#of course it's about them it's always about them

[classyrbf]

classmate!gojo part 2!

classmate!gojo who has been losing his mind trying to figure out who his mystery girl is. He’d assume it’s someone he knows, someone he hangs around, maybe one of the well known girls in his class. But looking at them, he didn’t really get that vibe. Sure they’d flirt with him, always hang around him, and that would be way too obvious. Despite being a part time investigator along with being a college student, that hasn’t stopped gojo from chatting with you. Still, everyday, you and him are sending pictures and videos back and forth and texting.

gojo: just tell me who you are, baby, promise I won’t bite ;)

you: where’s the fun in that, hm?

you laugh at knowing he’s frustrated. You see it on his face everyday when he walks into class, looking at his phone constantly and his eyes scanning the room. He does it in the cafe area as well when hanging with his friend, looking to see if any girl might fit his description of you. But of course, he never looks your way, completely disregarding your existence until late in the night when you’re both horny for each other. You can’t help but send him a video of you fucking your self with your dildo, your phone set up perfectly where you can’t see your face, but can see everything else. And you fuck yourself until you squirt all over your bedroom floor, legs shaking as you imagine it’s his cock.

poor gojo is just losing his mind behind the screen, listening to your moans and watching you squirt over and over, but all he’s thinking about is your face. Doesn’t stop him from getting off though. Of course he’s jerking his cock. Roughly. All the frustration is really getting to him. “Fuck! You’re really fucking teasing me, baby. You know that?”

the cycle continues for several days, until one day he misses class. What’s the problem in that? It’s the fact he needed the notes from that lecture and of course his friends never write them down. So, who did the professor direct him to? You. He’s walking up to you so casually, a bored look on his face as you’re sitting in your seat, palms sweating and internally freaking out. “Don’t mean to bother you, but do you have the notes from the last lecture?” He sighs in annoyance, adjusting his backpack.

“Oh, um…yeah, let me just…” You reach down into your bag and doing so, gojo noticed the color of your nails, his brows furrowing. They looked familiar.

“Nice nails,” he said. You couldn’t be his mystery girl, could you? No, no it was just a coincidence. You’re just some quiet, shy, and nerdy girl who keeps to herself. No way you fit in the description.

You pause for a moment, handing him your notes. “Thanks,” you mutter, quickly standing from your seat.

“Wait, don’t you want these back?” He asked, curious as to why you were in such a rush.

“Keep em, I have a picture of them on my phone.” You grab your bag and hurriedly walk away from him, your heart pounding against your chest. Gojo watches as you disappear from the lecture hall, immediately pulling out his phone to pull up a saved picture of his mystery girl, endlessly scrolling through pictures and videos to find one with your hands.

He stops at a video of you groping your tits, eyes widening when he notices the same color nails and design. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No fucking way.” He shoves his phone in his pocket, quickly following after you, wherever you went. But he doesn’t know that you left home for the day, completely avoiding him.

You can’t believe you got so close to him today, so close you could smell his cologne and hear his voice in person. Just thinking about it had you so horny, so wet. And when he complimented your nails? It meant he was actually checking you out! His eyes were on you! “He talked to me!” You squealed, running to your room, locking your bedroom door and slipping your panties off from under your skirt. “He talked to me…he was looking at me…” You sink your fingers into your already soaked cunt, eyes fluttering shut as you move them faster, pressing against your g-spot.

Gojo stared at his phone, debating whether to text you. He needed to really see if you were his mystery girl. He needed to investigate a little more, meaning he needed to watch your every move before confronting you. “Can’t believe you really might be her,” he sighed, biting down on his bottom lip. “Those tits, that ass, that pussy, all belonging to a sweet little thing like you? Can’t be…” Gojo couldn’t help himself, palming his semi-hard cock through his jeans. “Shit, baby,” he moaned, undoing his jeans, pulling out his cock. His eyes shut, remembering the cute look on your face when he walked up to you, and he could smell your perfume too, and that voice…yeah, he could recognize that voice anywhere. You’re definitely her. “I hope you’re thinking about me too. Fuck that. I know you’re thinking about me,” he breathily chuckles, slowly fisting his cock to your pictures.

“You were so close to me today, mmmph—fuck!” You rub your clit in circles, watching a video of him jerking off his pretty cock. “Wish you would’ve bent me over and fucked me right there—ah!” You heavily pant, hips twitching. “I need more!” You reach over into your bedside drawer, pulling out your dildo. “Want your cock inside me, Toru,” you moan. “Please say you’re thinking about me too, please!”

You know he knows. He has to. Why else would he compliment your nails? And why hasn’t he texted you yet? You’ve scared him off. Of course he doesn’t want anything to do with you. But you’ll have your fun while it lasts.

I know I left it on a cliffhanger (I’m super evil 😈 )

[moonlightwritingf1]

Starved | LN4

𓂃۶ৎ summary ━━━━━━━ After three weeks apart, Y/N and Lando finally reunite in a frenzy of teasing, need, and uncontrollable desire. He tries to pace himself, to savor every second, but she knows exactly how to make him come—whispering filthy words, dragging her nails down his back, squeezing around him just right. Lando, breathless and wrecked, gives in completely, fucking her like he’s been starving for it, like he needs to make up for every second they’ve spent apart. 

𓂃۶ৎ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

𓂃۶ৎ word count ━━━━━━━ 6.7k

𓂃۶ৎ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, teasing, double creampie?

Based on this request.

The front door swung open with a creak, and before Y/N could fully register the rush of excitement coursing through her, Lando was already there—bag in hand, hair messy from travel, his eyes lit with an almost fervent need. The energy in her apartment shifted the moment he stepped inside. It was late, nearly midnight, and the city hummed quietly outside the windows. Y/N’s heart stuttered at the sight of him.

He set his luggage against the wall and straightened, looking at her with that hungry, burning gaze he’d worn ever since their early days of flirting. The difference now, after a year of dating, was that the tension was more intense than ever. Distance had stretched the longing between them like a tight elastic band—and it threatened to snap the second they touched.

Y/N stood barefoot in her cozy living room, wearing a pair of snug sweatpants and a slightly oversized hoodie. There was something about how Lando looked at her, even in that mundane outfit, that sparked an electric current across her skin. He seemed to devour her with his eyes.

His voice came out as a quiet rasp. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

She offered a slow, teasing smile and let her eyes drag along the planes of his face. “Oh, I think I might have an idea,” she teased, a little smirk curling her lips. “You look half-crazed with desperation.”

“Desperate doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he breathed. The weight of his stare lingered, unapologetically roaming over her body.

She gestured him closer, but deliberately inched backward, coaxing him to follow. Ever since they’d gotten together, she’d found a sort of magnetic pleasure in making him chase her. Lando always went along with it too—like he craved the thrill of being pulled right to her edge and then reeled back in slowly.

He dropped his coat on a nearby chair and caught her wrist gently, thumbing over her pulse. It was racing, and his grip tightened the slightest bit as he leaned in.

Her breath fluttered. “You could’ve at least pretended not to have missed me too much,” she teased, as he began planting soft kisses along her jawline.

He gave a low chuckle against her skin. “Trust me, I’ve done enough pretending on camera. Smiling for the fans, interviews, media days. But thinking of you was… dangerous.” He exhaled, warm breath ghosting over her ear. “I kept picturing your face, remembering the way you tease me, the way you say my name in that stubborn little tone you’ve perfected. It drove me mad.”

She practically purred at his confession. “So you want me to make it up to you, then?”

“Every day. Every hour. Right now,” he replied, tone edging on a plea. His lips found hers in a slow, sensual kiss that carried weeks of pent-up desire.

A needy hum slipped from Y/N’s mouth. He tasted faintly of mint gum, and the edges of his lips cracked into a half-smile as they kissed, like he found it strangely amusing to be so utterly at her mercy. When they finally pulled back, both were breathing hard.

“Missed me that bad, huh?” she whispered, nibbling her bottom lip in that way she knew drove him crazy.

Lando groaned softly. “You love torturing me, don’t you?”

She only answered with an impish grin. “Possibly.”

His chest tightened at that playful spark in her eyes. “But we have to move this somewhere else,” he murmured, glancing pointedly at the couch, then the door leading to the bedroom. The effort to remain calm was evident. His voice, though laced with need, carried a distinct note of self-control.

She raised a brow. “Feeling impatient already? Big day tomorrow?” Her playful tone jabbed at him.

“Y/N,” he murmured, pressing the syllables of her name slowly. “It’s been weeks since I last saw you—properly. I’ve had to settle for phone calls, FaceTimes…not enough.”

Her heart throbbed with sympathy and arousal all at once. He reached for her waist, but she sidestepped him in the smallest, most maddening way, letting his fingers slip over her hip without fully connecting. Then she turned and started walking toward the bedroom, tossing a glance over her shoulder.

“Come on then,” she invited, voice laced with teasing.

He tried to hide how quickly he was following, how urgent his strides were. The bedroom light was dim, a warm glow casting shadows on the walls. Y/N pulled off her hoodie and tossed it onto the chair in the corner. Underneath, she wore a simple cropped tank top that hinted at the curves Lando knew all too well. He swallowed hard.

She gave him an unhurried once-over. The crisp T-shirt and jeans he wore clung just right. His shoulders seemed broader than the last time she’d seen him in person, a testament to relentless training, and it made her mouth go dry with anticipation.

He strode closer. “You’re about to kill me,” he muttered against her lips, hooking a finger under her chin to bring her face back up to his.

She let out a low laugh. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, eyes dancing with mischief.

He brushed his mouth over hers. His hands found the hem of her tank top, lifting it slowly. Skin against skin, everything was scorching—like her body remembered the heat of him. As the soft fabric slid up, goosebumps rippled over her arms. He paused just before fully removing it, his thumbs circling the sides of her waist in a torturously gentle motion.

“That’s because I am,” he whispered, catching her gaze. “I’m lovesick, and I’m about to break if you don’t let me have you right now.”

Her cheeks flushed with pleasure at his words. She let her arms rise, letting him tug the tank top off fully. Once discarded, her bare skin was exposed to the gentle glow of the lamp, and Lando’s eyes roamed over her with a reverence that made her pulse hammer.

He captured her lips again, deeper this time, and she hummed into his mouth. As his fingertips drifted up her ribs, she arched just enough to let him know she wanted his touch. But something in how he was moving felt restrained, cautious—and she understood why. He’d hinted at it more than once over their late-night calls—his voice low, edged with need. After weeks apart, he was afraid he’d barely last, that the moment he finally had her beneath him, wrapped around him, he’d come undone too fast.

When she slipped her hand over the front of his jeans, he inhaled sharply, body going rigid under her palm. “Careful,” he rasped, exhaling through clenched teeth. “I’m on a fragile edge, princess.”

“Princess?” she echoed with a low laugh, leaning up to nibble gently at his jaw. “That’s new. I like it.”

He let out a strangled chuckle. “You can make fun of me all you want, but you’re not helping my… self-control.”

Her lips curved into a dangerous smile. “Who says I want to help that?”

His breath hitched again as her hand roamed lower. She was only half-teasing, but the effect on him was immediate. He tried to focus on reigning in the rush of sensations. He was determined not to finish in what he jokingly referred to as “three strokes and a heartbreak.” Still, the desperation in him built. Every inch of him blazed as if starved for her.

“You’re absolutely lethal,” he breathed, capturing her mouth in a series of hungry kisses. He struggled to keep them slow, to drag them out when all he truly wanted was to lose himself.

Her responses were equally heated, equally needy. Her fingernails grazed lightly across his chest as she pulled his T-shirt up. She wanted every second of this, yet found a thrill in matching his struggle—knowing he was hoovering on the brink, but wanting to draw it out, to savor every moment of this union that they’d both waited far too long for.

He moaned quietly into her mouth when she slid his jeans down over his hips, grazing the sensitive skin just above the waistband of his boxers. “I need you,” he whispered, a raw edge to his tone. “But I’m trying to—God, I’m trying not to—”

She silenced him with another kiss, swallowing his groan. “Shh, you’re fine,” she reassured softly. There was a gentle tease in her voice, but also a note of real affection. She loved that he cared so much about not rushing, about savoring every touch.

She reached behind herself, letting her sweatpants slip off. Lando couldn’t help but stare, throat bobbing, voice strangled with desire. “You’re perfect,” he managed to say.

She gave him a look that was warm and amused. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

He trailed his hands along her waist, fingertips pressing into flesh that was already sensitive under his touch. Their kisses became a frantic dance of tongues and whispers. Her hand crept around his neck, and she guided him onto the bed, pushing him gently until he was lying back against the pillows.

Climbing on top of him, she leaned down, hair falling like a curtain around their faces. “Lando?” she murmured, voice honeyed with both affection and playfulness.

“Yeah?” His hands settled on her hips, kneading softly.

“You realize how adorable you are when you’re this desperate?” she teased, a mischievous spark lighting her gaze.

He let out a mock groan of frustration. “Adorable is not the vibe I’m going for,” he mumbled, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Fine,” she relented with a smirk of her own. “How about ‘hot as hell’ then?”

“That’s more like it.” He lifted his head enough to catch her mouth with his, losing himself momentarily in the sweetness of her lips. But the moment she straddled him, the heat of her pussy pressing along the rigid length of his cock, his breath hitched—sharp and unsteady. He gasped, tilting his head back against the pillow before dragging his eyes to hers, voice raw with desperation. “Sorry,” he panted. “Give me—give me a second.”

She stroked his cheek with unexpected tenderness. “We have all night,” she murmured, though her own voice shook with barely contained desire. “No need to rush.”

A shaky laugh escaped him. “Easy for you to say.”

She braced her hands on his shoulders, feeling the tense muscle beneath. “Let me take the lead for a bit, hmm?” Her tone was simultaneously soothing and heavy with suggestion.

His eyes fluttered shut at the mere offer, a shiver of anticipation running through him. “God, yes,” he whispered.

Y/N trailed slow, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck, down to his chest. The soft sighs escaping him fueled her confidence. She used the tip of her tongue to trace small patterns, peppering each touch with a light graze of her teeth. Meanwhile, his hands remained at her hips, occasionally gripping, occasionally loosening, as if he couldn’t decide whether to let go or hold on tight.

Every breath he took sounded labored. She could practically feel his heart pounding against her palm when she slid her hand across his chest. “You okay down there?” she teased.

He swallowed, eyes fluttering open to find hers. “Just struggling to hold back a bit,” he admitted with a self-conscious grin. “Last thing I want is to pass out from excitement.”

Her laugh was low and husky, dripping with wicked intent. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his ear, her breath hot and teasing as she whispered,

“You know, I was gonna be good tonight… but then I felt how fucking hard you are for me, and now all I can think about is how deep I can take you down my throat before you start begging me to breathe.”

Lando let out a sharp, ragged exhale, his hands gripping her hips like they were the only thing keeping him grounded. She smirked, letting her nails scrape down his chest before sliding back up to his throat, her fingers curling just enough to make his Adam’s apple bob.

“And you keep saying you’ll finish too fast,” she went on, voice syrupy and sweet, “but baby, I want you to. I wanna feel you lose control, make a mess of me, then get hard again while I’m still licking your come off my lips.”

His whole body shuddered beneath her, his head pressing back into the pillows as he let out a strangled groan. She grinned, shifting her hips just enough to drag her soaked pussy along the length of his cock, the sensation making him curse under his breath.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she cooed, tilting her head mockingly. “Don’t tell me I’ve got you speechless already. We haven’t even gotten to the part where I bend over and spread myself open for you… or where I make you watch while I play with myself, nice and slow, until you’re desperate enough to shove me down and fuck me stupid.”

Lando’s grip on her tightened—hard enough to bruise. His breath was ragged, his jaw clenched, and when he finally looked up at her, his eyes were dark, blown wide with lust.

“You think you’re in control, don’t you?” His voice was hoarse, shaking with restraint.

She smirked, leaning down until their lips were just barely touching. “I know I am.”

She decided to ease the tension a bit and murmured dirty jokes in his ear, half-laughing between each whisper, making him grin and groan all at once. The more she joked, the more he relaxed, letting himself smile even as raw need clawed at him from the inside.

Eventually, she guided him to switch positions, rolling him gently so she was beneath him. He braced himself on his forearms, pressing his forehead to hers. His breathing was ragged. “Y/N, I swear I’m trying to play it cool.”

Her lips brushed his earlobe. “Then don’t,” she whispered. “Just be with me.”

He swallowed thickly. “But I want this to last.”

“It will,” she promised, skimming her fingertips over his back.

Lando’s breath hitched as he positioned himself between her thighs, his eyes dark with hunger and restraint. His hands trembled slightly as he guided himself to her entrance, the tip of his cock brushing against her wet heat. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed into her, burying himself to the hilt in one agonizingly perfect stroke. A deep, guttural groan escaped his lips, muffled against the curve of her neck. “Fuck, you feel incredible,” he rasped, his voice thick with need.

He withdrew almost completely, his cock slick with her arousal, before sinking back in at a torturously slow pace. Every inch of him seemed to strain with the effort to maintain control. His hips rolled against hers in a rhythm that was both maddening and mesmerizing, each thrust deeper than the last. His fingers dug into the sheets on either side of her head as he fought to keep the rhythm steady, his breath hot and ragged against her skin.

“Lando,” she gasped, her hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles. He groaned again, his forehead pressing into hers as he continued to move with that same slow, deliberate pace. “You’re killing me,” he whispered, his voice trembling with restraint. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t go any faster or I’ll lose it.”

He paused mid-thrust, his body still buried deep inside her, his forehead resting heavily against hers. His chest heaved with labored breaths, his eyes closed as he struggled to regain his composure. “I need to slow down,” he panted, his voice barely audible. “If I don’t, this is gonna be over before I get to ruin you properly.”

Her hands drifted down to his abdomen, her fingertips brushing over the taut, trembling muscles there. She could feel the way his abs contracted with every shaky breath, the way his body fought against the overwhelming urge to lose control. “You’re doing so well,” she murmured, her voice soft and encouraging. Her nails raked lightly over his skin, and he hissed through clenched teeth, a curse slipping from his lips.

“You—that’s not helping,” he growled, his hips twitching involuntarily. He pulled out completely, his hands gripping the base of his cock as he fought to hold back the tide of pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, his eyes squeezed shut as he whispered, “I need a second, or I swear—”

She reached up to cradle his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheeks as she kissed him softly. “Take your time,” she whispered against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a shaky laugh, his forehead resting against hers once more. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, his voice tinged with both desperation and affection. “But fuck, what a way to go.”

Lando’s body shuddered as he guided himself back inside her, the heat of her slick walls wrapping around him like a intoxicating squeeze. His breath hitched, and his hands trembled where they braced on either side of her head. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, his voice raw and strained as he sunk in inch by torturous inch. She clenched around him instinctively, and he let out a sharp, breathless curse, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “Jesus—Y/N, please—” he rasped, his forehead pressing against hers as his body fought to stay in control.

His lips brushed her temple, his warm breath ghosting over her skin as he whispered, his voice wrecked and trembling with need. “I thought about this every night—about being buried inside you, feeling you squeeze me like this. You’re unreal, sweetheart.” Each word was a desperate confession, his voice breaking slightly as he spoke. His hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts, the rhythm faltering as he struggled to keep his composure.

He dragged his lips down to her collarbone, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. His breath was ragged, his movements careful and measured as he tried to focus on her instead of the overwhelming pressure building inside him. His tongue traced a path along her collarbone, his lips pressing firm and insistent, as if trying to anchor himself in the feel of her body beneath him. “You’re too good,” he muttered against her skin, his voice muffled and strained. “Too fucking perfect.”

Y/N tightened around him deliberately, her walls pulsing in slow, rhythmic clenches that made his hips stutter. He groaned, a low, guttural sound that tore from his throat. “Fuck—Y/N, don’t—” he begged, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he fought to hold on. But she didn’t stop, milking him with every pulse, and he let out a strangled curse, pulling out of her completely before he could lose control. His chest heaved, his body trembling with the effort to calm down.

But it didn’t last long. With a shaky breath, he guided himself back inside her, his thrusts slow and deep once more. His lips found her throat, and he mumbled against her skin, his voice hoarse and broken. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” The repeated curse spilled from his lips like a prayer, his grip on her tightening as he struggled to keep his rhythm steady.

His eyes stayed locked on her face, watching the way her lips parted with every thrust, the way her brows knit together in pleasure. It was nearly enough to undo him completely. He groaned, his voice breaking mid-moan as she clenched around him unexpectedly. “Fuck—Y/N,” he gasped, the sound desperate and breathless, his hips jerking forward as he lost himself in the sensation for a moment.

Then he let out a shaky laugh, his forehead resting against hers as he tried to catch his breath. “You—fuck—you’ve got me completely fucked up, you know that?” His voice was tinged with both desperation and affection, his hands trembling as they brushed her hair back from her face. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Her nails dug into his back as she arched against him, her body practically vibrating with need. God, he was teasing her, not fucking her properly, and it was driving her insane. Every slow, deliberate thrust of his cock inside her was sending waves of pleasure rippling through her, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted him to lose control, to give in to the raw, primal need she could feel simmering just beneath his carefully maintained restraint.

Her hips rolled against his, trying to coax him into a faster pace, but he only groaned, his forehead pressing against hers as he fought to keep his movements slow and steady. "Lando, please," she whimpered, her voice breaking as her fingers tangled in his hair. "I need more. I need you to fuck me properly."

He let out a shaky laugh, his breath hot against her lips. "Sweetheart, if I start fucking you the way you want me to, I’m not gonna last," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "You feel too fucking good."

She clenched around him deliberately, feeling him shudder against her as a moan tore from his throat. "Then don’t last," she urged, her voice a desperate plea. "Let go. I want to feel you come undone inside me."

His hips stuttered, and he let out a strangled curse, pulling out of her completely as he fought to regain control. His chest heaved, his body trembling with the effort to calm down, but the look in his eyes was pure, unadulterated desire. "You’re gonna be the death of me," he muttered, his voice thick with need.

"And you love it," she shot back, a wicked grin spreading across her lips as she reached for him, pulling him back down to her. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for more, and she wasn’t about to let him stop until he gave her exactly what she wanted.

He slid into her again, the thick length of his cock stretching her in the most delicious way. For her, the sensation was overwhelming—a perfect balance of fullness and heat, every nerve in her pussy lighting up as he buried himself to the hilt. He felt like he belonged there, like her body had been made to take him, and the ache of needing more only grew as he stayed still inside her. For him, it was pure torture. The velvety tightness of her walls clung to him, hot and wet, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from thrusting. His cock throbbed, desperate for release, and every second he stayed buried in her without moving felt like both heaven and hell.

Her lips found his in a soft, tender kiss, her tongue brushing against his in a slow, teasing rhythm. Just as the kiss deepened, she squeezed around him deliberately, her walls pulsing in a tight, irresistible grip. He groaned into her mouth, his control slipping as his hips jerked involuntarily. “God, Y/N,” he gasped, pulling back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark and desperate. “You’re trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”

She smirked, her lips swollen from his kisses. “Move, Lando,” she begged, her voice breathless and pleading. “Please. I need you to fuck me. I can’t take this anymore.” Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she arched against him, trying to coax him into motion. But he was determined to hold out, to savor every second, even if it was killing him.

She pressed her hips back against him, trying to force him to move, but he stopped her with a firm grip on her waist. “Patience, princess,” he murmured, his voice strained but teasing. Then he began to move again, slowly at first, each thrust deliberate and deep. The drag of his cock inside her was agonizingly perfect, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through her entire body. He groaned, his forehead pressing against hers as he fought to keep the pace steady.

But she wasn’t about to let him win. Just as he found a rhythm, she pulsed around him again, her walls fluttering in a way that made him falter. His thrusts became erratic, his control crumbling as he let out a low, guttural curse. “Fuck, Y/N,” he growled, his voice trembling with need. “You’re making this impossible.”

She grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Good,” she whispered, her voice dripping with wicked intent. “I want you to lose control. I want to feel you come inside me, Lando.” Her words were too much for him. He was already on the edge, and when she squeezed around him one last time, he was done for. His thrusts stuttered, his rhythm completely broken as he groaned her name, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself inside her.

For her, the feeling was intoxicating. The warmth of his cum filling her only made her wetter, her pussy clinging to him greedily. She didn’t come, but the sensation of him spilling inside her, combined with the way his cock twitched against her walls, left her even more desperate for release. “You feel so good,” she whispered, her voice husky as she teased him. “I can feel how hard you came. Did I ruin your plans, baby?”

For him, it was overwhelming. The pleasure that ripped through him was almost too much, every pulse of his cock sending waves of ecstasy crashing over him. He groaned, his body trembling as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough and full of adoration. “I swear, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

She laughed softly, her fingers brushing through his hair. “You love it,” she teased, her voice sultry and full of promise. 

Lando let out a shaky chuckle, his hips still pressed firmly against hers. His cock, still semi-hard but undeniably sensitive, remained buried inside her, throbbing faintly as she clenched around him. He kissed her temple, his lips lingering against her skin. “And I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with lingering desire. His body trembled slightly with the aftershocks of his orgasm, but the feeling of her tight heat wrapped around him kept him on the edge, unable to pull away.

He groaned softly, his forehead resting against hers as he whispered, “Fuck, you’re still so perfect. Can’t even think about leaving you.” His hips shifted slightly, a small, involuntary movement that sent a jolt of pleasure—and sensitivity—through him. He hissed through his teeth, his hands gripping her waist as he fought the urge to move again.

Y/N smirked, her legs still wrapped around him, keeping him close. “Sensitive, huh?” she teased, her voice dripping with playful mischief. She squeezed around him gently, just enough to make him groan and his hips jerk forward instinctively.

“God, you’re a menace,” he muttered, his voice strained but laced with adoration. He pressed a kiss to her lips, his movements slow and tender, as if reveling in the feel of her still around him. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”

His words were a promise, and it was one she intended to hold him to.

His words were a promise, and she intended to hold him to it. Before he could say another word, she surged forward, capturing his lips in a searing, hungry kiss. Her mouth moved against his with a fierce urgency, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip before her tongue swept inside, claiming him with a possessive dominance that made him groan. She kissed him like she was determined to remind him exactly who owned him, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.

And then she began to squeeze, her pussy clenching around his cock in slow, deliberate pulses that had him moaning into her mouth. He was still sensitive, his body trembling as his cock twitched inside her, the overstimulation leaving him breathless and aching. She didn’t stop, her walls fluttering rhythmically, milking him in a way that made his hips jerk involuntarily. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against hers. “You’re killing me.”

She smirked, her lips swollen from his kisses, and reached up to tug gently at his hair, guiding his mouth down to her breast. “Suck,” she commanded, her voice low and husky with need. He obeyed without hesitation, his lips closing around her hardened nipple, his tongue flicking over it in slow, teasing circles. She arched into his mouth, a soft moan escaping her lips as his teeth grazed her sensitive skin.

As he sucked, she began to grind, her hips moving in slow, sensual circles that made his cock slide deeper inside her. He groaned against her breast, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she took control, her movements deliberate and teasing. But then, unable to resist, he began to thrust, his hips rolling against hers in a rhythm that was both rough and tender. He fucked her with a desperation that left him breathless, his cock moving in and out of her slick heat with a wet, obscene sound that only fueled the fire between them.

He finally pulled back from her breast,and stared into her eyes as he continued to thrust. “Mmm, is this what you wanted?” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “Me sucking on you while I’m still inside you?” His tongue flicked over her nipple one last time, making her whimper, before his gaze dropped to where their bodies were connected.

His cum was still slick on the length of his cock, glistening in the dim light as it disappeared into her with every thrust. The visual was almost too much to handle. “You feel that, baby?” he breathed, his voice trembling. “My cock’s still drenched in you—covered in my cum.” His eyes stayed locked on the sight, completely mesmerized by the way she took him, her pussy glistening with their combined arousal.

“Look at that—fuck, look at how messy we are,” he groaned, his fingers gripping her jaw and forcing her to watch as his cock slid in and out of her. She moaned at the sight, her eyes widening as she took in the way his cum coated his length, leaking out of her with every thrust. “Shit, that’s my cum leaking out of you. You like seeing what you do to me?” His voice was a low, desperate rasp, his fingers smearing the evidence of his release along her thighs before gripping her ass tightly.

“I can’t stop watching—you’re taking me so well, fuck,” he muttered, his thrusts growing more erratic as the sight of his cock disappearing into her soaked pussy drove him closer to the edge. She moaned again, her hands gripping his shoulders as she met his thrusts, her body trembling with need. “You’re fucking perfect,” he growled, his voice breaking as he lost himself in the heat of her, in the way she felt around him, in the way she looked, completely wrecked by him.

And she was perfect—every gasp, every moan, every clench of her pussy around his cock only proved it. He couldn’t get enough of her, and he knew he never would.

Lando’s thrusts were deep and relentless, his cock filling her completely with every stroke. She could feel the way he stretched her, the way his cum from earlier still coated his length, making each movement slick and intoxicating. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Her hand slipped between their bodies, her fingers finding her swollen clit with ease. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she began to rub herself in slow, deliberate circles.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice trembling with need. “Watch me.”

His eyes snapped to where her hand was working between her thighs, and what he saw made his breath catch. Her fingers were slick with his cum, the evidence of their earlier union glistening on her skin as she spread the warmth across her clit. The sight was almost too much to handle. His thrusts faltered for a moment, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as he watched her play with herself.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice hoarse with desperation. “You’re actually spreading it… you’re playing with my cum while I’m still inside you?”

She smirked up at him, her fingers never stopping their slow, teasing movements. “Mmm, look at that—your cum’s still dripping out of me, Lando,” she purred, her tone dripping with mischief. She dipped her fingers between her thighs again, deliberately rubbing his release into her swollen clit. “You see how messy we are? How much you’ve already given me?”

Lando’s cock throbbed inside her at her words, the sensation of her tightening around him nearly making him lose control. His thrusts became more erratic, his rhythm faltering as he struggled to keep his eyes on her fingers. “Shit, baby, keep going—let me see you make yourself come while I fuck you,” he begged, his voice breaking on the last word.

She moaned, her head falling back against the pillows as she let him watch her. Her fingers moved faster now, her clit pulsing under her touch as she neared the edge. “Come on, baby—watch me,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “Watch how I play with your cum while you fuck me.”

Lando’s hands gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he fought to keep his thrusts steady. “You know what that does to me?” he rasped, his eyes locked on her fingers. “Watching you play with yourself while I’m inside you? It’s fucking insane.”

But she wasn’t done yet. Just as he seemed to find his rhythm again, she stopped him, her hands pressing against his abs to halt his movements. “Wait,” she whispered, her voice soft but commanding. His body stilled immediately, his cock throbbing inside her as he tried to catch his breath.

With a slow, deliberate movement, she reached down and wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, pulling him out of her. The sensation was almost too much for him, his cock twitching in her hand as she guided him free of her slick heat. He groaned, his eyes closing for a moment as he fought the urge to thrust into her hand.

But she wasn’t done. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she dipped her fingers inside her pussy, gathering the cum that was still leaking out of her. His breath hitched as he watched her, his cock jerking in her hand at the sight. “Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You’re killing me.”

She smirked, her fingers spreading his cum across her swollen clit, making sure he could see every second of it. The sensation was electric, her clit pulsing under her touch as she worked herself closer to the edge. “You see that, Lando?” she moaned, her voice low and husky. “You see how wet you’ve made me? How much of you I’m still holding inside me?”

Lando couldn’t look away, his eyes locked on her fingers as they moved over her clit. “Holy fuck,” he breathed, his voice rough with need. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

She reached for him again, her other hand wrapping around his cock as she guided him back to her entrance. “You’re gonna give me more, aren’t you?” she whispered against his lips, smirking as she pressed him deeper. “You feel that? How easy you slide in after you’ve already come inside me?”

He groaned, his hips jerking forward as she took him completely. “Y/N,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t take much more of this.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as she began to rub her clit again. “Now fuck me, Lando,” she moaned, her voice breathless and needy. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel you deep—make a mess of me again.”

His thrusts were desperate now, his rhythm completely lost as he watched her fingers work her clit. “Fuck—Y/N, I can’t take my eyes off you,” he groaned, his voice hoarse. “You’re fucking unreal… you’re gonna make me come just from watching.”

She tightened around him, her walls fluttering as she neared her own release. “That’s it, baby—give me everything,” she whispered, her hands guiding his hips deeper as he shuddered above her. “Fill me up again.”

Lando’s body tensed, his thrusts growing shaky as his pleasure consumed him entirely. “Oh, fuck—fuck, Y/N, I’m coming—” he gasped, his voice strained as his orgasm crashed over him. His hips slammed against hers in broken strokes, his cock pulsing inside her as he spilled himself for the second time.

She felt his release filling her, the warmth spreading through her as his body twitched with overstimulation. “Fuck, Lando, I can feel you throbbing—so desperate for me,” she moaned, clenching around him as her own orgasm ripped through her. Her clit pulsed under her fingers, her body trembling as she came on his cock, the sensation of him still inside her only intensifying her pleasure.

Lando whimpered, his thrusts faltering as the sensitivity overwhelmed him. “Shit—take it all, baby, take every drop of me,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “Jesus Christ—look at that, look at how much I’m filling you up again.”

He didn’t pull out immediately, too lost in the moment, too addicted to the warmth, the wetness, the way she was still wrapped around him. His forehead rested against hers, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as he tried to calm his racing heart. “So fucking full of me, sweetheart—fuck, take it all, take every drop,” he murmured, his voice trembling with adoration.

She smiled up at him, her fingers still lazily tracing circles over her clit as she savored the aftershocks of her release. “You love it,” she teased, her voice sultry and full of promise. “And you’re mine.”

