

“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”

“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises.

Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.

Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.

You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.

Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”

“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.

“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow.

“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”

“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw.

So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.

“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”

You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you.

You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.

You send an owl to Dumbledore.

You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.

Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.

“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“Together?”

“Together. I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

#severus snape #snape fandom #ao3 fanfic #severus snape smut #Severus Snape x reader #snape x reader #snape x you #request #dividers by cafekitsune

4K notes · View notes

wolfiesmoon · 1 year ago

Note

Hey I hope you are doing well when ever you are reading this but how do you think the 3rd year boys from twst would react to their s/o (gn reader) cuddling with a huge plush instead of them.

Like this.

Oh boy oh boy this kinda cures my writers block tbh, i have so many drafts but none of em look enticing enough to continue writing (´д｀|||)

I took out a few of the 3rd years bc its too many people for 1 fic but i might make a part 2 where i add the missing 3rd years at some point

i went with the more silly writing style again, hope that's fine by you ○( ＾皿＾)っ

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Malleus Draconia

He doesn't exactly get why, but he feels kinda annoyed just laying next to you while you hug a big ol plushie

This doesn't feel right🫤

But then again, you look rlly happy and satisfied so he stays quiet since if you're happy, he's happy (he desperately wants to be in the plushy's place)

When you playfully kiss the plush though, that rule no longer applies. After all, his rightful spot is in your arms🫠

He nudges you. "Put the stuffed animal away."

"You sound angry." You smirk and kiss the plush again, knowing he's probably annoyed about that

without another word, he pulls the plushy out of your hands and settles down in its place

"I am a much better than that object. Just so you know." he smiled smugly, expecting a kiss on the cheek just like you gave to the plushie earlier

you kissed him on the lips instead just to see his eyes widen and his face go red ofc 😏

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Leona Kingscholar

basically, it is NOT happening

"hell no." is the only thing he says before ripping the poor plushie out of your arms and chucking it across the room

like actually how DARE you try to replace him with a plushie

"Why would you do that?" You pouted at him, looking at the now discarded plushy from the bed🤕

"You know damn well why." He huffed, laying down on top of you without warning which tends to be a habit of his

"Because that's my spot, got it?" He answered for you. clearly you forgot😒

"Uhhh, right." you answered after a short pause...

"I won't remind you next time." he sounded rlly annoyed. it's kinda funny how worked up he got over a plushy replacing him 🤭

this also means he won't let you get up for like.... atleast 2 hours to atone for your sins

moral of the story: don't do this again unless you want a ripped up plushie and a pissed off lion man😠

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Idia Shroud

"This is so unfair. Even worse than an OP boss. " he sighed dramatically, laying down besides you and pouting at the sight og a huge plushie in your arms

"pick up the sock if you have enough energy to complain." you turned away from him, still annoyed with him

being the epic gamer he is (😎💯), he discarded one of his socks in the middle of his room and didn't feel like picking it up later even after you told him to

...which ended with you refusing to cuddle with him until he does pick up the sock

after a short while of very awkward silence...

he groaned in annoyance, begrudgingly getting up and finally picking up the sock, then leaving the room to put it in the wash

you smirked victoriously, placing the plushie away as promised and letting him hug you instead

"The things you make me do, smh." he sighed, relaxing into you 😒

"Picking up a singular sock?" you teased him, hugging him back

He didn't reply so that means it's your victory 😝

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Vil Schoenheit

this is an unforgivable offense, just because you had a little disagreement earlier doesn't mean you can just replace him with a plushie😠

love transcends disagreements, after all

does not help at all that the plushie's cute round face reminds him of a certain thorn in his side named Neige LeBlanche😒

he sighs, "I may have been too harsh back there."

your only reply is an annoyed huff and you hug the plushie tighter which makes one of those anime veins pop up on his face 💢

he takes a deep breath "It was not my intention to hurt your... sensibilities." he's trying babe, he's really trying

You don't reply for a moment...

"Ugh." you throw the plushie away and hug him tightly "This doesn't mean I forgive you, just for the record."

"I still stand by my opinion too, just worded less harshly." he gently puts an arm around you, stroking your back

it was only a matter of time until you gave up with your stubborn pettiness, soon you'll forgive him too, he'll make sure of that 😌

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Lilia Vanrouge

He's actually surprisingly chill about it i feel like

He wouldn't get annoyed or be jealous per se, he'd just get a little sad it's not him you're hugging😔

he's there, you know? there's no need for a plushie...

