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envy-of-the-apple · 1 day

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Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV.

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep.

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates.

And you were just extra baggage.

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted.

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you.

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did.

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space.

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you.

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day."

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider.

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all.

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak.

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever.

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?"

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys.

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back."

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders.

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob.

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out.

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise."

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being.

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them.

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other."

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could."

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left.

Satoru appears first.

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting.

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream.

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry.

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes.

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?"

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-"

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat.

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms.

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you."

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair.

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to.

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay."

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused.

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?"

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter."

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it.

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word."

He freezes. You smile at Utahime.

"Could you give us some time?" You ask.

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you.

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room.

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him.

"For what?"

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories.

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry."

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-"

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up.

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker.

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves.

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did."

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you."

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again.

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick.

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru."

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter.

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying.

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay.

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him.

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone.

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer."

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed.

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't."

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship.

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand.

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better."

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip.

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now."

"You haven't even given us a chance to-"

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods.

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house."

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare.

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort.

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you.

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not."

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you.

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes.

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic."

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her.

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown.

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around.

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear.

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?"

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes.

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends."

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs.

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue.

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side.

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better."

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better.

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared.

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure.

And so did Suguru.

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first.

"How have you been?" He asks nicely.

"Good." You respond. "You?"

"Good."

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long.

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school."

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter.

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not.

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh.

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable.

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same."

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine."

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were."

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to.

But now, you don't have that desire anymore.

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest.

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly."

Suguru frowns, troubled.

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-"

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable."

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place."

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift.

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that."

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru."

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately.

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?"

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole.

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you.

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours.

"I love you."

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse.

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't.

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding.

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet.

He's miserable.

You did this. This was all you.

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him."

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru.

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better.

"It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal."

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this.

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset.

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought.

"But what?" You press.

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face.

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out."

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation.

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?"

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach.

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her.

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long.

"You'll see!" You chirp back.

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later.

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise."

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'.

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy.

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought.

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass.

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you."

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!"

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore."

Shoko freezes mid-sip.

"What?" She asks.

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-"

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears.

"What's wrong?" You ask.

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?"

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again."

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces.

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal.

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand."

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-"

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time.

"Oh." You breathe.

"Oh." Utahime whispers.

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass.

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?"

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!"

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle."

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties."

"I thought we were just doing friend things!"

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified.

"I-I-" You give up.

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot.

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes.

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko.

"Do you want us?"

You take a deep breath.

You nod.

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely.

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more.

You break away, panting.

"You good?" She asks.

You nod.

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now."

"What?"

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses.

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks."

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit.

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh.

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?"

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy.

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy."

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next.

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation.

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you."

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy.

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes.

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?"

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush.

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet."

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself.

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm.

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair.

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight.

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime.

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue.

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go."

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams.

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always."

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep.

Shoko slaps your thigh.

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face."

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much.

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them.

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper.

"Awake?" She asks.

"Yeah." You softly say back.

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch.

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist.

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes.

"I'm gonna get food."

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you.

"What do you want?" She prompts.

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door.

The interaction makes your heart warm.

Still, it can't last.

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist.

"And where are you going?" She prods.

You fumble. "Back to my room?"

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now."

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?"

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?"

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine."

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly.

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder."

You laugh.

"That's not a joke." She warns.

"I know." And you kiss her again.

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place.

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up.

Everything was just perfect.

And then, it just wasn't.

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled.

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone.

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold.

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay?

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it.

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about?

The living room is horrific.

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels.

Suguru doesn't even blink.

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal.

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?"

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth.

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition."

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos.

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands.

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that."

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting.

But you know you aren't expecting...that.

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore.

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them."

You step back. They step forward.

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far.

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-"

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already."

He smiles again.

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores."

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete.

The worst part is that everything was your fault.

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak.

"I'm sorry."

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions.

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two."

Satoru halts. You caught him.

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder.

"You missed us?" He wonders.

The lie feels like sand.

"More than anything."

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry.

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault."

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much.

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh.

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms.

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands.

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance.

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry.

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat.

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed."

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here.

"I'm sorry," you say anyway.

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer.

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells.

And then, he grins.

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely.

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore.

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much.

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness.

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you.

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you.

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share.

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments.

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs.

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

#yandere jjk #yandere #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #dark content #yandere gojo satoru #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere jjk x reader #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto suguru x reader #dark geto suguru #shoko ieiri x reader #utahime x reader #yandere satosugu #dark satosugu #yandere scenarios #shokohime x reader

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ceesimz · 2 days

Text

Angel

What happens when the team finds out about your relationship? (Autistic reader x Barça Femení)

As always, the other parts of Reverie can be found here. This one gets a bit deep.

One thing you had come to learn about your new team was that they never shied away from gossip. Like most people, they did have their limits, but if it was gossip within the team, especially about any possible relationships, well… they simply couldn't be stopped.

You indulged in it of course, you're only human after all, you just hadn't prepared yourself for the moment that the topic was your love life. And it seemed that the team didn’t really take into account how you would feel about it all.

If there was one thing that would send you into some kind of meltdown, it was people talking about you without you knowing. That was something that had plagued you as a teenager, and as ridiculous as it may seem to others, it was something that still sent you spiralling endlessly. All you wanted was to be liked and to fit in, whenever those things seemed at risk, it had you scurrying back into your shell and headfirst into a deep pit of anxiety.

It had been a matter of weeks since you and Alexia got together, and an even shorter amount of time since you had confessed your love to each other, but living in the content bubble of privacy was everything you needed and more. A part of you loved the thrill of sneaking around, like how you both drive separately to and from training only to end up at the other's apartment afterwards, and how you both hide away in the corners of any cafés you come across.

But the thing is, it seemed the two of you weren't quite as discreet as you thought.

The morning it all came falling down was the same as any other day; you woke up in your bed with Alexia asleep on the other side of you, facing away as the sun shone into the room and lit up the tattoos on her back like an art display. Not long after you looked over at her did a smile appear, and you couldn’t resist shuffling up behind her and wrapping yourself around her body to nestle into her. Your alarm hadn’t gone off yet and the sun wasn’t fully up, meaning there was more than enough time to enjoy each other’s company before the day that faced you began. Mornings were your favourite, and if Alexia thought she was a morning person before you, you had come along and totally trumped her in that. The world was yours in the early hours of the day, it was peaceful and serene without the interruptions of life as the birds sang and the dew covered the grass.

Apparently that particular morning was the calm before the storm.

Alexia drove the pair of you to training, arriving earlier than the rest of the squad and going your separate ways once in the building, Alexia with some media commitments and you with a physio session for a slight knock picked up in the game a few days prior. Nobody else had shown up yet and they wouldn’t for some time, so the possibility that someone might pick up on something was far from your minds.

Apart from the one car parked up outside and the weirdly frequent amount of time spent together and the obvious love in each other’s eyes, there were no signs at all. Zero.

Perhaps you weren’t the only oblivious one in the relationship.

“-there is something going on, Mapi.” Jana smirked as she walked into the building alongside the older defender whilst Ingrid followed behind.

“There is nothing! Don’t ask me.” Mapi put on that classic confused look on her face and paired it with a shrug, desperately holding back a grin that she knew Ingrid would scold her for.

“Everybody can see the way Ale looks at her, and how she looks at Ale. I made a bet with Keira, please.” Jana continued, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, which it was, before turning to Mapi again with a pleading look on her face.

“Jana.” Ingrid warned lightly, more than aware of the conversations that have been had by most of the team but way too concerned with how you'd react to it all. She assumed her teammates would have more sense about doing this about you, but apparently not.

“Come on, Mapi. Just shake your head or something, someone like you can’t keep a secret. And it’ll come out eventually so why not just say it now.” Jana had her arms wrapped around Mapi’s arms, tugging every so often to persuade her.

“María, don't. Jana, there is nothing going on. Let them be.” The Norwegian gave her final warning, quite frankly tired of the topic and annoyed with her teammates' behaviour.

It wasn’t only how Jana was acting now, it was the fact the majority of the team had been speculating for some time already, and though she had witnessed their nosiness before, this time around she was far from happy about it. She wasn’t really one to have so much intrigue in her teammates’ lives, she believed if they wanted to talk about it then they would, so there was no use in indulging in meaningless gossip that really had no benefits for anyone apart from satisfying the curiosity of people that had no business being interested anyway. That, added onto the fact she knew you would probably have some kind of meltdown if you overheard anything, meant she was sick to death of others’ careless actions.

However, by defending you, she had only made it worse.

“Oh, so there is something going on? That’s why Mapi isn’t talking?” Jana’s face lit up and Ingrid was instantly filled with dread from head to toe. Before she could stop the younger girl, she was already darting off to her other friends to share the new information. And that’s where the situation reached its peak.

You were more than fine, living blissfully unaware throughout the morning. Alexia was at your side, training was fun and light that day, and you had woken up feeling especially good that morning. Not much could stop you. The exclusion to that was of course the whole team gossipping about not only you, but Alexia too.

“You’re such a liar! I didn’t cheat, you’re the one that dropped your cards everywhere. My eyes were already looking in that direction, it just so happened to be that that’s where your cards landed.” You argued back at Alexia, stuck in a heated debate about how you had apparently cheated at a game of cards with her family the previous night. The blonde tutted in disagreement and gave you a light shove, suppressing a smile at the laugh you responded with.

“Already at the family game nights, huh?” Patri came up alongside you and smirked as her eyebrows raised, before she was quickly tugged away by Claudia, leaving you confused.

“What did she mean by that?” You turned to Alexia to see if she had any better understanding, only to find what looked like a resigned and slightly panicked expression on her face. “Ale?”

“Nothing, cariño, she is just teasing. Forget about it.” Her arm wrapped around your shoulder briefly as she gave you a quick reassuring hug, but she pulled away too soon to make you feel at ease.

What she wasn’t clueing you in on was the seed of worry that Patri had just planted. Like Ingrid, Alexia also knew how you would react to the team finding out about the relationship before you were ready. To make matters worse, she had no idea what she could do to prevent the secret being revealed because it seemed like the damage had already been done. Sure, she was the captain, but that title means nothing when it comes to her personal life which had already been invaded by the people she thought knew better. There was nothing left to do but watch it all come falling down before her.

Despite the odd teasing remark from Patri, you were still in a fairly great mood. The same couldn’t be said for Ingrid and Alexia who sat at your table for lunch. It wasn’t often that you stayed for lunch, and you couldn’t have chosen a more unfortunate day to stay. Your two favourite people had pensive looks on their faces that stuck for the majority of lunch, putting you a little on edge throughout.

Ultimately, though, secrets had to come to light at some point. You never planned for it to happen in the way it did.

“Does the happy couple want to join us for dinner later?” Marta, of all people, asked with a grin as her hands landed on yours and Alexia’s shoulders as she came to stand behind you both.

“Marta!” Ingrid scolded immediately, but it was too late.

“What? Everybody knows that Ale is wrapped around her finger. Didn’t take long, no?” She smirked down at you, taking no notice of the fact you had completely frozen.

Both Ingrid and Alexia rattled off arguments, trying their best to do damage control, though to no avail. The warning signs of an internalised meltdown were already taking over and shutting down your nervous system – the type of meltdown you knew was coming was sometimes the most exhausting type. Masking on its own took all of your energy, but masking an entire meltdown was a whole different thing.

You weren’t safe here. There were eyes all around, people you weren’t too familiar with, and nothing in this room, in fact in the whole building, could help you regulate yourself. In only a matter of minutes, everything around you turned into a trigger.

Marta’s hand still sat on your shoulder. Your skin crawled with the sensation of at least thirty pairs of eyes on you. With each second that passed by, the noise of the cafeteria grew louder in your ears even though in reality it only quietened when people realised what was happening.

Your hands trembled intensely under the table, you were sure Marta would be able to feel your entire body shaking, and your breathing quickened until hardly any oxygen was getting to your lungs. It was at that point where the intrusive thoughts kicked in.

The cherry on top of the cake in this scenario too is that it wasn’t just about you, it was about Alexia too. So not only were you drowning in anxiety and fear and shame, you couldn’t cope with the guilt that came at the fact you had dragged Alexia into all this.

Was now the time Alexia realised she could be with someone much better than you, now that the relationship was no longer secret? Now that you and all that was wrong with you wasn’t hidden behind apartment walls and cafe doors, would she be too embarrassed by you to stay? What would your teammates think? You hadn’t even been here for a full season yet, and you had already claimed their captain for yourself.

Those were the kinds of things swirling around your mind as the world carried on around you, but they were merely a drop in the ocean and definitely not the worst of them. Some were unimaginable, to the point where if any allistic person were to ask what went through your mind during a meltdown, they would be horrified by the things they would hear. You wouldn’t wish a meltdown of any kind upon your worst enemy.

It was too much to handle. Too many eyes, too many opinions in one room, too many ways to be perceived. The only realistic option was leaving.

The sound of your chair scraping against the floor as you abruptly stood up cut through the tension in the room, bringing everyone to a sudden silence as they watched you leave the room as quickly as possible without it being classed as running away. You had no idea where to go, but your legs were taking you anyway, and at that moment it felt like you were watching yourself in third person. You were in your body, but you weren’t present. Your mind was still back in that cafeteria, thinking and thinking over and over again, stuck in the fear of the fact you had just ruined the life you had built for yourself whilst you fully succumbed to the meltdown clawing its way into your body.

All you wanted to do was go home, to have the measly comfort of falling apart in the four walls of your flat, where you had the safety net of the fact that nobody was around to walk in on you. Instead, you had to settle for a place that still didn’t feel safe and never would.

Somewhere in your subconscious you made the decision to find a spot away from everyone, ending up in a small, empty and unclaimed office. As always, your feet took you straight to the corner of the room furthest from the door, slumping down against the wall and sliding until you were sat on the floor. Your legs came up so that your knees were pressed tightly against your chest, further emphasised by the pressure your arms gave when they wrapped around your legs. It helped, the pressure your own embrace provided, but it was nowhere near enough to calm you down to a point where you could put a stop to everything happening inside of you.

There, in the safest environment you could find, you accepted the impending implosion, and let it wholly consume you. It wasn’t a meltdown filled with anger and frustration, the type that led to a whirlwind of destruction, but one that had your eyes flooding and overflowing with tears that would inevitably lead to a nasty migraine afterwards. But in that moment, there was no after. A meltdown came with the sense that the world was ending, that there wasn’t a life you could lead after it that wasn’t ruled by the intrusive thoughts which ruthlessly ran rampant through your mind becoming a reality. That really would be world-ending.

For some time, you weren’t convinced you were breathing. Your lungs felt so constricted by the heaviness that weighed upon your chest that you weren’t sure you could stay conscious. There was ringing in your ears that deafened you almost, adding to how completely unaware you were of your surroundings. Nausea churned in your stomach, though you weren’t in the state of mind to be able to recognise if that was a result of the anxiety overwhelming you or the constant rocking back and forth you were doing.

In fact, you were so oblivious, you didn’t notice the door swing open, nor did you hear the figure at the door shout down the hallway outside the room to announce you had been found. It was only when gentle hands lifted your head where it rested against your knees that you realised someone was in front of you. And who else would it be than Ingrid.

“Hey, snuppa.” The defender smiled sadly, hating how your face was completely void of emotion apart from the redness to your eyes and the tears still falling continuously down your cheeks.

It was in moments like this where Ingrid realised, no matter how much she tried, she will never fully understand the extent of the struggles you have. As she looked at you, she saw that your face was empty, anyone who didn’t know would think you were just spaced out or something, but Ingrid knew there was a deadly storm kicking off in your mind. A storm whose weapons of choice were the tears streaming from your hauntingly blank eyes, and the sharp flashes of vicious words followed by the darkest clouds of shame and inadequacy. Nobody else would understand the pain of it, and it killed the defender that she couldn’t do a thing about that.

“I’m so sorry that happened in there. They shouldn’t have acted like that, not without coming to you first. They just… weren’t thinking.”

Why didn’t they think about me?

“I should have made a better effort in getting them to stop talking about it.”

You knew? Why didn’t you make a better effort?

“They didn’t mean anything bad by it, it’s just them being clowns, you know what they’re like.”

What if they did mean something bad by it?

“Alexia is worried about you.”

I just want to go home.

“Home.” You whispered, shrinking back into yourself and away from the hands that were still on your cheeks. You hastily brushed away the remaining tears with shaking thumbs, though they were instantly replaced by new ones that didn’t hesitate to fall.

“I can take you home, that’s okay.”

The person that helped you stand then, it wasn’t Ingrid. It was just a body, a face you didn’t recognise in your mid-meltdown daze. There was no longer a functioning world outside the confines of your beaten mind, your senses were completely overwhelmed to the point they no longer worked. An arm was wrapped around your waist as you were led to the car park, but all you could focus on was each step you took. Moving was difficult, so you poured all your remaining energy into making sure your legs could carry you to the car at least.

Whether people watched you on the way to Ingrid’s car or not, you were passed the point of caring. The merciless thoughts weren’t tiring anytime soon but they had exhausted you, beating you down until you were completely mindless. They had prepared you for your team to hate you, so that was old news by the time you were being guided down the halls and no doubt past their curious stares.

All of your belongings were left back in the changing rooms, including your phone and your change of clothes and everything else. Thankfully Ingrid was wise enough to know you didn’t care about any of those things now, all you wanted to do was go home, fall into bed, and never leave again.

That’s exactly what you did. The time walked by before you as you watched the minutes tick by on the digital clock on your bedside table. At some point, Ingrid had peaked her head in to check on you and Mapi had come along to drop off your things whilst an anxious Alexia waited in her car in case you wanted her.

You didn’t.

You couldn’t face her right now, probably not for the rest of the day either. It was easier to be the rejecter rather than the rejected. Too often were you the one going through all the pain that came with rejection, and experiencing it at the hands of Alexia might just end it all for you.

Figuring out where to go from here was something that would have to wait a while. Hours, days, weeks, you weren’t sure. It had been a tough day, the toughest in a while. Your last meltdown had been a destructive one – a performance that you deemed bad in a match you put way too much pressure on yourself for was enough reason to get so wildly angry, you had no choice but to act out. That was in the privacy of your own home though, not in a public setting, at work no less. The repercussions of it all were something you didn’t want to face.

So you stayed in bed. For hours, you didn’t move a muscle. The duvet covered you up to your shoulders and the scent of Alexia lingered on the fabric of the sheets, the most comforting mix of her perfume and the conditioner she used when showering the night before. And by the time the sun set, it felt like your bones had sunk into the mattress, as if you’d found yourself in quicksand or had fallen into concrete. There was no way you could make it out if you tried.

Nothing, apart from being thousands of miles away from the situation you found yourself in, could entice you to move.

—

“Have you heard from her yet?” Alexia asked desperately for perhaps the third time in ten minutes.

“No, Ale.” Mapi sighed from the kitchen area.

Ingrid and Mapi had decided to let Alexia stay with them, knowing that the older girl was probably going crazy as a result of her anxiety. The Norwegian was somewhat familiar with how these things go for you, your alone time to try and regulate was an important step of getting back to being your normal self. However, she also knew that being alone could sometimes make it worse. She was stuck in between those two possibilities, wondering when the right time to step in was. It just didn’t help when Alexia was pacing around the apartment or tapping her foot against the floor as she sat on the couch.

Mapi was making dinner for the three of them, whilst also ensuring there was an extra portion for you if you wanted to eat at any point that evening. They were all worried to some degree, but Alexia’s concern had reached new heights. Last time this happened to you, you were alone for the whole night with no one to comfort you, and that thought made her sick. All she wanted to do was see you at least, then from there she could figure out what to do to help. Yet, she was still inexperienced, so the only thing she trusted herself to do was to listen to Ingrid, the one who had been around for almost eleven years longer than she had. Her patience was wearing thin, however.

“I just want to see her, I-”

“Alexia, listen to me.” Ingrid dropped the laundry she was folding and headed over to where Alexia was. She sat down on the coffee table in front of her captain and sighed just like her girlfriend had done a moment ago. “In her mind, you’re probably the last person she wants to see right now.”

“But why! I don’t g-”

“Listen.” Ingrid said sternly, silencing the blonde. “I know you are worried, scared, whatever. We all are. But we have to put our emotions aside and wait for her. Meltdowns aren’t something that happen to you, they happen to her, so think about that for a second. She needs the time alone to regulate herself again, to allow her body to rest. It might not have looked extreme, but trust me when I say it was. Her own mind was attacking her but because she was in public, she forced it down and hid it. It’s so intense, when that happens, it’s not just a mental thing but a physical thing too. You have to remember that what she experiences is so different to anything we will ever know, so everything from this point on has to be on her terms. Okay?”

No matter what anyone said to her in that moment, Alexia knew she wouldn’t feel at all at ease until she saw you. But Ingrid’s words did help, even if it was only the tiniest bit. It settled her because most of all she trusted you.