Lando let out a shaky laugh, his lips pressing against hers in a soft, tender kiss. “Always,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Always yours.”

They stayed like that for a long time, lost in the warmth of each other, the world outside forgotten. For Lando, there was no place he’d rather be, and he knew, without a doubt, that he’d never get enough of her. She was his addiction, his obsession, his everything. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Long moments later, Lando finally pulled himself out of her, his cock slipping free with a soft, wet sound that made him groan. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before murmuring, "Be right back," and disappearing into the bathroom. She lay there, legs still trembling, her body humming with the aftershocks of their shared passion.

He returned a moment later, a warm, damp towel in his hand. Gently, he knelt beside her, his touch tender as he cleaned her up, his fingers brushing over her skin with a reverence that made her heart swell. "You’re perfect," he whispered, his voice a little hoarse, as he wiped away the evidence of their union.

When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and slid into bed next to her, his body still radiating heat. He settled onto his back, pulling her with him so she lay half across his chest, her head nestled against his shoulder. He was still out of breath, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, and she brushed it aside with the back of her hand, her fingers lingering as she gazed up at him.

“See?” she whispered, a teasing grin lighting her face. “You survived. Didn’t finish in three strokes.”

He gave a short laugh, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. “Barely,” he admitted.

She smoothed her hand through his hair. “I like that you were so worried.”

“Because it’s been so long since we’ve been together like this,” he breathed, looking at her intently. “I didn’t want to ruin it by letting it slip away too quickly.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” she said softly, nuzzling closer. “It was perfect.”

He exhaled, relief flooding his expression. “I love you,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

She felt warmth bloom in her chest—she’d never get tired of hearing that. “I love you too,” she echoed, soft but sincere.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, each reveling in the steady rhythm of the other’s heartbeat.

[hard-core-super-star]

i touched you for only a fortnight [W.Maximoff]

pairing: sugarmommy!wanda x reader

summary: after hearing that someone's been flirting with wanda, you start questioning your place in her life. luckily, your relationship is one of the main things she's secure in.

warnings: mentions of dom/sub dynamics; allusions to sex but no smut yet; jealousy + insecurity; legal nonspecified age-gap; sugarmommy!wanda deserves her own warning tbh

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: HI SO, i very randomly decided to make what was supposed to be a solo fic into a series so...this is the unofficial first part. don't get impatient with me, next part will be full smut, i got too attached to the story to rush a smut scene here. i think this is my first official wanda fic so i'm very excited to see how this goes. let me know your thoughts, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You're not entirely sure how you ended up in this situation.

One day, you were a broke college student, barely hanging on by your teeth and the next, you were Wanda Maximoff's newest obsession. Everyone and their mom knew about the CEO, about the rumors that followed her wherever she went. She was rich, ruthless, dedicated in a way no one could match. She was a force to be reckoned with but most of all…she was your sugar mommy.

You wish you could say it had all been accidental, coincidental even. But it wasn't. At least, not fully.

A few months ago, your best friend had talked you into going out to a club with her. Kate was many things, mainly economically stable and with far more connections than a normal 22-year-old should have. Of course, that was due more to her mother than the brunette's charming personality.

You didn't fully understand why she was so adamant about acting like she wasn't a rich kid. Or rather, a privileged rich kid. It was refreshing, but it was a little hysterical considering she pretty much relied on her mother's riches for…everything.

Still, you appreciated how down to earth she was. Even when she dragged you into a ridiculously crowded club with drinks you couldn't afford. She didn't seem to mind, though, considering the ease with which she handed the bartender her credit card.

You hadn't expected anything interesting to happen that night. You assumed all you'd really do was get drunk and babysit Kate so she didn't run her mouth and get into a fight with the sleazy guys that always found their way to you.

Fate had other plans for you, it seemed, because Wanda Maximoff was there that night. And she was instantly drawn to you…and the way you slapped a sleazy guy for blatantly placing his hand on your ass.

She stepped in before security could even try to kick you out and she offered you a drink for your troubles.

It'd been unexpected but you had never been one to turn down a beautiful, slightly scary, woman. You didn't know it then, but accepting her offer was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself.

And not just because Wanda was even quicker to spend money on you than Kate.

So, as weird and uncharted territory as it was, you slowly got used to being the older woman's sugar baby. To spending your free time with her, to bringing her lunch when she forgot to take a break in between meetings, to giving yourself over to her every night in as many ways as you could handle.

Of course, that didn't come without its challenges. The biggest of them being your insecurities about your place in her life.

It didn't seem to matter how many times she reassured you that she wanted you, you knew being her sugar baby wasn't the same as being her girlfriend. You had no right to feel jealous when she went out for drinks with other CEOs. No right to be upset when people flirted with her at the club.

Just because you knew that, though, didn't mean you didn't get upset. You were grateful for Wanda, and even more grateful for the kindness she showed Kate by giving her a job at her company, but that gratefulness wasn't enough to quell the jealousy that crept up on you sometimes.

Especially when your lovely best friend added fuel to that fire.

It's late when you hear the front door of Wanda's penthouse open. You've spent the majority of the day by yourself, having been told not to visit the older woman at her office because of some important meetings she was going to have. You, being the obedient lover she knew you to be, did exactly as she asked despite how bored and lonely you got.

Things would have been fine had Kate not told you how flirty Wanda's assistant had been all day. It seemed every time Agnes made some sort of suggestive comment, your best friend was close enough to send you a message about it.

And to top it off, the older woman hadn't replied to your texts in a few hours. So, needless to say, watching her come home extremely late, after a long day apart, does little to help you feel better.

It takes no less than a minute for Wanda to walk into the living room, her fingers already unbuttoning the white blouse beneath her dark red blazer. "Why are you still awake, angel?"

As distracting as the sight is, you don't let it steal your thoughts away.

"Where were you?" You ask, already hating how soft your voice is.

"Where do you think?" She replies with a well-placed tilt of her head.

Even though her tone makes you want to back down, you hold your ground, not yet ready to continue without an answer. "You're back late. You never come back this late when you're at the office."

Your words make her pause. Her eyes scan your face as she comes closer, a sigh stuck in her throat. "You know these meetings run late sometimes. I went to get a drink afterward to unwind. Why are you so upset, sweetheart?"

"Kate said your secretary was making moves on you," you say, feeling your shoulders relax as you finally give a voice to the thoughts that have been plaguing you all day. "That you let her flirt with you."

Despite how soft she's trying to be, Wanda rolls her eyes. "Kate's an idiot."

"But she's not a liar," you reply before you can think better of it.

This time, the older woman isn't able to stop the flicker of annoyance that passes through her face. "Watch yourself, sweetheart. What's that supposed to mean?"

You barely manage to hold in a groan. Complaining would only make the situation worse for you, considering how little she lets you get away with when you're obviously upset.

"That she wouldn't make something up just because…" you trail off, almost not wanting to ask your next question. "It's true, isn't it?"

Wanda sighs, easily sliding onto your lap. Your hands instantly come up to grip her hips, greedily pulling her close to you, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for her answer. "Yes, darling, it's true. Agnes was in a bold mood today, but I shot her down every time. She knows I'm taken."

Her words help soothe your jealousy somewhat but they're not enough to overshadow your insecurities. "Are you? Because I'm not your girlfriend."

"y/n," she says, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you trying to say?"

Even though you know she's not upset with you, her tone still makes you shrink into yourself. You had been so confident earlier, so sure of what you were going to say to her, of what you were going to ask, and now…it had all evaporated with one quick raise of her eyebrow.

"Nothing," you sigh. "It's stupid."

Wanda doesn't let you hide. Her hand comes up to cup your face, tilting your head back so you're looking up at her. "It's not stupid. You're jealous, aren't you, sweetheart?"

The softness in her voice does little to erode your insecurities. If anything, it makes you want to hide even more. To run away and pretend you never even brought up the idea of being more than…a pastime. Because maybe if you could escape the conversation, you could escape the reality. The very real possibility that she didn't want you to be anything more than her favorite toy.

"Why would I be jealous?" you respond, trying to muster up the rest of your courage. "I don't own you or your time."

The redhead sighs again, knowing it'll take more than a few well-placed words to get through to you. "What's with the attitude, hmm? What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You recognize her words for what they are. The opportunity for you to be honest. To unload everything that's been overwhelming your mind since you realized how hard you'd fallen for the older woman. The fears, the insecurities, the uncontrollable need for her.

You almost don't want to admit it. Don't want to further complicate a situation that's gotten so out of your control. It was supposed to be temporary. You were supposed to be temporary. But you can't imagine a life outside of the one you've somehow built with her.

"I don't know," you finally say. "I just hate the thought of Agnes thinking she can flirt with you. She can't."

"She can't?" Wanda repeats, a hint of amusement seeping into her tone. "Why not, angel?"

She's toying with you, you know that. Turning you in circles until you're too confused to avoid answering her questions. Maybe it should feel manipulative, even cruel, but all it does is show you how well she knows you. How good she is at coaxing answers out of you by being soft and patient.

No one would believe you if you told them how sweet the ruthless businesswoman is. How easy it is to make her melt and give in to your every whim.

It would be ridiculous if you weren't the one wrapped right around her finger.

"Because…" You trail off with a huff. "You know why."

"Come on, baby," she tries again, her fingers caressing your jawline and making sure you keep your eyes on her. "I need to hear you say it. Please? For me."

All you allow yourself is a whine at first. Just the smallest sign of weakness. Of the brat Wanda secretly loves taming.

"Because you're my domme," you say, that hint of petulance still lingering in your tone. "You're supposed to be mine, not hers."

The corners of her mouth quirk up just enough to show how entertained she is by the exchange. In her defense, she does what she can to keep her expression serious, as if you're not just acting like a brat because you're jealous.

"I am yours, darling," Wanda replies. "You don't have to worry about Agnes. Or anyone else for that matter."

Her words manage to cut through the thick fog in your head left behind by your constant worries. They're not enough to fully erase your insecurities but it's a start. A start to the conversation you should have already had.

"You really mean it?" You find yourself asking.

You want to hate yourself for sounding so insecure, but you can't. The hard truth is, you need to hear her answer. Need to hear her put a label to what you two have. A label that goes beyond the sweet petnames she has for you.

"I do," she says, her voice dropping its usual teasing edge. "I don't want anyone else but you. I'm yours just as much as you're mine."

The words go right to your head, giving you a rush you've never felt before. It very quickly dawns on you why the older woman likes it so much when you say those words. Why it always makes her look like she's on top of the world.

"Say it again," you mumble, the softness in your tone making you feel particularly vulnerable.

The smile that grazes Wanda's face is nothing short of affectionate. "I'm yours, angel. You're the only one I want to be with."

Your hands on her hips slide around until your arms are around her waist and you're pulling her impossibly closer. You practically lunge forward, your lips seeking out hers and crashing into them.

It's not the most romantic kiss you've ever shared by any means, but the intensity behind your movements only makes it better. Especially when she kisses you back with that same passion.

Almost instantly, you're left wanting more.

"Wanda," you whisper against her lips. "I need you."

"I'm right here, baby. You can have me."

Her words would usually be enough to melt you until all you could think about was having her on top of you. Tonight, though, the desire you're suddenly hit with is different.

You need to touch her. To feel her against you. To hear her say your name over and over again until there's nothing left except the two of you.

You're not entirely sure how to express that need, though. Far too used to your usual dynamic and how easy your submission flows.

"Not like that," you say, your cheeks flushing.

Wanda simply stares at you with those same sharp eyes that hold a sea of affection you can't even begin to understand. "Is that right? You want to touch Mommy tonight, hmm?"

You nod, already feeling breathless from the thought of getting to touch her.

To show her you can be good in a different way.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics @rosekjsses

[smutoperator]

My Gamer Wife

Miyawaki Sakura x Male Reader

Sequel to King of Oshiri

Tags: A2M, anal creampie, (lots of) anal, asshole fingering, birthday, couch sex, cum on glasses, dildo, full nelson, gamer girl, gape, hotwife, joysticks (literally and figuratively), livestream, losing a bet, pile driver, sex on camera, (lots of) squirting, video games

Word count: 5779

In many ways, Sakura is the perfect wife. She gives you all the attention you need, invites her friends to have fun with you, and always does everything she can to satisfy you.

Except when it comes to those damn video games.

"Happy birthday, baby girl," you said to Sakura, but she ignored you. Once she put on those headphones and started playing games, it was over; she would not listen to anyone in her vicinity. Sakura was truly addicted to gaming, more than she was to you.

Sakura began her birthday livestream, saluting the massive audience she had earned over the course of her career and that now followed her gamer girl ventures. You looked at her, yet she was more worried about beating her high score in Overwatch than anything about you until she finally decided to switch that.

"Hubby, wanna play some games with me?" Sakura asked you. "Sure," you answered her, even though her obsession with gaming many times irritated you. You grabbed another joystick, even though the gap between your and her gaming skills was so massive all that was going to happen was her humiliating you in front of a huge online crowd.

"Yes," Sakura cheered as she easily defeated you. "Come on," you said, getting angry as your wife destroyed you. "Don't get angry, hubby; you just have to try harder," Sakura told you. "What are we even playing for? We should be celebrating your birthday, just you and I, none of that gaming bullshit," you told her.

"So you need an incentive, huh?" Sakura said. "My hubby really doesn't know how to play games; he needs an incentive," she continued, addressing the audience. "Guys, I'll be back soon; maybe he'll have an extra incentive once I return," she continued as she exited the frame. You looked at the messages in the livestream, all wanting you to get out and begging for Sakura to come back.

Sakura indeed came back, wearing a pair of glasses, a slim top, and gym shorts that made her look extremely hot while barely covering her bottom. "So, guys, I decided to have a bet with my hubby," Sakura said. "If I win, I get to fuck his ass, but if he wins, he gets to fuck my ass," Sakura said, shaking her cheeky butt to the camera. "I guess that's a bet I can accept," you tell your wife.

You and Sakura play a head-to-head match, her shaking her ass in front of you as a distraction. "You're obstructing my view," you tell her. "Am I?" Sakura asks as she delivers you a killer blow. "Are they crazy?" one comment asks. But you stay committed, taking Sakura's ass out of your sight.

But Sakura doesn't seem to get the memo, sitting on your lap to distract you while you two keep playing. "Come on, Kkura, can you fucking behave? There are lots of people watching; if you don't, I'm gonna shut this stream down and fuck your ass right now," you tell her. "That's not the deal we signed, hubby," she answers you.

But you manage to prevail even amidst Sakura's distractions, defeating her in a gaming battle for like the first time in ages. "Looks like my incentive paid off; he always loses to me, but as soon as my ass was on the line, he played like never before," Sakura says. "She lost on purpose," one comment says, unmasking Sakura's little facade.

"Ok, I won now. I think you should end this stream and fuck me. Your fans are probably finding it weird that you're talking about sex in the middle of playing those video games," you tell Sakura. "Not so fast, hubby, you won the bet, but today is my birthday, so I'm the one who dictates how you fuck me in the ass," Sakura answers.

"And how are we gonna do that?" you ask Sakura. "In front of all this audience, I want them to see how wild we are together," Sakura says. "Is she really gonna fuck him live on camera?" one comment asks, still in disbelief.

Sakura grabs the joystick and starts grinding on your lap, hitting higher scores the faster she moves. "Seems like she loves to play when horny," a comment says as Sakura keeps moving her hips, moaning softly as you grab her waist while she plays; keep the things going for a while. "Pull my shorts down," she tells you as you oblige, leaving Sakura wearing just a thong at the bottom of her body, showcasing her not so long but still beautiful legs.

Sakura hides the bottom of both your bodies, bringing a blanket that was on the side of the couch as you pull your pants down. She moans and makes moves that look like she's bouncing on your cock but lets the audience guess whether it's true or not. "Is she riding his dick?" one comment asks as Sakura moans.

"Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh," Sakura continues to softly moan and bounce; you grab her ass as she keeps performing for the cameras, moving your hips to thrust upward into her pussy. "FUCK," Sakura moans, almost dropping the act as you hit deeper in her pussy but staying composed and scoring new highs at the game.

Sakura removes the blanket, showing your cock was inside her pussy this whole time. "Ahhhh, ahhhh, fuck me, fuck me, hubby, oh my god," she moans as she rides your cock in front of the online audience for a bit, you spanking her ass shortly after to signal you're done.

Sakura gets on her knees and sucks your cock. "Time for some live blowjob," she tells the audience, jerking and sucking your cock off like a truly professional slut, making loud noises doing so. "Oh my fucking god," you say as she deepthroats your dick and spits all over it.

You slap your cock in Sakura's face, her making crazy expressions for the audience watching while sucking your cock. "You're such a loud bitch," you tell her as you grab her hair and fuck her face, putting your shaft on the side of her cheeks while she dives to suck your balls.

"Hubby, sit down; I want to see you doing a challenge," Sakura says. "What kind of challenge?" you ask her. "Here, grab the joystick while I suck your big joystick. Let's see how well you can do with your wife blowing you off in front of a crowd," she says.

"I'm so wet right now, so turned on," Sakura says as she pulls her thong to the side and fingers her pussy before diving down to suck your cock. "Oh my God. You're fucking insane for doing this, you know?" you ask her. "Yes, I'm insane for that big nice cock," Sakura says.

"I can't wait to have it inside me again, especially in my ass," Sakura says as she bobs her head harder on your cock. "You're getting quite distracted, not paying much attention to that game right now, are you?" Sakura asks, ramping up the intensity of her blowjob.

"You're really losing your concentration, hubby, aren't you?" Sakura asks. "You really have the best cock ever," she continues, moving her head even faster on it. "I'm gonna get this cock nice and wet to fuck me; it's going to slide so easy in my pussy, baby," she says, moving like crazy on it, deepthroating your shaft countless times as your concentration goes further away.

Sakura can no longer resist her urge, sitting her pussy on your cock and blocking your view. "Oh, I love using that cock so much," she says, rubbing her pussy as she goes back to riding it. "Oh right there, that's what I fucking want, your big fucking cock inside me, hubby, yesss, make me cum, let me use it," Sakura says.

"I'm so horny now, oh fuck," Sakura moans as she picks up the speed riding your cock. "I think you're gonna have to choose, hubby, this video game or my pussy, because I'm gonna keep riding you, yeah, yeah, yeah," she says. "Oh fuck," Sakura moans as she spins on your cock. "OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," she loudly moans, letting her audience know how good she's feeling.

"You're doing good in that game; it turns out my pussy is a great incentive for you, hubby," Sakura says. "I guess I need to bounce harder," she continues, doing just what she vowed to do.

"Give me this," Sakura says as she picks the game controller from your hands and delivers another wonderful display of gaming. "She might be the best gamer in the world when she gets a big joystick up in her pussy," someone in the chat comments.

"OH YEAH, OH YEAH, OH SHIT," Sakura screams as she squirts hard while reaching another high score. "Damn, she's got a whole fountain in her pussy," someone comments. She lies on the couch and lets you eat her pussy while she keeps playing. "Oh yes, hubby, taste those juices; I love when you do that to me," she says.

Sakura squirts all over your face. "Oh yeah, don't stop, baby, lick that pussy," she begs as you dive all over it, paying special attention to her meaty clit. "Oh my god, yes, that's perfect; you're doing so good, hubby," Sakura says as she almost drops the controller. "Oh fuck, oh yeah, yeah, I'm gonna keep playing; push me to the next level," Sakura begs.

Sakura sits on your face, performing a 69 while still playing. You put a couple of fingers in her asshole, prompting her to immediately react. "AHHHH," she screams. "Calm down baby, this prize is for later," she then says, before going back to bob her head on your cock.

"You like that, don't you?" you ask Sakura as you put your middle finger deeper in her anus. "AHHHHH," Sakura moans. "That's all I need to know," you tell her as you keep eating her pussy and fingering her butthole, Sakura answering by choking hard on your cock while playing with the controller. "Oh shit," you groan. "Oh my god," she groans.

"Take those shorts off," you tell Sakura as you increase the pace of the finger-fucking in her asshole. She obliges, leaving you just with your t-shirt while she stays, sucking your cock and massaging your balls. "Fuck, baby," Sakura says as she bounces her ass in your face and her head on your cock, you tonguing her pussy hard.

Sakura rides you in reverse now, you now placing your thumb in her asshole while she bounces on your cock. "Oh, I'm so wet, yes, yes, that's so good; put that finger up in my ass," she begs. "Oh, that ass feels so fucking tight," you tell her as she continues to ride, choking her and slapping her face. "My wife is such a fucking whore," you say to her.

Sakuke claps her cheeks against your hips. "OH, IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD BOUNCING ON THAT COCK," she screams. "PUT YOUR FINGER IN THERE," she begs as you match her ride by spanking and finger-fucking her ass. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," she moans, spreading her legs and letting you thrust up. "FUCK HUBBY, FUCK THAT PUSSY, AHHH," she continues to scream.

"I love bouncing up and down on that cock," Sakura says as she moves faster than ever, you grabbing and spanking her butt. "YES, BABY, FUCK," she screams again before pulling out of your cock and sucking it a bit.

Sakura pulls a lever and unfolds the couch, lying her body in a vertical position with her ass up. You spank your wife's beautiful butt as she keeps playing the game, spreading her cheeks and massaging them as you tongue her pink asshole and spit on it.

"Ohhh baby, you can't distract me," Sakura says as you focus on eating her ass. She moans loudly as you tongue her fuckholes. "That's why I lost that bet on purpose," she tells you as she shakes her ass in your face. "I could tell," you answer her.

"You love this ass, don't you, honey?" Sakura says as she bounces it in your face, shaking it up and down and left and right. "Get in there with your tongue," she says, putting her ass up. "Honey, I'm so fucking horny," she says.

You tease Sakura, rubbing your shaft between her cheeks, much to her enjoyment. "Oh yes, rub that cock in my cheeks," Sakura says. Soon, you poke your cock in both her entrances, taking it back in her pussy. "Oh yeah, oh fuck," Sakura moans as you bang her in the prone position, her asshole winking for you. "OH SHIT, IT FEELS SO GOOD IN MY PUSSY," she moans as you thrust into it, her moving her ass to meet it.

"Fuck that pussy, hubby, AHHHHH," Sakura begs as you start clapping her cheeks. You kiss her as she smiles. "Your dick is so good inside me," she says as you tease her, playing with it by putting it in and out of her pussy before mounting on top of her.

Sakura puts herself in a fetal position on the couch, spreading her legs for you to enter her pussy in missionary position. "Oh my Gosh, baby, your cock is so big in my pussy," Sakura moans as you fuck her. She closes her eyes and lets you give her the pounding.

"Oh, hubby. I can feel your cock ready to cum at any moment," she says. "Please, baby, cum in my face," Sakura begs. "You want my cum, you fucking gamer whore? Then beg for it harder," you tell her. "Please, please, hubby, paint those glasses white," Sakura says, driving you crazy as you quickly pull your cock out of her and unleash a giant load in her face, her kissing your cock.

"We'll be back for act two soon, guys," Sakura says to the audience as she heads towards the bathroom, taking a selca and sending it for the chat before cleaning her glasses. After a while, you follow her, taking her from behind and putting a finger up her anus. "AHHHHH," Sakura suddenly screams. "My wife is so slutty; she really made me have sex in front of an online crowd on her birthday," you tell her.

"And by the looks of it, you are ready to fuck my ass in front of that crowd, hubby," Sakura says as you massage her butthole. "OH MY GOD, FUCK," she screams as your fingers run all over her asshole. "Oh yes, hubby, right there, prepare that asshole for your big cock," she says.

Sakura returns to the living room, and you are playing video games like nothing happened. "You want to fuck my ass now, hubby?" she asks. "Of course, you fucking bitch, you promised me," you answer her. "You're gonna get it, but only after I tell you," she says.

"First, you're gonna let me play some games with that joystick, Sakura said. "Sit on the floor for me," she ordered as you obliged. Sakura then started massaging your cock with her pair of pink socks, moving her feet up and down your long shaft while she played her game. "I'm working two joysticks at the same time, boys," she told her livestream audience.

"You like that, hubby?" Sakura asked as she continued to perform the footjob, quickly getting your cock back hard. "Yes, I love that," you answered. Sakura made things spicier, pushing her top up once again and showing her tits out to the audience before taking her panties completely off, getting herself fully naked for the first time.

As you pull Sakura's panties down, you bend her over in one of the couch's arms. "I know you're eager for it, hubby, taking that cake on your wife's birthday," Sakura says. Both of you get completely naked. You give her asshole a little licking and spitting before shoving your cock in it. "AHHHH, HOLY SHIT," she moans. "You asked for that big dick in your ass; don't back down now," you tell Sakura, tying her arms behind her back.

"OH MY GOD, FUCK," Sakura screams as you drill her asshole. "You like that, bitch? Getting fucked in the ass while broadcasting it live to your gamer followers?" you ask her. "YES, YES, YES, YES," she moans, grinding her teeth as you attack her ass hard.

"AHHHHHH," Sakura screams as you spank her butt. "Oh my God, you're so fucking deep in my ass, stretching me so fucking good," Sakura moans. "Deeper, deeper," she keeps begging. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, YES," she then starts screaming once you hit it hard.

"Such a good whore," you tell Sakura as you spank her ass one more time. She laughs as you finger her wet cunt while pounding her asshole. She looks at you with naughty eyes, getting close to you to give you kisses. "GIVE ME THAT FUCKING DICK, FUCK YES, OH MY FUCKING GOD," she moans as you drill her asshole harder than ever.

"RIGHT THERE, BABY," Sakura tells you. "Cum for me," you command as Sakura's butthole clenches around your cock, signaling her anal orgasm is close. "AHHHHH," Sakura squirts all over the couch as you make her cum. "Fuck, that was so good," she says.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Sakura moans loudly as you get deep in her ass; more spankings follow. At this point, she's forgotten about those videogames, barely able to reach to grab the controller. "OH MY GOD, HOLY SHIT, YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEEP," she screams as the anal pounding keeps going.

You put Sakura in a spooning position on the couch, ready for another round of anal drilling. "Right there, nice and slow," your wife whispers as you wrap your arms around her, teasing her asshole by going in and out of it. You lift her leg, taking it very slow as you massage her pussy. "Yeah," Sakura moans.

"OH MY GOD YOUR COCK IS AMAZING," Sakura screams as you pick up the pace. You admire the gape in her asshole as you put a pair of fingers in her cunt, Sakura reacting with out-of-breath moans as you resume drilling her butt. Your balls clap hard against her ass. "OH FUCK BABY, THAT FEELS GOOD," she moans, kissing you.

"My ass is all yours, hubby; stretch it out, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," Sakura says as she gets in a fetal position sideways. "I love that so much," she says. "Let me taste my ass," Sakura begs, you pausing the fucking a bit to let her bob her head on your cock again, taking advantage of it and thrusting upwards, which only makes Sakura go crazier and dive for your balls.

"Put it back, baby," Sakura says as she goes back to the spooning position. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, DON'T STOP," Sakura says as she enjoys the hard pounding you give her on the couch. "What do you like more, those stupid video games or my cock deep in your ass?" you ask her. "Your cock in my fucking ass, always, hubby," she answers.

"Oh, it feels so deep," Sakura says as she goes back into a bouncing position, massaging her pussy as she sits on your cock. "Oh baby, I love this so much; your cock feels so good in my asshole," she says. "Right there, baby, right in that fucking hole," she continues to beg.

"Oh baby, what are you doing?" Sakura asks as you wrap your hands between her legs. Quickly she realizes what it is as you lift her legs up in the air, ready to pound her ass in a very submissive full nelson. "FUCK BABY, AHHHHHH," Sakura moans as you hammer her ass like crazy. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH BABY," she screams as her ass gets drilled at a very hard speed.

"Yes, baby, stretch me open like that, fuck yeah," Sakura smiles as she gets pounded into submission, fingering her cunt despite being wrapped in a full nelson. "Oh, it feels so deep; I love when you fuck me that way," she tells you as you free her, letting Sakura taste her ass from your cock once more while fucking her face as she tries to deepthroat you.

"Get them," Sakura says as you grab the video game controller back, she watching you get great scores while she jerks your cock off. "Looks like you got some great motivation," she says as she keeps sucking your cock. "Oh my God," you groan, Sakura grabbing the controller and playing the game while she savors your cock.

You put Sakura back in a fetal position on the couch, this time standing up as you get ready to fuck her more. You give a couple of thrusts in her pussy to tease her. "Oh, it's so good," she says before switching to her asshole. She carves her fingers deep in her cunt as you fuck her. "Just like that, baby, pound that ass," she begs as you now play with her cunt, fisting your whole hand inside it while you destroy your wife's ass.

You place your thumb in Sakura's mouth for her to taste her pussy while also playing with her tits as the anal pounding continues. She closes her eyes and spreads her butthole with her hands, showing you the ever-growing gape you deliver to it. "Keep it open for my cock," you tell her.

"I can spend all day getting that ass fucked in front of my fans," Sakura says. "Like the slut you are," you tell her, choking her neck as you fuck her ass faster. "OH MY GOD," Sakura screams, the gape in her asshole growing larger and larger. "Keep fucking my ass like that, hubby, please," Sakura begs as you play with her whole body.

"Give it to me, baby; don't stop fucking that ass," Sakura begs, grabbing the controller and scoring another big kill just as you destroy her ass. "OH SHIT," she screams. "You want fucking more, you gaming whore?" you ask Sakura. "Of course I do," she says.

You put Sakura in a mating press position, pounding her as you firmly stomp your left foot in the couch. "Oh, that's hot," Sakura says. "Damn, they are doing some hentai shit," someone comments as the camera captures the perfect angle of your cock penetrating Sakura's butthole at a straight angle, hard and deep.

"OH YEAH, OH YEAH, DESTROY MY ASS," she begs, you two sharing kisses while her asshole gets obliterated. You attack it harder than ever, Sakura losing her breath as your cock hits the depths of her asshole while you kiss her. "I find it so hot when you fuck my ass like that," she says as you groan with her tight butthole squeezing your cock out.

"Show your fans how large your gaping asshole is," you tell Sakura, putting her pink anus in close sight of the stream camera and playing by putting your cock in and out of it. "OH YES, BABY, FUCK, THAT'S SO HOT," Sakura moans. "She should do this more often," someone comments.

You put Sakura on the top of the couch, pushing the camera in your direction. "Oh yeah, keep fucking me, hubby," Sakura begs as your cock takes multiple deep stabbings in her asshole. Her body jiggles as Sakura tries to keep her balance while spreading her legs wide open. "Yes, pound my fucking ass, baby. FUCKKKK, OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT," Sakura screams as you quickly change the pace.

You make Sakura deepthroat your cock, making it wetter for another session. "Yes, put it back, right in my ass, fuck," Sakura begs and gets it, you alternating between hard and deep thrusts. "You're so good, hubby, fucking your wife right in the ass on her birthday, yesss," Sakura says.

"Oh yes, baby, touch my pussy just like that," Sakura begs as you penetrate her ass and pussy at the same time, your cock and your fingers in perfect sync. "Damn, that's so hot," someone comments as the livestream audience keeps growing the harder you fuck your hot, needy gamer wife. "OHHH FUCK, DON'T FUCKING STOP," Sakura begs, both your cock and fingers deeper and deeper in her holes.

"I'M GONNA CUM AHHHH," Sakura screams as she unleashes a massive gush of squirt into the camera. "Damn, she's getting it all wet," a comment says. "Squirt for me, baby, show how much of a whore you are for this cock, entertain your audience," you tell Sakura, making her squirt a few more times. "Damn, she's got a whole geyser in her pussy," someone says.

"Let's get to the floor," you command to Sakura, who quickly gets upside down with her legs over her head, spreading her butthole for you to enter again. Quickly you penetrate Sakura in a pile driver position, Sakura with her head on the floor as you keep stretching out her asshole. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, RIGHT THERE, RIGHT THERE," she begs as she fingers her cunt for the audience.

"Fucking take that ass, baby," Sakura says to you as she zooms the camera into the action, capturing your cock going in and out of her butt perfectly. "Look how thirsty her pussy is," someone comments as you put your finger back in her clit and she suddenly starts to squirt. "FUCK, IT FEELS SO GOOD," she moans to the camera, her legs spread wide open almost as if she were like her groupmate Kazuha as you fucked her balls deep.

"Keep fucking that ass until you fucking cum," Sakura begs as your cock bulges under her belly, her tits bouncing as your thrusts get harder and harder. You stretch your body all over the couch, now occupying the entire camera frame as

Sakura gets pounded hard, her head smashing to the floor with your thrusts.

You take a little break and bring a real-sized dildo toy, shoving it into Sakura's ass and showcasing her massive gape to the camera. "Yes, hubby, show them my pink butthole," Sakura begs as you zoom deep into her anal cavity. After a couple of thrusts with the dildo, you feed it in her mouth for Sakura to taste her ass while you fuck it, muffling her moans in the toy while the real thing destroys her pink anus.

"I want to taste my ass from your cock too," Sakura says, and you promptly oblige, shoving your cock in her mouth while she plugs the dildo back in her butt. "It's going really deep; it looks like I stretched it out quite well already," you say to her as you fuck her face before getting back up and thrusting the dildo in her ass.

"Which one do you prefer, my cock or the dildo?" you ask Sakura. "I like any of them, as long as they are fucking my ass," she answers you. "Then let me do it more," you tell her, replacing the dildo with your cock while Sakura spreads her ass.

"OH YEAH, JUST LIKE THAT, RUB MY PUSSY, HUBBY, AHHHH," Sakura moans as she puts her legs completely over her head. "I didn't know you were flexible like that," you tell her. "Let's say my friend Zuha taught me a thing or two about that," she answers.