"Am I not satisfactory enough?" He asks half playfully half seriously

"In what sense?" you totally knew what he meant but just wanted to tease him back

"Hey, isn't this supposed to be the other way around?" he smiled at you, immediately knowing what you were playing at

"Hahaha, you know me too well." you kiss his cheek, yet you still don't let go of the plushie which makes him pout

"I see you have found yourself a new lover." his eyes travel to the plushie for a moment, the betrayal is real😔🙏🏻

"You got a problem with him?" you raised a brow 🤨

"A little." he hugged you from the back, getting comfy

"Okay fine, maybe my ex is the better one after all." you let go of the plushie and turned around to hug him back 💗

2K notes · View notes

littlefireball · 7 months ago

Note

can you do a fic with Ateez Seonghwa x virgin reader? Where she never even touched herself, never orgasmed or squirted so Seognwha does all that and they go the full way but she bleeds when he goes in but mother seognwha knows what to say to push her through and get her to the pleasure. From their she squirts on him while he goes rough?

🐈‍⬛

I add some settings on it (⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠) hope you like it

ꜱʜ|ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇᴀʀꜱ (ᴀ/ᴍ)

ꜰᴀᴋᴇ ɢᴏᴅ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ x ꜱᴀᴄʀɪꜰɪᴄɪᴀʟ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.2ᴋ

In a secluded and desolate village, an inexplicable prosperity has taken root, defying all logic and expectations. The villagers attribute this miraculous transformation to the blessing of a mysterious deity, whose influence has brought life back to the barren land.

However, this prosperity comes at a grim cost - the sacrifice of an 18-year-old virgin every hundred years. The purity and sincerity of the sacrifice are believed to prolong the village's prosperity, as decreed by the deity worshipped by the villagers.

For unmarried women like you, reaching the age of eighteen brings a looming nightmare rather than the promise of adulthood. From a young age, you've witnessed your younger brother bask in the favor and attention of your family, while you remained in the shadows, neglected and unappreciated.

To your parents, you are merely a pawn in their pursuit of wealth. If you marry into a prosperous family before turning eighteen, it's deemed a success; but if you remain unmarried, you are destined to be the sacrificial offering.

Growing up devoid of love, surrounded by loneliness and ignorance, you've struggled against the unfair expectations placed upon you. Despite your efforts to resist, you were met with scolding and mistreatment, leaving you isolated and unheard.

One day, as your entitled brother demanded your servitude, you felt a surge of resentment at his audacity. Reluctantly complying with his demands, you couldn't shake the bitterness that had taken root within you.

Confronting him about his reckless behavior with the family's money, you were met with denial and deflection. Your parents, quick to defend your brother, silenced your attempts to speak up, leaving you feeling betrayed and abandoned.

As you were confined to the cabin, awaiting the inevitable sacrifice on your eighteenth birthday, the weight of injustice and abandonment pressed heavily upon you. The darkness surrounding you mirrored the bitterness that had seeped into your soul, a stark contrast to the prosperity that had come at such a high price.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, laughter still echoed through the halls of your home. They looked forward to the moment you die as it meant they could live a new, prosperous life.

Their words only served to fuel the fire of resentment burning within you but you could do nothing.

You often wondered what your fate would be, knowing that the day of sacrifice loomed closer with each passing sunrise. The thought of being offered up to appease the deity, to maintain the facade of prosperity, filled you with a mix of fear and defiance.

—--

Night fell, casting a cloak of shadows over the altar as the ritual neared its zenith.

"Let us offer our gratitude to the Y/L/N family for their generous contribution!" The priest's voice boomed, the family members standing by, basking in the adulation of others, oblivious to their true nature.

Their affections lay with money and their son, not with you.

"Their daughter shall shape our destiny!" The air was heavy with incense and the eerie chants of the priests, their ominous words sending shivers down your spine.

You knelt at the heart of the altar, adorned in lavish garments but devoid of any semblance of joy. Seeing them pretending vaguely, a surge of resentment welled up in your heart. The unvented anger transformed into tears, cascading down your cheeks and saturating the eye mask, yet no one took notice. Memories of the past raced through your mind as the priest drew near; jealousy, anger, sadness, all negative emotions flooding your thoughts.