Once in the past, you had told her that your meltdowns were something that made you feel so out of control that you’d do anything to regain it back, to have some sense of the world again. Even if that meant extreme measures. That was the young, scared version of you though, you had told her. As an adult now, you were a lot… safer in your recovery methods. And she trusted you, she did, she just couldn’t help but feel sickeningly worried. Nobody could really blame her, it wasn’t a comforting thought to know she was in the same building as you, and yet there wasn’t a thing she could do other than wait it out.

“I… I love her though.” She knew her arguments were futile, but it felt better than sitting there and doing nothing.

“You love her?” Mapi asked in disbelief, followed by a tut from Ingrid.

“I love her. She knows that, right?” The blonde turned to the woman in front of her with a desperate look on her eyes.

“She does. She does, Alexia, and I know for a fact that she does.” Ingrid placed a hand on Alexia’s bouncing knee and squeezed it reassuringly; she understood how her captain was feeling, she’d been in her place plenty of times before.

“I just want to take it all from her so she can feel better, so she knows I love her and I don’t blame her for today.” Alexia mumbled, fidgeting with the drawstring of her training shorts that she still hadn't changed out of.

“I know. It's hard, but these are the times where she needs us by her side the most.” Ingrid stated quietly, hoping Alexia understood the gravity of her words.

“Forever, Ingrid, I will be by her side forever. I swear it.” Her eyes had gone wide and her shoulders had lifted up into a shrug to emphasise her promise. Ingrid didn't doubt her for a second.

As much as she tried to resist, as the evening dragged on, Ingrid’s patience started to wear away. Her concern was beginning to override her adamance to give you the space she thought you needed. She could tell, as she glanced around the quiet room save for the scraping of cutlery against ceramic, that Alexia and Mapi felt the same way.

Alexia hardly moved from her spot in the corner of the sofa, staring out of the window as her leg bounced anxiously. Mapi didn’t know what to do with herself, because even though she wouldn’t really play a major part in helping you come down from the state you were in, bar a few terrible jokes here and there, her world fell off-kilt knowing you were enduring such an awful time. You weren’t as close with her as you were with Alexia and Ingrid, obviously, but she still saw you as such an important figure in her life that nothing was the same without you. She loved your near constant joy, you were quite possibly the happiest person she’d met, and that was a big statement coming from someone like her. Your glee was infectious, and she was certain that everybody felt the same kind of unease when you weren’t yourself.

The silence throughout the apartment that settled after dinner was so discomforting that waiting simply wasn’t cutting it anymore. Almost as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon, they all hit their limit. It had been hours since anyone had seen or heard from you and waiting simply wasn’t cutting it anymore. No one was brave enough to say it though. If they all marched up to your apartment, god only knows what reaction you would have. Nobody wanted to be the person that broke your trust.

It was Alexia that decided to take that risk.

“What if I went and checked on her?” She broke the silence and glanced around nervously at the other two, who then looked at each apprehensively. “If she kicks me out, I will leave. But I cannot sit here and do nothing any longer. It’s killing me.”

A few thoughtful moments passed by, before Ingrid groaned quietly and buried her face into her hands. At that, Mapi pursed her lips and answered for her.

“I think there is nothing else we can do but try.” The shorter defender answered diplomatically, nodding as she spoke. “The spare key is on Ingrid’s keys.”

“Ingrid?” Alexia asked. It was important to her that she had Ingrid’s trust as the Norwegian had dealt with this countless times over the past decade.

“Yes. Go. Please be patient with her.” She pleaded in a fearful voice. At that, the Barcelona captain jumped up from her seat and went to leave instantly.

In the weirdest way, it was hard for Ingrid to hand over this responsibility. Other than Mapi, you were the most important person in her life. She had been the person you go to for nearly eleven years – she had seen you at your worst and recently she’d seen you at your best. But with the introduction of Alexia into your life, as overjoyed as she was for you, it came with a strange sense of loss. Rationally she knew you were going nowhere of course, and yet she mostly felt… sad. It felt a little pathetic to her, that she thought of it like that, she just couldn’t help it. Mapi sensed her girlfriend’s feelings and moved to sit by her side immediately to comfort her, meanwhile Alexia couldn’t get out of the door quick enough.

Instead of taking the elevator, Alexia ran straight to the stairs and made her way up to your floor in mere seconds. The keys rattled in her hands as she headed to your apartment, and her hands shook as she tried to find the right key to unlock your door. When she missed the keyhole a couple times, she took a deep breath to calm herself and rolled her shoulders a couple times. In that split second, she knew, had you been there, you would have laughed at the slightly dramatic scene. As odd as that may seem, that little thought calmed her anxiety the tiniest bit, and with a final breath out, she unlocked the door.

Unsurprisingly, the lights were off in the apartment and the curtains were drawn, your way of blocking the world out. There wasn’t a sound, and her footsteps bounced off the walls as she walked through the flat until she reached your bedroom door. She knocked on quietly, trying not to disturb the apparent peace.

“It is just me, Alexia. May I come in, engel?”

Exactly as she expected, she got no response. That was better than getting kicked out, she supposed.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

She opened the door and walked in on a scene that wasn’t so unfamiliar anymore, and she figured she best get used to it anyway if she planned on sticking around. You were on your side, facing away from the door, like you were when Ingrid had been the one to check on you the last time this happened. Even as she padded over to where you lay, she got no reaction. It wasn’t until she cautiously sat on the carpet, her back against the bedside drawers with her head turned towards you, that she confirmed you weren’t asleep.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see you were awake and staring absentmindedly straight ahead, through her even. Last time, she didn’t see this part of you. She only saw the by-product of Ingrid’s support and love. This was something that sent chills through her, not out of fear or intimidation or whatever, but because of the overload of emotions she felt at the sight. Never in her life had she felt such pain for someone else.

“Hi, amor.” She whispered. Truthfully, she had no idea what to do, or where to start. Rather foolishly, she had underestimated the whole thing. “Um… I didn’t want to leave you on your own any longer. I wanted to come check on you.”

Normally, with everything Alexia did in her life, she had the confidence in knowing what she was doing and exactly how she was going to do it. This situation was something entirely different. But, if she was going to learn to do better for you when things like this happened, there was nothing she would rather do in this scenario than try.

“Ingrid told me once that sometimes just sitting with you helps with the thoughts you have, so… I will wait here as long as you want me to. I love you.”

She didn’t want to overwhelm you, but at the same time she couldn’t bear taking her eyes off of you. Just being by your side had eased some of her anxiety. She hoped it did the same for you.

“Today was a bad day, but that’s okay. Bad days are okay. You can come back from them. I remember you telling me that when this happens, it feels like the world is ending. I know I can’t stop your meltdowns but I will always be here to remind you that I love you more than anyone else I have ever met. And that people in your life adore you so much that nothing could change that. You are just you, all the time, and that might be my favourite thing in the world.”

The midfielder found herself rambling, which wasn’t something she did very often at all, but the words flowed continuously. Whether you could hear her or were taking anything she said on board, she didn’t mind.

Fortunately, you could hear her, and you were taking everything she said and holding onto it for dear life. With each word she spoke, you felt yourself coming back more and more. Those voices had been shut out by Alexia’s tentative rambling. The tears that you knew would drop any second were the first sign of you becoming somewhat lucid again.

“I am not angry or upset with you. Today wasn’t your fault. Not the outing, not the teasing, not the meltdown. You were just a passenger in it all, yet you got the worst of it. You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“No.” Your voice was hoarse and hardly there when you spoke, and even though it was a short single syllable you uttered, it still cracked with emotion.

Alexia almost flinched at that, having not expected it at all.

“Hm?” She hummed, shuffling a little closer to the bed if that was at all possible.

“No sorrys.” You murmured. Alexia frowned, and she itched to reach out and stroke through your hair or cup your cheek or do anything to comfort you.

“Okay.” She nodded, unsure of what else to do. To scratch that itch from a moment ago, she brought her legs up and crossed her arms over her knees, a few fingertips of one hand outstretched to rest on the edge of the bed. “I… I don’t want you to feel guilty. I think, in the end, maybe it was only a matter of time before everyone found out about us. They shouldn’t have acted so nonchalantly about it, but I also don’t think we hid it too well.”

“You don’t have to be here.” You completely ignored what she had said, too focused on your shame instead. Shame that stemmed from the events back at the cafeteria, at not only having a meltdown which brought those feelings on anyway, but having one in front of your whole club. This one felt so much more complex than any others you’d had in a while.

Alexia’s resolve broke then – one of her hands cautiously reached under the duvet to find the hand of yours that wasn’t resting underneath your head. She found it, balled up tightly against your chest, and with both of her hands now, she unclenched it and covered it, gently bringing it to her mouth so she could press repetitive, soft kisses against your skin.

“I don't have to but I want to. I need to, for myself, because you are my girlfriend and I need to make sure you are okay. I love you no matter how you feel, and even if me being here doesn't make you feel much better, I'm just glad I’m here.”

Something about that struck a nerve. Before you knew it, those brewing tears made themselves known as they fell steadily. Alexia dropped your hand, which caused a brief moment of panic for you, until she rose to her knees and her hands landed delicately on your face instead. Her lips brushed against every tear that fell, kissing each one before leaning her forehead against yours.

“I love you. I don’t want you to ever doubt that.” She whispered, because some part of her knew that it was her portrayal of her adoration that had finally cracked you.

It was exactly that. No matter how many times it was said, there was just some embedded insecurity within you that couldn’t accept it when you didn’t love yourself like this. Perhaps it would stay with you for life, but that didn’t seem so horrifying if Alexia reacted like this everytime the worst part of yourself was so clearly on show.

“You do make me feel better.” You manage to choke out in the midst of your sobs.

Alexia couldn’t bear the feeling of not having you in her arms whilst you were crying so heavily, so she moved away only for a second before you felt the bed dip behind you. Then, she was gently urging you to roll over, which you did immediately. Her arms engulfed you entirely, and the pressure from her hug was so much more comforting than that of yours earlier in that heartless office.

She let you get it all out, even if it did take a while, but even when your sobs had subsided, she didn’t move a muscle. For that, you were grateful. Being wrapped up and held tightly by her, your face buried in her chest, was so much better than laying on your own with nothing but the intrusions in your mind.

And when your thoughts cleared, you gained an ounce of clarity again. Neither of you spoke, but there had been enough emotions in the day that there wasn’t any need for them. There was just one thing that you had realised, the brightest silver lining: Alexia loved you. Truly and wholeheartedly, even if you didn’t understand it. Sure, she had said it in the past and shown it in various ways, though none of those occasions could ever live up to this one.

This one was her accepting the worst part of yourself. This was her sticking by you when you knew it was the hardest time to stay. This was it.

Having your relationship exposed might have seemed like the end of the world at the time, and though that thought hadn’t completely left yet, it had given way for two much better realistions. Firstly, Alexia loved you. And secondly, apparently you can’t mask love.

“It really was quite obvious, wasn’t it?” You would grimace the next morning when the pair of you ate breakfast in bed together. Your girlfriend, the woman that loved you, turned to you with an equally pinched face and you stared at each other for a few moments, until you broke out into laughter about it all.

That was the thing with Alexia – she made it all brighter and so, so much easier.

—

because what else do autistic people struggle with than the opinions of others 🫠 writing about a meltdown is hardddd so this took a lot for me to write, it's more than just writing anxiety when it comes to posting this one. it's depicting the part of myself i hate most. it's an unexplainable, awful awful experience but anyway i hope my words did it justice, i'm not sure about it but i hope you liked the story regardless 🫶🏼🧡

#fcb femení x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso community #alexia putellas #ingrid engen #mapi leon #fcb femeni #barcelona femeni #woso fic

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jupiterpilgrim · 1 day

Text

SEX CAGE - A Certain Kind of Freedom

Kwon Eunbi x male reader

word count: 14K

part 1

Eunbi and Somi are lounging on the couch, comfortably wrapped in the delicious art of gossip — the kind of conversation that could fuel hours of free entertainment, without the need for Netflix or Wi-Fi. Eunbi grabs another cookie, chewing slowly as Somi talks with the passion of someone who just watched the latest episode of a dramatic reality show.

"You heard the latest about Mina, right?" Somi starts, her voice full of that conspiratorial tone only someone who truly revels in other people's misfortunes can master.

Eunbi raises an eyebrow, with the moderate interest of someone who knows this is going to be good. "Oh, Mina, the embodiment of perfection... at least according to herself."

Somi nearly chokes with laughter. "Yes! And can you believe her boyfriend dumped her to date her younger sister?!" She drops the news as if she’s revealing the biggest scandal of the week, which, for their circle, might just be.

Eunbi stifles a laugh, which turns into a rather sadistic smile. "Of course, because obviously the only way to escape that arrogance was... to dive headfirst into an even bigger mess. Congrats to him for making the dumbest choice available."

Somi slaps Eunbi’s arm, laughing. "The worst part is, apparently the sister thought it was cute that he tattooed her name on his arm. Cheap tattoo, mind you. And, of course, she fell for him right then and there. Because nothing says 'I love you' like a bad tattoo."

Eunbi grimaces, shaking her head. "A name tattoo is like signing a contract with disaster. But hey, everyone does what they can with the little brain they have, right?"

They burst into laughter again, the kind of shared humor only longtime friends can appreciate — especially when they’re mocking someone they never really liked. The sound echoes through the apartment, and for a moment, it’s almost like they’re back in the days when their biggest worry was deciding which nail polish to wear that week.

Somi finally catches her breath and looks at Eunbi with a softer expression. “But seriously... you’re glowing, you know? You’ve got such amazing energy! Way different from the last time we talked, when you were, like, at rock bottom with the whole unemployment thing.”

Eunbi feels her stomach churn slightly. Ah, rock bottom. What dark times those were (three months ago). Until she turned things around, of course, but by means Somi can’t — and shouldn’t — know about. Eunbi plays with her hair, as if she can brush away the discomfort with the gesture. “Ah, you know... things have gotten better. Lucky for me, my roommate is super smart.”

Somi narrows her eyes, curious. “Smart how? Did he help you get a new job or something?”

Eunbi tries not to sweat. She can’t exactly admit that her current 'job' involves cameras, masks, and an eager audience hungry for more content. So, the lie flows, smooth as oil. “Oh, you know, he’s into all that nerdy stuff. Investments, bitcoins, NFTs... those complicated things only weirdos understand. He’s been covering the bills for now.”

Somi looks at Eunbi, genuinely impressed. “Wow, you really lucked out! A rich nerdy roommate. Sounds like one of those cliché romances.”

Eunbi lets out a nervous smile. “Yeah, it was a good roll of the dice.” Before Somi can start connecting dots or asking more complicated questions, Eunbi quickly decides to steer the conversation in a different direction. “But enough about that. Now that I have more time, I’m thinking of going back to the gym. What do you think about us going together? Like, a triumphant return to the fitness life.”

Somi almost spills her tea in excitement. “You? The gym? I’m shocked!! But seriously, that’s awesome! What gave you the sudden motivation?”

Eunbi smiles, satisfied to have shifted the topic to safer ground. “Oh, you know... health, staying in shape, that kind of thing. And now that I’ve got more free time, I’ve got no excuses, right?”

Of course, the real reason for the new gym routine was less noble and more... vain. Keeping that ‘porn goddess body’ requires work, after all. The cameras don’t lie, but they definitely have their preferences. And Eunbi was determined to live up to those expectations — hers, the fans’, and anyone else willing to pay to watch.

Somi gets excited about the idea, clapping her hands animatedly. “I LOVE this! Finally, a gym buddy! We can even take those post-workout selfies, you know? Like, ‘no pain, no gain.’ It’s going to be great!”

Eunbi laughs, already picturing herself doing squats while Somi films her for Instagram. “It’ll be fun. My goal will be to get abs like yours.”

The conversation flows smoothly, with occasional laughs and sharp gossip, until the apartment door opens and you walk in, as usual, a bit clumsy, unaware that you’re interrupting the gathering. Somi turns her head to look at you, surprised but with her usual friendly, easy smile.

“Hey! Long time no see!” She gets up to greet you while you try to force a tired smile and give her a quick hug. Not that you don’t like Somi; she’s great, really, but she always brings this certain energy that leaves you feeling slightly... drained. The kind of person who could empty the battery of an entire room just by showing up.

“How’s it going?” you ask, trying to be polite as you prepare to escape to your room.

Somi responds with the same enthusiasm as always. “Everything’s great! And you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Ah, I’m good too. Make yourselves at home, don’t mind me, I’m just heading to my cave,” you say, and with that, you finally make your way to your room.

Barely closing the door, Somi, who never misses an opportunity, turns to Eunbi with a curious gleam in her eye.

“So, has he been bringing a lot of girls around here?”

Eunbi lets out a theatrical sigh, as if the question were more ridiculous than it actually was. “Thank God, no. He’s always been pretty chill, actually. More of a stay-at-home, play-video-games type than the ‘hook up with everyone’ kind.”

Somi crosses her arms, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Really? That’s funny. He’s cute. And I always thought cute guys were taken. What a waste.”

Eunbi tries to keep her composure, but something about Somi finding you cute bothers her. Not that she’s jealous. Obviously not! But hearing Somi compliment you... well, let’s just say it’s irritating. “Yeah, he’s cute. But anyway, back to the topic... the gym, right? I think I’ll start tomorrow.”

“Great! The gym I go to is amazing, you’ll love it.”

Eunbi smiles, satisfied with the sudden shift in conversation, and decides to change the course even further.

"By the way, I’ve always wanted to ask you something, Somi... have you ever been with a girl?"

Somi almost breaks the cookie she was about to eat. She blinks, processing the question. “Uh... like, kissed?”

Eunbi shrugs. “Kissed, hooked up, anything. Has it ever happened?”

Somi, still a bit taken aback, furrows her brow. “Ah, kissing, sure. Everyone’s kissed a friend after a few drinks, right? It’s like a friendship ritual.”

Eunbi lets out a little laugh. “So, just a kiss then? Nothing more?”

Now, Somi’s completely intrigued. She places her teacup carefully on the coffee table, as if she’s about to disarm a bomb. “Well... I’ve never slept with a girl, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Eunbi continues to probe. “And... would you try it?”

She pauses, looking at Eunbi more intently now, as if trying to catch the hidden subtext in the question. Then, connecting some dots, maybe a bit hastily, she smiles slightly. “Wait... are you suggesting that—”

But before Somi can finish her sentence, Eunbi waves her hand, as if shooing away a bunch of unwanted thoughts. “No, no! Nothing like that. I’m not suggesting anything. I was just curious.”

Somi laughs, but there’s a faint thread of tension in the air now, something light, something that wasn’t there before. “Oh, okay. Because, you know, I wouldn’t judge if you were thinking about it. I mean, you’re gorgeous, I’m gorgeous... It wouldn’t exactly be a tragedy.”

Eunbi gives a short, controlled laugh, like someone who needs to keep the train on the tracks. “I know, but that’s not it. I was just asking.”

Somi relaxes, but the mischievous look doesn’t fade. “Ah, got it. Just checking if the hot friend’s into girl-on-girl stuff. Sure, makes sense. Now tell me, what about you? Ever been with a girl?”

“Well... like you, I’ve kissed some friends a few times, you know, those party moments when everyone’s drunk and hyped. But I never... went beyond that, you know?”

Somi puts on a fake dramatic act, clutching her chest like she's deeply offended. "What? You've kissed other friends but never me? And here I thought our friendship was special!"

Eunbi, with the calm of someone who always has an answer ready, shrugs. "Well, we could change that right now, if you want."

Somi raises an eyebrow, surprised, but a smile begins to form on her lips. "Are you serious?"

Eunbi simply nods. "Why not? Friends do these things, right?"

If this were a book, this would be the moment when the reader holds their breath, eagerly anticipating what's next.

Then, without much fuss, Somi gives a mischievous smile, and they both lean forward until their lips touch in a quick, simple kiss. No drama, no complications. Just a brief moment, but with an underlying tension neither of them will admit to.

When they pull away, Eunbi smiles like she just checked off something from her to-do list.

"There. Now you're part of the exclusive group of friends I've kissed."

Somi laughs, raising her cup of tea. "Wow, what an honor. Let's toast to that."

Eunbi raises hers too, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "To open friendships."

They clink their cups, the sound echoing through the room, and the atmosphere relaxes again, as if nothing unusual just happened.

—

[12:03 AM]

Yujin: Heyyyy Rubydden! 🖤✨ Saw your sextape, girl, you SLAYED! Congrats!

[12:07 AM]

Rubydden: Omg, thanksss! I was so nervous, you have no idea 😳

[12:08 AM]

Yujin: Nervous? Pff, no way. You looked super natural. You’ve got that je ne sais quoi. Like... I dunno, a mix of dominatrix and Instagram fairy, you know?