"GIVE IT TO ME, FUCK ME BABY," Sakura begs as she's completely pinned to the floor. You turn around, smashing her as viewers get to see your ass while you fuck Sakura's, her legs now over her head as she moans like the good Japanese whore she is. "You like your hubby's big cock deep in your fucking slutty ass?" you ask her. "Hell yeah," she answers.

"HMMMM, AHHHH, OH FUCK," Sakura moans as she fingers her cunt, giving the viewers another wonderful squirt show. "Look at her pussy exploding," someone says as she keeps squirting. "YES, HUBBY, POUND MY FUCKING ASS, AHHHH FUCK," she screams as another gush of juices hits the camera, you toying with her asshole, going in and out of it.

Sakura puts a pair of fingers in her asshole and stretches it out. "Keep it open," you tell her. "Yes, hubby, take it; you won the bet; you can fuck that ass all day if you like," she begs as the gape in her asshole only grows larger and larger.

"I sure aren't done with it," you tell Sakura, grabbing a pillow and lying on the floor. "Sit on that dick and show your audience how much of a whore you are for it," you command to her as Sakura quickly impales her already stretched-out ass on your cock.

Sakura moves up and down, showing her beautiful oshiri to the audience as she bounces on your cock. You give her no rest, pumping it from down low. "OH YES, FUCK ME LIKE THAT," Sakura begs as you thrust like crazy, giving her no second to breathe, grabbing and spreading her ass.

"JUST FUCKING USE MY ASS, HUBBY, OH MY FUCKING GOD, PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME, PLEASE MAKE ME CUM," Sakura begs as you drill her ass like a madman. "Damn, he's really wrecking her," someone comments. "SHIT," Sakura screams as you spank her butt. Tying her arms behind her back, she tries to react and bounce on your cock, but you keep relentlessly attacking her ass, grabbing her body in your direction and using her like a fucktoy.

"Come on, you fucking slut, you said you wanted this," you tell Sakura, giving her another hard spanking. "He's turning her cheeks really red," someone says. Sakura obliges, bouncing as hard as she can on your cock, using your thighs as a support as she rides. "OH FUCK, GOSH," she then screams as you keep pumping, reaching to grope her tits while doing so.

You and Sakura keep dueling with each other, but you ultimately come out on top despite being on the bottom. "HOLY SHIT," she moans again as your hands are all over her tits and your big cock is all over her butthole. "I'm so blessed to have a slutty wife like you, Kkura," you tell her as Sakura just turns into your free-use anal toy, your cock hitting her ass deeper than ever.

"YES, FUCKING SPANK ME, HUBBY, AHHHH," Sakura begs as you print the palm of her hands all over her butt. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Sakura screams, your thrusts trying to make her lose her balance. "Damn, he's fucking the shit out of her," someone comments.

"Smile for the camera," you tell Sakura, turning her body around and showing it to her fans as you fuck her ass. She grinds her teeth as her perky nipples bounce. "SHIT," she curses again, your thrusts being so hard she's almost levitating, her fingering her pussy. "OH MY GOD, FUCK, FUCK, YES, YES, YES," she screams as her cheeks get clapped.

"Just fucking use my ass," Sakura begs, putting both fingers in her cunt, ready to squirt again as you pound her butt into oblivion. You reach from behind and start finger-fucking her cunt. "PLEASE GIVE IT TO ME, PLEASE MAKE ME CUM, AHHHH," Sakura begs, you spanking her perky tits as she starts to close her legs, rolling her eyes and shooting another geyser of squirt into the camera.

"AHHHH I'M CUMMING," Sakura announces as her pussy turns into a juicy fountain one more time. You grab her neck as she squirts, Sakura bouncing on your cock as she keeps emptying all the juices on her pussy, grinding hard and showing how much of a whore she is.

Sakura sits back in the couch as you cuddle her with kisses, never keeping your hands out of her throbbing, squirting pussy, jerking your cock off in anticipation for one more round. "Keep stretching that ass; don't fucking stop, yes, yes," she begs for you as you thrust into her on the couch, groping her tits. "PLEASE, PLEASE, DON'T STOP, FUCK," Sakura continues to beg, you clapping her clit while you clap her cheeks.

"Keep going, nice and deep," Sakura says as you grab the camera to show her reactions while you fuck her ass. "Look at her tits bouncing; she is begging for that cock," you tell the audience. "Just keep using me, yes," Sakura says, losing her breath after near an hour of fucking on camera, you hitting her face and choking her neck. "I'm gonna give this fucking slut the proper treatment she deserves for you to watch," you tell me as the livestream keeps getting record numbers.

"YES, YES, FUCK, FUCK, POUND MY FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Sakura turns into a screaming mess. You pause a bit to massage her cunt. "Squirt for them," you tell her. "AHHHHH," Sakura screams as you make her cum, going back into her pussy as you choke her.

"Use that asshole, make it all yours, hubby; just use it to make yourself cum," Sakura begs as she fingers her pussy. "I'm your fucking slut, hubby," she says. "Are you?" you ask her as you spank Sakura's face. "Yes, baby, give it to me; use my hot body for your pleasure," she continues as she smiles at you.

"Tell me, Kkura, where do you want my cum?" you ask her. "Deep in my fucking ass, please, please, fill me up, cum for me," she tells you as you continue to pound. It's been over an hour, and you're ready to bust inside your wife's loose butthole at any second.

"Oh fuck," you groan as your seeds start flowing out of your cock and painting Sakura's pink anal walls white; she smiles as she spreads her ass, letting your cum ooze out into the floor, spreading a good gape for her fans. "This is my birthday gift for my fans," she says.

"Sakura farts out your cum and licks it from the floor. "Let me taste your cum," she says, taking every single drop and making bubbles with it. "So yummy," she says as she swallows and then turns the camera off. "That's a good girl," you tell her just as the stream comes to an end.

"Fuck, that was so good; I had a lot of fun with this joystick," Sakura says. You spank her ass. "Fucking slut, you planned all of this shit," you tell her. "Of course I did; I love my hubby," she tells you. "We should do this again next year," you finish.

"For sure, and next time I'll bring some special guests to play video games with you," Sakura says.

"I can't wait."

Happy Sakura day to everybody. For it, I decided to do a sequel to what I consider to be my breakthrough fic, adding elements of another big fic of mine (Yuna's "Livestream") into the story, as Sakura gets to have an amazing hour of sex on camera with her ass-obsessed husband.

[reiding-writing]

Can you write something for Spencer and cold reader where they’re on a case and a police officer has been flirting with Spencer heavily the whole time and he’s just been laughing it off and being his typical self but reader is jealous and finally realizes she wants to be more than friends who kiss. Ur cold reader fics r soooo good btw like u ate.

MAKE IT OFFICIAL. /spencer reid/

the limits of your patience are pushed further than usual seeing spencer’s oblivious kindness whilst being flirted with.

cold!reader 1.7k flangst series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | thank you girliepop 💅

You’re halfway through a sip of bitter coffee when she laughs again. It’s the same laugh she’s been using all morning—breathy, melodic, and entirely directed at Spencer.

It flutters too long in the small space of the precinct, stretching over the clatter of keyboards and the low murmur of detectives briefing each other. You tilt your head slightly, observing from your spot near the evidence board.

The officer—Mitchell, her name tag says—leans closer to Spencer than necessary. She rests her hand on his forearm, which should be a brief touch but somehow lingers long enough to make your fingers tighten around the paper cup in your hand. Spencer’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles at whatever nonsense she’s just said.

You press your thumb against the edge of the cup, hard enough that the cardboard buckles slightly.

“Wow, you’re really good at this,” she purrs, too saccharine, too eager, watching him fill out some report. “All those big words,” She laughs again.

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the sharpness of it cut into your skin. The burn is grounding.

Spencer just chuckles softly, light and disarming, probably completely unaware of how deliberately she’s touching him. He barely reacts when she pushes a strand of hair off his forehead, her fingers lingering too long for a casual gesture. His attention is on the paper, and he doesn’t pull away. Of course he doesn’t. He’s Spencer.

You glance at the clock. 3:37 PM. You have been here for hours. You’ve combed through reports, stared at maps, gone over timelines—and still, none of that has been as frustrating as standing here watching her flip her hair over her shoulder every time she speaks to him.

Spencer looks up and catches your eye. His smile brightens automatically, a familiar warmth in his eyes. But you turn away before it has a chance to land. You shove the rest of your coffee into the trash and stride toward the conference room without a word.

—

You hear Spencer before you see him. His voice carries softly into the conference room, spilling through the half-open door.

“Hey,”

You don’t turn. You’re shuffling papers across the table without focus, avoiding looking at him as he steps inside. You hear the faint click of the door closing behind him.

“You okay?” he asks lightly, but there’s that soft edge of concern under the surface.

You nod, once, briskly. “Fine.”

You’re not.

Spencer hesitates for a moment. You know he’s searching your face, trying to interpret the sharpness in your voice. He’s always been annoyingly good at reading you. It doesn’t stop you from keeping your eyes on the case files, scanning words you don’t actually see.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again. His tone is teasing. “You stormed out of the room so fast, I thought maybe you remembered you left the car on or something,”

You exhale sharply through your nose. He’s trying to lighten the mood. You know it’s meant to be endearing, but it irritates you instead. You stack the papers into a neat, rigid pile and stare at them.

“Why didn’t you just give her your number?” The words slip out before you can stop them.

Spencer blinks. “What?”

You don’t look at him. “The officer. Mitchell. She was all over you. You could’ve saved her the effort.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

You finally glance at him, and his expression is one of genuine confusion. His lips are slightly parted, his brows furrowed just enough to create that little crease above his nose. The one you’re too familiar with.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Your voice is flat. Measured.

Spencer’s head tilts slightly, blinking at you in that slow, owlish way he does when he’s processing. “She was just being nice,”

You let out a short, humourless laugh, shaking your head once. You stare down at the case file again. You’re gripping the edge of it so tightly that the paper threatens to crumple.

“She touched you like four different times,” you say, tone clipped. “And you didn’t seem to mind.”

Spencer frowns. “I didn’t even notice,”

Of course he didn’t. Because he was too busy being Spencer—kind and soft-spoken and so oblivious that he doesn’t even register when someone’s blatantly flirting with him. The worst part is that he probably doesn’t even realise why you’re angry.

There’s a stretch of silence. His eyes are still on you, searching.

You finally look up at him and hold his gaze. Your voice is steady, cool, and unyielding.

“I want you to be my boyfriend.”

The words come out without any warning. Blunt and matter-of-fact, like you’re stating a weather report. There’s no emotion in your voice, no softness, no trace of vulnerability.

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. He blinks once. Then twice.

“What?” he says softly, and you can see the confusion flit across his face. Like he thinks he misheard you.

You exhale sharply, irritated by the way your chest tightens. You keep your eyes on him, refusing to look away, even when you feel the weight of your words hanging in the space between you.

“I want you to be my boyfriend.” you repeat evenly.

There’s no flourish to the statement. No tenderness. It’s clinical and cold, like you’re stating a simple fact. Like you’re asking him to pass the salt.

Spencer blinks again. You watch his throat bob slightly as he swallows. His voice is careful when he speaks, slow and measured.

“Why… are you saying it like that?”

You cross your arms loosely, feeling exposed despite your detached tone. “Does it matter how I’m saying it?”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, it kind of does,”

You clench your jaw. You’re suddenly aware of how loud the blood is in your ears.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing, Spencer,” you say plainly. “I’m just… telling you what I want.”

His eyes are soft, searching. His brow furrows slightly, and you can tell he’s trying to read between the lines. You hate how easily he can see through you.

“Do you—” He stops himself and exhales slowly. He tries again, quieter this time. “Do you mean that?”

You scoff softly, feigning exasperation, even though your hands have curled into fists at your sides. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

He takes a half step closer. The warmth in his eyes softens into something gentler, something achingly familiar.

“Hey,” he says quietly. His voice is so soft it almost makes your throat tighten. “Your tone isn’t really… reassuring,”

You roll your eyes slightly, trying to keep your voice steady, unaffected. “I didn’t realise there was a proper tone for this sort of thing.”

But Spencer’s still watching you, gaze steady, almost too steady. His voice is barely above a whisper when he says, “You sound like you’re scared of it,”

Your stomach tightens sharply, and you hate how exposed you feel. You glance away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“I’m not scared,” you say quietly. It’s almost convincing.

Spencer steps closer, slow and deliberate, until he’s right in front of you. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body, close enough that his scent—faintly woodsy, familiar—pulls at you.

“Then say it again,” he murmurs softly. “But… more— genuinely? Vulnerably?”

You let out a sharp breath, heart tightening. You stare at the floor, feeling your pulse in your throat. Your hands are cold and damp, and you want to shove them into your pockets, but you don’t.

You force yourself to look at him, and the moment you meet his eyes, your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper.

“I,” You breathe. “would like you to be my boyfriend,”

It’s softer this time, but the edges of it are still stiff and unfamiliar. You sound uncertain, and you hate it.

Spencer’s lips part slightly, and he exhales slowly, eyes impossibly gentle. He reaches out, carefully, deliberately, as if giving you time to pull away. But you don’t. His hand skims over yours, fingers brushing lightly against your knuckles, and his touch is steady, grounding.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

You blink at him. “Okay?”

His mouth curves into the faintest smile, and his voice is barely above a murmur.

“Yeah,” He nods. “Okay,”

For a moment, you just stare at him, unsure if you’ve even heard him right. But then he’s leaning down, slow and deliberate, and your breath catches when his lips brush softly against yours.

His hands frame your face, tentative at first, as though afraid you might bolt. But when you don’t, his fingers settle more firmly along your jaw, thumbs brushing lightly over your skin.

And when you pull back slightly, breath unsteady, his eyes search yours with a quiet intensity.

“No one’s going to see,” he murmurs softly against your lips. “It’s alright,”

Your chest tightens sharply, and you hate how warm his words make you feel. You pull him down again, into a kiss that makes the papers on the table blur into nothingness.

And this time, you let yourself want it.

[foxtrology]

sweet sweet baby (since you've been gone)

harry castillo x reader

series

warnings: no y/n, 28 year age gap, female reader.

The last time he had gone up to a woman was at a wedding reception and it ended terribly for him.

Lucy was her name.

He had thought she was the one. All the time they had spent together, all the nights he held her, it was all for nothing. In the end he was the one left behind while she and that broke fucking waiter—oh how much he hated that broke waiter with a fucking passion—ran off into the sunset all happily.

John.

John was his name. Living in a rundown studio apartment with a struggling college student as a roommate. Yeah, what a fucking life she decided to choose.

He still follows her on Instagram.

An Instagram she begged for him to have. He valued his privacy. Being a successful CEO had its perks but it also had his downsides. Privacy was a major downside. He's lucky if a week has gone by without The New York Times calling his office.

Something he should've done a long time ago was delete Instagram and move on from Lucy, but of course he loves to make things more difficult for himself.

19lucy89 has posted a photo!

He should've at least turn off the notifications notifying him of her posting but he couldn't do it. He still wasn't over her. Scrolling on the social media app had him scoffing.

She had posted a photo of her and that broke waiter kissing.

"Whiskey neat."

Harry slips his phone back into his pocket, thanking the bartender. Sliding off the barstool, he glances at all the couples around him. He rolls his eyes.

Since when is everyone fucking dating? Everywhere he goes it's always a couple canoodling. It pisses him off.

Getting back to his table, Danny slaps Harry on his back as he sits down. He cringes as the hand hits his back. He's always had back problems but never acknowledged them.

Not until Lucy. She made him start seeing a chiropractor.

But since she's out of his life, he has been ignoring his pains and ignoring his chiropractor’s calls. She didn't care anymore so why should he.

"Dude Vanessa and everybody are going to an afterparty—"

"Is this not an afterparty?" Harry furrows his brows, interrupting his partygoer friend.

Danny shakes his head playfully, scoffing. "Any excuse to continue drinking, am I right?"

He really didn't want to spend another hour at a party. He's 54 for god's sake, he done.

He's old. He's an old man.

He gets cranky if he doesn't go to sleep at a certain time, he gets aggravated when he pushes paperwork aside leaving it to the last minute, he hated pleasing his friends who have been trying to get him out more ever since the whole Lucy thing happened.

He's leaving, he wants to go home.

"I think I'll be heading—" Then his phone vibrating in his coat pocket stops him.

Maybe Lucy texted him?

Fuck he's so delusional.

"Actually I'm gonna head out. I have a lot of paperwork." Harry stands up, pulling out his phone.

Danny furrows his brows at his friend.

"But you didn't even touch your drink?"

Harry tells him he has liquor at his place, he can finish his drink at home, not here. He doesn't bother to say any goodbyes to any of his friends. They won't remember it anyways.

He hurriedly swipes open his phone as the cold air hits his face.

19lucy89 has added onto their stories!

Clicking onto her profile made him sick.

He should have deleted Instagram.

He should have blocked her.

But he wasn't strong enough.

She posted a video.

Though it wasn't just any other video. The video showed John on his left knee holding up a ring.

He was fucking proposing.

It was like his whole world came tumbling down.

He had never felt this sick in his life.

Harry used to hate the way rich people would talk about money. They used to say money isn't everything, how it doesn't solve anything and it isn't happiness.

He begged to differ.

He didn't grow up with much. His mother struggled especially.

She was sick and wasn't financially stable for treatment so she died.

He used to think that if they had money she would still be here.

He never told anyone about it. Never spoke about the situation, he always tried to ignore it. Until Lucy came around.

She was the only person he confided in. He cried in her arms.

He didn't understand how she could just leave so easily. He remembers the night she told him, they were in the kitchen when she spoke the truth about how she was still in love with John.

She had said that he was the one that got away and that they needed each other.

She packed up her clothes and left his penthouse.

And that was it.

And now he’s standing outside The Met at 54 years old, pathetically hung up on a woman who left him for some broke waiter in a studio apartment that probably has one fucking bathroom.

A couple bumping into him made him come back to earth. He mutters an apology for blocking the entrance.

Another fucking couple.

He shoves his phone into his pocket with too much force, rolling his shoulders as he takes the steps two at a time, the cold air biting against his skin.

Only Vanessa Garnier would throw a goddamn dinner party at The Met.

He needs to go home.

Needs to drink.

Needs to pretend he didn’t just witness the woman he once loved agreeing to marry a broke fucking waiter.

Harry is already pissed off as he stomps down the Met steps. He’s just trying to leave this godforsaken party, get home, and drown himself in whiskey while pretending he doesn’t care about Lucy’s engagement.

Then—he sees her.

She’s sitting on the steps wrapped up in her own world, scrolling her phone.

She’s alone. Not giggling into her phone like the socialites inside, not throwing herself at men with trust funds bigger than their personalities.

Just…sitting.

And for some reason, it annoys him.

"You’re in my spot."

It wasn't his spot but he was annoyed.

Maybe he was annoyed of seeing people who aren't miserable like him.

She barely looks up.

Just a quick flick of her eyes from her phone to the man standing in front of her, assessing him in a single glance before exhaling softly through her nose—unimpressed and unbothered.

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Since he was already irritated, already on edge, already a step away from either throwing his phone into the street or smashing it against the nearest wall—he stood there, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come.

Nothing.

No wide eyes.

No forced politeness.

No recognition.

Just a woman sitting on the steps of The Met, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there.

His jaw ticked.

"Did you hear me?"

She sighed—actually sighed—as if he was the one disturbing her.

Well he kind of was.

Finally, she lifted her head, phone still in her hand, her gaze settling on him with all the enthusiasm of someone being asked to do a survey on the street.

"Yeah. I heard you."

His brow furrowed. He waited.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t shift.

Didn’t apologize.

Didn’t give him an inch of what he was used to—deference, nervous laughter, people scrambling to please him just because of who he was.

Instead, she blinked once slow and deliberate before tilting her head slightly to the side.

"Pretty sure the city owns these steps."

Harry clenched his teeth.

Of course.

Of course, he’d have to deal with this tonight.

This was not his night.

This was not his fucking night.

He didn’t even know why he was still standing there, why he hadn’t just turned and left. He should be in his car by now, should be halfway home with a drink already in his hand.

But for some reason he wasn’t.

For some reason he sat down instead.

A slow, deliberate movement. A shift of his coat as he lowered himself onto the step beside her, his knee brushing against the fabric of her own red coat as he exhaled sharply.

Her brow lifted slightly, her grip on her phone tightening for a moment as if she was considering whether to acknowledge his presence or simply ignore him altogether.

She settled on the latter.

Good.

Fine.

He didn’t want to talk anyway.

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring out at the street with the same burning resentment that had been sitting in his chest since he walked out of that party.

Another fucking couple passed by.

Laughing. Whispering. Holding hands like they were the only two people in the world.

His grip tightened around his knee. His mouth pressed into a firm thin line.

He should be at home.

He should be anywhere but here.

Instead, he was sitting on the cold steps of The Met beside a stranger who didn’t care that he was Harry fucking Castillo.

He scoffed.

The sound must have been louder than he intended, because this time—she looked at him.

Actually looked at him.

Not just a glance. Not just a flicker of vague recognition before returning to her phone.

No—she studied him, just for a second.

And then…the corner of her mouth twitched.

Not a smile. Not exactly. But close enough.

Close enough for something inside of him to tighten, for his stomach to knot in that irritating way he didn’t like.

She turned back to her phone.

"Rough night?"

He huffed out a sharp breath, shaking his head adjusting his tie even though it wasn’t loose.

"Something like that."

She hummed. Hummed. Like she wasn’t even surprised.

Like she already knew that about him.

Like she had already figured him out.

His teeth clenched.

She didn’t know him.

She didn’t know anything about him.

"What?" His voice was sharper than intended.

She barely reacted. Just tapped her thumb against her screen, scrolling absentmindedly before murmuring

"Nothing."

But it wasn’t nothing.

It was something.

It was definitely fucking something.

Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his exhaustion settle deeper into his bones.

This night was never going to end, was it?

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

The sounds of the city hummed around them. Car horns. Distant conversations. The occasional roar of an engine as someone sped down Fifth Avenue.

And then—

"You gonna sit here all night?"

Harry turned his head slightly, catching the amused glint in her eyes as she finally looked at him again.

"Depends," he muttered. "You gonna move?"

She smirked. "Nope."

He exhaled.

Rolled his shoulders.

Ignored the way something unsettled was shifting in his chest.

"Guess I’m staying, then."

And for the first time in a long time—he didn’t mind.

That realization alone should have pissed him off. Should have made him get up, adjust his coat, and leave like he had originally planned.

But he stayed.

The cold air pressed against his skin, sneaking beneath his collar, curling around his fingers where they rested against his knee. The whiskey from earlier still burned slightly in the back of his throat, though it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, to settle the restless storm churning inside his chest.

The silence stretched.

Not an uncomfortable one, surprisingly. But an unfamiliar one.

People didn’t let silence sit with him. They filled it, rushed to fix it, scrambled to find something clever or charming or useful to say because people who sat next to him were always trying to get something from him.

The woman sitting next to him, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there. Like he was just another insignificant part of the city.

That part should have pissed him off.

But it didn’t.

It intrigued him.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to catch the faint reflection of her screen. Not because he cared what she was looking at—he didn’t—but because he needed a distraction. Any distraction.

A taxi app.

She was waiting for a ride.

She was leaving.

Good.

Great.

That meant he wouldn’t have to sit here much longer, wouldn’t have to keep pretending like this wasn’t some strange, unexplainable moment in his otherwise predictable night.

He could go home, pour himself a drink, scroll through Lucy’s Instagram like a fucking idiot, and pretend he wasn’t still furious.

But—

He didn’t want her to leave.

Not yet.

Not before he figured out why the hell he was still sitting here.

Not before he figured out why she wasn’t miserable like him.

His gaze flicked to her hands, the way she tapped at her screen absentmindedly like she wasn’t in a hurry, wasn’t anxious about the time, wasn’t dreading the ride home.

He wanted to ask where she was going.

He didn’t.

Instead, he spoke before he thought.

"Where do you live?"

She didn’t react at first.

Just kept scrolling.

Then without looking up.

"That’s a weird thing to ask a stranger."

Harry exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

"You’re waiting for a cab."

Finally, she turned to him, brow raised. "And?"

He rolled his shoulders, voice even. "I’ll take you home."

A beat of silence.

Then—

She laughed.

Not a giggle. Not a polite chuckle. A real, unfiltered laugh.

Like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

Harry’s expression did not change.

"I wasn’t joking."

That just made her laugh harder.

She shook her head, lips twitching as she locked her phone and slid it into her pocket, finally—finally—giving him her full attention.

"You, a man who I met ten minutes ago, are offering to take me home."

Harry blinked, unfazed.

"Yes."

"In your car?"

"Yes."

She exhaled, shaking her head again.

"This is the part where I ask if you're a serial killer."

He smirked, dry and humorless. "Would a serial killer offer?"

"Maybe a dumb one."

He scoffed. "Do I look dumb to you?"

She considered him for a moment. Then—

"A little bit."

Harry almost smiled.

Almost.

Instead, he sighed adjusting the sleeve of his coat as he stared out at the street again.

"Look, I don’t care where you live. I don’t care what you do. And I don’t care if you take the cab or not. But it’s late and I have a driver waiting." He paused. "Take the ride. Or don’t."

She studied him for a moment.

Not like the people at the party, not like the women who assessed him as a prize, a trophy, a walking investment.

No, she was studying him like she was still trying to figure out if he was serious.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why offer?"

Harry clenched his jaw.

Good question.

Why had he?

Because he was restless.

Because he didn’t want to be alone.

Because he wasn’t ready for the night to end.

But he didn’t say any of that.

Instead he said, "Because I can."

She hummed at that, something unreadable passing over her face.

Then to his absolute fucking surprise

She stood.

Pulled her coat tighter around herself.

Looked down at him with a grin.

"Lead the way, then."

The Maybach was parked at the curb, sleek and expensive and definitely out of place for a random stranger sitting on museum steps.

His driver, James barely batted an eye when Harry pulled open the door and gestured for her to get in first.

She hesitated.

Just for a moment.

And then—

She slid into the seat like she did this every day.

Harry followed, closing the door behind them.

James glanced at him through the rearview mirror, silent, waiting.

Harry exhaled, glancing at her.

"Where to?"

She gave him a look.

"Aren't you supposed to be a gentleman and ask for my name first?"

He huffed. "You never asked for mine."

"Because I don’t care."

His lips twitched. "Then why get in the car?"

She leaned back against the leather seat, legs crossed, gaze flicking out the window.

"Because I wanted to see if you'd actually do it."

Harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he gave James the silent cue to start driving.

This was insane.

He should have just gone home.

Should have just let her take the damn cab.

But now—he was in a car with a woman who didn’t care who he was, nor his money, didn’t even seem remotely fazed by the fact that she was sitting in a million dollar car with a man who could buy out half the city.

And for the first time all night...

Lucy’s engagement didn’t feel like the worst thing that had happened to him.

The car pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into the flow of late night Manhattan traffic. The soft hum of the engine filled the space between them, a quiet luxury that most people would have fawned over.

But not her.

She wasn’t running her fingers over the leather seats, wasn’t sneaking glances at him, wasn’t pretending to be indifferent while stealing curious looks.

She just stared out the window, completely at ease.

Harry tilted his head slightly, studying her side profile.

"You still haven’t told me where you live."

She blinked, turning back to him, almost as if she’d forgotten he was even there.

"Oh. Right." She exhaled, stretching her arms slightly before dropping them into her lap. "I’ll just have your driver drop me off at the corner of—"

"Not James." His voice was firm, sharp in a way he didn’t expect.

She raised a brow.

"What?"

"Tell me."

A slow smirk curled at her lips, amusement flickering in her gaze.

"Are you always this controlling?"

"Are you always this difficult?"

Her smirk widened slightly, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to the front of the car.

"Excuse me, take me to—"

"Don’t talk to my driver."

She whipped her head back to him, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

"He’s not your driver."

She let out a small, sharp laugh, shaking her head.

"You’re serious?"

"Very."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something else there, something interested.

She sighed, crossing her arms, "Fine. Since you clearly need to be the one in control, Lower East Side."

He barely nodded before shifting his gaze back toward the front.

James, wordlessly, made a turn.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Harry leaned back against his seat, stretching out his legs, exhaling slowly as the tension from earlier in the night settled into something quieter.

The city moved past them in streaks of light, taxis cutting through traffic, pedestrians still wandering the streets like the night would never end.

She stayed turned toward the window, her fingers mindlessly tapping against her knee.

The silence should have been comfortable.

But it wasn’t.

Not for him.

Because he was still thinking.

Thinking about Lucy. Thinking about how stupid he felt for still checking her Instagram. Thinking about how much he hated the feeling of losing.

But also—thinking about her.

This woman.

This stranger who got into his car without a second thought, who didn’t care about his money, who didn’t care about him.

That part was what unsettled him the most.

Because he was used to being recognized. Used to being admired, envied, feared.

But she?

She was just here.

Like he was just another man.

Like he wasn’t anything at all.

And for some reason—he wasn’t sure he hated that.

She broke the silence first. "So, what’s your deal?"

Harry exhaled, rolling his head to the side slightly.

"My deal?"

"Yeah." She waved a hand vaguely. "You seem miserable."

"You say that like it’s an observation."

"It is."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Maybe I just don’t like parties."

"Nope."

He arched a brow.

"No?"

"Not just parties. Life."

Harry’s jaw tightened. "Bold assumption."

"Accurate assumption."

His gaze flicked toward her, sharp, assessing.

She met it without hesitation.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she shrugged.

"Look, I don’t know what rich guy problems you have but you were sitting on those steps like someone had either ruined your life or just rejected your marriage proposal."

Harry stilled.

His fingers twitched slightly against his knee, his pulse slow, heavy.

She didn’t know how close she was.

How dangerously fucking close.

She didn’t know about Lucy. About the proposal he never got to make. About much time he spent believing he was enough only to realize that he wasn’t.

She didn’t know anything.

But she still saw right through him.

And that?

That pissed him off.

"Maybe I just wanted some fresh air." His voice was clipped, sharp.

"Sure." She smirked, looking out the window again. "And maybe I’m a billionaire, too."

Harry inhaled, slow and deep, rolling his head back against the seat, eyes flickering up toward the roof of the car.

"You’re insufferable."

"So I’ve been told."

For a moment, it was quiet again.

Then—

"Was it a girl?"

His brow furrowed.

"What?"

"The reason you were brooding." She tilted her head slightly. "Was it a girl?"

His fingers clenched.

She smirked.

"It was, wasn’t it?"

He clenched his jaw.

"Not everything is about a woman."

"I never said it was." She lifted a shoulder. "You just confirmed it, though."

Harry exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.

This was insane.

She was insane.

Why was he even still talking to her?

Why hadn’t he just dropped her off and left?

"I don’t do small talk." His voice was firm.

"Good. Me neither."

Then—silence.

Not uncomfortable.

Not forced.

Just…there.

The car slowed as they reached her street.

She shifted slightly, sitting up, unfastening her seatbelt as James pulled over.

For a second, Harry felt something strange.

Something he didn’t want to name.

She reached for the door handle, but before she could push it open—

"Wait."

She paused.

Glanced back at him. Brows lifted, waiting.

Harry swallowed.

"Let me take you to dinner."

Silence.

Her head tilted, lips curving up at the corners. "Are you asking or telling?"

"Does it matter?"

She smirked.

"I guess not."

She pushed the door open, stepping out into the cold.

Harry watched her go, watched as she turned, hands stuffed into her pockets, eyes unreadable as she met his gaze one last time.

Then—

"If you find me again, maybe I’ll say yes."

And just like that—

She was gone.

Harry sat there for a long moment.

Watched the empty space where she had been.

Felt the quiet weight of something new settle over him.

And for the first time in years, he found himself hoping—

That he’d see her again.

And knowing, somehow—

That he would.

[cutehoons02]

My posessive kitten!

Jake pt

*pairing: pervy kitten hybrid Jungwon x vet Girl

*trope: roomates to lovers/oppositive attraction

*synopsis: You were in the shit, Your best friend had decided to move in with his boyfriend and you were looking for a roommate to even the apartment and every person you met to share the expenses didn’t convince you, until Jake your best friend’s boyfriend told you that Jungwon one of his hybrid friends was looking for a house and so you found yourself sharing the space with a kitten who looked so cute that he was crazy

*tags: Jungwon is a black cat hybrid, lots of tension, Jungwon behaves with superiority and loves to tease the protagonist always throwing arrows, the protagonist studies veterinary for hybrid and finds himself studying the world of hybrid, territoriality, fake innocent girl, neddy Jungwon, needy girl, kisses, pacifiers, masturbation, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) normal-doggy sex, knot filling, pet names (good girl,baby) (wonnie)

12.3k (🐈‍⬛)

(English is not my native language)

For decades now, hybrids had been living alongside humans. Once considered "special" beings, half-human and half-animal, a nature experiment that hadn't yet found its place in the world, they had fought for years to gain recognition of their rights and true integration into society. Now, hybrids could study, work, rent homes, and live freely, without necessarily having to belong to a human family that would adopt them.

However, there were still strict rules: until the age of twenty, they could live in Hybrid Centers, facilities created to provide education and prepare them for independent living. But after that age, they either had to be adopted by a family willing to take care of them, or find a job and an apartment like any other citizen.