You felt yourself unraveling, the echoing laughter pushing you towards the brink of collapse. Desperate to block out the sound, you reached for your ears, only to find yourself restrained; yearning to break free, yet bound by invisible chains.

The priest's approach felt ominous, a foreboding presence signaling impending doom. You shook your head in denial, attempting to resist his advance, but the relentless footsteps shattered your resolve. You didn't want to die, there were still so many unfinished tasks; you didn't want them to prosper, to lead a life of luxury… What you craved was vengeance.

“Offer yourself to our God!”

“No! I refuse to meet my end like this!”

“There is no escape, child! Your destiny is to be a sacrifice! It is your duty!”

“NO! Even in death, I will not let you win! I will not make it easy for you!”

“What nonsense is this?!” “Just end her life!!”

With a swift motion, he thrust a sword towards your heart, invoking the deity's power.

But instead of searing pain and spilled blood, darkness enveloped you, wrapping you in an eerie silence.

Panting heavily, you realized you were not hurt. Unable to see anything as you were blindfolded, you could only follow the sound.

"Let me see this year's sacrifice," a voice echoed through the church, accompanied by the slow approach of footsteps, causing your heartbeat to speed up because of nervousness.

As the figure drew closer, Seonghwa knelt before you, lifting your chin to gaze upon your graceful form draped in black sheer fabric.

"It seems good, huh? But your resentment is the strongest among all the sacrifices I've seen," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip and cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. Nervously, you swallowed saliva and made a barely audible sound.

“Don’t want to be mine? That’s nice, you know?” His gaze shifted from your trembling throat to your chest, where the metal bra accentuated your ample bosom. The sheer fabric did little to quell his burning desire. He leaned in and planted a kiss on your chest. This sudden act made you recoil slightly, unable to find a word.

“You hate me, huh?” Again, you swallowed nervously but did not dare to answer. Hate him? Maybe? Were it not for his presence, you would not have been chosen as a sacrifice. But, it was your so-called family members who did evil things. This was a simple question but you didn’t know how to answer it.

"Speak, girl. I hate it when others don’t answer my questions," he demanded in displeasure. Although you couldn’t see his face, you could still feel his anger.

"I… I apologize," you stuttered, fear gripping you and preventing you from relaxing. Seonghwa smirked, relishing in the feeling of others obeying his commands.

“So, what’s your answer?”

“I…hate…I hate them all.” He raised his eyebrows and said provocatively, “So, it's because of me that you hate them. Am I right, girl?”

“I…” You found yourself momentarily struck silent by fear. But upon reflection, you realized there was nothing left to fear - you were already deceased, after all.

“Yes.” After a deep breath, you found the courage to speak. “If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been chosen as a sacrifice, and I wouldn't be… disliked.” Your unexpected response caught him off guard, as he had never encountered someone who didn't desire his attention.

Determined to sway your opinion, he sought to engage you further.

“What is your name, my dear?” His tone softened, coaxing you to reveal yourself. Surprisingly, he did not react with anger.

“Y…Y/N…”

"Y/N, a beautiful name," His voice, deep and alluring, stirred something within you.

"Relax, Y/N. Why the tension? Tonight, we shall indulge in my desires. But fret not, for it promises to be an enjoyable experience.”

His touch traced a path from your face, down your neck, shoulders, and arms. The cool sensation sent shivers down your spine, igniting a tingling warmth that spread through your body, eliciting a soft, hesitant sigh from you.

“And I’ll change your mind."

His gaze fell upon the handcuffs on your wrists, your delicate wrists trembling slightly, arousing his perverse desire for dominance. He whispered in your ear, his voice extremely seductive, licking and gently biting your earlobe, teasingly grazing your ear.

"Umm…" A shiver ran down your spine as an electric current coursed through your ear, and your body temperature raised, causing your cheeks to redden.

"You're really sensitive, aren't you?" He licked the back of your ear, the sound of his tongue against your skin stimulating your nerves, making you tremble; his lips gradually moved downwards, pecking at your collarbone, sucking on your fine skin, leaving faint red marks.

“Did you touch yourself before?”

“What is touch…?” Smiling, he held your hand while trailing down to your lower core, and slowly got closer to your clit.