[12:09 AM]

Rubydden: 😂😂 What a description! Now I gotta add that to my bio. But seriously, I loved what you do too. I watched some of your vids and I was like... wow ❤️🔥

[12:11 AM]

Yujin: Some? Haha, liar, bet you binged them all 😏

[12:15 AM]

Rubydden: Well... maybe five or six 😅

---

[10:35 AM]

Yujin: Look, I'm gonna be blunt... I got off to your titjob. That was AVN Awards level 🥵💦

[10:36 AM]

Rubydden: 😳 Omg! Wasn’t expecting that. Now I’m blushing

[10:37 AM]

Yujin: You're a goddess, Rubydden. That close-up on your boobs... girl, perfection!!

[10:38 AM]

Rubydden: Haha, I thought the same about you when I saw that video of you making yourself squirt... hard to forget

[10:39 AM]

Yujin: Haha perfect! But seriously, that titjob you did... I had to grab a vibrator because it was sooo hot 🔥

[10:40 AM]

Rubydden: OMG, really?! I'm feeling flattered now 🙈

[10:41 AM]

Yujin: Of course!! I’m not gonna lie, you and your guy have crazy chemistry. Ever tried a threesome?

[10:42 AM]

Rubydden: Never tried, actually. But I've always been curious... 🤔 Why, got something in mind?

[10:44 AM]

Yujin: Girl, if you haven't tried it, you're missing out, seriously. I've done it a few times and, for real, it’s amazing. Now, imagine this: me, you, and your guy in a video. It'd break the internet!!

[10:46 AM]

Rubydden: Wow... That definitely sounds like something to think about. I guess I'd have to talk to him first, right?

[10:47 AM]

Yujin: For sure, for sure! But think about it seriously, okay? We could make something super sensual, something that would drive the audience wild. Plus, it’d be a lot of fun 😉

[10:49 AM]

Rubydden: Haha, gosh, I'm nervous just thinking about it. But I won’t lie... the idea is tempting

[10:50 AM]

Yujin: Trust me, girl. It’s gonna be an experience you won’t forget. And, obviously, who could forget you after that?

—

You’re sitting in Eunbi’s room, her laptop open on the desk in front of you, your eyes skimming over the messages again and again. That dialogue on the screen doesn’t just surprise you, it throws you into a world you didn’t even know existed a few months ago.

Yujin?

Collab?

A threesome?

Eunbi, standing beside you, looks at you like she’s already made up her mind. To her, this is just another chance to go viral again. "So?" she says, tapping your shoulder lightly, a carefree smile on her face. "What do you think?"

You swallow hard, the words getting stuck in your throat. "I... I don’t know what to say."

She frowns a little, but still in a playful way, like she’s hearing someone complain about being hot in the summer. "Oh, you never know what to say. Relax. It’s not that complicated." And then, with a twinkle in her eye: "Yujin's hot, right? And she's got millions of followers. If we do this, it’s gonna be huge. Like, huge."

"It’s not that," you mumble, trying to form something coherent, but all logic seems to slip away from you like sand through your fingers. "I mean, it’s just... all of this... it’s so new."

She lets out a soft laugh, like she was expecting exactly that. "Of course it’s new. I still remember us sitting on the couch freaking out, thinking we’d get evicted from our apartment. Everything’s happening so fast, but look where we are now!" She picks up her phone, scrolling through Yujin’s photo gallery, clearly much more comfortable with the idea than you are.

"But I don’t even... know if I want to do this," you admit, trying to understand why your voice sounds so small in this conversation when you should be shouting HEY, I LOVE YOU, CAN WE TALK ABOUT US?!

"It’s okay to not want to... right now," she replies, still half-distracted as she shows you another picture of Yujin, this one even more provocative. "But seriously, look at this. Us and her? It’s gonna break the internet. And you’d be the luckiest guy in the world." She says it like she’s pitching the latest smartphone, full of perks and no downsides.

"I’m not sure ‘lucky’ is the word I’d use," you laugh awkwardly. How do you explain that, in your head, luck would be getting to take her out to dinner, with no cameras or masks in the way?

She frowns, clearly not understanding why you’re not jumping at the idea. "Okay, then what’s the problem?"

Inside, the knot of emotions keeps growing. You’re still trying to process the fact that you’re falling for your best friend. The girl you’ve always shared everything with, who stood by your side through the tough early days of adulthood. You two share something special... but she doesn’t seem to see it the same way. She’s caught up in the work, the followers, the rising fame.

And you?

You’re caught up in the feeling of falling in love with someone who might only see you as a tool for her career.

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and all you can manage is a frustrated sigh.

"I’ll... think about it, okay?"

She gives you a quick hug, like you’ve just agreed to go to her Barbie-themed party. "Relax, it’s gonna be amazing, you’ll see. We’re doing so well! Maybe, when things calm down, we can even take a trip, just the two of us. What do you think?"

You allow yourself a small smile.

A trip, just the two of you?

That sounds almost... romantic.

"Yeah... that sounds nice."

"Yes! I was thinking maybe the Swiss Alps, how about that? Us in a cozy little cabin, snow falling outside, a fireplace burning... perfect, right?" She looks at you, her eyes shining with the idea. For a brief moment, you imagine the two of you together, far away from everything, just enjoying each other’s company. Damn, that would be perfect.

But, of course, Eunbi continues: "And we could shoot a video there! Imagine, us having sex in front of the fireplace, with the snow falling outside... it’d go viral."

You roll your eyes and take a deep breath. Of course.

Because in the end, that’s what it all boils down to. The romance fades faster than your desire to keep this conversation going.

—

You're lying on the couch, engrossed in your book, when you hear the apartment door open. Eunbi had gone out to pick up a package, and you were already used to her dramatic entrances. But the excitement with which she bursts through the door this time makes you suspicious of what on earth is in that box. It could contain anything from a toaster to a new vibrator powerful enough to emit sound waves detectable by a hydrophone at the bottom of the ocean.

“So, what’d you get this time?” you ask without looking up from your book.

“Oh, you'll find out soon enough,” she replies in a voice full of secrets.

You raise an eyebrow but go back to your book. “Right. Whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t explode.”

She disappears into the bedroom, and for a second, everything returns to normal. You almost convince yourself it’s nothing to worry about… until hours later, when another door opens again, this time with the subtlety of a hurricane. And who enters the room is… well, Eunbi, but a version of her that looks like she just walked out of a weird fanfic written by someone with way too much time on their hands.

She’s wearing a schoolgirl skirt that honestly makes you question the sanity of fashion designers and a baby tee she probably last wore many years ago.

You look at her, half incredulous, half amused, and can’t help but laugh. “Okay, what the hell is that?”

Eunbi spins around like a runway model, making the skirt dangerously twirl. “My new costume! For the next video, obviously.”

You tilt your head, a bit cynical. “What video?”

“I mean, our video,” she corrects. “We’re gonna do a roleplay. I’m the younger sister, and you’re the older brother.”

What?

You frown.

“Wait, what?”

But she moves closer, sitting beside you, her hand strategically landing on your thigh. And it’s that kind of hand slide that makes your neurons scream to ignore it, but of course, your body had already betrayed you the second she walked into the room in that… outfit. Now you start to understand that the mysterious box might have had something to do with this transformation.

“I’m going to be your stepsister,” she begins, while her fingers trace slow circles on your leg, “and our parents aren’t home... and I want to show you something. Something I just discovered, you know, like… sex.”

“Oh, sure. Sex,” you say, as if it’s the most revolutionary concept you’ve ever heard. “Because that’s what every little sister does, right?”

She either ignores the sarcasm or just doesn’t care. “Exactly! Oh, and of course, it won't be anything too scripted, we'll just feel the vibe and improvise. It’s going to be our best video yet. It’ll have that… forbidden touch, you know?”

You lean back on the bed, trying to figure out a way out of this. “So… like… can I finish my book first?”

Her eyes gleam with pure determination as she leans in closer, her hand now dangerously high on your thigh. “You can finish later. This will be quick.”

You had spent the last few days deciding that, no, this was too much, that you weren’t going to have sex with Eunbi just to create content anymore. Boundaries, you told yourself. Self-respect. You were more than that, right? You were going to set limits, be firm...

But now, with her hand so close to something that does not respect any rational decision, those words start to feel distant.

Then she delivers the final blow, the argument that should be illegal in any discussion. “And, look, it’ll be my first anal. You’ll get to fuck my ass. And, to make it better, I’ll let you come inside.”

Your synapses short-circuit. All those mature reflections about feelings and dignity… vanish. The decision you had sworn to keep firm just... dies. Just like that.

Her hand is already on your cock, and of course, it’s already rock-hard. Not that you have much of a choice at this point. Your body had already made the decision for you.

“It’ll be fun,” she says with a slight tease, her fingers now playing with your erection. “And I promise I’ll make you feel... very good.”

You try, by some miracle, to keep your composure. “Okay, but... shouldn’t we have, like, talked about this first?”

She looks at you with an expression that clearly says: Are we really having this conversation right now? “The only thing we need to talk about is how much you want to fuck my ass.”

You let out a sigh—whether of surrender, desire, or just because you’re an idiot, you’re not sure.

But deep down, you knew you were defeated the moment she walked into the room wearing that damned skirt.

Of all the absurd decisions you’ve made, this is probably the most obvious one. With your mind utterly overwhelmed by a mix of desire and confusion, you heard yourself saying yes before you had time to process anything more rational—like, for instance, no.

Eunbi smiles as if she's about to invite you to play house, but a version that would never be allowed on any playground. She bounces off the mattress, as if the thrill of seeing you sink into this pit of poor decisions is a small personal victory, and rushes to the bedroom. You hear the sound of boxes being rummaged through. She comes back with a mask and the camera. Your camera, which, let’s be honest, she practically stole from you a long time ago.

"Here," she says, handing you the equipment with a sparkle in her eyes. "Now I’m going to redo the entrance," she continues, already in full actress mode, putting the mask on, "but this time, you’re going to be my older brother, and I’ll be your... well, you already know."

You sigh, half-amused, half-resigned, but lie down on the bed as instructed, slightly frustrated to give up something important to do... this—and yes, you did consider finishing that book important—but, if we're being honest, resisting Eunbi was like trying to hold water in your hands.

You turn on the TV, something generic is on, maybe a show about giant cakes, which, of course, doesn’t match what’s about to happen. You press the record button on the camera.

And this is how it begins:

The bedroom door opens, and there she is, the personification of every possible cliché of fantasies that shouldn’t exist. A schoolgirl skirt that’s way too short, a baby tee that only someone with questionable taste would consider appropriate for anyone past puberty, and a walk that was almost a caricature. But the strangest thing was how much she had changed. It wasn’t just the outfit. It was everything: the posture, the gestures, even the expression on her face. When she approaches and says, “Hey, big brother,” the voice is so sweet it’s almost sickening.

Pure poisoned sugar.

You glance at her as she sits at the edge of the bed, the camera strategically positioned to film from the neck down, focusing on that damned tight baby tee that accentuates her breasts. “Hey,” you reply, casually.

“Parents are gone,” she announces, sitting beside you on the bed. You mutter something vague in response, more focused on surviving the scene than keeping up the act.

“Remember what dad said before he left?” she asks, with that voice that sounds like it’s meant to sell children’s toys or, in this case, sell the idea of something entirely different.

You nod absentmindedly. “Sure, take care of the house. And you.”

She smiles. But it’s not an innocent smile.

No, definitely not.

"Exactly. And I was thinking… shouldn’t you, like, take care of me now?"

“Hmm, take care of you... how?”

She smiles again, and the insinuation in her voice is so heavy it could sink a ship. "I discovered something. Something people do to feel good. And I think we should try it."

You try to fake indifference, which, of course, doesn’t help at all. "Oh yeah? What’s that?"

She leans in a little more, almost whispering. "The man puts the, um, what’s it called? Penis! That’s it! The man puts the penis into... the vagina... I think that’s it. He puts the penis in the woman’s vagina. That makes them feel good." She pauses, watching your reaction. “I want to try that with you.”

You almost choke on your own saliva.

"What? Who told you that?"

She shrugs, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. "Saw it on the internet."

Ah, of course. The internet. The vast well of wisdom and depravity.

Before you could come up with a reasonable excuse to cut this strange performance—something like ‘I can’t do this, sorry’ or ‘please, I just want to finish my book’—her hand was already on your cock. And, to be fair, that’s exactly what your brain didn’t need at that moment.

“Hey, what are you doing now?” you ask, more because you felt you should say something than because you really wanted an answer.

“Let me see your dick, brother,” she said, as if asking to see the TV remote. “Please, please, please!”

"I can't show you that," you retorted, in vain.

She frowned, but in a mischievous way. “I’ll show you what’s under my panties if you show me your dick.”

And, of course, her next move was to part her leg and lift her skirt, revealing the most enticing panties anyone could imagine—pink, with little animal prints, the full provocation package.

Your self-control—or what was left of it—flew out the window. She kept pressing on your dick over your pants, and finally, you gave in. "Alright, alright."

“Yaaay!!”

Eunbi took on the role with an almost disturbing enthusiasm. When you finally gave in and let her pull down your pants, her eyes lit up with exaggerated curiosity, as if she was dealing with something mysterious, incomprehensible, and worthy of scientific study. She looked at your cock like it was a particularly intriguing puzzle—one to be solved not with logic, but with her hands.

"Wow..." she murmured, her words filled with rehearsed admiration. Her fingertips brushed against the warm skin, exploring as if it was the first time she had ever touched a cock. She giggled and, with a touch that was almost innocent (if it weren’t so provocative), started handling it like she was investigating the workings of a new toy.

“It’s... so big!” The words came out with an overly exaggerated tone of surprise.

You tried to maintain some semblance of indifference, but it was like trying to keep a dam intact in the middle of a hurricane. "Careful there," you said, your voice already tense, feeling every light touch as if your cock was now in the hands of an inexperienced mechanic unsure of how to proceed.

She used both hands, holding it with a curiosity that seemed clumsy but intentionally sensual. “Why is it like this? Like, hard... but the skin’s soft at the same time?” The question was so simple, almost comical in its innocence, that you couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh.

“That’s how it works,” you muttered, the effort to keep your head in the game becoming harder as her hands slid more confidently. She squeezed a little more, testing different ways to hold it, as if searching for the perfect grip, her short nails brushing the sensitive skin in a way that made you squirm.

“And these balls down here?” She looked at them with genuine curiosity, playing with your balls, her gaze still so inquisitive that it almost made you laugh again. “What are they for? Do they get hard too?”

“No...” you took a deep breath, trying to explain without completely losing your composure. “I mean, they can get a little hard when they’re full... They’re… sensitive , just... don’t mess with them too much.”

She laughed, clearly amused by the reaction she was provoking. Her touch grew bolder as she became more familiar with what she was doing, running her hands along the entire length, holding your balls with a mix of care and silly curiosity, like she was weighing something valuable. “Oh, so the balls are sensitive...” she teased, laughing mischievously. "I’ll be careful."

She wasn’t, of course. Her touch, though clumsy for the character, was becoming more precise, more intentional. She knew exactly what she was doing, even if the role demanded a forced innocence.

"Can I... try something?" she asked, lying under your legs, her face so close to your dick that you could feel her warm breath on the tip.

"Try what?"

It was an unnecessary question because the answer was already written between the two of you in bold letters. She knew. You knew. Everyone—including the audience watching this later—knew.

“Can I... lick it?” she asked with the same sweetness as someone asking to taste a piece of candy. She tilted her head, her eyes big and bright behind the mask, and without waiting for an answer, lowered her head and gave a timid lick, almost as if she was testing the taste.

You took a deep breath, your muscles tensing involuntarily. "Go ahead..."

She started licking with small, experimental touches, giggling with each new move as if she was genuinely enjoying herself. "It tastes kind of... salty," she commented, like she was talking about a new gourmet ice cream. She laughed again, licking once more, this time with more intention, running her tongue from the base to the tip with an almost disturbing concentration. "Is that good for you?"

"Fuck yes," you responded, trying to control the moan already escaping your throat.

“Then I’ll keep going...” she murmured, smiling satisfied with herself, like a good sister just wanting to make her older brother feel good.

Her movements were a strange, seductive mix of rehearsed hesitation and almost genuine curiosity. The tip of her tongue traced small lines along your skin, up and down, almost like she was discovering a new flavor. She giggled between licks, which for some reason only made the situation hotter. With each touch, the heat in your body intensified.

“You really like this, huh?” she asked with a feigned innocence that you knew was part of the act, but it didn’t make the situation any less provocative. The way she spoke, as if asking an everyday question, contrasted deliciously with the explicit nature of what she was doing.

You let out a low moan, struggling to maintain some control over the situation. “It’s... incredible,” you replied, your voice already shaky.

She paused for a moment, her eyes shining with interest, as if analyzing the situation from a new angle. “So... if this makes you feel so good, what’s the best part?” The question came with that unsettling curiosity of wanting to learn more, wanting to be better at making her brother happy.

You try to stay focused, fighting the urge to just drop the camera and use both hands to make her gag on your dick. But no, she wanted it to be a game, she wanted it slow—you both had roles to play. "The tip," you said, vaguely pointing to the most sensitive part of your dick. “The tip is... where you should focus more.”

Eunbi raised an eyebrow, amusement clear on her face. "The tip?" She looked at your dick with the same exaggerated fascination, her lips moving slowly as she considered the new challenge. "Okay, big brother... If that’s what will make you feel better."

She leaned her head closer, her gaze fixed on the tip of your dick, like she was about to solve a Rubik’s cube. And then, with calculated slowness, she wrapped her lips around the head, giving a light suck, as if tasting something for the first time.

You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips. The touch of her soft lips, combined with the light pressure of the suction, was simply electrifying. And she seemed to love the reaction she provoked, laughing softly as she continued, her movements increasing in intensity.

“Like this, is it good?” she asked, her voice slightly muffled, as she kept the tip of your dick in her mouth. With each word, the vibration made you lose more and more control.

"Keep going... just like that... it's really good," you managed to say, the words escaping with difficulty. She gave a low, satisfied laugh before going back to what she was doing, now using her tongue to explore the tip with even more curiosity. She swirls her tongue in slow, teasing circles, gently increasing the pressure before relaxing, repeating the motion as if she's experiencing something new each time.

"It's kind of weird," she says suddenly, pulling her mouth away for a second to catch her breath but keeping her hand firmly around your cock, playing with the base like it's something she just learned to use. "But in a good way, you know? Like... kind of funny."

"There's nothing funny about this," you say, almost laughing but trying to keep your composure. "Just... keep doing what you were doing."

She smiles, that mischievous smile that shows she knows exactly what she's doing. "Okay, okay... I'll be a good sister, I promise." And with that, she puts the tip of your cock back in her mouth, now with more determination, sucking with a steady rhythm that makes your whole body react.

You and the camera watch everything, your mind torn between the rising lust and the surrealness of the situation. The way she slips into the role, playing with the idea of being a little sister "discovering" something so dangerous and exciting, only heightens the effect. She sucks the tip with absurd concentration, as if each movement were a new step in a forbidden game.

She pulls the cock out of her mouth again, her hands still busy, and looks at you, eyes gleaming with excitement that comes more from the game than the act itself. "Do you want me to keep going like this? Or should I do something else? I... I can learn quickly, you know."

"So, remember the balls? You can suck them too. I’ll like that a lot."

"You said they’re sensitive, right?" Her voice has that exaggerated tone of curiosity, like she's playing a little sister who wants to learn everything, absolutely everything. "What do I do with these... little balls?"

You, already sunk into the role she’s forcing on you, struggle to keep your voice steady. "Yeah... yes. They’re... sensitive. You can... suck them too. But, carefully."

She raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Suck? Like I did with your cock?"

You nod, the words almost slipping. "Yes. But... slower, okay?"

"Mmm, got it!" she murmurs in a devilishly sweet voice. "I'll take care of you, just like you take care of me."

She lowers her head further, moving slowly down to your balls, as if she’s deliberating her next move. She gives them another lick, experimental and almost casual, like she’s licking a popsicle in front of the TV on a Saturday afternoon, and not your body.

"Like this?" Her voice is loaded with fake innocence, but the mischievous smile on her lips leaves no doubt that Eunbi knows exactly what she’s doing. "Or should I be a bit... more careful?"

You swallow hard. "That’s it, just… a little slower..."

She giggles again, that light laugh that makes it seem like you’re really playing make-believe. But, obviously, what she’s doing is far from that. She tilts her head more and begins licking your balls slowly, this time without hesitation, but still with that touch of exaggerated curiosity.

"It's funny," she comments between licks. "I didn’t know they could get harder." With each word, she lets her tongue glide smoothly over the sensitive skin, teasing in a way that makes everything feel like one big game.

You can barely think of a coherent response. "Yeah... the more you play with the balls, the 'harder' they get," is all you can say, trying to maintain some control while her head moves between the base of your cock and your balls, like she’s deciding which part she likes best.

Then she looks up again, as if a brilliant idea just struck her. "What if I suck it all at once? Do you think I can fit it all in my mouth?"

"Yes... go ahead, try..."