Jungwon had reached that point, staring at the form they had just given him, his black ears slightly lowered, his tail flicking irritably behind him. “You just need to find a place, Jungwon,” said the operator from the Center, a man in his fifties with glasses perched on his nose. “It’s not that bad.” Not that bad for you, he thought, biting the inside of his cheek. You're not the one who has to change your whole life overnight. Not that he hadn’t known this moment would come. He knew very well. But a part of him had hoped to delay it a bit longer. He liked life at the Center. Sure, there were rules, but at least he had a safe roof over his head, guaranteed food, friends to spend time with... and he didn’t have to worry too much about the future. Now, though, he had to find a place. And fast. When he left the office, still holding the form in his hands, he found Jake waiting for him. The friend sized him up and tilted his head, his golden ears twitching with the movement. “Funeral face,” he commented with a little laugh. “Did they finally kick you out?” Jungwon shot him a glare. “Very funny.” Jake started walking beside him, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. Unlike him, Jake was the classic sunny hybrid, always smiling, always ready to help others. Very golden retriever. “I told you to find someone to adopt you, you know?” the friend continued with a sly grin. Jungwon flicked his black ears in annoyance. “And become some boring human’s pet? No, thanks.” He had never been the type to be kept on a leash – figuratively speaking, of course. He wanted his freedom, he wanted to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He didn’t like the idea of someone making decisions for him. Jake laughed, as if he had already predicted that response. Then he suddenly stopped and turned to him. “Speaking of homes... I know you're looking for one.” Jungwon stiffened. “It’s not that I’m looking for one… they’re forcing me to find one.” “Same difference. Anyway, I’ve got an idea for you.” Jungwon narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “What kind of idea?” “My girlfriend has a friend who’s looking for a roommate,” Jake explained, shrugging his shoulders. “And the price is great. Oh, by the way... she’s a vet for hybrids.” Jungwon froze. His ears immediately flattened, and his tail stiffened. “NO.” Jake sighed. “Don’t be dramatic, she’s not the devil.” “Hybrid vets are worse than regular humans,” Jungwon muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “They treat you like an experiment to study. They stick needles everywhere and talk to you like you're a helpless puppy.” “She’s not like that,” Jake assured him. “Really. And think about it: living with a vet could actually be a benefit for you. She already knows how to deal with hybrids, won’t ask stupid questions, and won’t bother you.” Jungwon made a sound of disapproval. The idea of living with a vet made him uneasy… but, on the other hand, he didn’t have many alternatives. “… I want to see the apartment first. And I want to smell it, and her,” he finally conceded, reluctantly. Jake smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I knew you'd come around to my idea.” Jungwon sighed, but deep down he was already curious. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be that bad after all. At least, he hoped so.

You were desperate; it wasn’t an exaggeration, it was a fact. After two years of perfect cohabitation, your roommate and best friend had announced, with heart-shaped eyes and a smile that reeked of goodbye, that she was finally going to take the big step: move in with her boyfriend.

His boyfriend, Jake. Jake, the golden retriever hybrid who was the most cheerful and handsome one you’d ever known, the one you had studied carefully to make sure he was perfect for your friend. And you’d done a great job because those two looked like they had stepped out of a fairy tale. Great for them, but a disaster for you. Because now, you found yourself alone, with a too-large and too-expensive apartment to live in by yourself.

You had posted ads everywhere, set up appointments, and met possible candidates. But none of them convinced you.

The first one was a nice human guy, but he had the vibe of someone who forgot the bills and lived off pizza and takeout left lying around for days. No, thanks.

The second was a sweet girl, but she spoke to her hamster like it was her child and insisted you greet it every time you came home. Also, no.

The third… let’s not even talk about it. He was a fox hybrid who tried to hit on you with a terrible pick-up line five minutes after crossing the threshold. Eliminated.

In short, you were back at square one.

You were a social and friendly person with everyone, but also extremely perfectionistic. Probably a side effect of your training as a hybrid vet. Your studies honed your critical eye, your need for precision, and organization. You didn’t just want any roommate; you wanted someone polite, clean, respectful, and… well, bearable.

That’s when your best friend, perhaps feeling guilty for “abandoning” you, suggested a name.

'Jungwon.'

“Who?”

'A friend of Jake’s hybrid cat,' she answered with an encouraging smile. 'He’s looking for a place, and I think he might be perfect for you.' You weren’t convinced, but at that point, you were so desperate that you agreed to at least meet him.

The next day, you opened the door with a slight smile, letting your best friend, Jake, and… the black ball of fur that stared at you with piercing, bright green eyes, thin and probing.

It was unsettling. Not just because he didn’t take his eyes off you, as if trying to read you, but because in his gaze, there was something too self-assured, a hint of malice that sent chills down your spine.

Jake, holding Jungwon in his arms like he was a domestic kitten (though clearly, he wasn’t), spoke to him in a sweet, almost reassuring tone before setting him down.

'Come on, behave.” Jungwon landed gracefully on the floor, stretching slightly with a fluid motion, his long black tail lazily swaying behind him. He didn’t greet you. He just walked slowly through your apartment with an analytical, almost… predatory air.

You watched him closely as you showed him around. He was handsome, and that irritated you, but you never crossed the line of getting too close as you showed him the bathroom, the kitchen, his new room, and the living room. But when you opened the door to your bedroom, he paused longer. Too long. He gave a soft huff, as if absorbing the air in the room, and then, without hesitation, jumped onto your bed.

He mewed softly, rubbing against the sheets with a look of pure satisfaction as if he had found the perfect spot to stay.

“Ehm…” You looked at Jake, searching for answers, but he looked visibly embarrassed.

'Jungwon…' he scolded, running a hand through his hair. 'Come on, don’t do this.'

But Jungwon didn’t stop. He buried his face in the pillow, his ears twitching with excitement as his body slid across the blankets, leaving his scent behind, marking the space as if it were already his.

His mind was going to a dangerous place.

God, what a scent… It was sweet, and enveloping, with notes of lavender and honey. But underneath, there was something else. Something of yours, something that was driving him crazy.

Burying himself under the blankets in here…Jungwon bit his lower lip as a shiver ran down his spine. Hybrids didn’t have perfect self-control when it came to the scents that attracted them, and yours was… damn good.

He imagined waking up here every morning, burying his face in your hair while you slept, your warmth pressed against his body…He felt his tail twitch behind him.

I wonder how she would react if I brushed up against her like this… if my tail caressed her bare skin while she slept if my breath brushed against her ear before she even woke up…

He bit his cheek to suppress the low growl rising in his throat.

He was a well-behaved kitten, yes. He wouldn’t do anything inappropriate. But thinking about it? He couldn’t exactly stop himself. He barely lifted his gaze to you, his sharp eyes narrowing even further as he studied you.

Roommate, huh? Maybe, or maybe something more interesting.

When Jungwon returned to the kitchen, you expected him to just settle down and perhaps give you a clear answer about the house. But no, he purred—not at you, of course. Oh no, that would have been too easy.

Instead, he moved toward Jake and rubbed slowly against his legs, his long tail moving lazily behind him as his little face vibrated with satisfaction and he mewed something. A deep, slow, almost sensual sound.

You stared at him, unsure. Was that necessary?

“So?” you asked, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine. “Did you like the apartment?” Then, with a more cautious tone: “Did you like… the scent?” you asked the cat as he stared at you.

Jake scratched the back of his neck, laughing softly. 'I think he liked you.'

You stiffened slightly, trying not to let it show. He was just a hybrid, a territorial cat, nothing more. It didn’t mean anything. You didn’t answer, simply watching Jungwon as he and Jake moved into the guest room to talk.

'Oh my God, you're as stiff as a board!' exclaimed your best friend, sitting next to you with a mischievous smile.

You shot her an irritated glance. "What are you talking about?" She nudged you. 'You saw how hot he is, right?'

You huffed. "No, I didn't."

'What do you mean, no? Even as a hybrid, it's obvious he's a looker.'

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes. "I don't care. I just want a normal roommate, to finish my studies, and not have unnecessary distractions."

She gave you a satisfied little smirk. 'Sure, sure... let's see if you'll say the same thing soon.' You were about to ask her what she meant, but then you heard footsteps.

First, Jake's—steady and relaxed. Then, slower, almost calculated steps followed behind him.

You turned around and— Oh. The guy leaving the room wasn’t a hybrid in animal form anymore. He was a man.

Blonde, slightly wavy dyed hair framed a face that looked sculpted with unnerving precision. Sharp, deep brown eyes that perfectly contrasted with his cat-hybrid form. His feline ears were still there, less pointed than before but still visible among his soft hair, and then there was his tail. Longer than in his animal form, but constantly moving— a detail your veterinary side couldn't ignore.

Joy? Tension? Embarrassment? No.

He didn’t seem embarrassed at all as he studied you, his gaze slowly scanning over you, as though he were analyzing every little detail, and in an automatic impulse, you extended your hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

He stopped. He didn’t immediately take your hand. He first looked you in the eyes, then lowered his gaze to your outstretched hand. A silence of a few seconds that felt like an eternity, and then he smiled.

One of those slow, almost lazy smiles, but with something too subtle to catch immediately, and finally, he took your hand.

His grip wasn’t excessive, but it wasn’t hesitant either. Sweet, but firm. His thumb barely moved across your skin, a touch almost imperceptible, and then…

'Nice to meet you, roommate. I’m Jungwon.'

Those words left his lips with a tone that made you shiver.

More than a month had passed since Jungwon moved into the apartment with you, and you still couldn’t figure him out. And it was absurd. You’d been studying and working with hybrids for years; you knew every one of their traits, habits, and instincts… Yet, he was an enigma.

One day he’d throw sharp jabs at you, the next, he’d almost be sweet.

“You’re always so precise and organized... almost boring,” he told you one day as he watched you carefully study and organize your veterinary notes.

“You don’t know how to have fun, do you? Maybe you should loosen up, every once in a while,” he said another day while you were out shopping, and you had been adamant about not going with him to a hybrid-only party.

“You stress too much, and when you do, your scent changes. I don’t like it,” he said one day when you came home with tears in your eyes for messing up a project on your exam.

“But the scent you leave on the couch... that, I like,” he said one day with a cocky tone while you were half-asleep next to him, watching a movie together.

He drove you crazy, and the worst part was his presence. No matter how much you tried to keep your distance, he was always there. In the house, in your space, and yet, when you came home and he was in his animal form, he wouldn’t even look at you.

Was he offended? Or was it just a game? He would barely turn around, flick his tail with a bored expression, and go to his room without a single meow of goodbye. But then, some nights, you’d find him under your bed.

And that’s when your patience ran out.

That evening, when you came home late from work, you found Jungwon—this time in his human form—sprawled out on the couch with his phone in hand. His black ears twitched slightly, signaling that he'd heard you enter, but of course, he didn’t even bother to look up. You sighed, tossing your bag onto a chair. Fine, I won’t ignore him this time. "Jungwon," you called flatly. He finally lifted his head, his ears perking up slightly as they caught the sound of your voice, with a look that was both bored and amused at the same time. 'Mmh?' You crossed your arms. "Can we talk?" He gave a small crooked smile. 'You’re always so formal… Go ahead, roommate.' You ignored the teasing tone. "Why do you keep sleeping under my bed?" He paused for a second, then tilted his head, his smile widening. 'Oh? You noticed?' You blinked, incredulous. "Of course I noticed! I've found you there more than once! Don’t try to deny it." Jungwon chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head in a lazy motion, as though stretching lightly. 'I’m not going to deny it. I’m just waiting to hear your lecture.' Your eye twitched with irritation. "I’m not going to lecture you. It’s simple: my room is mine. You have yours, and I don’t go into yours. If I did, you’d get mad because your room has to smell only like you. Yet, you don’t care and come sleep under my bed like it’s normal." He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly. 'I don’t see the problem. It’s just the floor.' "It’s not just the floor!" you exclaimed, exasperated. "It’s my space, and you can’t just… squat there!" Jungwon sat up slightly, his bright green eyes gleaming with mischief. 'What if I told you the problem isn’t the floor, but the fact that I’m under you?' You blushed. "What?" 'Your scent helps me sleep,' he said with disarming naturalness as if it were the most normal thing in the world. You stared at him, your brain trying to process. "You… what?" Jungwon slowly stood up, approaching with measured steps, his tail lazily swishing behind him. 'Is that so strange? You know better than me that hybrids have an excellent sense of smell, especially our cats. And your scent is…' He stopped right in front of you, lowering his head slightly to look at you better. '…comforting.' You swallowed. Don’t let him intimidate you. "Look, I don’t care if you find my scent pleasant or whatever," you replied, trying to keep your voice firm. "But I don’t want you sleeping in my room." Jungwon smiled. 'What if I told you I can’t live without it?' Annoyed, you stared him straight in the eyes. "What if I told you I’ll kick you out?" you said with a smile that made Jungwon growl internally. Silence. Then, to your surprise, Jungwon burst into laughter. It was a genuine laugh, light, almost musical. But there was a hint of mischief, as though he was teasing you. 'God, you’re so funny when you’re mad.' You spun around quickly to leave because you were tired of his behavior, but he was faster. He grabbed your wrist, not roughly, but with enough of a firm grip to stop you. 'Joking aside,' he murmured, his voice lower. 'I’m not doing it to annoy you.' You slowly turned to face him, locking eyes, and Jungwon ran a hand through his hair, an almost nervous gesture. 'It’s just that… I like knowing you're there.' You didn’t respond right away. Something in his tone at that moment made you hesitate, and then he smiled again, and that vulnerability vanished, replaced by his usual arrogance. 'But if you want me to stop, I’ll do my best.' “I’ll do my best” didn’t mean he would stop. It just meant he’d try, and somehow, you already knew he would never truly stop.

It was one o'clock p.m. when you heard the door open, and Jungwon was laughing, talking on the phone with someone. He seemed in a good mood, his low and relaxed laughter filling the air as he took off his jacket.

“…Come on, it’s impossible, Heeseung, the musical part is completely off-beat—” But as soon as he saw you sitting at the table, surrounded by books, notebooks, the tablet with some charts, and a plate of food next to you.

For a moment, he just stared at you in silence. Then, without even greeting you, he lowered the phone and abruptly ended the call. He raised an eyebrow, his tail twitching slightly as he took in the sight of you sitting there in front of him. It was strange because you always came home around 6 p.m. 'Why are you home already?'

You smiled innocently. "I have to stay home and study this week, it's exam time."

You pointed to the plate. "I made you some food in case you’re hungry. I know you love rice with vegetables, so I made some for both of us."

Jungwon walked over, put his bag down, and slumped into a chair.

'How thoughtful,' he muttered, picking up the fork with an amused smile. Then he looked up at you, his feline eyes scanning you as if they always hid something, and he began eating, apparently relaxed, but his eyes wandered over your books, curious. And then, he noticed the titles of the textbooks you were studying, and his cheeks tinged slightly red.

Reproduction in Feline Hybrids: Biology and Behavior.

Mating Between Hybrids and Humans: Probabilities and Precautions.

Heat Dynamics in Hybrid Cats.

Jungwon froze for a moment, seemingly analyzing what he had just read. Then, slowly, his smile changed, it was no longer a regular smile, but one of those smiles you had learned to fear, a mix of amusement and mischief.

Jungwon calmly put down his fork, leaned back in his chair, and intertwined his fingers on the table.

'Interesting.' You already knew where he was going with this and sighed, because you knew he’d start making jokes. "Don’t start."

He tilted his head, his gaze moving over the open texts. ìSo, that’s why you’re home all week? To study...' He paused for a moment, then lifted his eyes to you with a dangerous glint. 'Sex between hybrids?'

You hurried to correct him. "Reproduction. It’s not the same thing."

He smiled. 'Oh, but it’s very similar,' he said cheekily. You wanted to hide and sink into the ground with embarrassment.

'So,' he continued, tapping his fingers on the table. 'You’re reading about how… mating works between a hybrid and a human?' He said it slowly, almost savoring each word, and your face immediately heated up.

"I-I'm studying for an exam, Jungwon." You tried to stay calm, even though he wouldn’t take his eyes off you. "It’s important to know these things since I’m a veterinarian and I’m studying for my specialization."

He nodded slowly. 'I see.' Then he looked down at one of the books, and his smile grew even wider.

'And these numbers?' He pointed to one of the charts. 'Are you analyzing the success rate between a hybrid and a human?'

You swallowed. "Yes," and you handed it to him, and his eyes carefully scanned the various numbers and colors. Jungwon chuckled, amused. 'And tell me... how’s the percentage? High?'

"It depends on the type of hybrid," you replied quickly, trying to stay professional.

But he leaned in a little closer to the table.

'And for cats?' You lost your breath for a second.

"Jungwon." You tried to keep a serious tone. "You’re annoying."

He smiled again. 'And you’re too adorable when you try to be professional about topics so...' He paused theatrically. '...delicate.'

You covered your face with a hand, exhausted. It was only the first day. How the hell were you going to survive a whole week?

Jungwon shook his head, laughing to himself as he went back to eating, but in his mind, he was already looking forward to the days ahead. It was going to be an interesting week, he thought to himself.

Jungwon woke up late, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a soft light across his room. He stretched slowly, yawning, his tail moving lazily beneath the covers. It was then that he smelled it—your scent, sweet and persistent, lingering in the air, on the sheets, maybe even on him. A shiver ran down his spine, and a familiar warmth spread low in his belly. 'Shit.' He placed a hand on his face, trying to push away the thoughts invading his mind. You. You under him, your soft skin against his, your warm breath against his neck. You, moaned his name as he sank into you, his tail wrapping around your body, his knot filling you up and making you tremble. Just the thought of it made him growl quietly between his teeth. 'Damn study week.' As if it wasn’t already hard enough living with you, now he had to listen to you talk about reproduction, mating, and success rates. And now, his body was reacting on its own. He ran a hand through his light hair, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to ruin everything. He had finally found a decent roommate—though a little too perfect for his taste—and an apartment to stay in. He couldn’t let his cat instincts fixate on you in inappropriate and dirty ways. With a sigh, he got up, put on a pair of sweatpants, and left the room. You were in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a steaming cup in your hands, immersed in your books. As soon as you heard footsteps, you looked up distractedly… and nearly choked on your herbal tea. Jungwon entered the room shirtless, wearing only soft sweatpants around his hips, his smooth, pale skin fully exposed. He toned arms, sculpted abs, and a V-line that dipped too enticingly beneath the waistband of his pants. It was… It was too attractive and too beautiful at the same time. You coughed violently, trying to catch your breath as he looked at you with an amused smile. 'Woah, you okay?' he asked, walking closer and giving you a few innocent taps on the back. You nodded frantically, still coughing, your face probably on fire. He leaned against the counter, taking his coffee cup and sipping it calmly. Then, with the most shameless tone in the world, he tilted his head and looked at you with mischief. 'Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a guy shirtless.' You shot him a death glare, desperately trying to recover. “I’ve seen them.” You paused to swallow. “But not my roommate.” Jungwon chuckled, leaning against the sink. 'I’m just saying, it’s nothing shocking. I’m just a regular guy, part hybrid, with a pretty decent body.' He shrugged and winked at you, making his muscles move beneath his skin. 'I was hot.' You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms, and a shiver ran through your body. “Doesn’t seem like hybrid cats are in heat right now.” It was an innocent statement. Purely academic. But Jungwon smiled in a way that immediately made you regret speaking, and he moved a little closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 'I’m not in heat.' His voice was low, slightly husky, and your stomach twisted. You lowered your gaze to your cup, trying to focus on the fact that you still had exams to pass and a roommate who was always teasing you. You sighed. “Fine.” Jungwon chuckled, going back to drinking his coffee as if nothing had happened. But his tail, the one that kept moving slowly behind him, betrayed his mood far too well, and you already knew it wasn’t over yet.

That morning, Jungwon wasn’t home, and you finally had some peace.

You sat at the table with your tablet on, your books open, and a notebook full of notes. You spent hours studying carefully, softly repeating the harder concepts to yourself. Before lunch, you went out to do some grocery shopping, picking up what you needed and also getting a few things for Jungwon.

You have learned some of his cat hybrid preferences:

Hot milk with a bit of honey. He had told you he always drank it when he felt tired.

Smoked tuna. You’d noticed that every time he ate it, his tail moved slower, a sign of pure enjoyment.

Cream-filled pastries. He had never explicitly said it, but you’d seen how his eyes sparkled every time he had one.

Dried catnip, which he’d never admit to liking, but that would mysteriously disappear from the pantry now and then.

As you were putting away the groceries, you heard the door open, and it was exactly one o’clock p.m. when Jungwon walked in with damp hair from the rain. The scent of rain and wind mixed with the sweet aroma of vanilla and butter, something he must have brought back from the bakery.

He greeted you with a smile and handed you a white cardboard box.

'Spring’s beginning,' he said casually.

You took it, curious. “What’s this?”

'A cake.' He took off his wet jacket, shaking his hair slightly. 'It’s a new recipe we tested this morning.'

You eyed him with suspicion. “It’s not your birthday, right?”

Jungwon chuckled softly. 'No, of course not. I made it. You need to try it and tell me if it’s good.'

It was strange. Jungwon never did things without a second purpose, yet today he seemed... normal. After eating, you tasted the cake. It was soft, with a light cream and a hint of honey and lemon.

“Wow,” you said, genuinely surprised. “It’s really good.”

Jungwon smiled a flash of satisfaction in his eyes. You ate together, and for the first time, he acted almost kindly. Of course, there were still his usual jabs—comments about how you held your fork, how your face lit up when you ate something good, how your sweatshirt was way too big on you—but they were light, almost affectionate, and it worried you. It was strange seeing Jungwon like this.

At the end of lunch, he stretched with a little feline yawn and stood up. 'I’m going to take a shower and then sleep for a bit.'

You nodded, but you didn’t stop watching him as he left the kitchen.

What the hell is going on with him today?

It was already five in the afternoon, and you were immersed in your studies, completely absorbed in the descriptions of hybrid cat reproduction. The characteristics of the knot, its use in keeping the partner secured during mating, the success rates between hybrids and humans… And then you felt something soft brush against your legs. You looked down and found Jungwon in his feline form, a black ball of fur with sharp green eyes staring at you intensely. "Jungwon?" He meowed softly, rubbing his head against your leg. It was the first time he had approached you like that, and with slightly trembling hands, you stroked him. His ears lowered in pleasure, and as if that was the sign he had been waiting for, he jumped onto your lap, curling up against you. You stayed still for a moment. Jungwon wasn’t the type for physical contact, at least not in that way. He was more the type to brush against you briefly, to sneak touches, using contact as a game, but now he was here. Curled up between your legs, his small warm body vibrating softly with purring as he pressed even closer to your hoodie, rubbing his little face against the soft fabric as if trying to soak up your scent. It was too intimate of a scene. You went back to focusing on your notes, repeating aloud what you were studying.

"… during mating, the male’s knot swells inside the mate, preventing immediate extraction and ensuring a longer bond between the two partners…"

Below you, Jungwon moved slightly. You were distracted for a moment to look at him and his ears had moved imperceptibly and his tail had twisted around your legs. You continued reading.

"… in feline hybrids, this process can last several minutes up to a maximum of forty-five, increasing the chances of conception…"

You heard a light sound, something in between a meow and a little moan. You looked down again and Jungwon was looking at you. His eyes were darker, slightly narrower, and his tail moved slowly, languid. Then, with a fluid movement, he rubbed his face against your belly, making a little satisfied sound as if the idea of what you were saying had pleased him too much. You kept repeating it out loud for hours, Trying to ignore the strange atmosphere that had been created between you and Jungwon after his sudden-and very suspicious-meow of the afternoon.

Then, at 7:30 p.m., the door to his room opened and he entered the kitchen with the usual relaxed and cheeky attitude. 'Can you stop?' He asked with a tone that seemed almost bored, although in his eyes there was that usual glow of malice. You looked at him with a confused air. "Stop what?" 'To talk about knots, couplings, and all those things that we know to hybrids and even humans who are not veterinarians.' You snorted, trying to close the book. "I’m studying, Jungwon. Sorry if I want to pass my exams." But he was faster than you. With an agile movement, he took the book out of your hands and opened it again, scrolling through the pages with ease. A funny smile appeared on his lips as he read some passages, and then his eyes returned to you. 'Tell me, Y/n…' he said, tilting his head slightly. 'You’re so good at studying… then you’ll be able to answer some questions, won’t you?' You get stiff. "Jungwon, give me back the book." But he ignored your request and leaned to the table, browsing through the pages calmly. 'How long does the knot of a feline hybrid last on average?' he asked with innocence, though his tone was not at all innocent. You feel your cheeks warm. "It depends… can last from twenty to forty-five minutes, depending on the partner and the level of excitement." He smiled, smug. 'Interesting. And during the act, what do cat hybrids like most?' Swallowing, clenching fists on knees. "It depends on the hybrid." Jungwon shook his head, amused.

'Come on, doctor. You’re an expert, aren’t you? You know we have some innate preferences…' His eyes grew ever more intense as he waited for your answer. You bit your lip. "Cat hybrids tend to appreciate the bite on the nape… because they stimulate the instinct of submission and bonding with the partner." He tilted his head, his tail moving lazily behind him. 'What else?' You felt the beat accelerate. "Lick and nibble on the skin of your partner, especially in sensitive areas. Physical contact is important for you." Jungwon slowly licked his lips, as if he was tasting your words. 'Interesting…' He muttered, leafing through the pages again. Then he stopped at a chapter and a sneaky smile curled his lips. 'What about contraceptives?' You stiffened. "What?" He raised an eyebrow. 'What can a human girl use to avoid a pregnancy with a human? And a hybrid?' Deglutitors. "There are specific pills for both humans and hybrids. Those for hybrids also regulate heat hormones, while those for humans serve to prevent fertilization with the hybrid seed." Jungwon nodded as if he was satisfied with your answer. Then his gaze became more penetrating. 'Do you take them?' You were blocked. The air suddenly seemed heavier and his tone was playful, but there was something deeper in his voice. Something more authoritative.You lowered your gaze, feeling the heat rise to the cheeks. You never imagined having to answer such a question. Then, without looking into his eyes, you nodded slightly but Jungwon didn’t seem satisfied. With a slow step he approached and leaned slightly, his face dangerously close to yours. 'I want to hear you say the answer, Y/n.' His tone was low, almost a whisper, and it made your back shiver. "… Yes, I do." 'Yes, what?' "Yes, I will." He smiled, his smug expression. 'Good girl.' Then he straightened up and, as if nothing had happened, closed the book and put it on the table. 'Now you can stop studying for today. It’s dinner time.' he said lightly as if he had not just embarrassed you to the core. He glanced at you one last time, then turned to the refrigerator, leaving you there with your heart pounding and feeling that Jungwon was much more dangerous than you had imagined.

The heavy rain was thundering on the roof, accompanied by the deep sound of thunder that shook the air. You slowly opened your eyes, still groggy from sleep, but something seemed out of place. The door to your room was open, and you had closed it the night before. You leaned over the bed, your heart beating quietly in your chest, and looked down; under the bed, curled up in his animal form, Jungwon was sleeping deeply. His small body rose and fell with a regular rhythm, his black tail wrapped around his body, and a light puff of air left his lips now and then. For a moment, you found yourself thinking that he looked incredibly sweet when he slept. Almost… harmless. Maybe he should sleep forever, you thought sarcastically, aware of how cheeky and irreverent he was when awake. You slowly got up, careful not to wake him, and opened the blinds to let some light in, but the sky outside was dark, heavy with rain. A small meow caught your attention. Jungwon had woken up and, still in his animal form, lazily rubbed against your legs. You hesitated for a moment, then reached out and gently petted his head, feeling his soft fur under your fingers. It was one of the few times he allowed you to touch him without teasing. "I'm going to the bathroom," you said quietly. When you came out, he was there in his human form, leaning against the hallway wall with a small catnip twig between his lips, chewing absentmindedly. His hair was messy, his oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder, and his tail lazily swayed behind him. You stared at him. "Is something wrong?" Jungwon looked at you with an unreadable expression, then shrugged. 'Hmm… nothing.' But then, without any warning, he stepped closer and buried his face in the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickled your skin, and you froze completely, shocked by his sudden gesture. "J-Jungwon?" You felt his chest vibrating against you in a soft laugh. 'You smell good…' he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. You tensed slightly. "Are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on with you?" He pulled away just a bit, his icy green eyes meeting yours. 'I don't like thunderstorms.' His admission took you by surprise. Jungwon, the cheeky, territorial, manipulative hybrid, was afraid of something? All day long, he stayed incredibly close to you. You were on the couch, and he sat next to you, phone in hand, lazily scrolling through the screen. You quietly repeated your notes about hybrids, and every so often he threw in a teasing comment. But when the thunder struck the house with a deafening roar and the lights went out suddenly, his body moved instinctively. He grabbed your hand and sat next to you, his chest rising and falling faster. 'Don't leave me alone,' he whispered. You felt his fingers gently tighten around yours, his tail trembling slightly. You smiled, trying to lighten the tension. "What are you, a scared little kitten?" A low growl formed in his throat, and when you turned to look at him, his gaze was no longer that of a frightened pup. It was burning. His teeth were slightly sharper, his mouth barely open as if he were controlling his breath, and his expression… was something you had never seen before. Instinctively, you gently stroked his hair, brushing his feline ears. His body vibrated slightly at the touch, and you felt his tail tighten around your wrist for a second. Jungwon reached out and took the book from your lap, letting it fall to the floor. Then, without giving you a chance to react, he pushed you gently against the couch, his face moving closer to yours, your heartbeat quickening. When his lips brushed against yours, it felt like the air around you became even warmer. Jungwon didn’t say anything and kissed you.

The kiss was ravenous, impatient. Jungwon moved over you with a hunger he couldn’t contain, his body trying to imprint his presence on your skin, your lips, everywhere. He wanted to possess you, mark you, make you understand that you had entered his territory and that you would never leave, his mind a whirlwind of obscene thoughts. What would it be like to see you beneath him, your body trembling under his touch? What would it be like if he heard you moaning his name, your nails digging into his back? If he could bury himself inside you, fill you up until you were completely his? The thought made him growl softly against your lips, his hands tightening around you, and you pulled him even closer, letting your body respond to his instincts. Feeling him so close, the heat of his skin against yours, the way he rubbed against you slightly without even realizing it… it was almost overwhelming. Jungwon pulled away from you for just a moment, his breath heavy as he looked at you with glossy, cheeky eyes. Then he lowered his face and began licking your neck, first slowly, then with more intensity, nibbling and leaving little red marks on your sensitive skin. A shiver ran down your spine, and you couldn’t hold back a small moan. He smiled against your skin. 'You’re making the sounds I want to hear…' he whispered with a hoarse voice. You teased him, trying to keep control. “Are you putting into practice what I studied yesterday?” Jungwon chuckled against your neck, licking you slowly until he reached your ear. 'Mh, yeah… but I’m skipping straight to the more interesting parts.' You felt his tail lazily wrap around your thigh, his grip becoming more secure. Then his voice dropped, making you shiver. 'And you know what my favorite part is?' he whispered, licking his lips just barely. 'The part where I make you mine.' You laughed as you felt him lightly tickle you, teasing him, running your fingers through his light hair. “You’re too confident, Jungwon.” He lifted his face, looking at you with mischievous, gleaming eyes. 'And shouldn’t I be?' Before you could answer, his hands slipped under your sweatshirt, grazing your skin with the warm touch of his fingers. A shiver ran down your back, and Jungwon paused for a moment as if savoring the sensation of your body under his touch. Then his gaze grew more intense, and with a sly smile, he whispered in your ear: 'Not even the bra? Tsk. I knew you were a cheeky girl.'

With a fluid movement, he took off your sweatshirt, leaving you vulnerable under his predatory gaze. He wasted no time: his lips immediately found a beautiful bud of yours to tease, leaving kisses and small bites along your breast and with the other hand squeezing slightly the other breast and her warm breath against you made you moan. 'Who knows what you would be like,' he muttered between a little bite and licking your nipples, 'if you were full of milk for our puppies...' A shiver passed through your body, and for a moment you felt the primal instinct behind his words, the animalistic desire to mark you, to bind you to him in the deepest way possible. You quickly recovered and nudged him slightly, laughing. "In another life, or perhaps later," you provoked him, enjoying the spark of defiance in his eyes. Jungwon growled softly, his teeth shining in the room’s flickering light. 'I don’t like to wait.' Another thunder shook the house, and for a moment you just felt him stiffening. You noticed it, and you couldn’t resist the temptation to mock him. "Oh? Big Jungwon is afraid of a thunderstorm?" You shouldn’t have said that because with a quick movement, his body presses against yours, its hard and warm length rubbing against your sensitive pussy, even through clothes. The sudden contact made you moan her name before you knew it. Jungwon smiled, satisfied, and then his voice became lower, deeper. Authoritarian. 'I’m afraid again. I challenge you.' He rubbed against you and this time to drive you crazy, you felt his cock grow against you, hard, insistent, making you moan involuntarily.

A sharp smile was painted on her face as her lips began to come down, kissing you with adoration along the belly until it stopped right at the edge of your pants. You looked up at him, the bright eyes of a restrained desire. He waited as if he wanted to hear you plead, but you, biting your lip, gave him only a nod of assent. This seemed to amuse Jungwon, who with a mischievous look tickled you a little more before slowly taking off your pants.

A low whistle slipped from his lips when he saw your black lace panties. 'You are so beautiful not to mention your smell,' he whispered with a note of amusement as his finger traced a fiery path along your inner thigh. When he touched the damp cloth, his smile widened.

'Look how wet you are...' he muttered in a provocative tone. 'Don’t tell me that it’s all my fault?'

You felt yourself burn, but the playful spark in your eyes made him growl softly. He stooped down, the warm breath touching your skin as his fingers made small circles closer and closer to where you wanted it most. 'Tell me...' whispered in a low and territorial voice, his gaze chained to yours. 'Has anyone ever filled you before?' You reckon softly, shaking your head with a mixture of challenge and embarrassment. "No," you replied, your voice a flutter of excitement.