“It feels good.” He guided your hand, his slender fingers stroking your clit with a gentle touch, slowly sunk down to your lower core. As both of your fingers entered your cunt, a tingling sensation spread through your body, eliciting soft moans of pleasure. Seonghwa's satisfied smile encouraged you to explore further.

"Come, fuck with me," he whispered. You felt a mix of excitement and curiosity as you pleasured yourself under his guidance. The sensation of his touch, combined with your own exploration, sent waves of pleasure through you.

His hands enveloped your back, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric, soothing your nerves. Your breath quickened, heart racing as he increased the intensity of his movements, his lips trailing kisses along your neck, drawing out soft whimpers of delight.

His velvety lips teased and tantalized your skin, his breath hot against your ear, igniting a fire within you. Your body instinctively responded, allowing him closer as his hands held you close, pulling you into his embrace.

A soft moan escaped your lips, spurring him on, his desire growing with each sound you made. Your body responded eagerly, the climax building within you, your walls tightening around your fingers, urging them deeper. It was so weird but exciting. You could tell there was something inside your body, as you touched it, a numb feeling surged throughout your body.

"You're doing so well, my dear," he praised, a blush rising to your cheeks at his words. “I’m gonna…oh gosh!” You shut your eyes tightly as the climax was about to take over you. “Cum, girl.”With a final, shy moan, you reached your peak, the pleasure overwhelming you.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek before withdrawing. A pang of emptiness lingered, but his question brought a spark of anticipation to your eyes.

"More?" he asked, lifting your chin and drawing you closer. With a nod and a shy smile, you whispered, "Yes, I want more."

"Good. All I can think about is how good you're going to taste." Before the words even finished, he pounced on you, the cold touch of the ground sending shivers down your spine. He reached for the buttons on the back of your neck, undressing you from the waist up, leaving your chest fully exposed.

He buried his head between your breasts, continuously sucking and licking. You keenly felt his tongue swirling around your nipple, causing a tingling sensation. The wet and warm feeling enveloped your left breast, while his hand gently squeezed and massaged your right breast, occasionally flicking the nipple with his thumb.

"Ah…" The stimulation on your body made you shyly moan, igniting his desire even more. He lifted his head and kissed your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave marks on the skin that were no longer pale red but slightly darkened purple.

He admired his love bites while appreciating your beauty. "You're so fucking gorgeous." He growled like a wild animal against your chest, now it's time to unleash the beast inside him.

"Put your hands on your head. You can't put them down without my permission, understand?" You obeyed his command and raised your hands.

He removed all his clothing, kneeling completely naked in front of you, and pressed against your outer lips, occasionally grazing your hole. His erect member has been uncomfortably constrained by his tight pants for far too long.

“It may hurt a little bit. But it's gonna be fun, don’t worry.” He entered your cunt in one go, making you throw your head against the ground. His huge cock was much different from his fingers and tongue─that’s harder, longer, and thicker.

The intense pain was almost unbearable, as if your lower core was being torn apart. Blood flowed, wetting his thick cock and even dripping onto the floor. Your body burned like a flame, sweating all over your body.

"You're bleeding, babe. Does it hurt?" His voice was soft as silk, gently tugging at your heartstrings in a way no one ever had before.

"Yes… it hurts," you managed to reply through the discomfort. "Don't cry, just try to relax." He leaned in to place a tender kiss on your forehead, his simple gesture of concern bringing tears to your eyes. Despite the pain in your lower body, it felt like nothing compared to the past beatings you had endured.

He kissed you gently, offering comfort without any aggression. There were no bites, no invasion of tongues, just sweet and tender kisses. Your lips met softly, filled with warmth and affection. The pain slowly faded, replaced by a growing desire. You wanted him to move, to pleasure you with his gentleness.

"Please, my god," you whispered between kisses, causing him to pause. "I think I'm okay now."

"Tell me what you want, darling. Just say it," he encouraged.

"I want you to move, please," you requested, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

"Don't hate me now?" He chuckled at your reaction, finding you utterly adorable.

"Kidding," Before his lips met yours again and he began to thrust rhythmically. The pace was perfect, neither too rough nor too gentle.

"Ah, my god!" Every thrust hit the right spot inside you, eliciting a cascade of sensations. Your body responded by producing more moisture, adjusting to the feeling of his cock sliding in and out.

The warmth and wetness enveloped his cock, driving him to the edge of sanity. Combined with the sucking sensation, it was impossible for him to hold back.