And she does, enveloping your balls with her mouth slowly and carefully, almost with that rehearsed sweetness, like an obedient little sister.

"Am I doing well?" she asks in that sweet little voice, her words muffled as she continues playing with your balls, moving her head side to side, as if she’s, once again, testing the limits of what she can do.

You almost laugh, but it’s a forced laugh, the kind you make when you’ve been taken to a place where reason was lost long ago. "You’re such a good girl!"

She smiles, satisfied. "I want to be the best little sister in the world!"

"Okay, if you really want to be the best little sister in the world, then do as you promised and show me what’s under your panties, alright?" you ask, knowing it’s best to stop for now, or the video will end in just a blowjob.

She obediently stands up, unbuttoning her skirt with deliberate slowness, almost ceremoniously. You get rid of your pants and boxers for good and sit on the edge of the bed. She lets the fabric slide down her thighs to the floor, revealing pink panties. It doesn’t help that she seems genuinely excited about it, like she’s playing with something her parents didn’t allow.

"Do you like it?" she asks, turning slightly to show off the pink panties decorated with little animals and bows on the sides.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your composure, which is a colossal challenge considering the scene. "It’s... yeah, it’s nice."

"Nice?" She pretends to be offended, crossing her arms over her chest. "These panties are cute. I chose them especially for my brother." She emphasizes the ‘brother’ with a tone that should be sweet but only manages to sound dangerously suggestive.

"Sure, sure," you reply, looking away for a second, as if that would help you escape the trap. "Cute."

With an even wider smile, she slowly lowers her panties, revealing her already wet pussy. The ‘little stepsister’ looks at you with a rehearsed expression of pure innocence. "Huh? Why... is it so wet?"

You take a deep breath, knowing that any answer to that question will only dig you deeper. But like any protagonist in a story who’s clearly made the worst decision, you answer: "It’s because... you like me. Your body reacts like that when you... really like someone."

She ponders for a second, as if she’s considering this revelation for the first time. "Ah... that makes sense. I do really like you, you know?"

"Yeah... I like you a lot too," you murmur, as if that would help keep things within some kind of boundary.

"So," she continues, her eyes fixed on yours, "what do we do now, brother? How are you going to take care of me?"

You try to keep your voice calm, even though you know it’s quickly becoming impossible. "Why don’t you start... touching your pussy? Slowly. Just to see how it feels."

She seems surprised, but excited by the suggestion. Slowly, her fingers begin to descend, gliding over her soft skin until they reach her wet pussy. And the moans start, first light, then becoming continuous, accompanied by a smile that drives you crazy.

"Like this?" she asks, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

"Yes, exactly like that," you reply, your voice a little rougher than you’d like, slowly stroking your cock while you film and watch the scene.

She continues, her fingers still timid, almost hesitant, like she’s discovering a new toy and doesn’t know exactly how to use it. She bites her lower lip, clearly enjoying her own curiosity, but you notice that something... is missing.

"No, no... this way it won’t be as good," you say, trying to sound instructional, which is a colossal challenge given the situation. "Let me show you a better way."

She stops, her eyes blinking at you with a mix of surprise and excitement. "Show me? Like... you’re going to teach me, big brother?" She smiles like she’s learning to do homework, except the ‘lesson’ at hand is far from academic.

"Yes... that’s it, I’ll show you. Trust me. Lie down on my bed and open your legs."

You stand up as she does what you asked, her legs slowly spreading to give you full access. With a sigh, you slide your hand between her thighs, your fingers lightly brushing her warm, damp pussy.

She trembles slightly at the touch, letting out a soft moan. "What are you going to do...?"

"Just relax, okay? You'll feel much more pleasure that way," you respond, still in 'older brother instructing' mode, because somehow that twisted logic makes sense right now.

Your fingers find her clit, and you start making slow circles, pressing just the right way—the way you know will make her writhe with pleasure. And, as expected, her moans intensify, her hips moving involuntarily against your hand.

"Ah... this is... so much better," she whispers, her eyes half-closed, her voice now more drawn out, almost surprised at the intensity of what she's feeling. "This feels so good, you're making me feel so good!" She arches her back, getting more lost in the touch, her hands squeezing her breasts, still covered by the baby tee, her moans echoing through the room. "This... this is incredible," she breathes between sighs. "Do it again, brother. Do it like that."

You comply, your fingers now firmer, exploring the small spasms of her body, each touch precise to make her feel more, to make her moan louder. Her breathing becomes ragged, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, and for a moment, the absurd theatrics of the situation disappear, replaced by a raw, physical connection.

"You like that, don’t you?" you ask, knowing the answer is obvious.

"I love it... Mmm, I didn't know I could feel this way." she replies, her voice broken. "You're... you're the best brother I could ever have."

Your fingers move faster now, firm and precise, playing her body like an instrument, each stroke making her tremble. She's gasping, eyes closed, writhing beneath you, her hips rising and falling against your hand. It's a hypnotic sight—almost like watching a chaotic dance, where her body is the instrument, and you, the conductor.

"Ah... brother, I... I’m feeling something strange..." she murmurs, her voice hoarse, almost trembling.

You smile, keeping your tone calm, as if you've been through this before. "It's normal... just relax and let it happen. It'll feel good, trust me."

She lets out a long, nearly broken moan as her body begins to lose control, her muscles contracting involuntarily around your hand. The camera is focused on her movements, capturing every contortion, every muffled moan, as if it were the final piece of a banned masterpiece in several countries.

"Ah, ah... I can't... Oooh..." She begins to beg, her words dissolving into pure sound, as your fingers continue, relentless, pressing and circling, giving no reprieve.

"That's it, let it out... it'll feel good, just let it all out." You encourage her, your voice soft, almost paternal, a sharp irony considering the context.

And then, it happens. She arches sharply, her body trembling violently, and you feel her wet heat spill over your hand. She comes with a scream that echoes through the room, her moans transforming into a primal sound, pure instinct and release. You keep playing her, extending the moment until the last spasm fades.

The camera captures everything—the unbridled pleasure, the ecstasy etched into every curve of her body. Every tremor and sigh are recorded.

When she finally collapses on the bed, exhausted, her breathing uneven, you gently pull your fingers away, bringing your soaked hand up to the camera lens for a close-up.

"Good job, little sister," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice. She just giggles, exhausted but satisfied, her body still trembling with the last traces of pleasure.

"I knew I could trust you," she murmurs, eyes closed, a satisfied smile on her lips.

"But we're not done yet," you say. "I want you to get on all fours for me, I'll show you something.”

Eunbi eagerly complies, lying face down with that almost naive obedience, arching her back with the precision of someone who's done this before. And you, in the role of the responsible older brother, observe and film.

"Now open that ass," you say, giving her a light slap that makes her skin ripple, and without question, she pulls her small hands to spread her cheeks, revealing her tight little asshole and wet pussy, everything perfectly exposed.

You run your fingers over her pussy, wetting them carefully, like you're preparing for a sacred ritual. Then you slide the wet finger down to her tight little asshole. She shifts a bit but stays in position, letting out a low moan as you finally push the finger inside.

"This little ass is precious, you know?" you say, almost in a teacherly tone as your finger slowly explores. "No one else can play with it but me. Just me."

She moans again, a sound mixed with pleasure and a promise about to be made. "I know, brother. It’s yours... only yours."

Her voice sounds sweet, almost begging for more, and you increase the pressure with your finger, pushing a little deeper, testing how far you can go. She arches her back even more, as if trying to make your job easier, offering her body.

"Good to know you understand," you tease, and she murmurs something in agreement. "Because if anyone else tries, there’s going to be a problem, understood?"

She bites her lip, her fingers still holding her cheeks apart. "I promise, brother... it’s only yours."

You smile, satisfied with her promise. "That’s how I like it."

Eunbi remains there, face down, obedient, her hands gripping her cheeks firmly, opening herself to you as if this were the natural purpose of her existence. Her breathing is heavy but eager as your fingers explore, playing with the tight little asshole still learning what it means to belong to someone. You feel the heat of her skin, and the way she trembles with each of your movements makes it clear that despite everything, she's enjoying it.

"Good girl," you say in a tone of approval that sounds almost paternal, moving your finger with more determination now, circling slowly before pressing in again. She lets out a shaky sigh, biting her lip and closing her eyes as if trying to focus on anything other than the pleasurable discomfort you're causing.

"It... it hurts," she admits in a trembling voice, as if revealing a secret, but then immediately moans again, that strange mix of pain and desire. "But it feels good..." She arches her back a little more, as if to encourage you, even as her body struggles to adjust to the new sensation.

You chuckle, pleased with her progress. Then you wet your fingers more in her pussy.

"It’s going to hurt a bit at first," you admit, moving the wet finger more slowly now, just to test her limits. "But don’t worry. Soon enough your little ass will get used to it." The promise is made in a reassuring tone.

Eunbi lets out a louder moan as you penetrate a little deeper, her fingers gripping her cheeks tighter as if trying to steady herself. She moves, arching her back into an even more inviting angle, legs slightly apart. "You... you think?" Her voice is a mix of insecurity and excitement, almost as if she's asking for more.

"I know," you respond, soaking in the confidence of the role, moving your finger with more rhythm, teasing her. "You're a good girl, and good girls always learn fast."

She moans again, her face buried in the mattress, but her arched back continues offering everything you've asked for and more. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna be a good girl for you, brother. I promise..."

You pause for a moment, your fingers still wet from the recent exploration. Eunbi—or, for the purposes of this performance, your ‘stepsister’—breathes deeply, still arched, her body tense with anticipation. The atmosphere is thick, and for a brief second, you just stand there, silently absorbing every almost imperceptible tremor running down her spine. The camera, your silent partner, focuses on every nuance of her expression, every shiver.

“It’s time for you to find out what you’ve been wanting, princess,” you say.

“Please… put your cock in me.”

"Say please," you respond, your voice low, so heavy with desire you barely recognize it. "Be a good girl and ask politely."

Eunbi, ever the meticulous actress, turns her face toward you, her wide eyes behind the mask with an innocence that only exists in fiction—those big eyes, the kind that say ‘I’m pure, I swear,’ even when nothing happening in the room suggests anything remotely innocent. Her breathing is fast, like a theater student at the peak of their dramatic performance.

"Please..." Her voice is a fragile whisper, but sweet, carefully rehearsed to sound vulnerable. "Please, brother... I want you to put your thick cock inside my tight little pussy."

Ah, there it is. The final barrier collapsed with the weight of a house of cards pushed by a breeze. You can’t help but smile—not that the camera can catch it—as you adjust your position with the precision of a watchmaker fine-tuning a delicate gear. The heat emanating from her body is magical, and when you finally penetrate her, slowly, each inch is consumed by her pussy, which wraps around you with a softness that defies reality.

She lets out a moan—the kind of sound that floats between pleasure and surprise, as if she’s being taken into unknown territory while, at the same time, exactly where she wanted to be. "Like that... like that... please," she moans, her voice strained, fingers gripping the sheets as if she’s on the brink of an existential revelation and only the sheets can keep her from being pulled into the abyss.

You start to move, oscillating between slow and deliberate, savoring the moment like you’re tasting the finest wine in the world, while she whispers sweet words between moans.

“Yeah, good girl!” you say softly.

The pace increases, the sound of bodies colliding echoes through the room, and as Eunbi arches her back, moaning for more with an almost religious fervor, you feel like you’re in control of not just her, but the entire scene.

You begin to pick up the pace, your movements gaining a life of their own. Beneath you, Eunbi is moaning non-stop, each sound a bit louder, a bit more desperate. Then, with the precision of a medieval archer hitting the bullseye, your hand comes down fast and firm on her ass.

The slap echoes through the room like an unexpected sound. The impact is immediate: her skin turns a reddish hue, the contrast clear and satisfying against her pale skin. Eunbi lets out a moan that’s half pain, half pleasure—the kind of sound that makes you want to repeat the action just to hear it again.

"More," she moans, her eyes half-closed, her voice muffled by the sheets, as if talking to herself but at the same time asking directly for you. "Please, spank me more, brother!!”

Ah, how could you resist such a polite request? Your hand comes down again, harder this time, leaving another red mark, and her body writhes in pleasure. You begin to alternate between thrusts and slaps, creating a symphony of pleasure and impact that seems to defy the basic rules of decency.

"You like that, don't you?" you say, your voice thick with provocation, as your hand meets her ass again and again, each slap resonating like a gong in a distant temple—or, in this case, the perfect sound of approval for what you two are doing.

"Yes!" she moans, the words coming out in broken breaths, "please... don’t stop!" She raises her hips higher, almost begging for more, and you, always generous, don’t disappoint.

Another slap. Harder. Her body reacts instantly, and the moans turn into something almost primal, as if she’s surrendering completely to the sensation.

"You’re a good girl, baby," you say. "But good girls need to be reminded who’s in control."

She only moans in response, her breathing ragged, her body completely given over to the moment. And, of course, you're more than willing to keep claiming territory, with each slap and thrust taking both of you closer to an inevitable climax.

You stop for a moment, feeling the sweat drip down your forehead, looking at Eunbi and the red marks you left on her buttocks.

“Now, be a good girl and ride me,” you say. “You’re going to like this position, I promise.”

You pause the recording.

Eunbi, obedient and eager as always, pulls away from you, giving you room to lie down on the bed. And then, with a grace that would make any mythological goddess jealous, she positions herself over you. For a brief second, your eyes meet hers, and there’s that exchange of complicity. That look that says: ‘Yes, we know exactly what we’re doing.’

You resume recording.

She lowers herself onto your cock, with a slowness that’s almost torturous, but at the same time, delicious. With every inch she takes in, you feel her warmth enveloping you, the tightness that almost defies logic. She moans softly, adjusting her body, and starts to move. Slow at first, learning the right rhythm.

But, of course, that doesn’t last long.

Soon, she’s riding with more intensity, picking up the pace. Her breasts bounce under the tight baby tee, and then, with a swift movement, she pulls the fabric up, revealing her large breasts that now move freely to the rhythm of her ride.

You can’t resist – who could? – and zoom in on her breasts. Her moans, the bouncing breasts, the hips moving up and down with precision. The camera can barely keep up, but you’re not exactly thinking about perfect angles right now.

This is living art, and you’re documenting every second as best you can.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” you say, half to her, half to the video. “Keep going, my good girl.”

Eunbi bites her lip, increasing the pace even more, and the room is filled with sounds – the bed creaking, her moans getting louder, the slap of bodies meeting. Your fingers grip her waist, helping to guide her, but the truth is, she’s in control for now.

And honestly, you’re not complaining.

She tilts her head back, eyes closed, her whole body focused on the frenzied movement. “Do you like watching me like this?” she asks between moans, with that completely calculated innocence, knowing exactly the effect her words have.

“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice hoarse, as you keep filming, knowing this recording will be something people will want to watch – many times.

The way she moves, even as her body consumes you inch by inch, is a balance between the innocent and the forbidden, as if she’s trying to convince you that she really is a good girl, only with a very, very fertile imagination.

“Please, brother...” she murmurs, almost in a whisper, leaning forward. The words come out in a sweet tone, with a hint of hesitation, as if testing the limits of roleplay with each syllable. “Do you think I’m being a good girl... for you?”

You smile, unable to hold back the sadistic pleasure that surfaces with the question. Your hand moves up her thigh, squeezing firmly. “You’re doing very well, little sister,” you reply. “But good girls can do better. Come on, show me how much you want to be the best.”

She bites her lip, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and nervousness – part of the act, of course, but brilliantly performed. “I... I can do better,” she says, trying her best to sound shy, as if begging for your approval. “I promise I can be the best little sister for you. Just... let me show you.”

And then, she lifts herself again and starts moving with more intensity, speeding up as her hands rest on your abs for balance. Her moans grow louder, almost stuttered, but she keeps the sweetness in her voice. “This feels so good... do you like seeing me like this, brother?” She asks, as if genuinely concerned about your verdict.

You don’t answer immediately, just watching her with that calculated expression. “You haven’t convinced me yet,” you finally say, your words sharp. “Good girls need to try harder. If you want to be my favorite, you’re going to have to work for it.”

Her eyes widen in mock concern, her breathing coming in heavier pants as her effort increases. She leans forward, her hair falling around her face as she continues to ride you, her movements becoming more intense, and the steady pace she maintains pushes you over the edge. “Brother... I’m trying,” she says between moans, her voice tinged with a mixture of effort and supposed innocence, as if the simple act of continuing is proof of her dedication. “Are you... are you enjoying it? Am I being a good girl right now?”

Your smile widens, seeing how far she’s willing to go to keep the fantasy alive. “You’re almost there, baby,” you reply with a superior tone, enjoying the power of the moment. “But good girls don’t just try. They give it their all. Show me how much you want this.”

She lets out a small moan, her eyes filled with an intensity that seemed to be growing with each movement. “I… I can do more,” she murmurs, picking up speed, her thighs now pressed against your body, rising and falling at an almost frantic pace. Her breasts bounce with the force of her ride, and her lips tremble with the effort, but she keeps going, determined.

“That’s it,” you murmur, your eyes locked on hers as you watch the hypnotic sway of her exposed breasts. “Good girl. Keep it up. Do it right!"

She bites her lip hard, clearly struggling to please you, her hands gripping your shoulders tightly as she picks up the pace even more. “I… I’m doing this for you, brother,” she moans, her voice sweet and broken, feigning complete devotion. “I want you to love me. I want to be your favorite girl. Please… love me…”

You grip her waist, helping to guide her movements. Her body moves down harder, with more determination. “If you keep it up, I might just love you,” you tease, tightening your grip. “But only if you really try. Go on, faster. Show me how much you want to be my good girl.”

She obeys, her moans louder now, mixed with panting breaths. “I’ll be… I promise,” she barely manages to say between her rapid movements. “I’ll be your good girl. The best one ever. I swear!”

“Then make me cum,” you say, your voice low and controlled, but full of expectation. “Only good girls know how to do this. Will you make it, little sister? Will you show me that you deserve it?”

She responds with only a strangled moan: “I- I w-will!”

“Then turn over,” you demand, your voice low but full of command. She stops riding you slowly, a smile on her lips, as if she’s been waiting for this order all along. She carefully turns her body, now facing away from you, her ass sticking up in a way that leaves her completely exposed. “Now you’re going to let me play with your asshole.”

"Brother... you're going to take care of me, right? Mommy and daddy said you needed to take care of me."

"Of course I'll take care of you. But now you're going to let me play with your asshole." You take your cock in one hand, holding it tight like a guide. "Come on."

She hesitates for a second, biting her lip with a hint of insecurity—not of the Eunbi you know, but of the character she's playing. "B-But... what are you going to do there, brother? You shouldn't..."

"Trust me," you murmur, almost out of patience now. "You're going to like it, it's going to make you feel really, really good."

She lets out a small moan, leaning forward, and you start to press in slowly. Entry is difficult—the pink ring of muscle resists at first, tight and almost impenetrable, as if her body is trying to say no while her mind and desire say otherwise.

"It's too tight..." she murmurs, her voice full of feigned nervousness, part of the act. But at the same time, there's something real in that sound, the little tremor in her voice as she tries to adjust herself... It's Eunbi's first anal too, not just the character's. "Do you think it'll really fit, brother?"

"It will fit," you say, your voice low, controlled, with a promise of pleasure behind it. "Just relax. You trust your brother, don't you?"

She nods, inch by inch, you feel her body giving in. The initial resistance gives way to a delicious pressure when it finally goes in. She lets out a loud moan, surprised.

“Mmm, brother… this… this is so different.” Her voice sounds vulnerable, almost shy, as she begins to move slightly, trying to get used to the intrusion.

“You’re being a good girl,” you reply, controlling the pace, thrusting in and out slowly. “You’ll like it more as you keep going.” And with each movement, each slow thrust, she begins to loosen up, her moans getting louder, her body adjusting to the pleasure.

“Come on, brother… take care of me,” she whispers.

“You’re making me so proud, baby. Your ass is perfect.”

“Ooohh, brother…” She lets out a long sigh, trying to adjust, moving her hips slightly, exploring the new sensation. “Why does this… feel so wrong, yet so good?” Her voice is of calculated innocence that drives you wilder with each passing moment.

“It’s because… sometimes, the best things are the ones we shouldn’t do,” you reply, controlling your tone to keep your character, even though the pleasure is almost knocking you over. You push deeper, feeling her insane grip. “And you’ve always been a curious girl, right? Wanting to try everything…”

She lets out a little laugh, although the tension is still there, hidden beneath the surface. “I am curious, yes, brother… I want to learn everything from you.” Then, she starts moving again, slowly at first, moving up and down hesitantly. “Do you think… I’m a good girl for wanting this?”

You can’t keep calm any longer. Her words, that sweet tone mixed with boldness, are destroying you inside. “You’re the best girl, the hottest, the most obedient,” you reply, your voice husky with desire as you hold her hips tightly to help her keep the rhythm.