Jungwon licked his lips, his eyes curled up with pure possession and his tail began to swing as happy as he was to have heard those words.

'Then I will assure you that you will never need anyone else.'

His mouth settled on the skin of your thighs and began to give you small kisses and marks, as his hands crept deeper and deeper.

'I will be the only one to fill you... and make you feel so good that you won’t think of anyone else.' A shiver ran through your back as his fingers moved with a torturing slowness. He smiled, satisfied with your reaction.

In a slow, almost studied movement, he pulled off your panties, leaving you completely vulnerable under him. 'So beautiful and already so wet for a hybrid, then.' His tone was a mixture of joke and satisfaction while with a curious act, he opened your legs.

His feline eyes shone with malice, his warm breath grazed your skin. Then, without warning, his fingers went down to pull off your pulsating clit. A groan eluded you at the feeling of his slow, torturing touch, as he tilted his head with an accomplished smile. 'Tell me, little vet, what are you going through for the exam?'

His voice was low, charged with a restrained exception, as his finger began to massage your swollen clitoris with unnerving precision.

'Maybe the reproduction of feline hybrids? The node filling?' The heat went up to your face. Your mind tried to join theoretical concepts, but its touch made it difficult to even think. "Yes, the cat hybrids have a knot that serves to hold the seed" you managed to stutter, the voice broken by the shivers of pleasure running down your back. He giggled softly, his breath stroking the inside of your thighs while increasing the pressure on your sensitive spot.

'Good, but it seems to me that it is distracting you. I bet you might have asked yourself a few spicy questions about the links between hybrids and humans at times.' Suddenly, without ceasing to torment your clitoris, he slid a finger into you, the hot and invasive feeling made you gasp. He smiled, satisfied. 'Answer me, have you ever thought of me filling you up while you were studying?'

his finger began to pump inside your slimy cunt but at the same time, he stopped because he wanted to tease you and you knew you had to answer him as soon as possible. "Yes, yes I thought of you" he laughed and his ears picked up every sound you made and his tail moved more and more no matter how excited he was. 'Let's see if you can stay focused... How long is the bond created by the knot of a cat hybrid?'

You clutched the sheets, trying to formulate a sensible answer despite the growing pleasure. "D-Depends... it can last from a few minutes to ... to half an hour...and if your cats are in heat the knot act could last even hours!"

He tilted his head, satisfied with your answer. 'You want another finger, baby?' Nod frantically, the need to feel it deeper was now unbearable. He smiled, but before settling, he formulated another question: 'And how does the human's body react when it is filled by the knot?'

You struggled to think, but between the desire and his expert touch, the answer came out wrong. As soon as the words left your lips, you felt a slight pinch on your thigh. 'Wrong.'

His voice became lower, more authoritarian. 'And yet you should know, given how excited you are to just talk about it.' You bit your lip, his dominant tone made you shudder, while his fingers resumed moving inside you with more intensity. 'Maybe, I'll have to give you a more practical lesson, as you struggle to concentrate.'

He dipped another finger inside your now moist, sensitive, and slimy cunt and you pulled his tufts of light hair to bring him closer to you, your legs were now completely open under him, breathless as his fingers explored every inch of your intimacy with a wise and vicious touch, he looked down on you, his gaze burning with a primitive and possessive desire.

'Look how you tremble for me...' he whispered in a voice full of satisfaction, sliding a third or finger into you with maddening slowness.

'You're so tight ... like you were made just for me.' His tone was poisonously sweet, charged with a confidence that made you cringe. You felt completely at the mercy of his touch, yet you could not hold back a small flicker of provocation. "it's too much"

He froze for a moment, then laughed softly, a low, dangerous sound. His feline eyes became darker and hungrier.

'Oh, baby ... do you really think you can give me rules?' Suddenly, his fingers inside you moved deeper, faster, making you gasp out of control. 'Let me teach you one thing...' he whispered, lowering himself to touch your lips with warm breath.

'You don't decide anything. You're mine. You were born to be filled by me, always and only by me.' You could hear your heart pounding in your chest as its tone became darker, and more viscous.

'I'll ruin you, understand? I will fill you so well that you will not even be able to think of someone else, you will always have my seed and my knot inside you. No one will ever catch you like I will.'

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and when his mouth lowered on your sensitive buds, the heat became untenable. His tongue played with you, wet, slow, torturing, while his fingers inside you continued to move with precision, spreading and preparing you with perverse attention.

'I have to prepare you for my knot, baby. You'll have to welcome me completely.' His tone was a promise, a threat, and a sweet condemnation. He crawled at you, his movements languid but territorial, like a cat marking his territory.

'Tell me ... are you ready to be mine alone?' But at that moment you were already completely fucked, at the mercy of him and no one else. You nodded as you felt your spasms consume you inside your pussy throbbing as you came between his fingers, he meowed at the sight of your excitement against his lips, and like an animal hungry for its prey he began to suck all your excitement as if it were his favorite meal and at the same time he sucked your clit throbbing and the room was full of moans and small growls.

'Yes what?' his voice was low, slightly amused, but there was an authority in his question that made you cringe. Your face warmed as you clasped your legs instinctively, biting your lip. "I want you... I want your knot." A satisfied grin appeared on his lips as he tilted his head slightly, almost like a predator watching his prey play alone in his trap.

'So good and obedient ... at least in words,' he muttered, lowering his face until he touched your lips with hers.

'Let's see if you can keep this sweet submission even after I've ruined you completely.' Before you could answer, his arms closed around you, lifting you up without the slightest effort. The heat of his body pressed against yours as he carried you to your room, the lips tracing fiery kisses down your neck, leaving behind shivers of anticipation.

'You know,' he whispered against your skin, his voice charged with an almost possessive desire, 'I'm tired of sleeping under your bed in my animal form.'

You felt his teeth graze your earlobe before he added in a lower, rougher tone: 'I want to sleep with you, squeeze you, feel your body against mine every night... and most importantly, I want to fill you whenever I feel like it.'

He dropped you gently on the mattress, his eyes never taken away from yours. You felt chained under that gaze, unable to move while his presence dominated the room. You tried to play down, play with him, but the smile on his lips betrayed that he knew exactly what you were doing. Your trembling hands moved to lower his pants and then boer It was impressive, more than you had imagined. Its length throbbed, thick and full of desire, the transparent liquid that perled its tip was a silent promise of what he would enjoy in making you his own. he noticed your gaze and laughed softly, his hand caressing your cheek before descending along your body, tracing every curve with slow, possessive fingers.

'Do you like what you see, baby?' You could feel yourself burning up, but nodded slowly, biting your lip.

'Be clear.' His voice grew deeper, and his fingers grazed your center with an expert touch.

'Tell me what you want. Ask me well.' Your breath broke under the combination of his authoritarian tone and the touch that turned you on more and more. "I want you, ... I want yo, Jungwon to fill me." A contented growl escaped from his lips as he ducked over you, his body pressing against yours in an inescapable promise.

'Good girl.' His lips moved over yours with an intensity that made you lose your breath, his hands caressing you with a possessiveness that left no room for doubt.

'You are mine.' he whispered against your skin. 'And after this night, you will no longer have doubts about who owns you.'

Jungwon's eyes shone with a dangerous intensity, his smile curving into a contented grin as he watched you tremble beneath him. He grazed your dripping cunt with his cock, snatching a muffled moan at you. The heat between you was unbearable, and he seemed to revel in seeing you so vulnerable, completely at the mercy of his will.

'Tell me,' he muttered in a low, velvety voice, leaving a kiss on your neck. 'What have you studied about hybrids like me?' Your breathing was irregular as you tried to put the words together.

"The knot..." you whispered, but he interrupted you with more determined pressure against your center, making you gasp.

'Be more precise.' His voice was an order disguised as sweetness.

'You will know that hybrids have an instinct... a need to completely fill their mate. And you, sweet prey, want it, don't you?' You could feel yourself blazing and nodding slowly, your fingers clinging to the sheets beneath you as his body left no way out.

'It's not enough to nod, I want to hear you say it.' His mouth came close to your ear, his warm breath making you shudder.

'Tell me what you need, or I'll have to teach you to respond better.' You bit your lip, your mind clouded by desire and the way he was making you feel completely his. "I need you ... your knot."

Jungwon laughed softly, smugly, as you felt the tip of his mushroom cock push slightly inside you which made you tremble. 'So good and obedient...' he muttered, brushing your chin with his thumb.

'Let's see if you're as good at answering.' His lips rested on your neck, leaving a trail of slow, provocative kisses as she continued to touch you, still not giving you what you so desperately wanted.

'If you want to be filled as you wish, you will have to deserve it. Answer my question: how does the body of a human companion react when she is greeted by a knot?' Your mind struggled to remember the notions studied, but it was difficult to concentrate when his body pressed against yours in such an intimate way, causing you to lose all lucidity. "Yes ... it fits..." you managed to say, with a thread of voice. "the knot tightens around and then fills the girl's belly..."

'Very good. If you answer well ... well, I could be generous enough to give you exactly what you want.' You felt a shudder at his tone, a mixture of fear and excitement burning inside you. You wanted it more than anything else, and he knew it very well.

'What happens when the knot swells completely?' Swallow, trying to formulate a response as the heat inside you grew more and more. "It hangs inside ... prevents it from separating until ... until the binding is completed."

'Exact answer, I wonder,' he continued, her voice imbued with pure perversion, 'Will your body be tight enough to hold me back? Or will I have to teach you to adapt to my size?'

You covered your face with one hand, your embarrassment now skyrocketing. 'Don't hide, baby,' he whispered with a sharp smile.

'I want to see your every reaction as you answer me.' Your voice was a trembling whisper. "S-yes... it will hold you..."

'Very good,' he muttered, rewarding your response with a deep, possessive kiss.

'So, get ready. Because once I'm inside of you...' his smile got even more dangerous, 'I won't let you go for quite a while.'

And with those words, you felt with a determined push, his big cock go inside your pussy full of excitement. A groan escaped from your lips as your body adjusted to its presence, feeling it deeper than you ever imagined. The warmth, the fullness, the sense of connection—it was all too much. He paused for a moment as if he wanted to enjoy every second of the feeling of being inside you. His breathing became heavier, his hands clasping your hips with force. 'You're so tight...' he muttered, lowering herself to nibble at your earlobe.

'You're perfect for me, you know?' His words made you tremble. You could feel it throbbing inside you, its warm, thick length moving with maddening slowness as if it wanted to imprint every push into your body.

'You're really mine now,' he whispered against your skin, his hands holding you still as he upped the pace. 'No one can ever have you like I have you.' You nod, your mind clouded with pleasure. "Jungwon-you are the first...” He froze for a moment, his gaze becoming darker and more intense.

'Oh?' His thrusts became more decisive, deeper as if he wanted to imprint his mark on you indelibly.

'Tell me again who you belong to,' he ordered, the tone more authoritarian now. You groaned, your arms clasped around his neck. "Only you"

A satisfied growl escaped from his lips as he increased the pace, his breathing getting heavier. The heat in your belly grew more and more, and you felt the tension build up inside you, your body responding perfectly to its movements. And then, suddenly, you felt something change. A primal heat spread through your body, more intense than anything you had experienced before. Your breath stopped for a moment as you felt something swell inside you, filling you even more. Node.

Your eyes widened as your hands slid down her back. "J-Jungwon..." you whisper, in an unsure tone. "Is it... is it the knot?"

He looked down at you, his smile slightly mocking. ‘Mh? You’re really not very perceptive for someone who studies veterinary on hybrids...’

You felt blushing, but any protest died on your lips as he pushed even deeper, increasing the pressure within you.

‘See?’ He whispered against your mouth, kissing you slowly as it kept moving.

‘Now you really know what it means to be mine.’

Your body trembled, every nerve lit by the heat and sense of fullness that increased with each push. It was too much. It was everything.

And when the plane knot swelled completely, sealing you to it, you felt a wave of pleasure crossing you, leaving you breathless.

Jungwon leaned over you, forehead against yours, breathless as his hands caressed you softly. ‘Good girl,’ he whispered, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

He slid his hand along your belly, touching you with exasperating slowness. The knot within you pulsed slightly, and the sensation made you shudder.

‘So tight to me...’ he whispered, His voice full of desire. ‘Tell me, baby, has your textbook ever told you what it feels like to be filled with a hybrid?’

You bit your lip, trying to maintain a minimum of lucidity, but your body was already yielding to pleasure.

"N-no..." you panicked, your breath breaking as he kept teasing you with small movements of the pelvis.

Jungwon laughed softly, his tone a mixture of satisfaction and fun. ‘Then you are really lucky to have me... To make you feel everything on your own skin.’

His hand slid lower still, and his fingers touched the point where you were united, collecting some of the heat that flowed from you. He brought it before your eyes, watching with a smug grin your embarrassed reaction.

‘Look at you...’ he murmured, taking His fingers to His lips and tasting you slowly. ‘You’re all wet for me... so obedient... so mine.’

Your face caught fire, and Jungwon seemed to adore your embarrassed expression. He slowly leaned over you, brushing your lips. ‘Tell me what you want, baby. I want to hear you beg.’

You shivered beneath him, your body moving unintentionally to seek more contact. "I want..."

He sank his light nails into your hips. ‘Speak well. I want to hear every single word come out of that pretty mouth.’

Swallowing hard, the knot inside you that pressed gently against your walls. Your body was on fire, your mind completely clouded. "I want... I want you to fill me up... and louder please fill me up like a cat."

Jungwon smiled a satisfied and predatory smile. ‘So good...’

His thrusts reclaimed, more sails but incredibly deep, making you completely lose control. Your body trembled beneath him, every fiber of you seeking more, more, more. Your pussy couldn’t stop grabbing it and rebutting it against you, Jungwon brought his mouth to your ear, his voice a harsh whisper. ‘You feel so full, don’t you? Can you feel my knot swell inside of you? At this point, you should know that you can’t run away anymore...’

Groans, hands clutching desperately behind his back. "J-Jungwon..."

He laughed softly, kissing your jaw before leaving you a light bite. ‘Oh, baby... you’re so lost now.’

His fingers found your center, playing with you as his thrusts became more intense and animate. Every fiber of your body vibrated, the knot inside you pulsed in a way that made you lose your head.

‘Oh, yes...’ Jungwon whispered, squeezing your hips as he sank deeper. ‘You were born for this, to be under me, to welcome me completely...’

You panicked hard, your body bowing under him. "Yes... yes... Jungwon..."

‘Tell me whose you are.’

"I am yours..." you replied without hesitation, your heart beating madly.

A satisfied growl vibrated in her chest. ‘Good girl.’

The pleasure exploded inside you, leaving you completely breathless as your body huddled around its knot. Jungwon held himself over you, his breath broken as he filled you completely.

The knot swelled completely, sealing you to him, and you groaned at the feeling of being entirely his.

Jungwon stood over you, his eyes still dark with desire, his body not letting go of yours. Slowly, she lowered herself on you, pressing a languid kiss on your lips.

‘You are perfect so...’ she whispered against your skin. ‘Mine. Completely mine.’

And at that moment, lost in its warmth, in the beating of its heart against yours, you knew you could never be anyone else’s, Jungwon’s breath was still irregular as his body relaxed against yours. The knot had finally deflated, leaving a trail of languishing heat between your legs. But instead of walking away, he stood there, his chest pressed against your back, his face hidden in the hollow of your neck.

He left you a little bit on your skin before licking you flat, his feline way of marking what was his. You shivered at the sensation, a warm shiver that ran through your spine.

Jungwon laughed softly at your skin. ‘You’re still so sensitive...’ he whispered, his tone filled with satisfaction.

You were leaning towards him, feeling him still against you, warm and present. "Mh... enough, you tickle me..." You chuckled, trying to move slightly.

But in the movement, you felt something.

You get stiff.

Its length is still pressed against you, not completely hard... but not completely extinguished.

You barely lifted your head to look at him, standing in front of his slightly shiny eyes, his most vulnerable expression I had ever seen. He seemed confused, almost frustrated.

"Jungwon...?" you called softly.

He snorted, sinking his face in your hair. ‘Ugh... it’s not fair,’ he murmured against your skin. ‘I still want you.’

The heat went up to your cheeks as he drew even closer to you, almost as if he wanted to merge with your body. His hands slid slowly down your hips, caressing you with a dangerous delicacy.

‘I want to fill you again...’ he whispered, the tone sweet, but the words dangerously sinful. ‘ i want to make you mine again and again and again.’

A shiver ran through your body. It wasn’t just desire what you saw in his eyes. It was obsession.

You lightly sunk into his arms, looking at him with a funny smile. "Again?" You teased him, biting your lip. "You’re so insatiable, Wonnie..."

He stared at you, his eyes darkening. ‘Are you too tired for my second knot?’ He asked, the warm and low voice as one of His hands crept between your thighs, touching your still sensitive and swollen clitoris.

You flashed, a groan escaped from your lips as its skilled touch made you shiver.

Jungwon grinned. ‘Strange... your body seems to tell me otherwise.’

You gave him a look, but the redness on your cheeks only made him more amused. "Jungwon... I-"

‘Shh.’ He leaned over you, licking the lobe of your ear before whispering dangerous words to you. ‘Leave it to me, get on all fours you just have to be my good human girl.’

You turn your belly down with the beautiful show of your ass and Jungwon moans at the sight of you so embarrassed but also excited about what you were going to do, your little pussy emanated a heavenly smell for the hybrid and the sight of your excitement slowly descending beneath you made him growl. His hands go over your hips to guide you, and you feel Jungwon’s arm under you, wrapped around your stomach as he lifts you up, lowers himself and kisses you on the temple.

‘Ready, baby, to be filled again?’ You look up at him and your eyes tear slightly from the overstimulation that will come against you, and groan when you feel a finger of Jungwon enter you again.

"Wonnie, please..." you said sighing

‘So fucking sexy, you’re so fucking beautiful like that, baby,’ groans behind you, making you clench awkwardly as a soft chuckle resounds behind you and he sinks for the third time another finger inside you and pumps it, You screamed of pleasure because it was too much but he did not seem to care anything, his cock was again big and could not wait to fill you again and while you felt that you were coming he let out the finger from your poor pussy and yelled.

‘God, you’re so embarrassing little one,’ he said laughing as he lined up his big cock, the tip of his dick touching your pussy again, poking at your clitoris, and making you weep with needy names.

He can’t help but moan as he starts grinding the head of her cock against your folds.

‘Oh fuck,’ he says in a husky voice.

Breathless, you grab the sheets and hold them tight in your hands, while your ass and back rise slightly to feel it even more inside you.

"Fuck me, Wonnie, I want to hear you again".

Jungwon does not waste any more time and aligns itself to your entrance and pushes its length into you by sliding in until it is pressed all the way down. You groan in the hollow of your elbow, and your walls pulsate, full and so sensitive, he leans forward until his chest is flush with your back and the tip of his cock presses on your G-spot.

‘Do you feel good? Who would have thought that my roommate could take my cock so well’ whispers in your ear and you can only whine and nod.

‘This pussy is all mine, isn’t it?’ asks with clenched teeth as you hear his tail give you small slaps against the legs, nibbling on your shoulder skin, and starts rubbing his hips against you, rubbing his cock on your G-spot over and over again.

"Yes, all yours, please fill me up," whispers, gasping and he wasted no time starts pushing in and out his cock and as first you felt again that inhumane and visceral heat enveloping your body and especially the lower part of your belly, Your mouth opens immediately for the sensual sensation of being stretched and tied to him and you feel your belly full again.

‘No one else?’ He’s humming as if he didn’t already know.

"No, just your Jungwon" when he heard those words his knot tied you completely and you came together making a mess in his dick and him filling you again.

The sound of the storm roaring outside the window seemed farther away now, but the strong gusts of wind still shook the house. Jungwon was there, holding onto you, as if your presence was the only thing that could reassure him.

‘Are you really this calm when there’s a storm, Y/n?’ Jungwon asked, his voice a little lower, almost shy, as if embarrassed by his own behavior. He cuddled up even closer, his warm body pressed against yours, seeking comfort in your embrace.

‘I don’t understand… sometimes, when the noise is too loud, it feels like… it invades me completely. It’s strange.’

You felt tender toward him, even though his proximity made your heart race. You’d never seen Jungwon so vulnerable. His usual playful attitude was now replaced by a need for protection he couldn’t hide. With a gentle smile, you hugged him a little tighter.

“You know, as much as you may seem like a wild cat, you do like feeling safe, don’t you?” you asked, gently stroking his hair.

Jungwon lifted his head to look you in the eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. ‘Everyone needs to feel safe,’ he said, but his tone immediately shifted to something more mischievous. ‘Though, sometimes, I think you’re protecting me from… something more intense than just a storm.’

You stirred slightly but didn’t pull away. “Well, it’s not like I mind holding you tight, Jungwon. Seems like you need me, huh?” you said, the warmth of your voice blending with the sweetness of the moment. You liked teasing him, seeing that spark of interest in Jungwon’s eyes.

He lowered his gaze, pretending to appear unfazed, but his eyes sparkled with a different light, one that spoke of hidden desire. ‘You’re right. I need you… more than you think. Especially when you make me feel… so real.’ His hand, which had been resting on your side, began to slowly slide down your back in a provocative manner, making you shiver under the touch.

The tension between the two of you was palpable, and despite trying to keep a light tone, you couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, so you’re helpless, huh? You didn’t look helpless at first, it seemed to me that you had a lot of weapons at your disposal," you replied, as your eyes lowered to his lips.

Jungwon didn’t miss a chance. ‘It’s not just the weapons I have... it’s also my instincts’ he said with a dangerous grin, ‘can’t be ignored for long.’

A shiver ran down your spine. " Oh, really? And what will you do with all these 'instincts', Jungwon?" he chuckled and pinched your side and told you to stop

"You know...I’m really curious to see what it’s like when you’re in heat."

Jungwon, in a moment, became more serious, and his breath became heavier. ‘Oh, Y/n, you have no idea what can happen when I’m in heat. But I will tell you something...’ he whispered, bringing his mouth to your ear, his warm breath against your skin. ‘If you liked it so much when I filled you up before. Wait until I’m really in heat. It will be an experience you’ll never forget.’

A shiver ran down your back, but you couldn’t hide your smile. "I can’t wait to find out, Jungwon. But I hope you’ll be ready to handle it, because... I warn you, I have my ways of making you lose your head."

His hands gently grabbed your face, forcing you to look at it. ‘Oh, I will. I promise you that I will be as intense as possible. And when that time comes... you will not run away.’

The game between you two became more and more electric and yet there was a sweetness in all this, as if, under each provocative word, there was also a hidden love. And as the storm raged outside, within you was only the warmth of a bond that was growing ever stronger.

—————————————————————

Taglist: @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisaster @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch @m3wkledreamy @xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio @ancnymcnzjy @sofiafromvenus @kayjiguki @annovaz @kkamismom12

Rebblog and comments are appreciated

©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2025.

[ekybrini]

slipping through my fingers| JACK HUGHES

— ⟡ summary | in which y/n and Jake childhood best friends who've always had something there for each other. But once jack gets drafted everything changed for both of them.

— ⟡ warnings | none (that I know of)

— ⟡ word count | 17.8k (GUYS IM SORRY)

— ⟡ gabs note | hiii!!! im so excited to finally start writing again! I apologizer if this seems rushed. also this is EXTREMELY INACCURATE!!! please don't think this is literal, I don't know how some of these things work. also i apologize if this is cringe bc I CANNOT write romance for the life of me. I'm currently on spring break so I'll be trying to take advantage of being able to write a few things! if anyone wants to request or suggest anything don't hesitate to go into my inbox . i'll try to get to it and write it as soon as I can :) after spring break I may be a little inactive as i'm trying to lock in, in some of my classes before the semesters is over (ap econ and living earth are actually kicking my ass)

⟡ slipping through your fingers | jack hughes (jacks pov)

Part two

You've known Jack since you were kids. Backyard games of street hockey, summer nights spent on the lake, and watching him skate around with his brothers. you were always there. best friends through and through. 

The first time you met Jack, you were about 10 years old. You had just moved into the neighborhood and the first thing you noticed was the street hockey that was happening right outside of your house. The kids from the neighborhood were scattered in every direction, sticks raised, yelling at each other. The one who caught your attention right away was the kid with the wild hair, darting around the group with such speed that it was almost impossible to keep up. He made it look effortless. He, of course, was jack. 

You were lonely at first, standing awkwardly by the curb or watching the game through your bedroom window . Jack, always the curious one, had spotted you one day as you were sitting on the curb and skated over with a big grin.

"You gonna watch all day, or do you wanna join us?" he’d asked, not missing a beat, despite being out of breath. his eyes were full of that contagious energy.

You'd hesitated, feeling unsure. “I don’t know. I’m not really good at this... I’ve never really played before.”

"Come on! I’ll teach you," Jack insisted. "It’s easy, you just gotta push the puck this way, and then..." He demonstrated, sending the puck flying past you. "See? Just like that!"

It wasn’t perfect, but you tried. And Jack, always encouraging, cheered you on even as you missed the puck completely a few times. "Don’t worry. You’ll get it. It’s all about having fun."

From that moment on, you and Jack were inseparable. Summer after summer, it was the same routine. Jack, with his scruffy hair and infectious smile, would be the one to drag you out onto the street, even if you were just coming off a bad day at school or feeling a little down.

One of your favorite memories came when you were both about 12 years old. It was a hot, sticky summer afternoon. Jack, as usual, had the game already set up, calling the shots while the other neighborhood kids were pretending to be superstars in a game that felt far more like a chaotic free for all than a real match.

"You in or what?" Jack shouted, holding out a stick. “This game’s going nowhere without you.”

You rolled your eyes, already seeing the sweat dripping from his forehead, his shirt clinging to his back. "You know, I was just thinking about going inside and having a popsicle."

"Are you really gonna let me down like this?" Jack raised an eyebrow, grinning from ear to ear. “you promised you'd play after school." 

"Fine," you said with a laugh, grabbing the stick. "But this time, I’m definitely winning."

You didn't win, at least not that day, but you had so much fun trying. Jack was so fast, his little tricks and turns keeping you on your toes, but every time he made a move, you were there to give it your best shot. You kept pushing him, running after the puck until the sun dipped below the horizon, and both of you were covered in dirt and sweat, laughing until your stomachs hurt.

That night, you sat side by side on the dock by the lake, feet dangling in the cool water as you two ate ice cream bars. The night was quiet except for the distant croak of frogs. 

“You were so close to getting me,” Jack said between breaths, a playful edge to his voice. He tilted his head back to look at the sky. “You’ll get me next time. Just wait.”

You chuckled, watching him with a teasing smile. "Yeah, sure, Jack. Maybe when I’m 18 and you’ve forgotten how to skate."

Jack laughed loudly, nudging you with his elbow. “Not a chance. I’ll always be better. But hey, I can teach you some moves if you want.”

“Oh, I bet you would,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Teach me how to win, too?”

"Obviously," he said with a grin, though there was a genuine warmth in his eyes. “I’ll make you into a skating legend if that's what you want.”

You didn't know it then, but those summers spent with Jack would become some of the best memories of your life. Even when the seasons changed and the street hockey games moved indoors. Jack’s determination never left. You spent every Saturday watching him at the rink, your nose pressed against the cold glass as he glided across the ice, his stick flashing, eyes full of focus. He was good. Too good, in fact. And with every game, the crowd cheered louder with his dreams growing bigger.

⟡

By the time you and Jack hit your early teens, things start to feel different. It’s not obvious at first just a lingering glance here, a nervous laugh there. Jack’s still Jack competitive, loud, always pulling you into whatever chaos he’s creating. But sometimes, when his hand brushes against yours, or when he looks at you a second too long after you’ve made a joke, it feels like something is shifting beneath the surface. You notice it, even if you don’t understand it yet.

The way he seems to notice you more, how he’s always trying to catch your eye in a group conversation, how his voice drops just a little when he says your name. It’s subtle, and you try to ignore it. He’s your best friend, right? Nothing has changed between you two. You’re still the same, pulling pranks on each other, laughing at dumb things, challenging each other to stupid games on long summer afternoons.

But the moments keep building like when he reaches across the table to grab something and his fingers graze the back of your hand, leaving a warmth that lingers far longer than it should. Or when you catch him staring at you when you’re talking, and his expression shifts just a fraction of something unreadable there for a brief second before he masks it with a grin.

And then there are those times when the air feels too quiet. Like when you’re lying next to each other on the grass, watching the stars, and the silence stretches between you two in a way it never has before. It’s not comfortable anymore, this space. It’s heavy.

You’re 14 when you notice it for real. You’re both sitting on the dock, summer sun dipping low behind the trees, casting everything in a golden haze. Jack’s freshly showered from practice, hair still damp, the scent of soap and fresh air clinging to him. You’re half listening to him ramble on about a play he’s been trying to perfect, his words weaving in and out of the soft, distant hum of the lake’s waves against the dock.

But something in the air is different. It feels thicker. The kind of tension you get when you can’t tell whether the storm is coming, or if it’s already here and you’re just waiting for it to break. You can feel the weight of the evening sun on your skin, but your heart feels heavy, like it’s pounding against your ribs, a rhythm you’re trying to ignore.

“You’re not even listening,” he accuses, nudging you with his knee, and you startle, realizing you haven’t heard a word he’s said for the last few minutes.

“I’m listening,” you argue, even though you weren’t.

Jack raises an eyebrow, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “No, you’re not. You’ve been all quiet. What's up with you?”

You scoff, trying to brush it off. “Me? You’re the one who’s weird,” you tease, attempting to lighten the mood, but your words feel hollow, even to you.

He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he studies you, his expression more serious than usual. His gaze shifts from your face to your hands, and then back to your eyes like he’s trying to figure something out that you aren’t even aware of.

“Yeah, maybe.” He shrugs, leaning back on his elbows, staring out across the lake with a far-off look in his eyes. “Or maybe it’s just us.”

The words hang in the air heavy with meaning you don’t fully understand. You freeze trying to process what he’s said. It isn’t just the words, it's the way he said them. The tone in his voice is softer than usual almost uncertain. There’s something fragile in his eyes, like he’s letting a piece of himself slip past you hoping you’ll catch it, but not quite trusting you to. You don’t know how to respond.

You try to shake off the discomfort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jack glances at you, his lips quivering at the edges, but there’s a heaviness in his gaze now. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “Just growing up.” He pauses, his voice quieter now almost too soft for the space between you two. He looks at you then, really looks at you his eyes searching for something in yours like he’s asking a question that doesn’t have an easy answer. Something you’re not ready to answer not sure you even can.

You want to say something to reach out and close that space but you can’t find the words. Everything that’s been building between you two feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something unspoken. And the closer Jack gets to this new world he’s creating for himself this future that’s already starting to pull him away from you the more it feels like you’re both standing on the precipice of it.

You don’t have an answer, so you reach over and grab his hand. It’s instinctual, a reflex more than anything else. His fingers slide easily between yours, like they’ve always belonged there. It’s familiar, comforting even. But there’s something different in the way he holds your hand this time. He doesn’t let go immediately like he always does. He holds on for just a moment longer, and in that brief pause, the weight of it hits you.

His gaze drops to your joined hands, and you see a flicker in his eyes something unreadable, maybe even a little vulnerable before he looks back up at you. The quiet between you two stretches longer than it should, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the summer air, or because of the uncertainty that’s silently wrapping itself around both of you.

“I think we’ll figure it out,” you say softly, trying to anchor this moment, even though the ground beneath you feels like it’s shifting.

Jack’s smile is small, unsure. It’s not his usual confident grin, but it’s there. Barely, but it’s there. He doesn’t let go of your hand. Not yet. 

You don’t know what “figuring it out” means, or if you even can figure it out. All you know is that in this moment, with the sun setting behind the trees and the sound of water lapping against the dock beneath you, everything feels poised on the edge of something you don’t understand.

But you’re scared that the moment you try to reach for it, Jack might pull away.

⟡

It’s late, the fire has burned down to a few glowing embers, and the crickets are the only sound beside the occasional splash of water against the dock. You’re sitting with Jack, your legs hanging over the side, toes brushing the cool surface of the lake. The night is quiet, almost too quiet, and for the first time in a long time, there’s a distance between you that wasn’t there before.

Jack’s usually carefree, his humor quick, his energy contagious. But tonight, he’s different. He’s quieter, eyes lost somewhere beyond the horizon. You’ve known him long enough to know when something’s off.

"Jack, you okay?" you ask, not pushing, just asking.

"Do you ever feel like things are changing?" His voice is low, almost hesitant, and you turn to look at him, your heart skipping a beat.

You nod slowly, sensing that this conversation is heading somewhere you’ve both been avoiding for too long. "Yeah, I’ve been feeling it." You pause, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, you really see him. His face, the way his eyes linger on you, the way his lips part like he’s about to say something more. It’s all so familiar, and yet, everything feels new. "It’s been hard to ignore."

Jack exhales sharply, as if he’s been holding his breath. He leans back, letting his head rest against the wood of the dock, looking up at the stars above. "I’ve been trying to figure it out. For a while now. What’s going on between us."

You swallow, the weight of his words settling in your chest. Your voice is barely a whisper when you respond. "What do you mean?"

Jack doesn’t look at you right away, but you see his jaw tense, like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he glances over at you, his gaze intense. "I think I’ve been avoiding it. The way things have felt. I’ve always known you meant a lot to me. But it’s more than that now. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it."

Your heart races. This isn’t just a fleeting moment, this is him, telling you exactly what you’ve been feeling. Your stomach flips as the words finally hit you.