"You're so tight, I can't handle fucking it." He wanted to fuck you as hard as possible, but not now. He needed you adjust first. He could see your past─what you have endured, how your so-called family treated you. Horrible memories invaded his mind, and although he wasn't frightened by them, he felt pity for you.

“oh my pretty.” He moved faster but not rough at all. His wet chest pressed against yours, letting you feel his strong muscles and physique. Oh shit, you loved this feeling so much, you felt so tiny under his frame. The pain you felt before has already disappeared far away and replaced by endless pleasure and lust.

Settling your legs around his waist, he entered deeper and you bent even more. He first pulled out a bit, and then pushed in fully, repeated over and over again. Every time he thrust deep, he couldn’t help but whimper as he saw how your chest shook from his movement.

“Moan for me, my doll.” You obeyed his words and moaned loudly, accompanied by the sound of skin slapping, forming a beautiful melody in Seonghwa 's ears. He pulled you up, making you sit on his thighs. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he thrust upward that made you throw your head.

Following his movement, you bounced in a slow pace. He trailed down to cup your ass cheeks to pull you closer. Your lips met again as he leaned down to kiss you. This kiss was like the breeze blowing through the petals, full of tenderness, giving you a numbness.

Seonghwa placed you back to the ground gently before turning you over. "Want me to be rough?" "Be rough with me, my god." In the momentary withdrawal, he turned you over directly, and once again entered from behind. His hands pressed against your waist, controlling the movement of your body back and forth, causing your breasts to violently shake.

“Ahh, please, keep going.” “Of course, my little whore.” He cupped your breast while squeezing your nipples and showered your nape with kisses. The scent of you fills his nostrils, very tempting.

He gradually lost control and snapped into your ass with only raw emotion. Sat up straight again to push himself even closer to your limit. He could feel his cock twitch every time he went deep and you moaned loudly. He was going to cum but he wanted you cum first. He needed it, needed to feel your warmth once again wrapped up his cock.

“Baby, I want you cum, cum for my cock. I need you.” His words and thrusting made you dizzy. Everything was overwhelming. You totally lost in the pleasure as he kept sinking down to hit your g spot.

“Hmmmm…Ahhh…please.” There was one more step to reach your climax. Seonghwa knew it as he slid down his hand to your clit. He continued to thrust while stroking, pushing you to climax.

The stimulation all over your body was like an electric current, which not only sent shivers down your spine, but also made the flame of desire in your body bursted out.

You found that the more you press down on your waist, the deeper his cock could go. Desire had already replaced your thinking. You lowered your body as much as possible and spread your legs so that you could reach climax as his arching member deep inside you.

“Your pussy feels amazing, you do that so well. Cum for me, babe.” ”Ah~my god~” You squirted with a high-pitched groan and Seonghwa came after a few thrusts. Your legs were shaking like a leaf and knees went weak. You fell to the ground, out of breath, your body having been drained of all your strength by lust.

“Are you okay, babe?” Seonghwa gently turned you over and took off your blindfold. The sudden light hitting your eyes made you very uncomfortable, but you quickly adapted. A handsome face came into view, and you could finally see Seonghwa 's appearance.

“I’m fine, my god.” He brushed your hair, gave you a loving smile and slowly picked you up before withdrawing from you. His hand trailed down to caress your lower core, full of his seeds. “Not hurt at all, hm?” You shook your head and replied to him with a smile. He chuckled at your smile, pulling you closer to rest on his shoulder.

“You’re mine now. No one will hurt you.” Seonghwa patted your head and pecked on it, making your tears welled up your eyes. Oh, maybe he was truly a god that loved his people…no, or I should say, his sacrifice. Who tells him love having sex so much?

But there was one thing he couldn't lie about. He was a little heartbroken when he found out about your past. At the very beginning, he thought that was only an illusion but his feelings toward you gradually changed. You seemed to be different from those girls he met.

-----

“Darling?" He called you darling every time because he found you liked this name.

“Yes, hwa?" You turned around to give him a peck.

“I killed all the people you hated. Did I do well?” He wrapped his arms around your waist while inhaling your scent. Your eyes widened a bit as you never expected that he would slaughter the whole village.

"You killed them...?"

"Yes, darling. I can do anything you want because I am your God."

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa smut

550 notes · View notes