“So, I’m going to make my big brother happy,” she murmurs, and with that, she starts riding you harder, her movements more confident now, her hesitation disappearing with each passing second. Each time she goes down, you feel the crushing pressure and heat, a tightness that makes you see stars. Eunbi’s moans are getting louder and louder, and beyond the character, you know how much she’s enjoying this.

“That’s it, like that,” you encourage, your hands now squeezing her ass. “Keep going, baby… show your brother how much you want to make him happy.”

Eunbi arches her back, throwing her hips back with more desire, the sound of their skin slapping against each other echoing through the room. “I’m going to… I’m going to take care of you,” she moans, between giggles, clearly enjoying the role. “But you have to take care of me too, okay? Because I’m just your little stepsister… I can’t do everything on my own…”

Her answer is almost fatal to your sanity. You pull her hips harder, helping her to go all the way down, feeling the overwhelming pleasure consume you. “I’ll take care of you,” you promise, without even thinking about the words. “I’ll teach you everything.”

She speeds up her movements, and now the room is filled with the sounds of her body against yours, her moans getting louder, more desperate. “Brother…” she begins, her voice filled with a mix of pleasure and excitement, “I think... I think I’m really enjoying this. You like being in my tight ass, don’t you?”

You almost laugh at her brazenness, but the pleasure is too much. “I love it,” you reply, feeling the urgency take over. “You’re being so good to me. Now, let me fill you with pleasure... until you can’t take it anymore.”

Eunbi continues riding, her movements now more desperate, her face clearly torn between keeping character and giving herself completely to the pleasure. “Aaaah, brother… You'll fill my ass with your cum, right? Because... you promised to take care of me.”

Her head tilts back a little, a mischievous smile lighting up her face, but her moans cut off any possible response. You’re close, so close that words no longer make sense, but the roleplay is still in the air, and you know Eunbi is going to push all the way in.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna make you cum so much, big brother. Because you’re the best brother in the world,” she moans, grinding harder, and you feel like you won’t last much longer.

“You’re going to make your brother so happy… now, get on all fours because your brother is close… I’m gonna fuck your ass until I cum.”

Eunbi lets out a short laugh, her breathing still ragged from the effort and pleasure. She slides out of you slowly, almost provocatively, and you can see how much her asshole has already opened up with your cock. When she finally stands up, she throws that playful look over her shoulder, biting her lip as if she knows exactly what she's doing.

“On all fours?” She asks, with false innocence, as she positions herself on the bed. “Do you want your sister to be like this, brother? Do you want to fill my tight asshole with your milk?”

The answer doesn't need to be verbalized — your body already speaks for you. She leans on the bed, sticking her ass up, her back arched perfectly, offering everything provocatively. The ridiculously short baby tee remains raised, her heavy breasts hanging from her body.

“You know how to obey, don't you? Good girl…”

Without further hesitation, you stand behind her, your hand running down her body, exploring the perfect curve of her hips and the pulsing heat of her skin. The camera is well positioned, capturing every angle of the final moment. Her pussy is wet, swollen with excitement, but it’s her asshole that you want now, and she knows it. Your firm hand positions itself on her ass cheeks, slowly spreading her, revealing the tight little hole that barely hides how much she enjoyed every second of it.

“Are you ready, little sister? Because now I’m going to put everything in you… and I won’t stop until I cum deep inside your ass.”

She looks back, smiling. “I trust you, brother. Do whatever you want with me.”

With that, you line up your hard cock against her narrow entrance and begin to thrust. It’s still tight, incredibly tight, and the initial resistance only makes the pleasure more intense. Eunbi lets out a muffled moan as the head of your cock finally enters, her body adjusting to the size with a mix of discomfort and pleasure.

“Ah... like that,” she moans. “My asshole is burning so much... but it’s so good.”

You push deeper, inch by inch, until you’re completely inside. The pressure is unbearable, the heat and firmness of Eunbi’s asshole squeezing you in an overwhelming way. With your hand firmly placed on her hip, you begin to push slowly, feeling her tight asshole slowly give way.

The camera focuses on this movement, of course, because, after all, the show is for the audience.

Eunbi lets out a moan, something between surprise and pleasure. “Mmm, you are so big, brother,” she murmurs, her voice cracking with the effort of keeping the role.

You go deeper, the camera recording every movement, every inch. “It's because good girls deserve big cocks,” you tease, thrusting harder now, each thrust eliciting a louder moan from her.

“I am,” she replies between gasps. “A good girl... just for you.”

The moans grow louder as you pick up the pace, fucking her ass with increasing force. The camera shakes a little in your hand, but it’s capturing everything, every detail of Eunbi’s masked expression as she grips the sheets, her fingers digging into the fabric.

As the pace intensifies, the tension in the room builds to a breaking point, and you feel the inevitable wave of pleasure about to spill over. Eunbi is panting, her moans turning into excited whispers. Your free hand grips her ass cheek tightly, keeping her open, and her tight asshole wraps around your cock like a hot trap. You know you’re close to the end, and the thought of it only increases the urgency.

"You... are going to take it all, aren't you?" The question comes out almost like a command, her voice hoarse with pleasure. The camera, forgotten for a second, shakes slightly in her hand, but it's still capturing everything.

"Yes, yes!!" she gasps, her eyes rolling back in their sockets, something the camera unfortunately doesn't capture. "I'm going to take it all! I want... I want you to fill my ass, please! ‘Cause I'm your good girl... your favorite stepsister."

Every word, spoken in that sweet, lustful voice, only makes you harder, closer to climax. You grip her hips and thrust hard, each thrust sinking deeper, every inch of your cock being devoured by that unbearable tightness.

"You like your brother's cock, don't you?" Her voice is deep now, full of the energy of someone who knows she's in control. "Tell me. Tell me what you want!"

“I... I love it!!,” she moans, her voice cracking with pleasure, as if she were about to come undone right there. “I want you to cum inside... please, make me yours, for real... Cum inside your sister!”

And that’s what pushes you over the edge.

With one last thrust, you sink your cock all the way in, feeling her body tremble with the impact. The heat begins to spread inside her, the cum spurting with an almost unbearable intensity, filling the tight little asshole of the “little stepsister” who is moaning in pleasure beneath you.

“Mmm... Fuck! Do you feel it, baby?” you tease, thrusting hard as the last hot spurt of cum floods her. “This is what you wanted, right? To be a good girl for your brother.”

She lets out a long moan, her shoulders shaking, her legs weak with pleasure. “Yes, baby… Mmm, I'm feeling all your cum deep inside me!”

You stay inside her for a few more seconds, feeling the heat of her body and the involuntary squeeze of her ass around your cock. Eunbi takes a deep breath, her moans now fading, but the satisfied smile still on her face.

"You made me feel so special," she murmurs, still in the role. "Now I'm your favorite little girl, right? Because I'm the only one who gets your cum."

You pant, lost in pleasure, your eyes closed as you answer: "It's always been you, baby... always you."

You're still breathing heavily, like you just ran a marathon, but your mind has already switched into content production mode — the ship had already sunk, so might as well make this worth something.

With the camera still in hand, you lean in for a better shot.

“Alright, show me the result,” you say bluntly, pointing the camera at the target.

Eunbi moves slowly, resting her elbows on the mattress, her legs still trembling a bit, and with a satisfied smile on her face, she spreads her cheeks with her hands, fully opening the angle for the lens.

“Is this good?” she asks with that fake sweetness you now recognize as part of the performance, but it still works anyway.

“Perfect,” you reply, adjusting the focus, the lens capturing every detail. She spreads her ass slightly, and the cum inside slowly drips out, a bright white line lazily descending, as if it knows it's the star of the show.

“Now look at the camera, baby,” you ask, while she turns her head back, her masked eyes meeting the lens with that look of pure satisfaction. “Tell them what just happened.”

Eunbi, without hesitation, slips into the sweet and innocent tone of her role, “Look what he did to me... filled my little ass with cum.” She giggles, and it's genuine, mixed with that post-climax thrill. “I guess you really like me, huh, bro?”

“Of course I do,” you say, more as part of the act than anything else.

But deep down, there’s something there that isn’t just performance.

“Now rub it a little,” you ask. Eunbi giggles, and you help her, pulling one of her cheeks while she starts rubbing a finger around the entrance, mixing your semen with her juice.

“See that, bro?” she asks with an adorable giggle, “Now I’m all dirty because of you!”

The camera focuses on the scene as you let out a tired but satisfied moan. “I can see that, princess. You got really messy.”

She keeps playing with her fingers, spreading the remnants of your load provocatively, knowing exactly how to play to the lens. “And now, what are you gonna do to me? You left my little ass all wrecked, it’s burning a lot…”

You pretend to think, but the answer is obvious. “Well, I guess now I need to take care of you, don’t I?”

“With love?” she asks, voice full of tenderness.

“With a lot of love,” you reply.

The camera finally shuts off with that classic final beep, like it’s exhausted too. You let out a sigh, while Eunbi, still catching her breath, stands up and removes the mask.

"Yeah, game over," you say, placing the camera on the desk. The vibe shifts instantly. The heavy air from the scene disappears, and the apartment feels normal again, like it had been put in studio mode for a brief moment.

Eunbi stretches her arms like she’s just woken up from a nap, then extends a hand toward you. You high-five, like two classmates finishing a school project instead of… well, what you just did.

“We did good,” she says with a tired but satisfied smile. “Teamwork was solid.”

“Yeah, it was,” you respond, still trying to process it all. “You okay? I mean... because of, you know...”

She laughs, shaking her head. “The anal? Oh, I should have used the fucking lube. But I’m fine. It stings a little, but it'll pass," she explains, as if she’s talking about a mild sunburn.

You’re not sure if you should feel relieved or admire how casually she handles it. Before you can overthink it, Eunbi suddenly turns and hugs you. The warmth of her body against yours is almost comforting, even with sweat still drying on your skin. “Seriously, thanks for doing this with me,” she murmurs, her voice soft, almost vulnerable.

You stand there, a bit awkward, but aware that this moment matters. “It was kinda… weird, right?”

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, chuckling lightly. “Weird? Of course it was weird. But, like, in a funny way. It was a little bizarre at first, but then it was just… getting into character. In the end, we just… made it work.” She shrugs, and the gesture is so typical of her—practical, lighthearted, never taking things too seriously.

“Next time,” she says, pulling off her tight baby tee, “I’ll pick something less... out of the comfort zone.”

She laughs and casually grabs her panties and skirt from the floor.

You watch as she straightens up and walks toward the bedroom door, already slipping back into her natural self, as if the scene had just been a quick detour from routine.

“Wanna shower with me?” she asks, with no malice, just a simple invitation after a particularly exhausting marathon.

You hesitate, a second that feels like forever. The temptation to give in once more is strong. It’d be so easy to say 'yes,' to go with the flow. But you shake your head, declining. "I'll go later... I need to make the bed."

She raises an eyebrow, surprised by the refusal, but doesn’t push. “Alright,” she says with an easy smile, already heading for the shower. But before she crosses the door, she turns, like she’s about to say something important. You even brace yourself, expecting some post-scene revelation, some deep reflection.

“Feel like pizza tonight?” she asks, with not a trace of tension or seriousness.

“Yeah… I guess,” you reply vaguely, still trying to keep up with how quickly she shifts gears.

And then it’s just you and the messy bed. The camera’s still there, the sheets that need fixing, but what really needs fixing is your head. You wish you hadn’t agreed to film. Hadn’t let her hands on your skin convince you again. But how do you resist Eunbi when, with that smile and a promise, she makes everything seem like one big fun game, a fantasy that’s too easy to fall into?

Except while she can turn off the character with a snap and get back to her practical life, you’re stuck. Because it’s not the role that’s messing with your head, it’s what’s behind it. It’s what you feel for her, something you know shouldn’t exist and that Eunbi clearly doesn’t share. To her, it’s work, pleasure, about views and clicks. And sure, who would turn down being the lucky partner in a porn video with Eunbi?

But at the end of the day, is that all you are? You sigh, trying to focus on fixing the bed, while inside, the knot tightens.

—

It’s a cloudy morning, with that fine misty rain that barely gets you wet but can soak you through if you stand still for two minutes. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, tying the laces on your running shoes. Running is something you used to do every day, a habit you let go of for some reason that now escapes you. But today is different. You’ve decided to start running again because, as always, it helps organize the mental chaos that has become your life lately.

As you pass through the hallway, Eunbi’s bedroom door is half-open. You think about closing it to keep the warmth in, but a glow from inside stops you. It’s the light from her laptop. You hesitate, but of course, your curiosity wins. You peek in as casually as possible, and there she is: Eunbi, sleeping in a way that’s both adorable and awkward, with the laptop still on beside her, like it fell asleep with her, exhausted from hours of work. Or from whatever she spent the night editing.

You can’t help it. In fact, it’s impossible to resist. Seeing her sleep so peacefully stirs something in you, only making the mess in your head worse. Why does she have to be so… Eunbi? You walk over, switch off the laptop that’s still open on the OnlyFans homepage, with the notification icon showing +99 interactions. You close the lid carefully and place it on the desk. Then, you adjust the blankets that are haphazardly draped over her.

She stirs a bit but doesn’t wake up.

—

You start running in the park, with that light rain and cold wind cutting across your face—the kind of weather the meteorologists would call 'uncomfortable,' but you would call 'perfect for clearing your head.' Each step on the wet pavement echoes in your ears. With every breath, your chest tightens, not just from the cold, but because the only thing more intense than the physical effort is the whirlwind of thoughts now screaming in your mind.

Eunbi. Always her. Like a beautiful shadow you can’t shake. The images from last night, the mask, the dirty talk, the way she always seems to know exactly how to melt any resistance you try to build up. You almost laugh, bitterly, realizing just how pathetic it is to be stuck in this cycle.

Fuck, the truth is you’ve been hopelessly in love with her for a while now. Of course, you have, but the problem isn’t knowing it—it’s figuring out what to do about it. You’re running, trying to escape the reality that no matter how much you love Eunbi, she seems to be in a completely different universe. A universe where she can suggest absurd things, like some ridiculous roleplay or a threesome, while you, the idiot, are more worried about the color of the blanket you adjusted for her earlier.

Sweat drips down your forehead, mixing with the rain. You pick up the pace, trying to turn this confusion into clarity. You can’t keep living on this emotional rollercoaster. Every time she involves you, you convince yourself it’s just your body being used as a tool, just another role to play to help her grow in this obscure niche.

But with every touch, every smile, your mind whispers: What if it’s not?

What if, somehow, she’s just as lost in this as you are?

Maybe if you finally tell her how you feel, the pieces will fall into place. She could leave this life of videos, masks, and scripts behind. It would be a release for both of you. And then, you could have something normal. A real relationship. One that doesn’t involve cameras and personas. The idea starts to take shape, becoming clearer with every mile you run. You love Eunbi. Simple. And you need to tell her. Simple as that.

Well, in theory.

The park is empty, except for a few brave souls who also thought running in the cold was a fantastic idea. You run one more lap, your body asking for rest, but your mind now buzzing with purpose. When you get back to the apartment, you’ll tell her. Direct and honest.

Then your phone vibrates. You slow down, your shoes hitting the wet ground more softly as you pull out your phone. A message. It’s from your friend. I think it worked, he writes. Your heart races in a different way this time. HR liked her profile. I think they’re gonna make an offer, man. Stay tuned. You almost slip on the path, coming to a sudden stop.

What worked? Oh, right. The plan.

The plan you secretly put together.

The job opening at the company where your friend works, in the marketing department.

The one where you secretly submitted Eunbi’s LinkedIn profile, trying to give her a chance to get out of this crazy content creator life.

Looks like the damn universe is finally working in your favor.

You find yourself smiling like an idiot.

‘It worked.’

She could have a normal life, away from the cameras, and you could start fresh together.

You barely even feel the fatigue anymore.

Now there’s only one thing left: the conversation with Eunbi.

Because, of course, confessing your feelings to a woman you see every day, who sleeps in the room next to yours, with whom you’ve been through situations that would challenge any definition of ‘strange,’ should be easy, right?

You take a deep breath.

No, it won’t be easy.

But it’ll be worth it.

—

Eunbi is in the kitchen, still looking half-asleep as she holds a cup of coffee. The dim light from the cloudy morning mixes with the cold glow of her phone screen, which she scrolls through lazily with her thumb. The coffee—a blend of ‘I need to wake up’ and’ 'I’m not sure this will help’—warms her hands, but her mind is far from awake. Her reflection on social media, though, is wide awake.

With an automatic gesture, she opens the comment tab on the latest video. It’s the new roleplay video you and she recorded the day before. The video had already racked up an impressive number of views. She sighs, taking a sip as she reads through the comments. It’s the usual mix of praise, teasing, and, of course, the kind of absurdity only the internet can provide.

"Little sis, you drove me crazy today!"

Eunbi lets out a muffled laugh. "Little sis" was probably the mildest term she came across in that sea of comments.

She quickly types a reply:

"Careful, or 'big brother' will get you too! 😘"

"I wish I were your blood brother, damn, just to make it all wrong!! I'd sneak into your room every night after our parents were asleep so we could 'play' together 😈"

Who knew people could take a weird fantasy and make it even more bizarre and unsettling?

"You need therapy, darling, but thanks for the love 🙂"

"The way you bit your lip... it made me... lose my mind."

Ah yes, the detail-oriented observers. They're always around.

"Glad I could help!!"

And then comes the classic:

"Step on me more, mommy!!!"

This time, she laughed out loud. What kind of twisted logic was this?

'Mommy' in a little sister video?

"Sweetie, pick a fantasy. I can't be your little sis AND your mommy at the same time 😅"

"Just show your face already, everyone knows you're hot"

She paused for a second. That comment felt like a jab somewhere inside her. Her face was the last piece she kept hidden, the final wall of protection between Eunbi and the world she had chosen to explore.

She took another sip of coffee as the comments kept popping up on the screen. The amount of absurdity was always a surprise, even for her. But the show had to go on, and responding was an important part of ‘engagement’.

Ah, the wonderful engagement.

"You’re my muse. One day, I’ll marry you!"

She rolled her eyes but kept a polite tone in her reply:

"Glad to inspire... but let’s start with something simpler, like not marrying strangers from the internet.

Kisses 😘"

Next comment.

"I'd give anything to be that tight top on your massive tits 😊"

Eunbi nearly dropped her phone from laughing so hard. What kind of fetish was this now? She took a deep breath before typing:

"Well, it’s actually a baby tee, but I guess clothes live too dull a life for anyone to want to be one. But who am I to judge your dreams?"

Another one popped up right after.

"Hey sis, how about teaching me in person? I’ve got so much to learn... 😏"

Ah, the ever-eager students. She rolled her eyes again, smiling slightly.

"You can learn a lot on your own with a good imagination!"

"You should make a video stepping on Legos barefoot. I bet that would be amazing!!!"

What? Where did these people come from? She bit her lip, trying to hold back laughter as she typed her reply:

"I try to keep my videos at an entertainment level, not torture 🥰 But I appreciate the creativity!"

"It’s obvious you only do this because you love being a slut, I can see it in your expression, even with the mask 🔥 I’m already your number one fan."

Her smile faltered a little. A mix of praise and silent invasion that left her with a mild discomfort.

"Glad you enjoyed the content! Loving what I do is essential. But don’t get too carried away, alright?"

She gave one last glance at the rising view and like counts, but the comments started to lose their charm.

And that’s when the ping of a LinkedIn notification appeared at the top of the screen. An app she had basically forgotten she had installed since the last time she used it was to block an annoying old guy who was pestering her.

She reads the message:

Subject: Job Opportunity - Marketing Department.

Dear Kwon Eunbi,

We are pleased to inform you that your profile has caught the attention of our Marketing Department. After a brief review, we would like to invite you to participate in the selection process for the position of Marketing Analyst.

Responsibilities:

- Development of communication and digital marketing strategies;

- Analysis of KPIs and market trends;

- Collaboration with creative teams and planning advertising campaigns;

Requirements:

- Bachelor’s degree in Marketing or related fields;

- Previous experience managing digital campaigns;

Benefits:

- Competitive salary;

- Health and dental plan;

- Flexibility for hybrid work (remote);

We look forward to your response to schedule an interview.

She almost spits out her coffee.

What the hell is this?!

For a second, everything seemed to make sense, as if the universe was aligning the stars to give her a 'respectable' way out.

But only for a second.

In truth, it felt like the damn universe was conspiring against her.

The thought of waking up early every day, dressing like an executive, sitting in a cubicle, and smiling at people she probably couldn’t stand while doing mechanical tasks...

“No, no, no. No way,” she says aloud in the empty apartment as anxiety starts to tighten around her. And the strangest part is that she feels... bad. Bad for not wanting it. Bad for thinking she should want it.

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her mind. Maybe she should, right? Maybe being ‘normal’ would be easier. Maybe this whole video thing is just a phase. She looks at her coffee, as if it held the answers, but it only reflected her face back at her. She gulps the rest down, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

On the one hand, the college-era Eunbi would’ve jumped for joy at this message. A great job in her field, something ‘respectable’ career-wise; it doesn’t get much better than that.