"I’ve been feeling it too," you admit, your voice steady but your pulse thundering in your ears. "It’s different now, Jack. And I can’t pretend it’s not."

There’s a long silence between you two as the words settle in the space around you. You both know it’s out there now the truth that neither of you could avoid forever. The air feels thick, charged with everything you’ve been holding back.

Jack’s gaze softens as he turns fully toward you. He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours. "I’ve tried not to think about it, but it’s impossible," he admits, his thumb tracing along the back of your hand. "I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking of you as just my best friend. And now I don’t know how to go back."

You feel your breath catch in your throat. This is it. The thing you’ve both been dancing around for so long, the thing neither of you knew how to say. But now, here it is, raw and real.

"I don’t want to go back," you say, your voice soft but certain. "I’ve felt the same way, Jack. For a while now."

"You know, I keep thinking back to when we were kids," he says quietly, almost as if he’s talking to himself. "Back when things were simpler. We used to hang out, play hockey, talk about everything and nothing. I always thought that was enough."

You smile, remembering those simpler times. "It was enough. It still is."

Jack laughs under his breath, but there’s something different in it. "Yeah. But now... I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about how things feel between us lately. And I don’t know how to handle it."

Your heart picks up a little pace, and you look at him, feeling a shift in the air between you two. It’s subtle, but it's there. His eyes are locked on you now, and the usual teasing glint is gone.

"I think I’ve known for a while," you admit, voice barely above a whisper. "That things have changed. That maybe… we’ve changed."

Jack’s gaze softens, and for a second, everything feels like it’s falling into place, like the puzzle pieces are finally lining up. "I’ve been thinking about it too," he says, his voice low. "And I don’t know if I’m ready for this to be weird between us. I don’t want it to be weird."

Your stomach flips at the vulnerability in his voice. "I don’t think it has to be. It doesn’t have to be weird, Jack."

He looks at you for a long moment, and you can tell he’s weighing his next words carefully. He reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and that simple touch feels like the universe’s nudge, reminding you that things have always been easy with him. There’s no pretending with Jack. There’s never been any pretending.

"I guess we’ve always been able to figure things out," Jack says, his voice steady now. "And maybe this is just… one of those times."

You nod, your chest tight as you try to put into words what you’ve been feeling for so long. But nothing really needs to be said. This moment, this quiet understanding between you two, is enough.

Jack leans in just a little, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, but not enough to cross the final line. His gaze flickers between your eyes, lingering on your lips before returning to your eyes again, as if he’s waiting for something. The space between you both seems impossibly small, charged with everything that’s unsaid.

You can’t deny it anymore the way your heart races in your chest, the way your breath feels shallow, as if you’ve been holding it in all this time. This moment, this change between you, feels like it could either break everything or put it all back together.

His hand hovers just inches from yours, like he’s unsure whether to close the distance, like he’s waiting for you to decide. The air is thick with the weight of it. You’ve both danced around this for so long, carefully, quietly, but now it feels like everything is teetering on the edge. One move, one step, and it’ll change everything.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Jack’s voice is almost a whisper, his usual teasing gone. There’s something softer in the way he says it, like he’s genuinely asking, genuinely uncertain for the first time.

You laugh quietly, but it doesn’t feel like the teasing kind of laugh you’re used to. It’s shaky, full of nerves. “No... Just a little confused, I guess. Not sure if this is all too much.”

Jack shifts closer, and his hand brushes against yours, the lightest touch that sends a jolt through you. It’s a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. He doesn’t look away now, and neither do you. His breath is slow, steady, and in the stillness, you hear his heart beating in time with yours.

“I’m not sure either,” he admits, his voice low. “But I think I’ve known for a while… I don’t think we can keep pretending things are the same. I can’t. And I’m not sure what will happen next, but I know I don’t want to screw it up.”

You swallow, your own uncertainty mirrored in his eyes. Everything that’s been left unsaid finally hangs in the air between you two, heavy and undeniable. The fear of what could change, of what could be lost, and the quiet hope that maybe just maybe it could work.

"Jack…” You start to say something, anything, but the words stick in your throat. You want to say that you’ve been feeling it too, that you’re terrified of losing this, of messing it all up. But the weight of it all is too much. So instead, you just shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the uncertainty in your chest. “I don’t know what happens next either.”

You hold his gaze for a beat longer, everything inside you pulling toward him, wanting to close the space between you both. And with that final breath, that quiet understanding, you realize it doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be figured out right now.

You lean in the rest of the way, tilting your head slightly, and then Jack’s lips meet yours.

It’s nothing like you expected. It’s soft, hesitant at first, like you both are testing the waters. But it’s real. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally on the same page. It’s not about the future or the fear of change it’s just about right now, and the way everything feels when it’s just the two of you.

When you pull away, there’s a breathless pause, but it’s not awkward. It’s not forced. It’s just you, and him, and everything that’s been building between you finally making sense.

Jack’s forehead rests gently against yours. His eyes are still closed, and there’s a quiet smile playing on his lips. “I think I could get used to this,” he says, voice low, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

You let out a soft laugh, the tension between you both easing, and for the first time, it feels like you don’t need to say anything more. You both know. It’s not perfect, it’s not figured out yet but it’s real, and maybe that’s enough for now.

⟡

It’s almost midnight when your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You’re half asleep, barely registering the sound until it buzzes again. You squint at the screen, the glow too harsh in the dark room. It’s a text from Jack. “are you up?” 

You rub your eyes and sit up the sleepiness fading as you type back. “yeah, what’s up? Are you okay?its midnight.” The dots appear and disappear. Then nothing. You frown, already knowing where this is going. “ want me to come over?” This time, the dots stay. “You don’t have too, just want to talk to you.”

You slip out of bed, grabbing a sweatshirt and slipping on your shoes without even thinking about it. Your house is quiet as you head out the back door and cut across the yard. Jack’s house is familiar, the kind of place you could walk to blindfolded. The back door is unlocked like it always is.

You find him on the couch, the TV on low, playing some old hockey highlights. His head is tipped back against the cushion but his eyes are open dark circles shadowing his face. He looks up when he hears you, his expression softening in a way that makes your heart ache a little.

“You didn’t have to come,” Jack says, sitting up.

“You knew I would,” you reply, kicking off your shoes and sitting down beside him. Your knee bumps against his. He’s in sweats and an old usa hockey hoodie, and his hair’s still damp from a shower. He looks tired.

Jack doesn’t say anything for a long time. His eyes stay on the screen, but you can tell he’s not really watching. The hum of the commentary blends into the background. You wait, not pushing you’ve always known how to give him space when he needs it.

“I can’t sleep,” he says finally, voice low. His knee bounces restlessly. “I keep thinking about the combine.”

You lean back against the couch, watching the screen as a highlight reel of some playoff game flickers by. “What about it?”

Jack sighs. “Everything. The tests. The interviews. The scouts. If I screw up, it’s going to be everywhere.” His hand runs through his hair, leaving it messy. “I mean, I’ve trained for this my whole life, right? But now that it’s actually here I don’t know.”

“You’re not going to screw up,” you say softly.

Jack lets out a hollow laugh. “Yeah? What if I do?”

You nudge his leg with your foot. “You won’t. But even if you did it wouldn’t change anything. Not with me.”

Jack’s eyes flick toward you, guarded but searching. He’s quiet for a beat. Then, so quietly you almost don’t catch it, “It’d change everything else.”

You shift toward him, turning so your knee presses more firmly against his. “Jack, you’ve worked your ass off for this. One bad day at the combine isn’t going to erase years of training and games and scouts already knowing you’re good enough.”

Jack’s jaw tightens, his eyes falling to his hands. His thumb rubs absently along the inside of his palm. “Yeah, but what if I’m not enough?”

You don’t hesitate. You reach over, lacing your fingers through his. His hand is warm, his skin rough from years of hockey sticks and gloves. He tenses for half a second, then relaxes into the touch.

“You’re enough,” you say, quiet but steady. “You’ve always been enough, Jack. Even if you didn’t have hockey.”

Jack’s eyes lift to meet yours, wide and a little raw. His thumb grazes the side of your hand, slow and deliberate.

“You really believe that?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Jack’s mouth curves into the smallest smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s something. His gaze drops back to the screen, though his hand stays in yours, his thumb running over your knuckles.

For a while, neither of you speak. The silence isn’t uncomfortable it’s the kind of quiet that feels like home. Jack’s breathing evens out, his knee resting against yours. The highlights on the screen blur together.

“Stay?” Jack asks after a long moment. His voice is quiet, almost hesitant.

You squeeze his hand. “Yeah.”

Jack shifts, leaning back against the couch. You lean into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder. His hand stays tangled with yours, his thumb brushing back and forth along your knuckles in a steady rhythm. Slowly, the tension in his body eases.

“Thanks,” Jack murmurs. His head tips toward yours, his breath warm against your hair.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you say, eyes drifting shut. “Just remember this. When it gets hard, when the pressure’s too much, remember you don’t have to do it alone.”

Jack’s hand tightens around yours, his breath catching for half a second. Then he relaxes.

“I’ll remember,” he promises, voice low and sure.

You smile, your heart steady now as you let the sound of his breathing and the flicker of the TV lull you toward sleep. You know there’s still a long road ahead, the combine, the draft, Jack’s rookie year  but for now, this is enough.

It’s late afternoon when you find Jack on the ice, alone.

The rink is almost empty and quite the kind of quiet that makes the sound of skates cutting into the ice seem louder. Jack’s in a plain grey hoodie, a puck sliding back and forth between his stick blade as he moves through the neutral zone. His head is down, shoulders tense, and even from the stands, you can tell he’s overthinking it. His movements are sharp, almost mechanical like he’s trying too hard to be perfect.

You sit down on the bleachers, the cold from the rink seeping through your jeans. Jack’s been like this all week quiet, short answers, disappearing for extra hours at the rink. You didn’t have to ask why. The NHL Combine is in two weeks. The pressure’s been building, and Jack’s not the type to admit when it’s too much.

A sharp slap of the puck against the glass pulls you from your thoughts. Jack’s skating toward the blue line, his stick dragging behind him as he breathes heavily, a little unsteady. He circles back toward center ice, but his stride falters slightly just enough for you to notice.

“You’re overthinking it,” you call out, standing.

Jack glances up, his expression closed off but his eyes soften when he sees you. He coasts toward the boards, resting his forearms against the top. His breath comes out in sharp clouds of condensation.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says but there’s no bite to his words.

You shrug. “Figured you’d need moral support.”

Jack huffs a soft laugh but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze drops to the ice. “Not really playing like someone who deserves it.”

You step closer, your hands resting on the edge of the boards. “Jack, you’re allowed to have a bad practice.”

Jack shakes his head. “Not now. Not this close.” His hands flex around his stick. “I can’t screw this up.”

“You won’t.”

Jack’s eyes flick toward you. There’s something guarded in his expression the same look he gets when he’s trying not to show how much it’s getting to him. His eyes are dark under the shadows of his helmet.

“You don’t know that,” he says quietly.

You swallow, searching for the right words. “Yeah, I do.”

Jack exhales sharply, his gaze drifting to the ice. He’s quiet for a long time before he speaks again, his voice low. “What if I’m not good enough?”

Your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his voice. He’s always been confident, cocky, even but this is different. This is the fear he doesn’t let other people see.

You rest your hand over his where it grips the top of the boards. His fingers twitch beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away. “Jack” Your voice softens. “You’ve been working for this since you were a kid. One bad practice isn’t going to change the fact that you belong there.”

Jack’s mouth pulls into a thin line. His eyes stay locked on the ice.

“You know that, right?” you press.

Jack’s jaw tenses. He exhales through his nose and finally meets your eyes. “Yeah. I know.” But his voice is tight, like he’s still trying to convince himself.

You squeeze his hand lightly. “Come on. Take the helmet off. Let’s reset.”

Jack hesitates for a second before unbuckling his chin strap. His hair falls into messy waves as he pulls the helmet off, and you smile despite yourself.

“There’s the Jack I know,” you say softly.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner, the smallest hint of a smile breaking through the tension in his face. He sets the helmet down on the boards and rests his forehead against the glass, his eyes closed for a long moment. His breath fogs up the glass in front of him.

“Why are you so calm about this?” Jack murmurs.

You smile, even though he can’t see it. “Because I know you. And I know you’re going to be fine.”

Jack’s eyes open. He tilts his head toward you, his cheek pressed against the glass. His gaze lingers on you longer than it probably should. His expression softens, his mouth curving into something more familiar less guarded.

“You always know what to say,” Jack says quietly.

You shrug. “It’s part of the job description.”

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. He leans back from the glass, turning toward you. “And what job is that?”

“girlfriend” you say lightly, even though the words feel heavier than they should.

Jack’s gaze drops to your mouth for half a second before he catches himself. shaking his head slightly. “You’ve been overpaid.”

You laugh. “I don’t know. Pretty sure I’ve earned it.”

Jack’s hand slides from the boards, brushing against yours as he steps back onto the ice. The contact is brief a split second  but it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

He skates backward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Stay?”

You smile. “Always.”

Jack nods, his jaw unclenching slightly. His shoulders relax as he turns and skates toward the far side of the ice. He moves differently now, smoother, looser. It’s not perfect, but it’s him.

⟡

Jack’s in Buffalo for the Combine. He’d been gone for almost a week now, thrown into a blur of interviews, medical tests, and physical evaluations. You’d been following the coverage clips of him flashing across social media, a quick shot of him stepping into the arena or walking down a hallway with other top prospects. He looked calm on the surface, but you knew better.  The absence of him is starting to feel like a hollow ache beneath your ribs. You’ve talked to him every day, quick texts in the morning, rushed calls at night  but it’s not the same as having him there next to you. He’s exhausted you can tell even through the phone but he’s not the type to admit when it’s too much.

You’re half asleep when your phone buzzes on the nightstand. It takes you a second to realize what’s happening, the glow from the screen sharp against the dark. You blink, rubbing your eyes as you reach for it for the sixth time this week knowing it was a text from Jack “are you awake?”

You sit up, sleep slipping away as you type back. “yeah. What's wrong? it’s late.” The typing bubbles appear, then disappear. Then nothing. You frown, already feeling the tightness in your chest. “want me to call?” A pause. “I just need to hear your voice.” Jack replied. 

You hit the call button without even looking at his message. Jack answers on the second ring. “Hey,” you say softly. “Hey,” Jack’s voice is rough, low. He sounds tired.

“Did you just finish?”

“Yeah.” He exhales sharply. “Got back to my room like five minutes ago.”

“What happened?”

Jack lets out a humorless laugh. “Where do I start?” His voice is tight, and you picture the way he probably looks right now sprawled out on the hotel bed, arm draped over his eyes. “The bike test was brutal. My legs were shaking so bad I thought I was going to fall off.”

You wince. “That bad?”

“They crank up the resistance until you physically can’t pedal anymore,” Jack says. “I could barely stand afterward.” Your chest tightens. “Jack” he cuts you off. “And the VO2 max test?” Jack groans. “I thought I was gonna puke. I was seeing spots by the end.” You frown. “Did anyone else struggle that much?”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be better than that.” His voice sharpens. “I can’t afford to screw this up.”

“You didn’t,” you say quickly. “You weren’t there,” Jack says, his tone edged with something close to frustration. But then his breath catches, and his voice softens. “Sorry. I didn’t mean”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt gently. “What else happened?” Jack sighs. “Wingate test. They make you sprint all out on the bike for 30 seconds. My legs were already toast, so I tanked it.”

“Jack” you say once again, getting cut off “And the long jump?” He laughs under his breath, but there’s no humor in it. “I swear I’ve never jumped that short in my life.”

“Did Quinn do better?” you ask carefully. “Of course he did,” Jack mutters. “The scouts loved him.” Your heart aches at the sharpness in his tone. You know how much Jack admires Quinn, but that admiration is tangled up with the constant pressure to keep up.

“And then,” Jack’s voice lowers, frustration leaking through, “they threw me into interviews while I could barely breathe. One scout asked if I thought I deserved to go first overall.” Your mouth tightens. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Another one asked if I think I’m better than Quinn.” You sit up straighter. “What the hell?” Jack mutters “I didn’t even know what to say,” His voice is low and tight. “I think I screwed it up.”

“You didn’t,” you say firmly. Jack doesn’t respond right away. You hear the rustling of sheets, the muffled sound of the TV in the background probably an old hockey game. “I don’t know,” Jack murmurs. “I need to be better.”

“Jack.” Your voice softens. “You’ve done enough. You’ve been working for this since you were a kid. You’re too hard on yourself” Jack’s quiet for a moment. Then, so soft you almost miss it “What if it’s not enough?” Your chest tightens. This is the fear he doesn’t let other people see.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Close your eyes.” Jack’s quiet for a second. “What?” 

“Just trust me.” 

A long breath. “Okay.”

“You’re on the ice,” you say. “Just you. The rink’s empty.” Jack’s breath steadies. “You’ve got the puck,” you continue. “Skating down center ice. No pressure, no scouts, no cameras. Just you.”Jack hums quietly, like he can almost see it.“You make the shot,” you say. “Bar down. Clean.” Jack exhales. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “And you don’t even need to look, because you already know it’s in.”There’s a long stretch of quiet on the other end of the line. Then, so soft you almost miss it “I wish you were here.”

“I know,” you whisper, throat tightening. “Me too.” Jack sighs, and you hear the rustling of sheets as he shifts. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re not going to find out,” you say, trying to sound light, but it comes out more fragile than you mean it to. Jack’s quiet for a long time. You think he might have fallen asleep until you hear him murmur, “You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now.” You press the phone closer to your ear, even though it won’t bring him any closer. “You’ve got this,” you whisper. “You’re going to be fine.”

Jack breathes out, low and even. “Stay on the phone with me?”

“Yeah,” you say, curling into your pillow. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jack’s quiet for a while after that, but you don’t hang up. You stay there, listening to the sound of his breathing as it evens out, until the line finally goes quiet and you know he’s asleep. You don’t hang up. Not yet.

⟡

Jack’s been quiet all morning. His usual easy smile is nowhere to be found, replaced by a tight line of tension in his jaw. He’s been bouncing his knee relentlessly, his leg jittering under the table during breakfast at the hotel. He barely touched his food, pushing scrambled eggs around his plate until Quinn took it away and told him to stop torturing it. Now, he’s sitting next to you on the edge of the bed, his head tipped back against the wall, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. The hotel room is bright from the mid-morning sun filtering through the sheer curtains, but it feels too quiet  too still  like the entire day is holding its breath.

Jack’s name has been everywhere since the Combine. Every hockey account, every sports network, every mock draft all saying the same thing. First overall. Franchise player. Generational talent. He should be used to it by now, but it feels different this time. Closer. Like the weight of it all is pressing down on his chest. And you feel it too, even from miles away. You saw it during the Combine  the way he tensed when people mentioned the draft, how he downplayed his scores and his interviews even when you knew he’d crushed them. Jack’s always been good at brushing things off, but this feels different. Bigger. Like it’s not just about hockey anymore. It’s about living up to something.

The draft isn’t until later tonight, but the weight of it is already pressing down. Jack’s been working toward this moment his whole life, the moment his name is called, the moment his future in the NHL becomes real and now that it’s finally here, it’s like he can’t figure out how to breathe through it.

You shift closer until your knee bumps his. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Jack’s eyes slide toward you, dark under the shadows of his lashes. He huffs out a breath. “How am I supposed to not think about it?” His voice is quiet, frayed at the edges.

You reach for his hand, your fingers slipping between his. He’s warm always is, but his hand is stiff, tense. “I don’t know. Maybe stop overthinking it.”

Jack lets out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing along your knuckles. His gaze drifts toward the window, but you can tell he’s not really seeing it. His mind is already at Rogers Arena, already running through every possible outcome. He’s been carrying the weight of this for months the expectations, the pressure, the comparisons to Quinn, to his dad and you know it’s only gotten heavier.

“Jack.” You squeeze his hand. He doesn’t look at you right away, but when he does, his eyes are wide, a little raw around the edges. You offer him a small smile. “You’ve got this.”

Jack’s mouth twitches like he wants to smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And what if I don’t?”

“You will.” You don’t hesitate, don’t even think about it. You just know. Jack’s been skating since before he could walk. He’s trained for this put in the work, put in the hours. He’s ready. Even if he can’t see it right now.

Jack’s gaze stays on you, his brow furrowing slightly. His hand tightens around yours. “I’m scared,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shift closer until your shoulder presses against his. “That’s normal.”

Jack’s eyes darken. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“You are.”

Jack swallows hard, his jaw working. He looks away, his throat bobbing as he tries to steady his breathing. You can feel the tension radiating off of him, the way his chest rises and falls too quickly. His thumb rubs absently against the back of your hand.

You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” you say softly. “Even if you don’t go first. Even if it doesn’t go the way you expect  you’ll still have hockey. You’ll still have me.”

Jack’s breath stutters. He turns his head slightly, his cheek brushing against your hair. “You mean that?”

You lift your head and meet his gaze. “Of course I do.”

Jack’s hand slides from your hand to your knee, his fingers curling around it like he’s grounding himself there. His eyes search yours, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of the room shifts. The nerves are still there, the pressure, the uncertainty but some of the tension in his face softens. His eyes flick toward your mouth, then back to your eyes. He exhales slowly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you say, just as softly.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Promise?”

You smile, your hand lifting to his jaw. “Promise.”

Jack lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes for a moment, his hand tightening on your knee. The quiet settles around you both, not the heavy kind, not the tense kind  just quiet.

“Jack?” Quinn’s voice breaks the silence, followed by a knock at the door. “We’ve gotta go soon.”

Jack sighs. He lifts his head, his eyes lingering on you for a second longer before he pulls away. “Yeah, okay.”

Jack stands, adjusting his shirt and brushing his hands down his pants. His gaze flicks toward you, hesitant. “You’re coming with us, right?”

You stand too, straightening his collar. “Obviously.”

Jack’s mouth curves into something close to a real smile, small but genuine. He takes your hand again, linking your fingers as he leads you toward the door.

The car ride to Rogers Arena is quiet. Jack sits next to you in the backseat, his knee bouncing, his fingers tapping against his thigh. He’s wearing a fitted suit, his hair styled but still a little messy at the top. You can tell he’s trying not to overthink it, but the tension in his jaw gives him away.

Quinn and Luke sit in the back of the car, phone in their hand, scrolling through Twitter. The whole car feels charged, the anticipation building the closer you get to the arena. When you pull up, Jack hesitates for half a second before stepping out. His hand brushes against yours as you follow him out of the car.

Inside, the energy is palpable. The arena is packed with media, fans, scouts, the low hum of conversations mixing with the occasional burst of camera flashes. Jack tugs at the cuff of his jacket, his mouth pulling into a thin line. His eyes flick toward you.

You slip your hand into his, squeezing gently. “Deep breath,” you say.

Jack’s jaw relaxes slightly. He squeezes your hand back. His eyes linger on you for a beat before he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Quinn steps up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got this”

Jack’s mouth twitches. He looks toward the draft stage, toward the rows of seats, the cameras, the scouts and then back at you. His hand tightens around yours.

“You’re with me, right?” Jack asks quietly.

You smile. “Always.”

Jack breathes out. And this time, when he looks toward the stage, the tension in his jaw fades just a little.

Jack’s heart is hammering. It’s too loud in here the buzz of conversation, the hum of the arena speakers, the occasional burst of laughter from a family. His suit jacket feels too tight across his shoulders, his tie choking him a little more with each second that passes. His name has been circling the draft floor for months, repeated on every broadcast and in every article first overall, franchise player, generational talent  but none of it feels real right now. It feels heavy. Like the weight of the entire league is resting on his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.

He shifts in his seat, his hand resting against his thigh, and feels your fingers slip between his. His head turns toward you automatically. You’re sitting beside him, close enough that your knee is pressed against his. Your hand is steady, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s gripping you until you adjust your hand slightly, your grip soft but certain.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, low enough that only he can hear. Jack breathes out shakily. “Am I?” You smile soft, sure. “Yeah. You are.”

Jack’s gaze drops to the floor, his thumb smoothing over the inside of your wrist. He can feel the pulse there, steady beneath his touch. His heart’s not steady. It’s racing. He doesn’t know if it’ll settle until this is over until he hears his name.

Quinn is watching him. He’s sitting straight in his chair, hands resting on his thighs, but his eyes are soft when they meet Jack’s. “You’ve got this,” Quinn says quietly. Jack’s mouth twitches. He starts to nod, but then Luke leans across from Quinn. 

“Yeah,” Luke adds, his grin lopsided, a little nervous but bright. “And if you don’t, you can always blame it on Quinn.”

Quinn rolls his eyes. 

Jack huffs a soft laugh, but it fades quickly. His gaze shifts toward the stage, where the Devils’ management team is already gathering. The nerves coil tighter in his chest. His hand tightens around yours.

“You’re with me, right?” Jack asks quietly. 

You don’t even hesitate. “Always.”

Jack’s eyes soften, some of the tension fading from his expression. He breathes out and shifts closer, his knee pressing into yours beneath the table. He doesn’t have time to say anything else before the commissioner steps up to the microphone.

Jack’s stomach drops. The noise in the arena swells as the camera swings toward the Devils’ table. The commissioner is still talking, but Jack barely hears it over the blood rushing in his ears. His legs feel locked beneath the table. His chest is tight.

“And with the first overall pick, the New Jersey Devils are proud to select from the US National Team Development Program… Jack Hughes.”

Your hand squeezes his.

Jack exhales. He stands on shaky legs as Quinn claps him on the back, Luke grinning wide as he jumps up to hug him. “Dude!” Luke laughs, his arms tight around Jack’s waist. Quinn pulls them both in, his head knocking against Jack’s shoulder. Jack’s laugh comes out a little breathless.

“Go get your jersey,” Quinn says, his voice thick with pride.

Jack’s hand is still locked with yours as he turns toward you. His expression is soft, his eyes dark and bright all at once. “You’re coming with me after this, right?”

You smile. “Try and stop me.”

Jack hesitates for half a second, then leans in. He kisses you quickly  just a press of his lips against your cheek  but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. His thumb brushes over your knuckles once more before he finally lets go and steps away.

Jack walks toward the stage, his heart still pounding but his legs moving steady beneath him. He can feel Quinn and Luke’s eyes on him, your smile burned into the back of his mind. He shakes hands with the commissioner, pulls on the Devils jersey, and lifts the hat onto his head. Cameras flash. The noise swells. His chest is tight again  but this time, it’s not nerves. It’s something else. Something warmer.

He looks back toward the floor, toward the row of seats where Quinn, Luke, and you are sitting. You’re still watching him. Your hand rests against your heart. Quinn’s arms are crossed, smiling like he knew this would happen all along. Luke is grinning wide, already pointing toward the Devils logo on Jack’s chest.

Jack breathes out. And this time, he smiles.

After the photos and the handshakes, Jack ushered toward the media pit. Questions are thrown at him from every angle about expectations, about his future with the Devils, about being a franchise player. He answers them as best as he can, his gaze flicking toward the crowd every so often, searching for you. When it’s over, the team staff directs him toward the tunnel, and he barely makes it a few steps before he hears someone yell his name.

“Jack!”

He turns just in time to see you barreling toward him, arms outstretched. Jack’s barely able to brace himself before you crash into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms come up automatically, locking around your waist. You’re laughing and crying at the same time, your face buried in his shoulder. Jack breathes out, his chin resting on top of your head.

“You did it,” you whisper.

Jack’s arms tighten around you. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could’ve,” you mumble, pulling back enough to look at him. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

Jack’s gaze drops to your mouth. His hands settle at your waist, his thumbs brushing lightly over the hem of your sweater. His chest is still pounding, but this feels steadier somehow. Grounding.

“Hey,” Quinn’s voice cuts in. Jack glances up to see Quinn and Luke standing nearby, Luke practically vibrating with excitement. Quinn’s got that proud but pretending to be casual look on his face.

Luke steps forward first, grinning. “Dude! First overall!” He throws his arms around Jack’s waist, nearly knocking him over. Jack laughs, ruffling Luke’s hair.

“Couldn’t have done it without you either,” Jack says.

Luke pulls back, his smile wide. Quinn rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t fade. “Congrats, Jack.” He steps in, pulling Jack into a one armed hug and clapping him on the back. “Knew you had it in you.”

Jack’s throat feels tight. He pulls back and looks between Quinn, Luke, and you. His family. His people. His hand finds yours again, his fingers threading through yours like it’s instinct. Your gaze softens, and Jack feels his heartbeat finally settle.

“Come on,” Quinn says, nodding toward the tunnel. “Let’s go celebrate.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “Let’s go.”

⟡

It’s been a whirlwind since the draft. Jack signed his contract with the Devils two weeks ago, and now he’s leaving to New Jersey for rookie camp. Jack’s flight to New Jersey is early. Too early. You’re still wrapped in blankets on the couch when he stands in the doorway, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His Devils hat is pulled low over his eyes, casting a shadow across his face. His mouth pulls into a thin line as he looks at you, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

“I should get going,” Jack says quietly.

You push yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you cross the room toward him. “Are you sure you have everything?”

Jack nods, but his gaze stays on the floor. His hand tightens around the strap of his bag. “Yeah.”

You hesitate for half a second before stepping closer. Your arms wrap around his waist, and Jack exhales sharply as he melts into you. His chin rests on top of your head, and his heartbeat thrums against your cheek.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you murmur.

Jack’s hand slides up your back. “It’s not like we’ve never done long distance before.”

“Yeah, but” You trail off, the words sticking in your throat. It feels different this time. You pull back, your hands lingering on the hem of his hoodie. “Just don’t forget about me when you’re a big NHL star.”

Jack’s mouth twitches. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

Jack’s eyes soften. He leans down, brushing his nose against yours. “I do.”

You smile, even though your chest feels tight. Jack kisses you softly with a lingering brush of lips  and then pulls back too soon. His hand stays on your waist for an extra second before he steps away, his expression shifting into something steadier, more composed.

“Call me when you land?” you ask.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. “Always.”

You walk him to the door, watching as he disappears down the driveway and into the early morning light. Your chest feels hollow by the time his car pulls away. The silence that follows is heavier than you expect.

You try to keep busy over the next week  spending time with friends, picking up extra shifts but it’s hard to ignore how quiet it feels without Jack around. He calls every night, though, and you fall into a familiar rhythm. Jack fills you in on the details of rookie camp, the fitness tests, the long practices, and the media. He tells you about the other guys, how Nico seems nice, how Bratt’s already chirping at him like they’ve known each other for years. He tells you how much faster the game feels, how much stronger the guys are. You can hear it in his voice, the strain beneath his usual confidence.

“Hard day?” you ask one night, curled up in bed with your phone pressed to your ear.

Jack sighs. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Jack’s quiet for a long moment. “I just don't know. I feel like I’m playing catch up. Like everyone’s two steps ahead.”

“You’ve barely been there for a few days, Jack.”

“I know,” Jack says. “But it’s not supposed to feel this hard.”

“You put too much pressure on yourself.” Jack huffs a soft laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. “It’s kinda hard not to.” You’re quiet for a beat. Then, “You’re not gonna figure it out overnight.”

“I know.”

“But you’ll figure it out. You always do.” Jack doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, quietly, “I hope you’re right.” You close your eyes. “I always am.” Jack’s breath crackles over the line. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

Jack’s quiet for another moment. “I love you and I miss you .”

Your heart clenches. “I miss and love you too.”

Jack sighs softly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jack.”

You keep the phone pressed to your ear until the line goes quiet.

Jack calls you after his full day of rookie camp, his voice low and tired through the phone. He sounds exhausted, more than you expected. You’re sitting on the floor of your bedroom, your knees pulled to your chest, the phone pressed to your ear. 

“Hey,” Jack says, his voice scratchy. “Hey,” you say softly. “How was it?” Jack exhales a sharp breath. “Brutal.”  

“What happened?”  

“Fitness testing.” Jack huffs a soft, humorless laugh. “Like the Combine but worse.”  You sit up a little straighter. “Worse?”  

“Longer. Harder.” Jack’s voice dips lower. “I thought I was ready for it, but I don’t know.” He sounds frustrated, and that’s what gets you. Jack rarely admits when something’s hard. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” you say quietly.  “I don’t know,” Jack says again. “It’s not just the testing. The practices everyone’s so fast. So strong. I’m trying to keep up, but it feels like I’m a step behind.”  

You can almost picture him  sprawled across his bed, running a hand through his hair the way he does when he’s stressed. Your chest tightens. “You’ve been there for what five days?”  

“ a week.”  

“A week” you repeat. “Jack, you need to give yourself some time.”  

“I don’t have time,” Jack says. His voice sharpens, the frustration cracking through. “This is the NHL. Everyone’s watching.” 

You know that’s true you’ve seen the articles, the highlight reels on social media. It’s a lot for anyone especially for Jack, who’s always carried the weight of expectation like it’s part of his DNA.  

“Hey,” you say softly. “You don’t have to figure everything out right away. This isn’t going to be easy it’s not supposed to be. But you wouldn’t be there if you couldn’t handle it.”  

Jack’s quiet for a long moment. Then, barely above a whisper: “I don’t know if I can.” You close your eyes, your heart tightening. “Jack.” 

“I’m serious,” Jack says. His voice cracks a little at the edges. “What if I’m not as good as everyone thinks I am?”  

“You are,” you say immediately. “Jack, you’ve been working toward this your whole life. You belong there.”  

“Do I?” 

“Yes,” you say. “And if you can’t believe that yet let me believe it for you.”  Jack doesn’t answer right away. His breath crackles over the line. “What would I do without you?”  You smile faintly, even though your chest aches. “You’d figure it out.”  

“Maybe,” Jack says. “But I’m glad I don’t have to.”  

Jack starts texting you more after that. Sometimes it’s a quick message in the morning on the ice or a random photo of his new locker with his nameplate above it. Sometimes it’s a rant about drills, or a chirp about one of the guys. Jesper seems to be his favorite target. 

Bratt tripped me in practice today. little rat  

What'd you do? you text back.  

chirped him about his hair  

You can’t help but smile. But there are harder messages too.  

Bag skate this morning. Thought I was going to pass out.  

Coach isn’t happy with me.  

Everyone’s so much stronger. 

You know Jack doesn’t say these things to anyone else. With the media, with his teammates he’s steady. Confident. But with you he lets the cracks show. And when he calls you late at night, his voice low and rough, you know that’s when he’s feeling it the most.  

One night, it’s past midnight when your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You’re half asleep, barely registering the sound until it buzzes again. You squint at the screen. Jack.  

“Hey,” you answer, your voice thick with sleep.  “Did I wake you?” Jack asks. “No,” you lie. “What’s wrong?”  

Jack sighs, and you can hear the tension in it. “Nothing.”  You wait. Jack’s quiet for so long you think maybe he’s about to hang up. Then he says, “I just needed to hear your voice.”  

You sit up, rubbing at your eyes. “Rough day?”  

Jack’s breath catches. “Yeah.” 

“What happened?”  

Jack’s quiet for another long moment. “Coach ripped into me.”  

You frown. “Why?”  

“Made a bad play during the scrimmage,” Jack says. “Got caught flat footed on the backcheck. Then I missed the net on a breakaway.” 

“That doesn’t sound like you.”  

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Jack says. His voice drops lower, almost shaky. “I’m trying. It’s just everything’s so much faster than I expected. I feel like I’m drowning.”  

“You’re not,” you say quietly. “You’re adjusting.”  

Jack’s breath hitches. “What if I don’t?”  

“You will.”  

Jack doesn’t answer for a long time. You hear rustling on the other end of the line, like he’s lying down. “I miss you,” he says finally.  

Your chest tightens. “I miss you too.”  

Jack’s voice gets softer. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Just for a little while?”  

You slide down beneath the covers, resting your head against the pillow. “Of course.”  

Jack breathes out. “Thanks.”  

You don’t say anything after that. Jack’s breathing evens out eventually, and you think he’s starting to fall asleep when you hear him murmur, barely audible “Love you.”  

You don’t know if he’s even awake enough to remember saying it. But your heart thuds painfully against your ribs.  

“I love you too,” you whisper.

⟡

Jack’s first game in the NHL is at home, and the crowd is louder than he expected. He steps onto the ice at Prudential Center, the Devils logo bright under the lights. The noise is deafening, the kind of sound that hits you square in the chest  and for a second it’s hard to breathe. His legs feel shaky as he skates through warmups, the ice cutting beneath his skates with every push. The energy is electric, but it’s not enough to drown out the knot in his chest. He knows everyone’s watching him, the first overall pick, the franchise’s future. He tries not to think about it but it’s impossible to ignore the weight of it.

You’re watching from Michigan. The game’s on TV in your room, your laptop balanced on your knees. Jack looks smaller on the screen somehow swallowed up by the bright lights and the size of the arena. He’s wearing number 86, and it still feels surreal seeing it on an NHL jersey. He’s buzzing with nerves  you can tell by the way he’s gripping his stick too tightly during warmups. He’s always done that when he’s nervous.

Jack texts you after warmups while the Zamboni is still clearing the ice. “Starting on the second line. My hands are shaking.”

You smile, already typing back. “You’ve got this. Just play your game.”

Jack’s response comes quickly. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“You won’t.” You pause before adding, “But maybe don’t sit next to Nico if you do.”

A minute passes before the dots appear again. “Not funny.”

“A little funny.”

Jack doesn’t respond, but the small, shaky smile he gives the camera when it passes by his bench tells you he saw it.

The game itself is rough. Jack looks fast, quick on his feet, but the Devils’ offense struggles to keep up. He gets knocked down hard in the first period, bouncing off the boards and coming up wincing. He pushes through it, but you can tell he’s frustrated the way he shakes his head after a shift, the way he skates to the bench with his head down. The Devils lose 4-1, and Jack finishes with a minus-two rating. His line gets hemmed in the defensive zone more than once, and even though it’s just one game, the postgame interviews are already talking about whether he can handle the league’s size and speed.

He calls you after the game, his voice flat. “That sucked.”

“You knew it wasn’t going to be easy,” you say softly.

“I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Jack mutters. He sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I was minus-two. Do you know how bad that is?”

“Jack”

“Everyone’s already talking about it,” he cuts you off. His voice tightens, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “I can’t screw this up” He trails off, his breath shaky.

“You’re not screwing anything up,” you say firmly. “It’s one game.”

“It’s not just one game.” Jack exhales through his nose, and you can hear the tension in it. “This is what I’ve been working toward my whole life. And what if I’m not good enough?”

You close your eyes, pressing your forehead to your hand. “Jack. You are good enough. You belong here.”

Jack’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he says eventually. But he doesn’t sound like he believes it.

The first few weeks are more of the same. Jack gets pushed around a lot, the physicality wearing on him. He’s getting hit hard, knocked off the puck more than he’s used to. He’s fast, but the guys he’s playing against are bigger, more experienced. He’s trying, you can see it but it’s not coming together the way he wants it to.

Your phone buzzes constantly after games. Jack’s name lights up the screen with texts “Minus-three. Fucking embarrassing.” “I can’t score.” “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

You try to reassure him, but the losses are piling up. The Devils are 0-4-2 to start the season, and Jack’s still scoreless. The media’s already running with it  headlines about whether he was overhyped, if he’s too small for the league. Jack tries to brush it off, but you know it’s getting to him.

It’s late one night when he calls you, his voice quiet. “I don’t know how to fix this.” You sit up in bed, clutching the phone to your ear. “You will.” 

Jack doesn’t say anything for a while. “I just” He sighs. “I miss you.”

Your chest tightens. “I miss you too.”

Jack’s breath hitches. “I hate it here,” he says quietly.

Your eyes burn. “I know.”

“I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“You’re not doing this without me,” you whisper.

Jack’s quiet for a long time. His breathing is steady in your ear. Eventually, he says, “I just want to come home.”

You close your eyes, swallowing down the ache in your chest. “I know,” you say softly. “But you can’t.”

Jack doesn’t answer, but you know he’s still there. After a while, his breathing evens out, and you realize he’s fallen asleep on the line. You stay there for a while, the phone pressed to your ear, listening to his quiet breathing.

Jack finally scores his first goal two weeks into the season, a breakaway against Vancouver. Quinn’s on the ice when it happens, and you see the way Quinn hugs him against the glass after the puck crosses the line. Jack looks lighter for a moment, his smile big and bright, but it fades quickly after the game ends. The Devils still lost 5-2.

He calls you that night, and he sounds more tired than happy. “It doesn’t matter if we keep losing,” Jack mutters.

“Yes, it does,” you say. “Jack, you scored. That’s huge.”

Jack sighs. “Yeah.” He’s quiet for a second before adding, “Quinn said you screamed when it went in.”

You laugh. “Maybe.”

Jack’s breath softens. “I miss you.”

Your heart squeezes. “I miss you too.”

Jack’s quiet for a long time before he says, “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.”

You don’t know how to answer that. So you don’t.

⟡

Jack’s rookie season should’ve been exciting. It should’ve been everything he’s worked for. Instead, it’s November, and the Devils are on a six-game losing streak. Jack’s gone nine games without a goal, and the media’s not holding back. Every headline is brutal. Every post game interview is worse. He’s not smiling as much anymore. He’s quiet when you call, sometimes too tired to even talk. And when you visit, it feels like he’s somewhere else entirely.

The last time you saw him in person was two weeks ago. You’d flown from Michigan to see him play in Newark the first time you’d been able to since the season started. Jack had barely looked at you when you met him outside the locker room. His face was tight, his eyes tired. He’d hugged you, but it was quick. Impersonal. And when you sat with his family during the game, you saw the tension in his shoulders, the way he carried himself on the ice like the weight of it all was pressing down too hard. He’d been the last one off the ice after the loss, his head down, his mouth pulled tight.

He called you that night late, when you were already back at the hotel and apologized. “I just I’m sorry I couldn’t see you more,” Jack had said, his voice low. He’d sounded exhausted. “I’m just tired.”

Now, it’s almost midnight again, and you’re staring at your phone, waiting for him to call. He hasn’t. You’ve texted twice with no answer. You know he’s probably at home by now, maybe asleep. Or maybe not. He’s started turning his phone off after games. Less noise, he’d said. Less pressure. But you don’t know if it’s helping.

It’s hard to know what to say when you do talk to him. When he tells you he’s doing fine, even though you can hear it in his voice that he isn’t. When he tells you, “I’ll figure it out,” even though you can see him unraveling.

The next morning, you call him before class. He answers on the third ring, his voice rough with sleep. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you say softly. “You okay?”

Jack sighs. You can hear the sound of him rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot.”

Jack’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah.”

You sit down on the edge of your bed, clutching the phone a little tighter. “Jack”

“I’m fine,” he says quickly. Too quickly.

“You’re not,” you say gently. “You don’t have to-”

“I said I’m fine,” Jack cuts in. His tone is sharper than you’ve ever heard it.

You go quiet. Jack exhales. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I just don't know.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly.

Jack doesn’t say anything for a while. You can hear his breathing over the line, steady but heavy. Finally, he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “You don’t have to fix it alone.”

Jack doesn’t answer. And after a while, the line goes quiet.

The next time you talk to Jack, it’s after another loss. This time to Toronto. Another night of him leaving the rink without a point. Another night of reporters asking him what’s wrong, why he isn’t producing.

“I’m trying,” Jack says, his voice tight. “I’m trying and it’s not, it's not working.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But it’s not your fault. It’s a team-”

“I don’t care if it’s a team thing,” Jack snaps. “I’m the first pick. I’m supposed to be the one fixing it.”

“Jack-”

“I have to be better.” His voice cracks. “I just I don’t know how.”

Your heart aches. You want to reach through the phone and pull him into you. Hold him until the tension melts away. But you can’t. You’re too far away. And Jack’s already starting to pull back.

“You’re not alone im with you,” you say quietly.

Jack doesn’t answer.

You hear him breathe out. Then the call ends.

The worst part is that you don’t know how to help him. Jack’s not letting you in the way he used to. And you can feel it the distance growing between you, like something fraying at the edges. You want to fix it. You want to be enough to hold him together.But Jack’s starting to slip through your fingers.

⟡

After a while, you notice that not only jack started to drift from you, but also your relationship with him. It starts with the little things.

The missed calls. The delayed replies. The way Jack’s voice sounds a little too thin over the phone, his laugh not quite reaching the places it usually does. He’s tired you can hear it even when he tries to hide it.

At first, you don’t think much of it. Jack’s schedule is brutal, and it’s not like he’s never missed a call before. But then it starts happening more often. You’ll text him after a game Proud of you, call me when you can? and it’ll sit there for hours. Sometimes until the next day. Or he’ll call you late, hours after he said he would, with a rushed apology and a tired “I’m sorry, babe. I just passed out after practice.”

You get it. You do.  He’s in the middle of his rookie season, grinding through the hardest stretch of hockey he’s ever played, and he’s under more pressure than he’ll ever admit. But that doesn’t make it sting any less when you see his name light up your phone after midnight and realize you’ve already given up hope of hearing from him that night. 

Or when you do pick up, and it’s not the Jack you’re used to hearing.

“Hey,” you say softly, curling up under the covers. “You okay?”

Jack’s voice is thin over the line. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He always says that. Just tired. Even when it sounds like more than that.

“You played well tonight,” you offer. “Had that sick pass in the second.”

Jack’s breath crackles faintly through the speaker. “Didn’t matter. We still lost.”

“It’s not on you.”

Jack hums. You can picture the way he’s probably lying there  head buried in the pillow, hand resting over his face, the line of his jaw tight. He’s always been hard on himself. But lately, it's gotten worse.

The games aren’t going well. The media’s been tearing into him —first overall pick and only four goals? The disappointment in the headlines is almost palpable. You’ve stopped reading the articles, but you know Jack hasn’t. He doesn’t talk about it, but you can tell from the way he’s quieter now. The way his texts have dwindled from paragraphs to one word answers. 

The last time you FaceTimed, Jack barely looked at you. He was lying in bed, hair damp from his post-game shower, and you could see the crease between his brows even when he wasn’t talking. You tried to make him smile made a dumb joke about how you’d start training to become the Devils' new enforcer but all you got was a faint chuckle and, “Sorry, I’m just-”

“Tired,” you’d finished for him, and Jack had sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.

It’s been like this for a while now. He’s slipping  or maybe you’re the one slipping away. You don’t know how to fix it when Jack’s over 600 miles away, and every conversation feels like trying to grasp sand in your hands the harder you try to hold on, the faster it slips through your fingers.  

You’re curled up in bed now, phone pressed to your ear as Jack’s voice filters through the speaker. 

“It was bad,” Jack says. His voice is quiet. Defeated. “I just I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

You sit up a little, pushing back the tight feeling in your chest. “Jack, it’s not you. The whole team’s struggling right now.”

“Yeah, but” He cuts himself off. You can hear the frustrated exhale on the other end. “I should be better. I was the first overall pick  I’m supposed to make a difference.”

“You are making a difference,” you say gently. “It’s your rookie year. No one expects you to carry the team.”

Jack’s silent for a beat too long. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Jack?”

“Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds distant. “I know.”

You hesitate. “Do you, though?”

His breath hitches. “I just I don’t know. Feels like I’m trying, but nothing’s working. And people are starting to talk, you know? About how maybe I wasn’t ready, maybe I’m not”

“Jack,” you cut in. “Stop.”

He doesn’t respond.

“You’re not a mistake,” you say, because you know that’s what he’s thinking. “You deserve to be there. You worked your ass off for this.”

“I guess.”

“Not ‘I guess,’” you press. “Jack, you”

“I know,” he snaps, and the sharpness of it cuts through the space between you. You freeze, swallowing the knot in your throat. Jack exhales shakily. His voice softens. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

You force a small smile even though he can’t see it. “You’re allowed to be tired.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, but it doesn’t sound like he believes it.

Another stretch of silence presses down between you. You wait for Jack to fill it, but he doesn’t.

“You want me to stay on the phone with you?” you ask quietly.

Jack’s quiet for a second. “No its okay”

“I’ll stay” 

“Okay.”

So you stay. Jack doesn’t say much after that. You can hear the rustle of his comforter as he shifts around, settling into bed. His breathing starts to even out. You stay awake longer than you probably should, listening to the soft sound of him breathing on the other end of the line, wondering how much longer you’ll be able to reach him like this.

Because lately, even when he’s right there, yet he feels so far away.

⟡

It’s been months of missed calls, delayed texts, and half-hearted conversations. Jack’s always tired. Or busy. Or distracted. And when you do talk, it’s like he’s only halfway there like some part of him is already pulling away. You’ve tried not to read into it, tried to convince yourself it’s just the pressure of his rookie season, that things will settle once he finds his rhythm. But deep down, you know better. It’s not just hockey. It’s him. It’s you. It’s the quiet space growing between you, the way it stretches wider with every unanswered text and every empty conversation.

So you book a flight to New Jersey because you need to know if this is still something you can save or if you lost him completely

DAY ONE  

The cab ride from the airport to Jack’s apartment is quiet. Too quiet. The city outside the window passes in a blur of gray and headlights, but you don’t really see it. Your phone sits heavy in your lap, the screen dark except for the faint reflection of the passing streetlights. You tap your thumb against the side of it like you're expecting a message that you know isn’t coming. Jack texted you earlier to confirm he’d be home when you arrived, but that was three hours ago. No follow-up. No “Can’t wait to see you.” No little heart emoji like he used to send.  

It’s not that he’s ignoring you  at least, not outright. He’s busy, you’ve told yourself a hundred times over the last few weeks. Rookie season is demanding. New city, new team, new pressure. He’s adjusting. You should understand that. And you do. You swear you do. But understanding it doesn’t make the silence feel any less heavy.  

When the cab pulls up in front of Jack’s building, you hesitate for a second before stepping out. You’re not sure why  it’s not like you’ve never been here before but the weight sitting low in your stomach makes it hard to breathe. The driver sets your bag on the curb, and you force yourself to pick it up, shoulders tensing under the weight of it as you walk toward the entrance.  

Jack opens the door when you knock. He’s in a plain Devils hoodie and sweatpants, his hair damp like he just showered. He smiles, but it’s thin, barely reaching his eyes. 

“Hey,” he says. His voice is soft, like he's already tired.  

You smile, forcing brightness into your voice. “Hey.”  

Jack leans down to kiss you, but it’s brief. Quick. Like he’s already pulling away before it starts. His hand finds the small of your back and guides you into the apartment, but it drops as soon as the door closes behind you.  

The apartment looks the same cleaner than you expected, probably because Ellen came to visit last week but it feels off. Like someone came through and rearranged all the furniture just enough to make you notice. Jack’s shoes are in a neat row by the door. There’s a half empty coffee mug sitting on the counter. His phone is face down on the couch.  

Jack sits down on the couch, leaving a noticeable gap beside him. You sit too, trying to close it, but he doesn’t shift toward you.  

“So,” you start, your voice too bright, too forced, “how was practice today?”  

“Fine.”  

Your stomach twists. “Just fine?”  

Jack shrugs, eyes fixed on the muted TV. “Yeah.”  

You watch him for a second, the sharp line of his jaw and the way his hand rests against his knee. Normally, he'd have his arm around you by now. Normally, you’d be tangled together and he’d be rambling about plays and drills and how Nico wouldn’t stop chirping him today.  

But he’s quiet. Detached.  

And you’re hyper aware of the space between you.  

Jack reaches for the remote and starts flipping through channels. His brows furrowed in concentration, but he’s not really watching anything. It’s like his body is here, but the rest of him is somewhere else.  

“Hungry?” he asks after a minute.  

“Yeah, I could eat.”  

“Cool.” He stands. “I’ll order something.”  

And that’s it. He disappears into the kitchen without asking what you want. A minute later, you hear the soft murmur of his voice on the phone.   

You sit there, your heart beating loud in your ears, and wonder why it feels like you’ve already lost him.  

Jack comes back a few minutes later and drops onto the couch, his knee brushing against yours for half a second before he shifts away.  

“Food should be here in, like, twenty minutes,” he says.  

You nod. “okay”  

More silence. The TV hums in the background, the flicker of light reflecting off Jack’s face. You glance at him, hoping he’ll look over at you, but his gaze stays fixed on the screen. His hand is resting between his knees, his fingers pulling at a loose thread in the fabric of his sweatpants.  

You clear your throat. “Did you, um talk to Quinn today he was asking me about you?”  

Jack’s mouth tightens. “Yeah.”  

“And?”  

“He’s good.”  

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. The seconds stretch out between you, long and tense and uncomfortable.  

“Jack.” You lean toward him, lowering your voice. “What’s going on?” Jack’s jaw twitches. “Nothing.”  

“It doesn’t feel like nothing.”  

Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just been a long week.”  

You search his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the faint crease in his forehead and you know he’s not lying. But you also know he’s not telling you the whole truth.   

“You know you can talk to me, right?” you say, your voice soft.  

Jack’s gaze flickers toward you, and for a second, you see it  the familiar warmth, the quiet vulnerability you’ve always known how to reach. His eyes soften, and he looks like he might actually say something.  

But then the buzzer for the front door sounds, and the moment evaporates.  

Jack stands quickly. “That’s the food.”  

You watch him cross the room, feeling the distance stretch wider with every step.  

He comes back with a brown takeout bag, setting it on the coffee table before sitting down. He opens the bag and pulls out containers of food  sushi, not your favorite  and hands you a pair of chopsticks without looking at you. 

You stare down at the food. “Did you know what I wanted?”  

Jack hesitates. “I just ordered something quick.”  

Your chest tightens. Jack always knows what you want. He knows you like avocado rolls, not spicy tuna. He knows you like extra soy sauce on the side and that you don’t like wasabi. But tonight, it’s like he didn’t even think about it.  

You pick at the sushi, appetite gone. Jack eats quietly, his eyes back on the TV. The sound of the game commentator fills the air, too loud, pressing into your skull.  

After a few minutes, Jack stands and starts cleaning up. He takes your barely touched container and tosses it in the trash without a word.  

“I’m gonna shower,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.  

“Oh. Okay.”  

Jack hesitates in the doorway. His eyes flick toward you, and for a second, you think he might come back, sit down, pull you into his arms, tell you he’s just tired and that everything is fine.  

But he doesn’t. He disappears down the hall, and a minute later, you hear the sound of the shower running.  

You sit there, hands clasped in your lap, listening to the water hit the tile. Your heart feels too big and too small at the same time, pressing against the walls of your chest.   

Jack’s phone buzzes on the table, and you glance at it. A text from Nico lights up the screen:  

Good skate today. 

 You stare at the message for a long time. 

The shower runs in the background, and you sit alone on the couch, feeling the emptiness stretch out around you.

DAY TWO

Jack sleeps with his back to you.  

It’s not the first time, but it feels different tonight. Final. His side of the bed feels miles away, the sheets cool and untouched where his body should be. You lie there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of his breathing. It’s shallow, restless. Every few minutes, he shifts, the mattress dipping under his weight.  

You think about reaching for him, curling up into his side like you always do. Your hand twitches under the blanket, fingers itching to brush over his back, to anchor yourself to the steady rhythm of his breathing. But something stops you. Fear, maybe or just the quiet certainty that if you reach for him, he’ll pull away.  

So you stay still, the space between you cold and unforgiving.  

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night to find him half hanging off the edge of the bed, his face turned toward the wall. His arm is curled beneath his head, his breathing uneven. You watch the rise and fall of his back, the way his shoulders tense even in sleep. He’s not resting, not really.   

You swallow hard and sit up slightly, brushing your hair away from your face. For a second, you think about touching him, coaxing him back toward you. But you don’t. You can’t.   

In the morning, Jack wakes up first. You know this because you hear him moving around the apartment while you lie there, eyes closed, hoping he’ll come back to bed. He doesn’t.  

Instead, you hear the distant sound of water running in the bathroom, the clink of glass in the kitchen. The low hum of the TV. You press your face into the pillow and try to breathe through the tightness in your chest.  

When you finally get up, Jack’s sitting at the kitchen counter with a protein shake. He’s already dressed in workout gear Devils issued shorts and a long-sleeve shirt that fits snug around his arms. His hair is damp, curling slightly at the ends. He glances up when you enter the room.  

“Morning,” you say, your voice coming out softer than you meant.  

“Hey.”  

You sit across from him, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them. Jack’s gaze flickers toward you briefly, then drops back down to his protein shake. He spins the cup slowly in his hands, condensation trailing down the side.  

You try to find his eyes. “Sleep okay?”  

Jack nods, distracted. He taps his thumb against the edge of the cup. “Yeah.”  

“You sure?”  

“Mmhmm.” His gaze darts toward the window.  

You glance at the clock on the microwave. “What time’s practice?”  

“Ten.”  

“You want to grab coffee after?”  

Jack hesitates. His shoulders tighten. “I don’t know. We’ve got media stuff later.”  

“Oh.”  

You feel stupid for asking.  

Jack stands and rinses out his cup in the sink. His back is to you, but you see the tension in his shoulders. He’s holding it all in  the pressure, the frustration, the weight of everything this year has asked of him. Normally, he’d tell you about it. He’d talk through it, let you hold it with him for a little while.  

But now it feels like he’s trying to keep the distance intact.  

“You okay?” you ask quietly.  

“Yeah.”  

“Jack.”  

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. When he speaks, his voice is tight. “It’s just a lot right now.”  

You nod, even though he’s not looking at you.  

Jack’s hand curls over the edge of the counter. His knuckles turn white for half a second before he exhales and grabs his keys from the hook by the door.  

“I’ll see you later, okay?” His tone is light  too light. Like he’s trying to make this feel normal.  

You sit up straighter. “We could go out tonight. Dinner or something.”  

Jack pauses with his hand on the handle. His eyes flick toward you, guarded. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out.”  

Then he’s gone.  

The door clicks shut behind him, and the quiet of the apartment closes in around you.  

You sit there for a long time, staring at the spot where he stood. The sunlight spills in through the thin curtains, cutting pale lines across the hardwood floor. You think about the way he used to kiss you in the mornings, sleepy and warm, his hand curled over the back of your neck. You think about the way he used to tug you into his chest after a restless night, murmuring sleepy nonsense into your hair.  

And then you think about last night about the empty side of the bed and the quiet wall of his back facing you.  

Your phone buzzes on the table. You grab it quickly, your heart leaping in your chest. But it’s not Jack. It’s a text from quinn  

"Hope you’re having a good time! How’s Jack?" 

You stare at the message for a long moment before typing back:  

"Good. Everything’s good." 

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.   

You sit there for a while longer, the phone still in your hand, before pushing yourself to your feet. You grab the half-empty protein shake Jack left on the counter and dump it down the sink. The hum of the refrigerator fills the silence.  

It’s only nine o’clock, but it feels later. Your eyes drift toward the bedroom  the sheets still rumpled from sleep and you wonder if you should crawl back into bed and wait for him to come home.  

But you know better.  

Instead, you curl up on the couch and pull the blanket over your legs. Jack’s sweatshirt is draped over the arm of the couch, and you pull it onto your lap, bunching the sleeves in your hands. It smells like his laundry detergent and something warmer, more familiar.  

you press your face into the fabric and close your eyes, trying to remember the last time he held you like he meant it.  

You think about how he used to look at you and really look at you like you were the only thing in the room that mattered.  

But that was months ago. Now, when Jack looks at you, it’s like he’s looking through you. Or worse like he’s already decided what happens next.  

Your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Jack.  

“Practice ran long. Gonna be late.” 

You type out a quick response  "Okay."  but don’t hit send right away.  

Instead, you sit there with the message glowing on the screen, wondering when it started feeling like this. Like you’re holding onto something that’s already slipping away.

DAY THREE

It was worse the next day. The air felt thicker, like it was weighing down every conversation. Jack seemed distracted, his gaze always drifting toward his phone or the TV. When you asked if he wanted to grab lunch, he hesitated for a second before saying, "Yeah, sure," like he was doing you a favor.

At lunch, he kept glancing around, not meeting your eyes. You watched him scroll through his phone between bites of his sandwich. You tapped your nails against the table.

"Jack."

"Hmm?" His eyes didn’t lift from his phone.

"Can you put that down?"

He sighed but set the phone face down. "Okay."

You wanted to ask if he even wanted you here. You wanted to ask why he wasn’t looking at you like he used to, why you felt like a ghost in his apartment. But you swallowed it all down and smiled when Jack forced another conversation about hockey that you could barely focus on.

That night, he sat at the edge of the bed, scrolling on his phone again while you sat behind him. You reached out, resting a hand on his back. He tensed.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"Yeah," he said quickly.

"You don’t seem like it."

"I’m fine, okay?" His tone was sharp. He stood up and walked toward the bathroom without looking back.

You stared at the empty space he left behind.

DAY FOUR

You woke up before Jack.  

He was lying on his stomach, face half-buried in the pillow, hair sticking up in every direction. You watched him for a moment, chest rising and falling steadily. He looked peaceful like this like the Jack you used to know. The Jack who used to roll over and pull you into his arms the second he woke up.  

You shifted closer, brushing your hand over his back. His skin was warm under your fingertips. He stirred, groaning softly into the pillow.  

"Morning," you whispered.  

Jack’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked at you sleepily, then rubbed a hand over his face. "Morning."  

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his bare shoulder. He didn’t react. Just sat up and ran a hand through his hair.  

"What time is it?"  

"Almost nine."  

Jack nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I should get going soon."  

"Going where?I thought you had today off"  

Jack stood, stretching. "I do, I'm just going to go workout with some of the guys."  

"Oh." You sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist. "Can I come?"  

Jack paused, looking at you over his shoulder. "I mean it’s just going to be boring."  

"I don’t care."  

Jack hesitated. "I think we’re just gonna grab lunch after. Probably end up hanging out at Nico’s."  

You bit the inside of your cheek. "So you don’t want me there?"  

Jack’s gaze darted to the floor. "It’s not that."  

"Then what is it?"  

Jack sighed. "I don’t know. Just feels like a guys' thing, you know?"  

You swallowed. "Right."  

Jack’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, checking the screen. A faint smile tugged at his mouth.  

"Who is it?" you asked.  

“Nico," Jack said, texting back quickly. He tossed his phone onto the bed, already moving toward the bathroom.  

You sat there for a moment, heart sinking.  

"I’ll be back later," Jack called over his shoulder.  

"Cool," you murmured. But Jack had already closed the door behind him.  

You sat there for a long time, listening to the shower running.  

When Jack got back that afternoon, you were curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest. He walked in, tossed his keys onto the counter, and sat down across from you. He scrolled through his phone without saying anything.  

You watched him for a moment.  

"How was it?" you asked.  

"Hmm?"  

"Your workout."  

Jack shrugged. "Good."  

"Anything else?"  

Jack didn’t look up. "Nope."  

Your jaw tightened.  

You shifted closer, resting a hand on his arm. "Jack."  

He tensed. "What?"  

You hated how sharp his voice sounded. Like you were annoying him.  

"Do you want to do something tonight?" you asked quietly.  

Jack sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don’t know. I’m kind of tired."  

"Oh."  

Jack’s gaze flicked toward you. "What?"  

"Nothing," you said quickly, even though it wasn’t nothing.  

Jack’s phone buzzed again. He picked it up without hesitation. You sat there, heart sinking as he smiled at the screen. He didn’t even notice the way your hand fell away from his arm.  

And that’s when it hit you.  

You weren’t the person he wanted to talk to anymore.  

You weren’t the person who made him smile like that anymore.  

You took a breath, swallowing hard. "Jack."  

"Hmm?"  

You sat up straighter, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. "Do you even want me here?"  

Jack’s head jerked toward you, brows furrowing. "What kind of question is that?"  

"You’re barely looking at me." Your voice cracked. "You don’t talk to me. When you do, it feels like you’re trying to get through it so you can go back to your phone. Just say it if you don’t want me here."  

Jack’s jaw tightened. "Jesus, you’re making this a bigger deal than it is."  

"A bigger deal?" you echoed. Your voice sharpened. "Jack, I flew to new jersey to see you. I’m trying so hard to hold this together, but you’re not even meeting me halfway. If you don’t want this anymore, just"  

"I didn’t ask you to come."  

You froze.  

Jack’s eyes widened, but the words were already out there.  

Your heart hammered in your chest. "What?"  

"I didn’t ask you to come," he repeated, softer this time. His gaze fell to the floor. "You decided to."  

You blinked hard, your throat tightening painfully. "Wow."  

Jack ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. "I didn’t mean it like that"  

"You did."  

Jack’s mouth opened, but no words came out.  

You stood up, shaking. "I can't, I can't do this anymore."  

Jack’s head snapped toward you. "What does that mean?"  

"It means I’m done." Your voice broke, but you kept going. "I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one fighting for this. If you’re not going to try, then why am I even here?"  

Jack’s eyes darkened. "So that’s it? You’re giving up?"  

You laughed bitterly. "You gave up first."  

Jack’s mouth twisted. "Right. So now it’s my fault?"  

"You know what?" you said, your breath shaking. "Yeah. It is."  

Jack stood up, his eyes hard now. "Fine. If you want to go, then go."  

"That’s it?" You took a step toward him, tears blurring your vision. "You’re not even going to try to stop me?"  

Jack’s eyes flashed. "What do you want me to say? That I miss you? That I love you? You already know that, but it’s not enough, is it?"  

"It’s not enough if you’re not going to show it!" you shot back. "You say you love me, but you act like I’m just here. Like I don’t matter."  

Jack’s expression darkened. "Yeah? Well, maybe you don’t."  

You sucked in a sharp breath.  

Jack’s face paled instantly. "I—"  

"No." You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. "You said it. And you know what? Maybe you’re right."  

"Don’t twist this"  

"I’m not twisting anything! I’m done!" Your voice cracked, but you held your ground. "I’m not going to sit here and beg for you to care about me. I deserve better than that."  

Jack’s jaw flexed.  

Your breath hitched. You waited for him to take it back to tell you to stay. But Jack just stood there, eyes stormy, hands clenched into fists at his sides.  

You nodded slowly. "Okay."  

You grabbed your bag from the floor. Jack didn’t say anything as you walked toward the door. Your hand trembled as you opened it.  

You hesitated. Just for a second.  

"Bye, Jack," you whispered.  

Jack didn’t reply.  

You closed the door behind you.  

The flight home feels like a blur. You don’t cry at least not yet  but the numbness sets in as soon as the plane takes off. Jack didn’t text you before you boarded. He didn’t call. He didn’t say anything after the door shut behind you.   

You stare out the window, watching the clouds blur beneath you, but your chest feels hollow. Four years. Gone in a single weekend. Your friendship since you were 10 of growing up together, of loving each other through every awkward phase and milestone  shattered in one conversation.  

You scroll through your phone without really seeing it. His contact sits at the top of your recent messages, the last one marked as read. I’m sorry. He hasn’t sent anything since.   

And honestly, you don’t expect him to.  

Your phone vibrates, and for half a second your heart leaps. But it’s just your mom, checking in. You let the message sit unopened and slide your phone facedown on the tray table.  

When you get home, everything feels wrong. Your room looks the same, but it’s too quiet. No FaceTime calls from Jack lighting up your phone. No goodnight texts. No “Miss you” or “Wish you were here.” The absence is deafening.   