Well, to be fair, it wasn’t exactly her big dream, but who, after all, dreams of spreadsheets and endless emails? But now, the idea of a normal life, with bosses, deadlines, and white collars, suffocates her more than any corset in a photoshoot. She’s thinking about how good it felt to leave all that behind, how much she loved the freedom she had now.

Sure, she graduated, but that’s not what she wants.

Not anymore.

But

On the other hand, something inside her hesitated to accept that she didn’t want this opportunity. It was like there was a younger version of her somewhere, screaming in panic: "You can’t be serious, right? Turning down a job like that to... keep being a virtual slut? You’re definitely not me..." And that little voice it's annoying because it hit on an uncomfortable truth. She had, at some point, carved out a different path. A temporary one. And now, this path it's leading her into the unknown, and this offer it's like a way back to her old life.

Monotonous, but dignified.

Difficult, but without exposure.

The safe choice or the leap into the abyss.

College-era Eunbi would say being stuck in an absurd dilemma like this was insane. But the Eunbi of today knows that 'conventional' career isn’t for her.

"This is my life now," she murmurs to herself. Creating adult content wasn’t just a choice; it was her choice. And not only is she going to keep doing it — she’s going all in!

Showing her face.

Now that would be a bold move.

No more masks.

The real Eunbi for the world.

She only has one small obstacle ahead: you. She needs to tell you. Explain how things were about to change. Show you that, even though she once said this was temporary, she’s rediscovered herself and finally found something she’s good at and willing to put her effort into.

She sighs and thinks about the conversation she’ll have. Knowing you, it’s going to be a tough one. You’ll definitely want to argue, try to convince her to take the more traditional route, thinking you’re protecting her. But it’s her life, her body, her decisions.

And if she’s going all in, she has to start by being honest.

When you get back, she’ll lay it all out. In the meantime, she stretches, still feeling the weight of the job offer, and tries to imagine the look on your face when she explains her plans.

—

You come back from the run looking like a drowned rat, which, considering the weather outside, is a reasonably accurate description. Your shoes make that annoying sponge sound as you walk across the room, and Eunbi is there, sitting on the couch, sipping coffee like she’s contemplating the meaning of life—or more realistically, deciding what her next big revelation of the morning is going to be.

“Good morning,” you mutter, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Good morning...” she replies. You look away as if you have something really important to do—like grab a towel.

The bathroom is a good place to rehearse difficult conversations, so you do that while you dry off, but the words still sound wrong in your head. It’s not like there’s a manual on how to confess to your best friend that you’re in love with her after you’ve filmed sex videos together.

It would be helpful if there was.

After grabbing a coffee and taking a sip, bracing yourself for the bomb you’re about to drop, you walk back to the living room. Eunbi is still there, but now you’re looking at each other like two actors who know the big scene is coming, but neither wants to be the first to step on stage.

“We need to talk,” you both say at the same time, which would be funny if it weren’t an absolutely terrible moment for comedy.

“You first,” you say, trying to sound generous.

“No… you, please,” she insists.

“Okay,” you sigh, sitting down on the couch, already feeling the weight of what’s about to happen. The words gather in your throat, like a rescue team about to jump out of a helicopter. “Look, what I’m about to say isn’t easy. In fact, it’s pretty hard. And it could... well, it could change our friendship. Maybe forever.”

Eunbi nods, encouraging you, though her expression clearly says, ‘I know this is big, but I’m going to pretend I’m calm.’

“I love you,” you finally say, the words coming out stronger than you expected. “And no, it’s not just a friend thing. I’m in love with you, and I’ve been feeling this for a while. Since... since we started filming together, actually. Every time we did a scene, something inside me got more confused, like the fake sex was revealing real feelings.”

Eunbi looks at you, surprised, but she doesn’t interrupt, so you keep going. “I thought it was temporary, something that would go away over time, but it only got stronger. And honestly, I can’t keep going like this, pretending nothing’s changed, because it has. I’m in love with you, for real. I want to be with you. Not just filming together, but... living with you, as a couple. I want us to be real.”

You take a deep breath, feeling some of the tension release from your chest, but vulnerability quickly takes its place. Eunbi looks at you, her eyes slightly teary, and then, before anything else, she says, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” you repeat, confused.

“For making you film all of this with me. I didn’t know what you were going through. I had no idea it was hurting you inside. If I’d known...” She pauses, trying to find the right words, but they seem as hard for her as they were for you. “I would’ve stopped.”

You shake your head, almost laughing, but not in a happy way. “No, you don’t have to apologize. What matters is now, and now is that... I’m being honest. I love you.”

She smiles, that smile you know so well, but now it seems different, softer, more... meaningful. “I like you too. A lot. And I’m not just saying that because you confessed. It’s weird, you know? I’ve been in relationships before, but it was never like this. We have this... bond, this connection I’ve never had with anyone. And I think, actually, I’ve always felt something for you, I just didn’t know exactly what it was. Now I do.”

She pauses, wiping away a solitary tear that escaped despite her efforts. “I want this too. I want to be with you. For real. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. We’ve spent so much time together, it... feels right. It feels like it’s how it’s supposed to be.”

You feel your heart leap in your chest. It’s surreal, all of this.

“So...?”

“So... I guess we’re together,” she says, still smiling, and this time you feel like the smile is for you, and only you.

“Finally,” you say, half-joking, but it’s an undeniable truth.

Still in the high of the magical moment, your heart beating faster than usual for all the right reasons, you decide now is the perfect moment to drop your second bomb.

“Oh, there’s one more thing,” you say, smiling like someone who just found a lost bill in their coat pocket. “Great news, actually. My friend messaged me. The company where he works loved your profile!! You might be getting a job offer soon!”

You wait for a scream of happiness, a tight hug, or even an improvised celebratory dance, but none of that happens. Eunbi doesn’t react the way you imagined. In fact, she seems to have frozen in place, as if someone hit the pause button on real life.

“So it was you?” she asks, her voice suddenly cold.

“Me?” you repeat, having no idea where this is coming from. “Me what?”

She sighs, like someone on the verge of losing their patience. “I got a job offer on LinkedIn.”

You blink, absorbing the information, and then smile widely. “Oh, so it worked! That’s great! I mean, now you have a chance to get out of this life... right?” But Eunbi’s expression, far from joyful, is one of... anger? Something between irritation and deep disappointment starts to form in her eyes.

“Why the hell did you do that?” she asks, her tone more like a police interrogation than a simple question.

You’re stunned, you feel like you’ve just been slapped in the face. “What? I was trying to help. I just wanted what’s best for you!”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she fires back, her tone growing harsher, like someone who’s been holding something in for a long time and finally let it out.

The ground starts to shift beneath your feet, the romantic and peaceful moment now turning into an unexpected storm. “Drop the pride, Eunbi,” you say, trying to maintain control of the situation. “This is your chance to get out of this life. You don’t have to keep doing... you know, what you’re doing now. And now that we’re on the same page, that you feel something for me too, we can be a real couple. Isn’t that what you want?”

She looks at you for a long, silent moment, as if she’s trying to decide if you’re really as clueless as you seem or if you’re just pretending not to understand what’s happening.

“This has nothing to do with pride,” she says, finally, with a calm that’s more frightening than any scream. “That job offer... it made me feel like crap! It made me rethink everything. Who I am, what I want... And you just... don’t get it.”

You really don’t get it.

Of all the scenarios that ran through your head, this one didn’t even come close to showing up. “I don’t understand. You wanted a stable job in your field, didn’t you?”

She shakes her head, exasperated. “I thought I did. I mean, that was the initial plan when I got fired from my last job. But... I can’t. I don’t want to... What I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not going to take that job.”

The silence that follows is so heavy you can almost hear the sound of raindrops hitting the window.

“So, what are you going to do?” you ask, your voice quieter than you expected.

Eunbi looks you in the eye, and suddenly, the full weight of what she’s about to say appears in her expression. “I’m going to keep doing what I do. I’m going to be an adult content creator, but this time, I’m going all in. No more anonymity. I’m going to show my face. That’s what I’ve decided. This is going to be my life now.”

It’s at that moment that your brain, which had been busy processing the joy of the love confession, just stops working.

This wasn’t in the script.

She was supposed to be happy about the job, you were supposed to be celebrating and planning a future as a normal couple.

Not this...

“You... you want to keep doing this?” you ask, incredulity leaking into every word.

She looks at you with a mix of sadness and determination. “Yes. I want to keep doing it. I want people to see me. I want to keep doing what I do. I love it. And if you’re going to be with me, you’re going to have to accept all of that too.”

The words echo in the room. You stand there, looking at her, trying to fit the pieces of this emotional puzzle that, until seconds ago, was a beautiful, simple picture of a future together. Now, it feels more like one of those abstract paintings people pretend to understand.

She takes a deep breath, and you can tell that the emotion is about to overflow. "Look... I really love you. Truly. And if you want, I'll be the happiest woman in the world by your side. But—" she pauses, the word hanging in the air like a sword about to fall, "if you want to be with me, you’re going to have to accept this Eunbi. The Eunbi you see now, who does what she does. And the weight that comes with it."

Silence. You hear your heart pounding in your chest, so loud it's a wonder Eunbi can't hear it too. The world feels like it’s moving in slow motion, the time between blinks stretching out as if the master of time himself is waiting to see what you’ll say. But what can you say? You’re still processing everything. The confession, the proposal, the fact that she wants to continue in this career—and wants you to be a part of it.

"You... you want to... keep going?" The question comes out hesitantly. You can hardly believe you're asking it. The shock is a physical thing, sitting between you like a third person in the room.

Eunbi, her eyes already shining with tears she’s trying so hard to hold back, nods. "Yes. I want to keep going. I want people to see me. I want to keep doing what I do. I love it. And if you’re going to be with me, you’ll have to accept all of that too."

The tears finally fall, one after the other, as if gravity had won the battle she was trying to fight. You watch, unsure if what you’re feeling is fear, sadness, or some strange sense of relief.

Maybe all of it at once.

She continues, her voice now shaky but still steady. “You can think it over, if you want. This is serious. Our parents are going to find out sooner or later. You know the kind of exposure we’ll face... that I’ll face. And if you’re with me, we’ll be facing that together.”

Eunbi looks directly at you, the intensity in her eyes almost painful. “You warned me about this before. You’ve always worried about me. But if you stay with me now, there’s no going back. People we know might find out, they might see. Are you really willing to risk everything because of me?”

Another pause. This time, it’s not dramatic. It’s just a simple pause, where your mind, suddenly overwhelmed by all these emotions, finds a small space of clarity.

And in that space, the decision that seemed so complicated just moments ago suddenly makes sense.

“Yes,” you say, the word leaving your mouth with a calmness that surprises even you. Eunbi’s eyes widen, as if she isn’t sure she heard you right.

“I accept,” you continue, firmly. "I accept you as you are. If this is what you want to do with your life, then that’s fine by me. I’ll be by your side, no matter what."

She stands there, looking at you like you're some kind of alien that just landed on Earth. And then the tears she was holding back finally fall. But this time, they aren’t tears of sadness or anger. They’re something completely different. Relief, maybe. Or raw happiness, the kind you rarely see.

“Are you sure?” she asks, between sobs. "I... I mean, this won’t be easy! You can think about it more. You can really consider what you’re accepting, what it’s going to mean for you, for us."

You give her that half-smile, the one you know always made her feel safe. "Eunbi," you say, calmly, "I’ve already thought about it. I accept the risk, the exposure. I accept you... As long as I’m with you, it’s all okay."

And with that, she falls apart. Not in a sad or uncontrolled way, but in a beautiful, genuine way. She starts crying, but they’re tears of gratitude, of love, of everything she’s held inside for so long.

You step closer and wrap your arms around her, as if trying to protect her from the whole world. She cries into your chest, her words lost between sobs. You kiss the top of her head, taking in the familiar scent of the shampoo she always uses.

"I love you so much," she says through her tears, her voice muffled against you.

"I love you too," you reply, with a sincerity that fills her up from the inside. “We’re in this together.”

And then, there, in the midst of tears, hugs, and confessions, the world seems to align again. The mess it was before starts to make sense.

Okay, maybe it’s not a fairy tale, but who needs a fairy tale ending when you can have something this real, this alive, this raw, this imperfect and yet, somehow, so absolutely perfect?

And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

With her.

—

[Rubydden] Three minutes ago

This month, we’re going to skyrocket the quality of our content!!

And to kick things off: FACE REVEAL!!🔥🥳

#kpop smut #kpop male reader #kwon eunbi #eunbi izone #kpop gg smut #kpop m!reader #kpop male oc #eunbi m!reader #m!reader #male reader #eunbi smut #eunbi x male reader #izone smut #izone eunbi #kpop gg #smut oneshot #gg smut

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grandisknight · 3 days

Text

good morning-night | xavier

summary: Xavier wakes up in the middle of the night and handles the dilemma sleeping beside him.

tags: nsfw (mdni), established relationship, afab!reader, dubcon, somnophilia, fingering, vaginal fingering, brief oral sex/cunnilingus, handjob, kissing, sleep (part 2)

wc: 3.2k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

When Xavier’s eyes blinked themselves open, the sun had yet to rise and meet his bleary gaze. Moonlight continued to filter through the bedroom curtains in its place, slowly moving through the twilight sky.

A rustle or two later, the dimmed interface of his phone highlighted that it was, in fact, still dusk. Too early to be awake for his liking, a tinge of annoyance laced in his brow at the prospect. Traces of slumber still crusted his lower waterline, and the device was quickly put away without a second thought.

Carefully, he shifted his weight to find that perfect sleeping position—one that would also be mindful of the body sharing the space.

Normally, you’d be snoring and snoozing at home, only a floor below from his place. But of course, insomnia had found its way back to you on a chilled autumn evening. And more so, tumbling into his offering arms. He insisted his comforters could use the company anyhow, reminding you how well you’ve slept with him around before. (Really, it was a great excuse to sleep over and see you, so he wasn’t complaining in the slightest.)

Late night talks drifted into steady breaths of fatigue, circling him back to the present. Nothing but a spare, oversized shirt of his draped over your body, undergarments in place and a half-kicked off blanket barely clinging onto your thighs. A mesmerizing sight, even with the disarray of your bed head nestled into the pillows.

By instinct, Xavier quietly reaches to brush away a stray piece of hair that found itself casted over your closed eyes. His hand lingers for a second, taking in the warmth of your cheek against his palm. Soft, he realizes, especially so when a curiously gentle pinch of your skin holds the same bounciness to a fresh marshmallow.

It’s only when a faint noise pushes past your throat that his fingers still themselves—had he woken you up? The sounds were vaguely disgruntled, but the array of consonants and vowels perked his ears. His hand retracted from you then, a quiet apology passed to your sleeping form.

“Are you awake?”

Your light breaths answer him instead, seemingly rejecting his query. He lets out the exhale he had subconsciously held onto this entire time, relieved. “I guess not.”

Xavier shakes his head at his own disbelief. He must’ve heard things—blaming the weariness that dulled his senses, it really was too early to deal with this. He decides as much anyhow, soon cozying himself beside you and letting his fatigue carry him into the following hours of dawn. It was comforting and content—arms circling your waist, his nose nudged against your nape with a deep inhale and back to chest for maximum warmth output.

So surely, he could finally fall back into slumber.

At least, that’s how it was until mere seconds ago. It didn’t help when you began to toss and turn, unintentionally elbowing the high of his abdomen. The follow-up of your legs squirming and bottom pressing against his flew his eyes open for the second time, bewildered at the sudden attack.

“Sleep,” was all his raspy voice could manage. He squeezed your sides in further reprimand, hoping it would cease your fidgeting. If you had moved any further, it would only give him another thing to worry about—one hard thing was enough for him to deal with at the moment.

Despite his best wishes, your body moved on its own, tightly pressed into his front and neatly slotting his growing erection between your ass. Xavier was the farthest thing from being Astra’s strongest soldier, inhaling deeply at the betrayal of his body to yours.

He had half the mind to chastise you before another faint breath of sounds took precedence. They strung together to form a long whine of his name, but tinted with something rather dubious.

“Xavier,” had always sounded so sweet to him, especially coming from his lover. Whether it was in a playful scold or in unadulterated want, the simple utterance of his name was nothing more than an easy way to melt his heart. Though in this moment, it snapped him wide awake and focused on the troubling warmth held within his grasp. Questions of ‘what’ and ‘why’ raced through his mind, unsure of how his name in particular ended up on your sleepy tongue.

His mind drifts to a roadmap of possibilities, with a nightmare becoming one of the more logical outcomes. A wave of sympathy tugged at the potential thought. His hands lowered to rub a soothing circle into your abdomen to offer a semblance of comfort. He remembered reading about it once, how to encourage quality sleep through massages—so Xavier continues to delicately dimple his fingers into the plush of your skin with the techniques in mind.

It only had the opposite effect, much to his dismay. Your thighs pressed together, uncomfortably so, furthering the friction hotly pressed to his hardened state. Hands curling and uncurling, you reached for something unknown with another mewl spilling past your lips.

“Please, Xavier. Mmh. More. Inside me.”

He pulls back from you entirely in surprise, your body falling into place and flat against the sheets.

Your face was twisted into displeasure, knees shifting against each other and chest rising to combat your huffed breaths. Carefully, Xavier hovered over you, conflict rising in his body and mind with observation.

A resolve forms through the hand on your knee gently parting your thighs apart to alleviate the evident tension. It didn’t take much effort, your legs readily parting with the slightest nudge. In turn, seeing your soiled underwear gave him answers—the fabric was slicked with your subconscious arousal, clinging to your labia in ardent effect.

That was the last thing Xavier had expected, and a faint lightbulb flickered in his mind. So perfect, echoes brightly in his head. You looked absolutely perfect. His fingers twitched instinctively, every fiber of his being ringing in a quiet urge.

He really shouldn't feel this way, he tells himself. And should definitely ignore the way his cock was straining against his boxers—how he couldn’t take his eyes away from the heat that continued to weep with every exhale you whimpered.

But curiosity killed the cat, and such a finger found itself lightly pressing over your soaked folds. It was a fleeting touch, that’s all it would be. To confirm that he wasn’t seeing things, to make sure that this was not just an early morning delusion clouded by his indecent thoughts. To see that this was something you sought after.

The slight spasm to his touch and relaxation to your tense expression was a telling response. Furthered so, when your hips bucked to chase into the rest of his hand, searching for the answer to your subliminal needs. Your tense shoulders slackened, sinking into the sheets when he decides to quietly cup himself between your legs, fingertips dragging a slow line over the damp cloth.

Chills ran down his spine when your soft sighs grew in volume, a small smile pulled to your lips in a painted visage of relief.

Ah, so that’s what this was.

Xavier’s mind wanders back to your plea just moments ago, and a warm pink dusts the tips of his ears.

Inside, you wanted him inside.

Shouldn’t he do his part as your diligent partner and help you in a time of need?

The thought of indecency pricks his mind, but the overshadowing sense of his desire to please you (and subsequently, himself) balanced out the logic. You needed this, needed him. And he was no different, painfully aware of the budding sensation hidden away in his draws. He’d tell you when you wake up, give you the run down and apologize then. It’s just this once.

He leaned down, chest just mere centimeters away from yours chest. Pools of blue peered at your sleep-laden expression from below, observing the puffs flaring your nose in exhale.

Slowly, the cottons of your underwear were pushed to the side, greeting his fingertips with a wet squelch when they returned to your exposed cunt. He lets out a resounding hum at the touch, noting the faint twitch in your brow. Warm and dripping with need, Xavier pressed a feathery kiss to your jaw before sinking a middle finger into your depths.

A delicious gasp and lull of your head appreciated the gesture, and it takes everything in him to not come on the spot. He settles for careful rutting against the sheets, sighing with the layers of friction heightening his sensitivity.

“You have one inside now,” he whispered, feeling around your walls and groaning when they flutter in turn.

Languid strokes accompanied his mind, wandering into the thought of replacing his hands with something bigger, something warmer, how divine you would look wrapped around his throbbing—a shaky breath intercepted his ideas, reigning him back to reality.

He turns to praise instead, one step at a time. “Taking it so well, as always.” He sneaks another kiss into the corner of your mouth, tempted to swallow your replying whimper there and then. A push in and out, he works to meticulously reward your pretty sounds.

At one point, his middle retracts until only the edge of his nail is left. Xavier coos when your brows knit together at the loss, lips downturned. “You want more? Can you take another if I give it to you?”

Your eyes remain blissfully closed, but a soft moan of his name answers him in encouragement. A plea to continue his caresses, your hips lifted briefly to chase into the air, fueled by instinct and edging his finger back inside.

He kindly obliged, pairing his ring to meet the present middle in conjunction. Xavier revels in the stretch of your accommodating core when they make their grand return, pushing into your heat. He begins to slowly pump once more, trying his luck with an occasional curl of his pads against a particularly sensitive area. A broken mewl aptly rewarded his success, with a proud chuckle passing under his breath.

“There it is. You like it here, hm?”