You lie in bed that night, scrolling through old pictures, ones from Vancouver, from Michigan, from all those summers at the lake house. Jack’s smile frozen in time. Your hand in his. Quinn and Luke in the background, laughing at something Jack had said.   

Your chest tightens.  

You think about how easy it used to be how you could sit in silence for hours and still feel connected. How you could tell what Jack was thinking just from a look. How his hand would instinctively find yours without either of you thinking about it.   

But somewhere along the way, you both stopped reaching for each other. Mostly him. 

Your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Quinn.  

“You okay?” 

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, but you don’t know how to answer that.

“Yeah. Just tired.”  

Quinn’s reply comes quickly. “Jack didn’t mean it.”   

Your breath catches. A hollow feeling sinks deeper into your chest.   

You don’t answer.  

Because the worst part is maybe he did.

[premiumbitch]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ SHIFT LIKE A BAD BITCH: ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW ⭑.ᐟ

Listen up, babe. Why are you acting like shifting is some impossible, mystical riddle when it’s literally just stepping into your power? You shift every damn day—when you daydream, when you dissociate in class, when you imagine yourself as the main character while strutting down the street. So, let’s drop the self-doubt. First things first—stop overcomplicating it. You don’t need a 37-step method, a full moon ritual, or to chant in Latin while burning sage (unless you want to, of course). Shifting is as natural as flipping your hair and making men nervous. You set your intention, you believe it’s already yours, and you let go. It’s that simple. Now, let’s talk mindset. If you’re sitting there whining about how you can’t shift, you’re already blocking your own power. A bad bitch doesn’t beg, she expects. You don’t chase, you attract. You don’t doubt, you decide. And best believe, your reality will bow to you accordingly. Still struggling? Here’s a little secret: shifting is about embodiment. You want to be that version of yourself in another reality? Start acting like her right now. What does she think? How does she move? How does she speak? Become her before you even shift, and watch how effortlessly you glide into her world. And babe, please—detach from the outcome. The moment you start acting desperate, the universe puts you on read. You wouldn’t double-text a man who isn’t worthy of you, so why are you energetically begging to shift? Relax, take a deep breath, and let your new reality come to you. So go ahead—get comfy, set that intention, and step into your next-level life like the powerful, unbothered queen that you are. Because reality isn’t just something you live in—it’s something you own.

FREQUENT QUESTIONS:

Q: Why haven’t I shifted yet? why are you acting like shifting is playing hard to get? It’s not ghosting you—you’re just overthinking. The more you stress, the more you block yourself. Relax, trust, and let it come to you. You don’t chase a reality, you embody it.

Q: Do I need a specific method? Absolutely not. Methods are like designer bags—cute, but not necessary. You can use the Julia method, Raven method, whatever the fuck method or just lie there looking pretty and expect it to happen. The real key? Your mindset.

Q: What if I fall asleep before I shift? Then congrats, you got some beauty rest. you just did the easiest "method" ever. If you wake up in your DR, amazing. If you wake up in your CR, just assume the shift worked and let your mind catch up. Either way, you win. Stay unbothered. Shifting doesn’t have a deadline. You’ll get there when you stop pressuring yourself. also you do know sleeping doesn't prevent from shifting right? you do know you can sleep like sleeping beauty & still wake up in your dr RIGHT? you do realize sleep methods exist right? not that you even need methods but if you like them then oh well.

Q: Can I shift to any reality? Baby, you can shift to a castle, a spaceship, or a billionaire’s penthouse if you want. Reality is literally your playground. Get creative.

Q: What if I get stuck in my desired reality? First of all, why are you acting like that’s a bad thing? Second, you won’t. That's literally impossible (unless you script or assume you will get stuck ig), if you're not stuck here then you're not stuck there. Your subconscious knows how to bring you back. You have control, always.

Q: Do I need to meditate for hours? Absolutely not. You think a bad bitch has time for that? You can shift while listening to music, scrolling your phone, or lying in bed looking fabulous. Intent > effort.

Q: Can I shift instantly? Of course. Shifting is just a decision. The moment you stop questioning it and just assume it’s done, you’re already there.

Q: "I’m scared of symptoms. What do I do?" Love, why are you scared of your own power? Those tingles, floating sensations, or vibrations? That’s just your body adjusting to being that girl in a new reality. You’re not dying—you’re elevating. Relax, breathe, and let it happen like the divine goddess you are.

Q: "What if I accidentally script something bad?" Girl, do you think the universe is petty like that? Your subconscious knows what you meant. It’s not gonna punish you for a typo. Focus on what you want, not what you fear.

Q: "What if I shift and forget my current reality?" sighhhh you think shifting wipes your memory like a bad hangover? I mean unless you script you'll forget it then no you won't forget it. You will always have full control. If you want to come back, you will. Relax.

Q: "I keep trying, but nothing’s happening." Trying too hard is the problem. Do you try to blink? Do you try to breathe? No—you just do it. Shifting is the same. Stop making it a struggle. Assume it’s easy, and it will be.

Q: "How do I let go?" Beautiful, why are you clinging onto shifting like a man with commitment issues? Desperation blocks manifestation. Let go like you just dropped an ugly ex—unbothered, thriving, and moving on. Assume it’s already done and go about your day. A bad bitch doesn’t beg for results—she expects them.

Q: "Can I shift if I have doubts?" Doubts are like split ends—cut them off. You don’t need perfect belief, but you do need to stop letting doubt run the show. If you assume shifting works even just a little, that’s enough. Confidence is key.

Q: "What if I get distracted while trying to shift?" Then congrats, babe—you’re human. Distractions don’t ruin shifting. If your mind wanders, gently bring it back, like adjusting a tiara. No stress, no panic—just ease back into it.

Q: "Can I shift while listening to music?" Absolutely. Blast Nicki, sip your iced coffee, and ascend like the main character you are. Shifting isn’t about how you do it—it’s about knowing it’s already done.

Q: "How do I stop overthinking?" why are you treating shifting like an exam? This isn’t a pop quiz—it’s your reality, and you make the rules. Stop analyzing every little detail like a detective. The moment you stop stressing and just assume it’s done, it will be. Overthinking is giving peasant energy—step into your effortless luxury era.

Q: "Can I script this? it sounds kind of unrealistic" sighhh.. the age old question. yes you can. whatever it is: YES. you are limitless. nothing is unrealistic, logic doesn't exist.

Q: "What if I feel nothing while shifting?" And? Do you feel the earth spinning? No, but it’s still happening. Symptoms are cute, but they aren’t required. Stop looking for proof like a desperate dog—trust the process and go.

Q: "Can I shift even if I have a busy mind?" Yes, babe. Your brain is like a nightclub—thoughts come and go, but you’re the VIP. Let them pass and stay unbothered. Shifting isn’t about stopping thoughts; it’s about not letting them control you.

Q: "What if I accidentally shift to the wrong reality?" Girl, be for real. You think your subconscious is messy like that? You always have control. If you don’t like where you landed, shift again. Simple.

Q: "What if I don’t return to my CR?" This isn’t a Netflix horror movie. You will come back if you want to. Your CR isn’t going anywhere, unfortunately.

Q: "How do I shift effortlessly?" Stop treating shifting like a struggle and start treating it like your birthright. A bad bitch doesn’t try—she decides. Relax, assume it’s already done, and let reality catch up.

Q: "What if I keep failing to shift?" Babe, failing where? The only failure here is that mindset. You’re not failing. The more you stress about it, the more you block it. Shifting isn’t a test—you don’t get graded. Relax, breathe, and assume it’s already happening.

Q: "Do I need affirmations?" You don't need anything, only yourself. BUT if you want them then sure use them. Affirmations are like highlighter—cute for the glow, but not mandatory. If they help you step into the mindset, use them. If they feel forced, ditch them. The real key is belief, not repetition.

Q: "How do I make shifting feel natural?" Stop treating it like an impossible goal and start treating it like breathing. You don’t try to breathe, you just do. Shifting is no different. You already shift daily between moods, perspectives, and daydreams. Now, do it with intention.

Q: "What’s the fastest way to shift?" Decide that you already did. honey, reality bends to you, not the other way around. Stop waiting for permission and step into your power.

Q: "Can I shift without a script?" Of course. If you know where you want to go, you don’t need to write a whole novel about it.

Q: "Can I shift while lying on my side?" Yes, babe. You don’t need to be in a coffin position like a Victorian ghost. Shift however you’re comfortable. Nobody is there with a checklist judging your posture.

Q: "Can I shift in the middle of the day?" Yes. You don’t need a bedtime routine and a candlelit ceremony. You can shift whenever because you control reality, not the clock.

Q: "What if I get scared mid-shift?" Then, angel, you take a breath and remind yourself who you are. You’re not trapped, you’re shifting, not dying. You are always in control.

Q: "Do I need a specific method to shift?" No, babe. Methods are cute, but they’re just tools. The real method? Deciding it’s already done. You don’t need a 10-step guide to exist in a reality—just be there.

Q: "What if my house is loud and I can’t focus?" shifting isn’t about perfect silence—it’s about perfect detachment. If your house sounds like a zoo, use it to your advantage. Let the noise fade into the background like white noise and remind yourself: nothing can distract me unless I let it. You could shift in the middle of a concert if you wanted to.

Q: "What if I shift and something scary happens?" And what if it doesn’t? Fear is just your mind playing games. What's the scary thing thats gonna happen hm? Remember: you are always in control. If you don’t like what you see, change the channel. Reality bends to you, not the other way around.

Q: "What if I get interrupted mid-shift?" Then babe, pause and continue later. You think one phone call is stronger than your ability to shift realities? Please. Reality will wait for you.

Q: "Can I shift if I have ADHD or an overactive mind?" Absolutely. Your brain is already used to hopping between thoughts like a playlist on shuffle—just redirect that energy. Let your thoughts flow, but know where they’re leading. You don’t need to force silence; you just need to focus on what matters.

Q: "What if my subconscious blocks me from shifting?" Your subconscious wants what you want, babe. It’s not your enemy, it’s your servant. If you think it’s blocking you, you’re just giving power to a false belief. Rewrite that story.

Q: "Can I shift while listening to music?" Yes! Music is vibe-setting magic. If it helps you feel immersed in your DR, use it.

Q: "How do I stop doubting my ability to shift?" By deciding you’re done with doubt. Doubt is like an annoying person—if you keep entertaining it, it’ll stick around. Instead, act like shifting is already happening, and watch how fast your reality adjusts.

[physalian]

When I was 14-ish, I was still new to fanfic as I generally didn’t spend a lot of time online. I could have, it just didn’t interest me. When I did start getting into fanfic, I remember hearing about how some fics would just be deleted from one of my friends who cited all the fics that I, at the time (and still to a degree now) thought were icky—the incest ones, ABO, dead doves—and I remember saying out loud that I didn’t see a problem with it.

It wasn’t coming from a “this is amoral” standpoint it was “unaware ace unable to comprehend why anyone sees this as entertainment” which probably doesn’t sound better?

But I remember my friend at the time—who I much later came to accept and understand was deeply abusive—giving me such a look and went off on a condescending rant scolding me about censorship and how all fics have a right to exist, etc.

Now that I’m older I appreciate the freedom of sites like Ao3, especially as it archives fic genres I can’t stand. It wasn’t anything to do with that friend, but every now and then I remember that exchange, not for what she said, but how she said it.

Anyway point being: A reminder for whenever you’re trying to convince the opposition to consider your viewpoint—don’t be a condescending twit about it. And OP isn’t, of course, but I know there’s contrarians all over the place on here who might see this.

That friend didn’t make me change my ways overnight, she didn’t educate me at all because I was so caught up on ‘this person thinks I’m a shallow pearl-clutching idiot’ and her nasty disposition, that I wanted to dig my heels in harder and just stop including her in my fandom interests. To this day, I’m very wary of sharing both what fandoms I’m in, and my thoughts on those fandoms with anyone, because I’m constantly bracing for ridicule, because of her.

A few months ago, I had a conservative-leaning friend caught up on the “but the p*dos!” argument and was all in on morality policing—they’re in a fandom with a very popular kid-adult ship that they find abhorrent. I don’t know this fandom and I don’t care.

They were pretty convincing to the point where I did give merit to the idea that dead doves with “problematic” content bring awareness to that content that readers might otherwise never know about, perpetuating the existence of these relationship tropes because more people read about them when they were previously blissfully unaware and then it spreads oh no think of the children.

And then I stopped and remembered that that is not my fucking problem.

Yeah, kids are going to stumble across shit they shouldn’t. Ao3 doesn’t have an age restriction and even if it did, you could just lie about your age and no one would know.

It’s their parents’ jobs to educate them about internet safety, and set up appropriate guardrails on their internet access, and to teach them the difference between “this is fiction” and “this is a healthy depiction of romance” not some random fanfic writer a continent away who has no idea this kid exists.

It’s no different than a kid walking into a library and picking up an adult romance novel and sitting in a corner to read it—if they can understand the prose, they can understand the sign that says ‘ADULT’. If it’s clearly in the adult fiction section, the library has done its job.

If you’re old enough to comprehend the contents of an explicit smut fic, you are old enough to comprehend the warnings that come before it.

Fanfic has always been “reader beware”. FFN didn’t have a tagging system and that wouldn’t have saved it, but it sure would have helped prepare readers for what they were walking into. Ao3 does. Beware the tags, readers. Appropriately tag your content, authors.

Don’t like? Don’t read.

[sakuraszn]

may I please request a Luffy x fem reader (they aren’t together yet) but Luffy has a big crush on the reader without realizing and he’s always super touchy with her without thinking anything of it, like always holding her or picking her up when they’re on adventures and protecting her too all without realizing until the crew makes a comment about it to him, I think it would be super adorable. thank you!

unconscious affection, ft. monkey d. luffy

note: OMG YESSS, this will be my first time writing something for luffy so I’m excited! I hope you like ittt🥰.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the Sunny as it glided through the calm waves. The salty breeze carried the sound of laughter and the occasional clatter of plates from the kitchen. It was a peaceful day at sea, the kind that made adventures feel like dreams rather than dangers.

And yet, something entirely different was happening right under the crew’s noses—something that had been going on for weeks, if not months.

Monkey D. Luffy, captain of the Straw Hat Pirates, was smitten. Not that he realized it, of course. Luffy wasn’t the type to dwell on his emotions, much less recognize them. But to everyone else, it was painfully obvious.

Especially with the way he was holding you right now.

“Luffy, put me down!” you huffed, though there was no real anger in your voice—just exasperation.

“Nope!” Luffy grinned, his arms locked securely around your waist as he carried you across the deck like a sack of treasure. “I wanna sit up on Sunny’s head, and it’s more fun if you’re there too!”

Robin chuckled behind her book, Sanji rolled his eyes as he lit a cigarette, and Zoro muttered something about “idiot captain behavior.” The rest of the crew wasn’t even fazed anymore.

This had become normal.

Luffy, whether he realized it or not, had a habit of keeping you close. It didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing—he would sling an arm around your shoulders, grab your hand while running through a town, or, in moments like this, just pick you up and take you wherever he wanted to go, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And the most infuriating part?

He never acted this way with anyone else.

It wasn’t just on the ship, either.

On an island you had docked at a week ago, you had been walking through a dense jungle, eyes scanning the towering trees for any signs of danger. It was an unfamiliar place, and caution was necessary.

Luffy, however, had decided that caution was boring.

He had climbed ahead, jumping from tree to tree with his usual reckless energy, leaving the rest of you to navigate the ground below. But just as you were stepping over a tangle of vines—

“Wha—Luffy!”

Without warning, he had snatched you up, one arm hooking under your legs and the other supporting your back as he launched into the treetops.

“Look at this view!” he had laughed, holding you securely as he perched on a thick branch.

You had been too stunned to respond at first, but once the initial shock wore off, you smacked his chest lightly. “You can’t just grab me whenever you feel like it!”

“Why not?” he tilted his head dumbfounded.

“Because I have legs,” you deadpanned.

Luffy had only laughed again, tightening his hold just a little before leaning forward as if sharing a secret.

“But I like carrying you.”

Your heart had skipped a beat at that, but before you could even process what he had just said, he was already stretching an arm to swing to another branch, completely unaware of how flustered he had just made you.

Then there were the fights.

Luffy was always protective of his crew—fiercely so. But when it came to you?

It was different.

He never let you fight alone. Not if he could help it.

On a recent island, you had been fending off a group of enemy pirates, your weapon clashing against theirs. You were holding your own just fine—until a particularly nasty opponent lunged at you from behind.

Before you even realized the danger, a rubbery arm shot past you, stretching at lightning speed before slamming into your attacker’s gut.

Luffy landed beside you in an instant, standing between you and the remaining enemies. His usual carefree grin was gone, replaced by something sharper, more dangerous.

“Hey,” he had said, voice dark with warning. “Don’t touch her.”

The fight had ended quickly after that.

It took the crew making an outright comment for Luffy to even begin noticing his own behavior.

One evening, you were all gathered around the dining table, enjoying one of Sanji’s extravagant meals. Luffy, as usual, was sitting next to you. And, as usual, he had an arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you close as he talked with his mouth full.

At this point, no one even blinked at it.

Until Nami, eyes glinting with mischief, casually said, “Y’know, Luffy, you really can’t keep your hands off her, huh?”

Silence.

Luffy blinked, swallowing a mouthful of meat. “Huh?”

Usopp leaned forward, grinning. “She’s right, man. You’re always touching her.”

“Like, constantly,” Zoro added with a smirk.

Sanji, who had been stewing in silent jealousy for weeks, exhaled a cloud of smoke. “It’s honestly impressive how oblivious you are, dumbass.”

Luffy frowned, confused. He turned to look at you, as if seeing you for the first time. You were staring at the table, face burning as you tried to focus on your food.

“Wait,” he said slowly, eyes widening. “Do I really…?”

Robin smiled knowingly. “Oh yes. It’s quite adorable, actually.”

The realization hit Luffy like a punch to the gut. His eyes flicked between you and his own arm still draped over your shoulders. His grip on you had always been instinctual, like second nature. He had never thought about it before.

But now that it was pointed out…

He felt warm. Too warm.

His fingers twitched against your skin, and for the first time in his entire life, Monkey D. Luffy blushed.

“oh.”

The crew burst into laughter.

And you? You just covered your face with your hands, knowing that things were never going to be the same after this.

SAKURASZN © 2025 !

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐲 — 𝐂.𝐒.

SUMMARY ʚɞ Chris thinks you’re just a dream.

CW ʚɞ Fluff, kissing, touching, established relationship.

PAIRING ʚɞ Bubble .ᐟ Reader x Chris Sturniolo

A/N: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. New layout! Please read the copyright notice! This is just a lil fic for my babies bc I really wanted to use the top right pic since I had to take I down the first time. Fuck off tryna be weird. I’m having fun and vibing and I refuse to let anyone ruin that!

With love and big tits, Rose ➜ au masterlist

“Pretty,” you coo, petting Chris’ face while cupping his jaw. 

He’s staring up at you with contentment, with pure and utter joy. His flushed cheeks are warm, his hands clamping around your waist, keeping you perched in his lap as the light breeze flows by. 

The grass shutters with each puff of wind. Flowers and branches rustle, the sound adorned by light chirping from a blue bird singing in the air.

Chris puckers his lips, closing his eyes as he waits for you to kiss him. The second your lips land on his, he can’t help but smile against you, letting a hum of joy vibrate between the sweet affection. 

“Hm, thank you, Bubs. Fuckin’ love kissin’ you,” he says, his eyes slowly blinking at you as you rummage your hands through his hair. 

You nod firmly, leaning down and planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, laughing as it scrunches. “Mhm, ‘course. I love it too,” you remark, your voice flowing like a soft, gentle melody. 

Chris stares into your eyes, almost as if he’s searching for something. The slight crinkle of your brow makes him smile sheepishly. “Sorry, just… can’t believe you’re mine.” 

Your eyes soften as you tilt your head to the side, analyzing his doe eyes as he beams with love radiating out of every pore of his body. “You’re so sweet,” you sigh, bringing your hands to the tops of his shoulders as you try to get up. 

Chris is not pleased. His hands react before his mind, tugging you even closer than before, dragging you plush against his front. 

You huff, the air coming out in short breaths as you feel his heart thump against your own chest. 

“Don’t leave. Just… just wanna hold you, Bubs—wanna hold my girl.” 

You bite on your inner cheek, nodding as you relax in his grip, the feeling of his arms collapsing around you making your heart beat slower, your breaths calming as you let yourself feel safe in his hold. 

He just wants to hold you.

He just wants to make sure that this dream is real.

A/N: I literally love them so much. You can’t tell me this isn’t how Chris would be with his girl IRL. He’s so cutie 🩵🫧

Comment if you wanna be on the taglist. Lmk any thots, questions, comments, or concerns. Hope you’re having the best day today and I really appreciate any and all support and love.

Interacting has always been something super important to me, hence why I try to reply to every single comment and such. Having my inbox off is helping me feel a lot better so I really appreciate all the patience and kindness.

I’ve turned non-anon asks back on, but I still might not be yapping until I feel 100% ready to.

This is a really long end note, but I’m really grateful for everyone that specifically comes onto my account, wanting to talk about my work or just making me smile in general.

I love you 💕

With love and big tits, Rose 🌹

[thestuckylibrary]

This is an extremely grave and horrifying thing that's happening. Trump is a violent Fascist and like Hitler, if he thinks he can get away with it, he absolutely will try to expand and conquer other countries on behalf of his Russian masters. Because remember, really this is about Russia controlling the US through their MAGA puppets and then trying to use the US to conquer countries that Russia couldn't conquer on its own. After all, Canada is near Russia, so of course it's a target they are interested in.

We must stand up and stop it. If you're American, call your representatives and demand that they condemn Trump's violent and illegal imperialist rhetoric against Canada. And then call them again. And protest. And if you have Canadian friends take a moment to reach out to them and offer support. And if you're not American, ask your own government to offer support. Trump's threats are not only in violation of all decency but also against the very internal laws set by the very international legal system and norms the United States helped to found.

And to any Canadians reading this, know that many Americans are disgusted and horrified by the Fascists' rhetoric towards you and we completely understand how you feel and don't blame you for being afraid or angry. You are some of our dearest and closest allies and those of us who haven't fallen into the thrall of Russian traitors remember that. We are rooting for you. We want you to always be free. Stay strong! Do what you have to do.

The Russian backed Fascist movement currently attempting to overthrow democracy in the United States is an enemy of the American people as well as an enemy of Canada and all free people everywhere. We must all stand together against the darkness they are trying to plunge the world into. Everyone must do their part.

Global solidarity against Fascism!

From The NY Times:

And from Facebook:

(X)

(Edited to make the first link a mainstream source rather than Substack)

[hyperfixationhobo]

Sylus: “Hate to break it to you kitten, but I don’t think we’ll be finished decorating by the time Caleb returns.”

MC: “Caleb is always a little bit late, I think we have a bit more time.”

Caleb: “Hey guys, I’m back!”

Rafayel: “…shit.”

MC: “Of course this is the one time he’s actually punctual.”

Xavier: “What do we do? He’ll see the decorations.”

Zayne: “Hey Caleb, can you pass me my glasses? I left them near the front door.”

Caleb: “No.” *Grabs Zayne’s glasses and hands them to him.*

Zayne: “Good boy.”

Caleb: “…”

Caleb.exe has stopped working

Zayne: “Ok we got about 30 minutes before his brain reboots and he’s able to think again. Let’s finish decorating.”

Sylus: “What just happened?”

MC: “Caleb always short circuits when he’s called a good boy.”

Sylus: “…noted.”

[terriblesoup]

Passing through

A/N: I was watching pride and prejudice because of course I was, and I wanted to write this because of one specific line.

as always, fluff.

Sylus wasn’t supposed to stay this long.

It had started with something simple, an excuse, really. He had meant to return a book he borrowed, just a quick visit, nothing more. But she had smiled when she saw him at the door, eyes bright with that soft kind of happiness that made his chest feel strange, and somehow, that quick visit had stretched into hours.

The afternoon had been slow and golden, the kind of day that felt suspended in time.

She had been making tea when he arrived, the scent of honey and citrus lingering in the air, wrapping around him like a welcome. Her apartment was small but warm, cluttered in a way that made it feel lived-in. There was a blanket draped over the couch, a stack of books precariously leaning against a windowsill, a mug left half-forgotten on the kitchen counter.

He liked it here. More than he should.

It was raining by the time she pulled him into the kitchen, insisting he help with lunch. Sylus didn’t argue, though his version of “helping” mostly involved watching her move around the space with practiced ease, sleeves rolled up, hair pinned loosely.

She told him stories while she cooked, unprompted, effortless, like it was second nature.

"Did I ever tell you about my upstairs neighbor?" she asked at one point, slicing through a bell pepper.

Sylus, leaning against the counter, shook his head.

"Oh, you're going to love this one." She grinned. "They once blew up their kitchen trying to impress someone."

His eyebrows raised slightly. "Blew it up?"

"Not literally. But close enough. They wanted to cook a romantic dinner, except they didn’t actually know how to cook, so they ordered takeout and tried to make it look homemade."

Sylus smirked. "And?"

She set down the knife, already laughing. "They thought the meal needed a little something extra to seem authentic. So they put some garlic in a pan, except they had no idea what they were doing. Somehow, they managed to set the entire thing on fire."

Sylus huffed a quiet laugh. "Rookie mistake."

"Oh, it gets worse. They panicked and threw water on it. You can imagine how that went."

He could. The flames must have shot up, smoke billowing out of the windows.

"Something actually flew out of their apartment," she continued. "A toaster. Out the window. Just-gone."

Sylus blinked. "Why would a toaster-"

"I have no idea!" She grinned, shaking her head. "To this day, it remains a mystery."

She turned back to the stove, stirring something in the pan. He watched her for a moment, the way she smiled to herself, the way she enjoyed telling these stories.

She made the simplest things feel full.

And Sylus, who was never one to linger, who always had one foot out the door, found himself staying.

The rain turned heavier in the afternoon, hammering against the windows, washing the city into a watercolor blur.

She made a space for them on the couch, piling blankets and insisting that bad weather was an excuse to be cozy. Sylus had rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue.

They played chess. Well...Tried to.

She got distracted halfway through, stacking the pieces instead of making actual moves.

"You realize this isn't the goal, right?" Sylus asked dryly, watching as she carefully balanced a knight on top of a bishop.

"It's my goal," she countered, fully focused. The tower wobbled dangerously.

Sylus smirked and very deliberately nudged the table.

The pieces toppled. She gasped in betrayal. "Sylus!"

He leaned back, satisfied.

She huffed, nudging his arm. "You're terrible."

"You were asking for it."

"That’s debatable," she muttered, but she was smiling as she started picking up the fallen pieces.

The hours stretched. The rain softened.

She read aloud to him, voice lilting, warm. He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until she nudged him with her foot. "Are you falling asleep?"

"No."

She laughed softly, not calling him out on the lie.

The world outside faded.

Inside, it was quiet.

Inside, it was safe.

By the time Sylus finally stood to leave, it was late.

The rain had stopped hours ago. The city beyond her window was quiet, the streets slick with silver light. He reached for his coat, draping it over his arm, turning toward the door.

And then-

"So soon?"

He turned back.

She was still curled up on the couch, knees tucked under her, book resting in her lap. The glow from the nearby lamp cast her in gold. She wasn’t pleading, wasn’t even really asking. Just looking at him with wide, expectant eyes.

As if he had never really planned to leave.

Sylus swallowed, fingers tightening slightly on the doorknob.

He was good at leaving. It was second nature, slipping away before things became too real, before anyone could ask him to stay.

But she wasn’t asking.

She was just waiting.

She tilted her head. "Stay."

Not a demand. Not a request. Just a truth.

Like she had already decided he belonged here.

Sylus hesitated.

Then his grip on the doorknob loosened. His coat slipped from his arm, landing in a quiet heap on the chair beside him.

She smiled, soft, knowing. And without another word, she patted the empty space beside her.

He sat down.

Just for a little longer.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/n: I feel like I should do a pride and prejudice au for a fic, a bit long maybe.

[22ayla21]

Hi!! I read your scene where the amphoreus husbands took revenge on their wives which led the kids to be concerned, I loved it so much!!

Could you do a scene that takes place a while after the incident with the kids in the morning where they notice their wife actually struggling due to pain and takes care of her?

Thank you so much! I love your works, they keep me going <333

Daddy's Mistake

Children's reaction to "daddy's mistake"

The morning at home started out a little different than usual. Mom was limping more than yesterday, and dad, surprisingly, hadn't left her side all day, helping her even with the little things she could handle on her own.

- Mom, are you okay? - the eldest asked when he saw her carefully leaning on a chair before sitting down. She smiled as always, but the children noticed that this smile was... strange.

- Everything is fine, - she answered calmly. But the youngest sister frowned.

- But you weren't limping like that yesterday... - her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

- Are you sure?

Mom just nodded, and meanwhile dad, who usually didn't get involved in such conversations, immediately moved a pillow for her comfort and put a cup of tea in front of her.

It was... strange. Very strange.

- Dad, what did you do to make you so concerned about mom now? - the middle child asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Mydei froze for a moment.

- Me?..

- Well, yes, - the eldest now also joined in the investigation. - You must have done something, if you are now so attentive to mom!

- I... - he coughed into his fist, avoiding their tenacious glances. - I am just... showing concern.

But the children were not fools. They looked at mom. Then at dad. Then at mom again. And then the middle daughter turned out to be the bravest:

- Did you accidentally hit Mom?!

Mydei choked on air.

- WHAT?!

The youngest sister looked indignant.

- Dad, did you hurt mom?!

- Of course not! - he was indignant, but seeing how the children were boring into him with suspicion, he suddenly lost confidence. And mom just sat, silently sipping tea, and did not even try to save him.

- Then why is she limping?!

Mydei glanced quickly at his wife, but she only smiled reservedly, enjoying his torment. He swallowed.

- Just... an accident.

- Oh, dad... You try so hard, but you still ruined everything, huh? - the eldest sighed compassionately.

- Exactly, - Mom nodded with satisfaction, taking a sip of tea. And the children, completely confused, but certain of one thing - Dad was clearly guilty of something - continued their breakfast, casting suspicious glances at him.

The wife tried to keep her back straight and walk as if everything was fine, but the children, as always, were too observant. If in the morning her limp could still be hidden, then by midday even the most inattentive of them noticed that their mother was moving slower than usual.

- Mom, are you in pain? - the youngest son pulled her hand, looking up from below with concern. She smiled, stroking his head.

- No, I'm just a little tired.

But children were not so easily tricked. The daughters immediately looked at their father, who was behaving... strangely. He was watching his wife too carefully, offering her to sit down, bringing tea, even taking on her share of the work.

It was... suspicious.

- Dad, did you do something? - asked the eldest daughter, folding her arms across her chest. Anaxa froze for a second, but then returned his face to its usual imperturbable expression.

- Why do you think so?

- You're acting... too nice. Like you're making amends.

The middle daughter narrowed her eyes.

- Did you do something that hurt mom?

The wife almost choked on her tea. Anaxa looked away, clearly trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't raise any more questions.

- I just... maybe... overdid it a bit with the training.

- You made mom train? - the eldest was indignant.

- Well... you could say that.

The youngest son frowned and approached his mother, hugging her tightly around the waist.

- Dad, you should be more careful! Mom isn't as strong as you are.

The wife almost burst out laughing, but she held back, watching Anaxa struggle with her pride. He wanted to object, but he knew that making excuses now would only make the situation worse.

- I'll... take it into account.

- Okay, - the youngest son nodded, pleased that his words had been heard.

The daughters looked at their father suspiciously for a while, but, not having gotten a confession from him, decided to leave the matter. But the wife was clearly enjoying the whole situation. Especially when Anaxa, realizing his guilt, carefully helped her sit more comfortably and even brought a pillow.

- Well, well, now you've suddenly become so caring? - she whispered when the children turned away. Anaxa only chuckled, but a mixture of guilt and hidden threat was visible in his eyes.

- I'm correcting my mistake. But don't think that next time you'll be able to escape so easily.

She grinned.

- We'll see.

The children began to notice this in the morning.

At first, everything seemed normal: their mother woke them up as usual, ate breakfast with them, but when she got up to clear the dishes, her movements were slower than usual. She limped slightly, and a barely noticeable expression of discomfort flashed across her face.

- Mom, does something hurt? - one of the sons asked, frowning.

- No, no, everything is fine, - she answered quickly, but her gaze slid briefly towards their father. And that’s where it became interesting.

Phainon, who was sitting next to her, immediately perked up, distracted the children and barely noticeably moved a chair towards her so that she could sit down. Later, when they were walking through the house, the children noticed that he literally adjusted his steps to hers, as if he was ready to catch her at any moment.

- Mom, are you sure everything is okay? - the youngest repeated insistently.

- Of course, - she answered, smiling softly, but glanced sideways at Phainon again.

But father... he looked guilty. All day long he had been extraordinarily solicitous of mother: handing her a cup, offering her a seat, doing all the housework himself, and when the children noticed her limping again, he immediately picked her up and carried her into the other room, despite her indignant protests.

- Dad, did you do something? - the eldest son finally asked, narrowing his eyes. Phainon froze.

- Um... of course not, - he answered too quickly.

- Then why is mother limping, and why are you acting like a guilty puppy? - father cleared his throat, and his wife only chuckled, shaking her head.

- That’s... um... a long conversation.

The children looked at each other, still puzzled. They didn’t know what Father had done, but he had definitely done something. And since he's trying so hard to make amends, it means there was something serious.

Now they have a new riddle. And they'll definitely solve it.