One glance down sent his mind into a hazy overdrive, admiring how the sheets soaked up every droplet of arousal that wasn’t melting into the prints of his skin. It seemed like such a waste though, letting such precious honey escape into a place that wouldn’t appreciate it the way he could.

Xavier swallowed, aware of just how dry his throat had felt then. Though, a glass of relief to parch his woes was only a heartbeat away.

If he was careful, he could… just for a little bit.

His fingers slowed in the time that his lips dipped downwards, heart moving before his mind could. Attaching themselves to your clit, it remained pursed, burning in ecstasy at the delight he'd discovered. Good, he would be able to make sure none of your efforts go to waste. It flowed so easily into his welcoming throat that he couldn’t help but groan into your precious heat. The pace of his fingers resume, tongue wiggling over your swollen bud—cycling between sucking the sweetness into his eager mouth and licking gently.

“Anh, ‘s good, please,” you sweetly cried out, breaths hiccuping and that’s when he knew. You were close, pulsing so ardently around his fingers and lips parting in an expression he’s studied well.

A particular firm point of his tongue caught the air in your lungs and he watched as your half-lidded gaze struggled to meet his. Confusion and fluster had never looked so beautiful until it flashed across your face, searching for the source of your awakening.

“Ah, Xavier, what are you—mmh—!”

You barely had time to warm up your vocals, let alone process anything when a searing heat ripples through your body. Pliant under his touch, you come undone with every lapping of his tongue and stroke of his fingers. Xavier only hummed into your sensitive cunt, digging his nose further to collect your flowing release without hesitation.

It was only when you began to weakly swat at his seated silvery tuft of hair that he pulled back, taking the hint. His fingers leave first, a lingering hum memorizing your taste as his mouth followed second. Glistening from the tip of his nose down to the curve of his chin, Xavier meets your glassy stare halfway and welcomes your mouth with his own. The added waking call of his soft kisses against your lips were slow, smooth in contrast to the outright desperation from seconds ago. You could taste yourself, taste him, all swirling together when the flats of your tongues find one another.

With a hand cupped to his jaw, you tilt away for a moment’s air. “Xavier,” you mumbled drowsily. “What’s going on?”

“Morning,” he answers, tone saturated with the early day gravely edge and a hint of arousal. Though his expression was starkly calm, as if this was another casual morning and wasn’t just spent between your legs. He presses a soft kiss to your lower lip. “Did you have a good dream?”

“A dream?” You paused, feeling more exposed than ever despite the stickiness pooled below being a great tell-tale. How were you supposed to explain that your now fleeting dream involved taking Xavier in a fight? In bed? And that you enjoyed it?

There was a simple way out, presented through a sheepish mutter of, “Maybe. Guilty as charged, possibly.”

He smiles, one of gentle cruelty. “Won’t you tell me what it was about?” He carried the audacity to poke fun at the situation, mirthful words in line. You shoot him an accusatory glare that spelled ‘you already know the answer—do I have to spell it out?’

“Not even a little detail or two?” Xavier moves his fingers then, absolutely drenched in the viscous outcome of said dream. They were still nestled into your warmth, and the awareness gave way to a hearty exhale on your end.

You turn to the pillow, batting half an eye towards him and a muffled admission of, “It was about you,” to answer his questions. “We were… in the middle of… foreplay.” That was as much as you were willing to offer him, keeping the unspoken intimate elements to yourself.

“I figured from the way you kept calling for me,” he muses. “Needed me, and inside of you too.” Xavier punctuates the recalling with a shake of his head. “I couldn’t sleep because of it, and clearly you couldn’t either.”

A flush creeps across your cheeks as you turn to face him. If thunder were to strike you down, a part of you hoped it would be in this moment to save you from the embarrassment.

“Oh gods, you heard all of that?”

“Mm,” he confirms.

A tenderness saturates his features as genuine sincerity fills into his words. He finally retracts his fingers then, fixing your underwear into place with a tug. “And I’m sorry if I went overboard. I won’t do it again, promise.”

“Oh. I—“ You paused, biting your lower lip. Gazing at the wall behind him, you quietly confess your thoughts. “—Didn’t mind. Felt nice, actually.”

Xavier, somewhat defeated and relieved simultaneously, rests his cheek over your heart and arms lazily looped around your sides. A lighthearted sigh melts into your skin. “That’s… great. But, you’re going to be the end of me, one of these days.”

“Isn’t that my line?” You snort, though gently pat the back of his nape. A small yawn breaks your breathing, the earlier fatigue pricking your nose with an exhale.

“Xav,” you hummed. “Are you not sleepy?”

A prodding hardness against your thigh answers you before he could, and Xavier could feel the quiet laugh of your chest shaking his flattened cheek. Fatigue be damned, you couldn’t quite ignore the elephant in the room.

“Don’t say it,” he quietly warns, but you spell it out for him regardless.

It was as clear as the night sky. “You’re hard.”

Xavier cringes at the blunt nature of your astute observation. “Just… morning things. It’ll go back down once we sleep. So good night—ah,” he breathes, sucking through his teeth with a hiss.

Before he could even think about moving, your hand sneaked down to graciously palm over his poor boxers. The pressure of your fingers along his length were leagues better than the partial relief of rubbed sheets. He couldn’t help but screw his eyes tightly, subtly rocking into your touch. It sent a wave of lustful heat into your abdomen, seeing him succumb to his desires under your guided direction.

“I don’t think it’s just a morning thing,” you chide into the crown of his head. Xavier attempts to pull back in defense, but only falls forward when you dipped past the fabric and curl your fingers around his cock.

“I think it’s your turn to give me some details on what’s running through that mind of yours.” A squeeze adds onto your reason. “It’s only fair.” And, to save yourself from your own brief moment of embarrassing realization.

Weak to the hand that stroked from head to base, his mouth fell open to vocalize his thoughts and aroused pants almost immediately. “Couldn’t help it—hah—you looked so good, tasted even better. Sorry, so—“

Xavier breaks into a whimper, shifting to dig his forehead between your breasts. His forearms tighten slightly, holding you closer to him.

“It’s fine,” you reassured him. “Let me take care of you, s’alright, Xav.”

You continued to twist and caress, occasionally swiping a thumb over his sticky, hot head. It was overwhelming for a man who had spent his recent waking moments entirely focused on you, with his previously lidded arousal quickly coming undone.

“Just like that,” he begs. “I’m close, close.”

‘Close’ was putting it lightly, when warm streams of release painted your knuckles and escaped onto his abdomen in the same breath. You both exhaled, one of surprise and the other of relief, slowing your motions all the same—you pull back once the spurts subside, his length spent. He manages to lazily roll away from you, recovering on his side of the bed.

Reaching into the side drawer, a procured tissue touches your hand and neatly cleans off his remains. With a second piece, you turn to face him and pat down the slight mess over his skin, before tossing both dirtied pieces aside. Threading the other hand through his matted bangs, you asked, “Feeling better now?”

Xavier’s eyes were fluttered to a close, and you would’ve believed he fell asleep if it weren’t for the fingers reaching for your wrist. He brings it to his lips and smiles against it. “You didn’t have to do anything,” he murmured. “But, yeah. I appreciate it.”

“Well we’re even now, so it works out.” You pat his cheek in turn, shuffling closer to him and meeting his torso.

The arm closest to you drapes over your welcomed bodily heat, giving you the opportunity to envelop him wholly. He hums in agreement. “Now we can say good night.”

“More like good morning,” you retort, paying mind to the faint shimmer of orange hues bleeding into a now fading dawn.

“Same difference,” Xavier yawns, shielding your bodies from the inevitable sunrise. Tucked neatly in his embrace, he plants a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Mm. Good morning-night, my star.”

It was the final touch to an otherwise comforting existence, safely leading you back into a serene sense of sleep. The sun continued its slow ascend into the morning air, watching over the coupling of your bodies that drifted into a land of dreams.

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pucksandpower · 14 hours

Text

Leave My Mark

Day 4 → Bruise Marking 💋 Lando Norris

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Lando’s eyes flicker with something that’s not quite anger, not quite fear, but somewhere in the middle — a dark, consuming tension that sends a shiver down your spine. The hotel room is dimly lit, just a sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains. He’s pacing now, his movements sharp, precise, a contrast to the chaotic mess of emotions wrestling within him.

“You know what it looked like, right?” His voice is low, almost too calm, like the quiet before a storm. He stops and looks at you, eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to read something off your face, something he doesn’t want to find. “The way you were laughing with him … the way you touched his arm.”

You fold your arms, trying to keep your voice steady. “Lando, it was nothing. Oscar needed someone to talk to, and I was just being there for him. As a friend.”

“A friend?” The words leave his mouth like they’re poisoned, like they burn his tongue. “Friends don’t look at each other like that. They don’t touch each other like that.”

You blink, surprised at the venom in his tone. “Like what?”

His jaw clenches, and he takes a step closer, the space between you evaporating. “Like you’re more than just friends. Like he could be something more to you.”

You shake your head, exhaling slowly. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He’s closer now, so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body, can see the way his chest rises and falls in a rhythm that’s too fast, too irregular. “Because all I see is you smiling at him, touching him, and I can’t stand it.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. You swallow hard, trying to push back the rising tide of frustration and disbelief. “Lando, this is crazy. I’m with you. Only you.”

He stares at you, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and stormy. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something — something sharp, something cruel — but instead, he reaches out, his hand brushing your neck. His touch is firm, almost possessive, and your breath catches as his fingers wrap around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to make you aware of how easily he could.

“You’re mine,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “You know that, right? You’re mine, and I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, a mix of fear and something else, something you can’t quite name. “Lando …”

His grip tightens just slightly, and your pulse quickens. “Say it.”

“What?”

“Say you’re mine.” His voice is low, almost dangerous, like a predator cornering its prey. “Say it, and mean it.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his hand, the intensity of his stare. “I’m yours, Lando. Only yours.”

Something flickers in his eyes — satisfaction, maybe, or relief — and his grip loosens, just a fraction. “Good.” He’s breathing hard, his forehead nearly touching yours. “Because I won’t share you. Not with him, not with anyone.”

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart under your fingertips. “Lando, I love you. I wouldn’t … I couldn’t … Oscar’s just a friend. I was only trying to help him.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, as if he’s trying to calm himself down. When he opens them again, there’s something softer there, something more vulnerable. “I know. I know that, deep down. But when I see you with him, it drives me crazy. I can’t help it.”

You lean into him, resting your head against his chest. “You don’t have to be jealous. I’m here with you. I chose you.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. “I just … I hate the thought of you being close to someone else. I can’t stand it.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes searching his. “Then don’t think about it. Think about us, right now. I’m here, with you. That’s all that matters.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just stares at you like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face. Then, slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s both tender and desperate, like he’s trying to prove something to himself, to you.

You kiss him back, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The tension between you dissolves into something else, something warm and intense and consuming. His hands move to your waist, pulling you even closer, until there’s no space left between you.

When he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark with something you can’t quite name. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Likewise.”

He laughs softly, but there’s still that edge in his voice, that undercurrent of possessiveness that hasn’t quite gone away. “But you’re mine, right? Only mine?”

You nod, your heart swelling with something warm and fierce. “Only yours.”

He presses his forehead against yours, his hands sliding up to cup your face. “I love you. God, I love you so much it scares me.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I love you too, Lando. More than anything.”

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart. Then he pulls you into another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent, like he’s trying to claim you, to make sure you understand just how much you mean to him.

His hands move to your throat again, fingers wrapping around your neck, and this time, there’s no mistaking the intent behind his touch. He’s claiming you, marking you as his, and you don’t resist, don’t pull away, because you want it, need it just as much as he does.

“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips, his grip tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. “Say it.”

Your voice is barely a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m yours.”

His grip tightens further, and for a moment, you can’t breathe, can’t think, can only feel the intensity of his gaze, the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then he releases you, just enough to let you breathe again, and you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“You’re mine,” he says again, his voice rough, desperate. “And I’m yours.”

You nod, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Yes.”

His lips crash against yours, and this time, the kiss is hungry, almost savage, as if he’s trying to devour you, to consume every part of you. You kiss him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper.

When he pulls back, you’re both breathing hard, your foreheads pressed together, your bodies entwined. He looks at you, his eyes burning with something primal, something fierce. “I won’t let anyone take you away from me,” he murmurs, his voice raw, broken.

You shake your head, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. “No one could.”

He closes his eyes, his breath shuddering as he pulls you into his arms, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “Stay with me. Always.”

You press a kiss to his shoulder, your heart swelling with love, with something deeper, something unbreakable. “Always.”

For a while, you just hold each other, the storm that raged between you slowly calming into something quieter, more peaceful. But there’s still that undercurrent of tension, that edge that hasn’t quite faded, and you know it’s going to take time — time for him to fully trust, to fully believe that you’re his and only his.

But for now, this is enough. The two of you, together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten, irrelevant. And in this moment, you know that no matter what happens, no matter what obstacles you face, you’ll face them together, as long as you both hold on, as long as you both remember that this, right here, is what matters most.

And with Lando’s arms around you, his breath warm against your skin, you know that you will.

***

Morning light filters through the hotel curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. Lando wakes first, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light as he shifts under the covers.

The first thing he notices is the warmth of your body curled up beside him, your hair splayed across the pillow, your breathing steady and calm. For a moment, he just watches you, a small smile tugging at his lips as he remembers the night before, the intensity of it, the way you gave yourself to him so completely.

But then, as his eyes trail down your neck, his smile fades. There, on the pale skin of your throat, are faint bruises, the marks of his hands, a reminder of how fiercely he held you, how desperately he wanted to claim you as his. A pang of guilt twists in his chest, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing gently over the bruises, as if he can erase them with a touch.

You stir at the contact, blinking sleepily as you wake up, your eyes meeting his. “Morning,” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning,” he replies, but his voice is quieter, more subdued, as his fingers continue to trace the marks on your neck. “Did I … did I hurt you?”

You frown slightly, still half-asleep, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”

He swallows, his gaze fixed on the bruises. “Your neck … I didn’t mean to leave these.”

You reach up, your fingers grazing the marks, and then you understand. “Oh.” Your voice is soft, a little uncertain, as you glance at him. “It’s okay, Lando. They don’t hurt.”

But he’s already moving, sitting up and reaching for something on the nightstand. “I should’ve been more careful. Let me … let me put something on them.” He finds a small tube of ointment in his bag and unscrews the cap, squeezing a bit onto his fingers before turning back to you.

“Lando, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. “Please.”

You nod, sitting up and letting the blanket fall away from your shoulders, exposing the marks on your neck fully. He leans in closer, his expression concentrated, almost tender, as he carefully dabs the ointment onto the bruises, his fingers warm against your skin. His touch is so gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s afraid of hurting you further.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough with guilt. He presses a soft kiss to one of the bruises, his lips lingering there for a moment. “I didn’t mean to …”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your fingers brushing against his cheek, trying to soothe him. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

He moves to another bruise, rubbing the ointment in slowly, methodically, before kissing the spot again. “I got carried away.”

You bite your lip, hesitating for a moment before you finally speak. “I … I liked it.”

He stops, his hand frozen against your skin as he looks up at you, his eyes searching yours. “You did?”

You nod, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “Yeah. I liked how … how you took control. How you made me feel like I was completely yours.”

Something in his eyes softens, the guilt slowly ebbing away, replaced by something else — something darker, more intense. “You liked it?” he repeats, his voice quieter, almost disbelieving.

“Yes,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It … it turned me on, Lando.”

His eyes darken, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You liked how I made you mine?”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you nod, your breath catching in your throat. “Yes.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes locked onto yours, his hand moving to cup your face. “Say it again.”

You swallow, your heart pounding as you meet his gaze. “I liked it. I liked how you took control.”

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, and he watches you intently, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “Tell me what you liked.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you can’t find the words, too overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. But then, slowly, you find your voice. “I liked how you held me … how you made me feel like I was completely yours. I liked how … how strong you were, how you didn’t let go.”

His eyes darken further, and he leans in, capturing your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the way his muscles tense under your touch. When he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

“God, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you whisper back, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He kisses you again, softer this time, but no less intense, and when he pulls back, his hands move to your throat, his fingers tracing the bruises with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “You liked how I took control,” he says quietly, more to himself than to you, as if he’s trying to wrap his head around it.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice trembling with anticipation, with the need to feel that control again, to lose yourself in him.

He looks at you, his gaze piercing, and then, slowly, deliberately, he pushes you back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours. His hands find your wrists, pinning them above your head, and you gasp, your pulse quickening as you feel the weight of him against you, the way his body presses you into the mattress.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, his voice low, rough.

“Of course,” you breathe, your eyes wide, your heart pounding.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your neck, against the bruises he left, and you feel a thrill of excitement, of anticipation, as he kisses each one, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “I want to make you feel good,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I want to make you fall apart.”

You swallow hard, your breath catching in your throat as his words sink in, as his hands move down your body, trailing fire in their wake. “Lando …”

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, with something deeper, something more intense than you’ve ever seen before. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, making you shiver.

“I want you,” you reply, your voice trembling with need, with the overwhelming desire that’s building inside you. “I want you to take control.”

He smiles, a slow, wicked smile that makes your heart skip a beat, and then he’s kissing you again, hard and demanding, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you against him. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, the way he’s trying to keep himself in check, and it only makes you want him more.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, your voice barely audible, but you know he hears it, because he groans softly, his hands tightening on your hips.

“You don’t have to ask,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost dangerous. “I’m going to give you everything you want.”

And he does. His hands are everywhere, touching, caressing, claiming, as he makes you feel things you didn’t know you could feel, as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, until you’re gasping, trembling, completely at his mercy.

He’s relentless, his mouth on your skin, his hands on your body, as he takes you apart piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the feel of him, the sound of his voice, the overwhelming need that consumes you.

“Lando,” you gasp, your hands clutching at the sheets, your body arching against his, desperate for more, for everything.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice rough, raw, as he pushes you closer, closer, until you can’t take it anymore, until you’re falling, shattering, completely undone.

When it’s over, when you’re lying there in his arms, your heart still racing, your breath still coming in uneven gasps, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You shake your head, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek, your eyes meeting his. “You didn’t hurt me, Lando. You made me feel … amazing. I’ve never felt like that before.”

He smiles, a small, relieved smile, and he leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, his lips lingering on yours. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice full of emotion, full of something deep and unbreakable. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your heart swelling with love, with something even deeper, something that goes beyond words. “So much.”

For a while, you just lie there together, your bodies entwined, breathing slowly coming back to normal. Lando’s hand absentmindedly caresses your side, his fingers tracing soft circles on your skin. The quiet in the room feels like a protective cocoon, safe and warm, where nothing exists but the two of you.

Then, after a long silence, Lando shifts slightly, his hand moving up to your neck again, his fingers brushing lightly over the bruises he left. You feel him smile against your hair, and his voice is low, almost a purr as he murmurs, “You bruise so prettily, you know that?”

You shiver at his words, a thrill of something dark and thrilling running through you. He doesn’t stop, his fingers trailing over each mark with an almost possessive reverence. “I love seeing these on you,” he continues, his voice a soft, dangerous whisper. “Knowing that I put them there. That you’re mine.”

You can feel the intensity in his words, the way they’re weighted with a fierce, undeniable possessiveness, and it sends a pulse of heat through you, a mix of fear and excitement that makes your heart race. “Lando …” you breathe, your voice trembling, your body already responding to the way he’s touching you, the way he’s talking to you.

He shifts, hovering over you, his gaze dark and hungry as he takes in your flushed cheeks, your parted lips. “I want to mark you up even more,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire. “I want everyone to see these bruises and know exactly who you belong to.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening at the thought of it, at the idea of wearing his marks, of being claimed by him in such a visible, undeniable way. “You want that?” You ask, your voice shaky, filled with anticipation.

His eyes meet yours, and there’s something fierce and possessive in his gaze as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “I want to leave my mark on you,” he murmurs, his voice low, dangerous. “I want to bruise every inch of your skin until there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that you’re mine.”

You shiver at his words, a thrill of excitement running through you, and you nod, unable to form words as the intensity of his desire, of his need, crashes over you. “Please,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling, your body already responding to the promise in his words.

He smiles, a slow, wicked smile that makes your heart race, and then his hands are on you again, his fingers tracing your skin, finding every bruise he left, pressing down just enough to make you gasp, to remind you of the intensity of the night before. “You like this, don’t you?” He asks, his voice a dark, teasing whisper. “You like knowing that I’ve marked you, that everyone can see how much I want you.”

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice barely audible, your body arching under his touch, desperate for more.

He leans down, pressing soft kisses to your neck, to the bruises he left, his lips warm against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with a dark, possessive hunger. “So perfect. I can’t wait to mark you up even more.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel your breath quicken, your body already responding to the promise in his voice, to the way he’s touching you, the way he’s claiming you. “Lando …”

He smirks against your skin, his teeth grazing your neck, just enough to make you gasp, to send a sharp thrill of pleasure-pain through you. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice rough, dangerous. “And I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

Before you can respond, his hands move lower, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other trailing down your body, teasing, exploring. His touch is slow, deliberate, as if he’s savoring the moment, as if he’s taking his time to appreciate every reaction, every shiver, every gasp that escapes your lips.

Then, without warning, his hand slides between your legs, finding your clit, and he pinches down, cruel and relentless. You cry out, your body arching against him, the sudden intensity of it sending a shockwave of pleasure-pain through you, unraveling you completely.

“Lando!” You gasp, your voice trembling, your body quaking under his touch.

He doesn’t relent, his fingers moving with a ruthless precision, his other hand still holding your wrists tightly above your head, keeping you pinned, keeping you at his mercy. “You like this, don’t you?” He whispers, his voice dark and teasing, as he continues to torment you, to push you further and further over the edge.

“Yes!” You cry out, unable to control the sounds escaping you, the intensity of it too much, too overwhelming.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and heavy as he whispers, “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours!” You gasp, your voice breaking, your body shaking with the force of the pleasure coursing through you.

His fingers pinch down harder, and you cry out again, your body completely out of control, completely at his mercy. “Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough, filled with a dark, possessive hunger.

“I’m yours, Lando!” You cry, your voice trembling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you fall apart completely, your body shattering under his touch.

He watches you, his eyes dark and hungry, his hand relentless as he pushes you over the edge again and again, until you’re nothing but a trembling, gasping mess beneath him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough, as he watches you unravel. “You’re mine. All mine.”

Finally, when you think you can’t take it anymore, when your body is trembling and shaking with the force of the pleasure-pain, he slows, his touch becoming gentler, more tender. He releases your wrists, his hand moving to cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that have escaped down your cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe, with something deep and unbreakable. “So perfect.”

You’re still gasping for breath, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all, but you manage to meet his gaze, your eyes filled with a mix of love, desire, and something deeper, something that goes beyond words. “Lando …” you breathe, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, his hand still cupping your face, his touch gentle, tender. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice filled with all the emotion, all the love, all the desire you feel for him.

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, his body warm and comforting against yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice soft, filled with regret. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, the warmth of his skin. “You didn’t hurt me, Lando,” you whisper back, your voice soft, filled with love. “You made me feel … everything.”

He smiles, a small, relieved smile, and he presses another kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice a soft, possessive murmur. “And I’m never letting you go.”

You smile, your heart swelling with love, with something deeper, something that goes beyond words, and you snuggle closer to him, feeling the warmth, the safety of his embrace. “I’m yours,” you whisper back, your voice filled with all the emotion, all the love you feel for him. “Always.”

432 notes · View notes

euthymiya · 2 days

Text

rumors — ft. kamisato ayato

@ficsforgaza kinktober day 3 — kamisato ayato + creampie

synopsis: you hear people whisper about the one thing you and ayato lack. an heir. your husband is more than happy to silence those whispers with his own methods

includes: 1.6k word count (i tried to keep it short i’m sorry it exceeded the limit) ; female wife reader ; 18+ mature content (no minors!) ; talks of pregnancy and children ; implied arranged marriage ; fingering, unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; slight breeding kink thrown in too oops

notes: @resibonin manuuuu my love tysm for indulging me with a request like this i was so excited when i was told what jr was <3 i hope i did your request justice and tysm for donating to this cause!! <3

“There’s something troubling you,” Ayato hums.

You send a fleeting glance at his figure. He’s sat at the desk he’s placed in the corner of your shared chamber as he looks up from his papers to meet your eyes. It’s to be closer to you, he’d said the night he set it up, beaming proudly at himself. Ayato does not like to do work in his office when you are sitting alone in bed. He finds it troublesome to concentrate when his mind drifts to you.

Ironically, he hardly ever does any work when he’s near you, too.

“What do you mean?” You set your book down, raising an eyebrow.

He quirks his lips up into a knowing smile, one that makes you feel shy already as he purrs, “I can see it on your face. There is something on your mind.”

He’s right. There is something on your mind. Regrettably, word spreads in Inazuma quickly.

You’ve heard…rumors. They mainly target you. Often about your ability to carry an heir, perhaps, or even your willingness to. You’ve heard them through hushed whispers in the estate and through loud conversations while passing in town.

It’s not true, of course. You’re not unwilling nor unable. In fact, you think an heir would be nice—it’s just that you have yet to discuss such matters with Ayato.

(You don’t know how to. It’s easier with Ayaka than it is with your own husband to discuss the future of your marriage potentially taking place. You don’t know if it’s time to take the step yet—your wedding was a small, quiet affair and arranged quickly enough that you didn’t fall for Ayato until some time into your marriage. It only made sense at the time to have the maids fetch you tea from the sakura blossom after things turned more…intimate in your development with Ayato.)

You love him, though—as does he love you. So much so, that he notices the signs of something wrong before you’re even aware you’re projecting them.

“I’ve just been thinking of the public, is all,” you say vaguely. You should know by now Ayato would never settle for accepting that.

“What about them, my dear wife?”

“Th-they speak, my lord,” you whisper, not meeting his gaze. Equal parts because you have a sense of shame (that Ayato does not) and equal parts because he will surely be amused should you look into his eyes.

You’re right—you can hear the amusement in his tone when he murmurs, “Is that so? And what, pray tell, do they speak about?”

“Us,” you huff indignantly. “They…have much to discuss when it comes to our matters.”

“We are deeply influential people in this nation, my dear,” he chuckles. You throw him a glare that he easily grins wider at, “Surely, a few comments about political cornerstones such as ourselves are to be expected?”

“But they’re shamelessly invasive, Ayato,” you all but squawk. If not for your mother’s strict lessons of primness, you’re certain you’d have lost your composure on your husband far earlier into this conversation.

His eyes narrow playfully, a sort of look on his face you don’t like. He has an upper hand you can’t quite put your finger on—but he’s a step ahead. That much you know.

“Tell me, my dear. What is it that they speak of that crosses these boundaries you’re so worried about? Tell me and I shall handle it so my precious wife can rest in peace. I wouldn’t want it to keep you up at night.”

“Very funny, Ayato,” you spit. You don’t meet his gaze as you opt for staring at your fingers, fiddling them in your lap as you mumble quietly, “They…they speak of an heir, my lord. M-more specifically, the lack of…the lack of one being conceived by…”

“By who?” He plays dumb, eyes sparkling as you glare at him sharply.

“By us, you utter fool,” you throw your hands up. Your mother would be truly disappointed in your slip of composure, but Ayato has a fierce way of settling under your skin.

An itch you’ll never reach no matter how deep your nails sink into your skin.

“Ah,” he nods slowly, “So they’ve taken to commenting on the lack of our children, is that it?”

“Yes,” you hiss. “And I do not appreciate it.”

“Then I shall have to dirty my hands and fix this issue, no?”

Your eyes twinkle at that, finally happy with the words of your husband as you nod earnestly. “Yes, my darling husband. It would be very much appreciated should you put an end to these abysmally shameless comments.”

“Alright then,” he grins wickedly.

A part of you feels a bit bad for the poor victim of Ayato’s problem solving process. He’s a bit swift with the punishment he deals—and effective too, when it comes from the shadows. People fear what they cannot control. Your husband is one of those things.

Except he does not seem to take matters into his hands the way you expect him to. He’s standing, walking up to you where you sit on the bed, eyes hungry and predatory in a way you’re all too familiar with, and all too unprepared for.

“What—what are you…” you stutter as he hovers over you, his lips slowly kiss up your neck, settling against your pulse point to suck gently.

“I am dirtying my hands to solve the problem,” he murmurs, voice deep and sultry enough that you shiver from the sound alone. “If, perhaps…there is an heir inside of you…well, you see what I mean, don’t you? The comments will surely have to cease.”

“W-what? B-but—”

“Ayaka tells me you often think of the joys of motherhood. You seem particularly fond of a child with my eyes, it seems? Perhaps you should indulge your husband of such desires instead of your sister-in-law. After all, I am much more fit to offer a remedy to your longing.”

“Oh,” you gasp, just as his fingers wander up the edge of your gown and slip past your panties, sinking into your cunt. “P-please…”

“Please what? Give you an heir? One with my eyes and your smile, perhaps?” He teases.

You nod. Desperately so. Ayato can tease you all he wants, you decide—he might feel like he’s won some one sided battle by pushing at your buttons, but in the end the building pressure between your legs feels like a much larger win.

And it is. You cum on his fingers easily—partly because he’s good with them. Good with you. He knows what you like and where you like it, just like a dutiful husband.

So, like a dutiful wife, you spread your legs and accommodate him. His cock is hard, leaking with a generously large amount of pre cum that you know is not a coincidence. He shivers as the tip pushes past your folds, a low, breathy groan that he lets out right against the shell of your ear as he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” he curses, “You are divine, do you know? You feel it too.”

“Less talking,” you whine, “Move, Ayato.”

“As you wish,” he laughs. It’s a sweet sound—despite his ability to irk you often, you are quite fond of your husband. In love with him, even—enough so, that simple joy on his face makes a flutter in your belly that you’re sure he feels through a particularly tight squeeze around his cock.

He groans, letting out soft, labored pants against your ear as his hips thrust sharply into you, the thick head of his cock nudging past your folds and burying deep into the spongy spot in the back that he has memorized.

“More, more, more—” you chant, “‘M s-so close—”

“Already?” He gasps, a smug, lopsided smirk on his lips. You glare up at him before wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him into your cunt deeper. Closer. Harder.

“O-oh, Gods,” he moans, stuttering his hips for a moment before they fuck into you harsher, a sloppy and quicker pace that lacks his earlier rhythm. His tip angles to hit sensitive parts of you that only Ayato discovers.

He’s close, you can tell by the sloppy tempo of his thrusts. You’re closer, and you know he can tell because he quickens that tempo if only a little.

It’s enough to make pleasure erupt a second time, rolling through hot waves along your body as your walls flutter around him. They squeeze him tight—enough that he whines before releasing his own cum into you.

“I shall fill you to the brim,” his voice is low. There’s a promise in his tone as he continues, “As many times as I have to. Until you are walking around this estate swollen with my child for all to know that I’ve done this. Me.”

“You,” you agree through a whimper, clenching around him at the words. “F-fill me up, Ayato.”

Thick and hot, his seed fucks deep into your walls, sharp thrusts of his twitching cock burying it further and further until you’re sure being full of his seed even just this once will leave you swollen with his child. He seems to think it, too, because his eyes are transfixed between your bodies, dazed as he watches the mess of his cum leaking from your cunt and dripping down your thigh in a thick, slow rivulet.

“Had your fill?” You ask tiredly when he finally finishes, slowing to a stop. You roll your eyes as he throws you a wolfish grin.

“Perhaps for now,” he drawls, “I shall stay inside of you like this for a bit to ensure it takes.” He presses his hips closer to yours, softening cock burying deeper into your cunt for emphasis as he sinks his weight over you. You roll your eyes and bury your hand into his sweaty hair.

“So what takes?”

“My seed, of course,” he says as though it’s obvious.

“Ayato!” You squeal, slapping at his shoulder as he laughs.

“Be sure to let the maids know that you will not be needing the sakura blossom tea. Or perhaps…perhaps I’ll tell them myself—they’re good at gossiping. You might not have to worry about the comments of the public for long.”

“You are exceedingly troublesome, my darling husband.”

“Do you love me for it?”

“Unfortunately, I do,” you grin. He kisses you, and you can’t help but melt and reciprocate—in the future, it might be difficult to enjoy such moments of intimacy should a child be born.

You figure you should enjoy your husband while he’s yours alone for as long as you can.

I think this is slightly more plot build up than it is smut. The smut was rushed for the sake of the word count limit so this definitely isn’t my best piece but I hope it was still a decent read </3

#writing tag #ayato x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #ayato x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #ayato smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #kamisato ayato smut

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bpmiranda · 1 day

Note

If you’re still accepting requests could do a fic where Scott and the others set you up on a fake blind date bc they know that’s the only thing that’ll light a fire under Logan’s ass to ask you out/tell you his real feelings for you.

A Gentle Push (Logan Howlett)

A/N: so very fluffy, jealous!logan, teacher!reader, mutant!reader (unspecified power), mildly suggestive content, scott playing an impatient version of cupid lol

“You’ve gotta grow a pair, man.” Logan looks away from you long enough to see Scott and Jean smirking at him, and he rolls his eyes at them.

“Shut up.” Logan said, getting up from the kitchen island and leaving as you come over and sit with a cup of coffee, smiling at the couple who shake their heads at your cluelessness.

Logan’s got a thing for you, everyone knows it. Except you. The other X-Men find it amusing seeing the Wolverine so love struck, unable to say what’s on his mind, perhaps even scared to tell you how he feels. You and Logan are good friends and have been since the day he arrived at the school. It surprised Logan how easy you were to take to, you weren’t pushy or invasive, you just saw him for what he was - a man out of place. You could relate to that, you had a way of relating to everyone.

Now, it seems he has gone and fallen for you. Logan craves more, a deeper relationship, but he can’t tell whether you share his feelings for not. You’re so kind and sweet to everyone that he can’t tell when you’re flirting or simply being friendly. No one has ever occupied this much of his time or his mind.

Logan would watch you laugh with Scott, push him gently with your hand. That smile of yours knocking Logan’s breath out of his lungs as Cyclops continued making you laugh and it made him uneasy. He would watch you read with Kurt, he’d watch you let the azure mutant read you poetry as he practiced his pronunciation, and he’d watch your cheeks turn plump with a bashful smile. It drove Logan up the wall that you shared moments like this with other men. But when it was you and him, he’d forget anyone else existed, he felt that you did as well.

“How about this one?” You ask, holding up a swatch of yellow paint and looking down at him as he occupies your chair. Logan only noticed how that yellow brought out your eyes, and he nodded. “You don’t care.” You laugh, setting the swatches down and Logan chuckles as he pulls your hand towards him and makes you sit on the edge of the desk so you’re in front of him. You stand between his legs and he slowly runs his hands up your thighs, making you shiver. No one’s ever touched you like this. “Logan?” You ask, your hands caressing his forearms, hoping he’ll say that which he has yet to confess to you, but you’re sure that you know.

His hazel eyes roam the shape of your body until he reaches your eyes and he smiles. “I care a lot.” He says and your face warms up. Suddenly, his hands fall off your hips and he clears his throat. You look behind you and see Jean standing in the classroom doorway with a tiny smirk.

“So sorry to interrupt, Y/N, can I see you for a second in the Professor’s office?” She asks and you give her a nod before she leaves and you turn back to Logan who is still staring at you.

“Anything else?” You ask hopefully, a teasing smile on your face and he smirks.

“Nah, go see about that. I’ll talk with you later.” Logan says and you give him a little nod before leaving the classroom and he groans softly as he rests his forehead on the desk.

So close.

It isn’t until one late afternoon when Logan finally decides he can’t stall any longer, or rather it is decided for him. “Where’s Y/N?” Logan asks as he walks into the danger room where he finds Scott fiddling with the monitors. “I was expecting better company.” Logan can’t help himself when it comes to picking at Cyclops.

The mutant gives him an unimpressed look and shakes his head. “I believe she’s got a date tonight.” Scott says with a shrug, looking away from Logan whose who frame freezes.

“A what?” Logan demands, taking a few closer steps to Scott who looks at him curiously.

“A date, you know,” Scott chuckles as he crosses his arms and turns completely towards Logan whose chest is rising and falling dramatically. “Dinner, drinks, maybe sex if it goes well.”

Logan can’t stifle the scoff that falls from his mouth and turns to leave the danger room in a hurry. Thanks to Scott’s big mouth, Logan knew he needed to stop you, let you know how he feels about you before you fall for someone else. The fear of missing his opportunity to have you vastly outweighed the fear of you saying no. He simply needed to know that he gave it a shot, at the very least.

To his surprise, you answer your bedroom door in a pair of leggings and one of the school’s hoodies, and while he still thought you looked beautiful, he was almost positive that is not what you would wear for a first date. “Hey, Logan,” You raise an eyebrow at him curiously. “Everything okay?” You ask, noticing that he is staring at you with a handful of emotions. Relief, fear, maybe anguish.

“I-uh-Scott said you-um-had a date or-or something tonight?” He asked, breathlessly.

You laugh lightly and shake your head. “Afraid not. I’ve been feeling a little lightheaded today. Figured I’d have him sub for me in the training session.” Logan almost went back to the danger room to throw a car at Cyclops’ head. You leaned casually against your doorframe, crossing your arms over your middle as you looked up at him with a smug smirk. “You didn’t want me to go on a date?”

Logan couldn’t help chuckle as he shrugged and leaned against the same doorframe, staring down at you with what was perhaps the softest look you had ever seen the Wolverine wear. “Not if it’s not with me.” He said, sighing as he took in every detail of you of like this right now. Your shy smile, your big eyes looking up at him expectantly, and he swallowed his fear. “Go on a date with me, Y/N?”

“I’d love to, Logan.” You say, leaning towards him and standing on your toes to kiss him softly. Logan smiles against your lips and he returns the gesture. Neither of you touch each other, deciding to wait to cross that line at the right moment. Definitely, maybe after your date.

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened @xxvendettaxx @throwmethroughawindow

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fic #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett imagine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine fluff #wolverine fic #wolverine fanfiction #x men wolverine #wolverine one shot #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine

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lee-laurent · 2 days

Text

A Love Like No Other - Quinn Hughes

Summary: faye's whole life gets turned upside down

content: angst, pregnancy, making out, refrences to sex, dirty jokes, fluff, panic attacks, body image issues

wc: 17.8k

notes: i'll make a part 2 if you guys want! this took me ages

"I told you I'm fine, Mom," Faye sighed down the phone, continuing to highlight vocabulary words in her textbook.

"Are you sure? Your dad and I could make a trip to help out. Make sure things are-"

"Mom, you guys don't need to do that," Faye sat back in her chair, pressing her palm against the small but growing bump underneath her very oversized hoodie. It was always like this when her mom called--concern that bordered on suffocation.

"Well that Hughes boy isn't, so we just feel--"

"Quinn is busy, Mom. He's working," Faye gritted her teeth, trying to maintain her composure. It wasn't like Quinn could drop everything and come running every time she needed something. He had his own life...that was over 2,000 miles away.

"You and you're health should be his priority, Faye. It's not just about him anymore." Her mom's voice took on that disappointed edge, the one that always made Faye feel small. "You're carrying his baby and he's playing hockey like nothing has changed."

Faye squeezed her eyes shut, a wave of nausea washing over her and it wasn't entirely from the pregnancy. "I told you, he's helping in his own way. We talk. He's... trying." The words felt flimsy leaving her mouth. Like she was defending him way more than she needed to. Or maybe she was defending herself.

Her mom sighed. "I just want what's best for you, sweepea. Your senior year should be about school, not... this."

And there it was. The disappointment. The subtle reminder of everything Faye was now balancing. Projects, assignments, a baby growing inside her, and parents who could barely look at her the same way since she'd told them. It wasn't how things were supposed to go.

"I know, Mom," Faye sounded exhausted. "I've got it under control. I'm handling it." Even if some days it felt like she was hanging on by a thread.

"Okay. But remember, your dad and I are just a phone call away. If you need anything. Anything at all."

"I know." Faye swallowed back the lump in her throat. "I'll talk to you later, okay? I've got class in a bit."

"Alright, honey. Take care of yourself."

As Faye ended the call, she stared at the phone for a long moment, her thumb hovering over Quinn's name in her contact list. They hadn't talked much lately... not really. It was like there was an invisible wall between them, something neither of them knew how to address. Or maybe they just didn't want to.

She dropped the phone onto her desk and stood up, pushing away the overwhelming feelings of fear and isolation that were creeping in. She had class, a paper due, and a prenatal appointment next week. No time to fall apart.

Now how did Faye get into her current position? Well... it was quite the story.

The early summer air had a way of making everything feel lighter. All anxieties faded into the background as the music thumped through the backyard. Faye hadn't planned on going to the party, but Ethan had insisted, dragging her away for one night relaxation.

She stepped into the crowded house, the smell of cheap beer and sweat hitting her like a wall. She scanned the room for familiar faces, relieved when she spotted a few of the hockey boys gathered around the kitchen table, laughing about something she couldn't hear over the noise.

"Faye!" Luca waved her over, a large smile on his face. "We're playing pong. You in?"

She smiled back, shaking her head. "Maybe later. I'm gonna grab something to drink first." She was already regretting not staying home.

She made her way over to a cooler, but a light tap on her shoulder made her turn around. She was met with a slightly familiar face. Quinn Hughes. She knew him from being friend's with Luke's friends. They'd met once before... maybe twice. She wasn't really sure. But he looked relaxed, a grin tugging at his lips, a beer in his hand.

"Hey, funny seeing you here," he said, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Yeah, well, Luke and his friends can be persuasive," Faye replied with a light laugh.

Quinn raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink. "You look like you could use something stronger than whatever's in that cooler."

Faye glanced at him, the casual way he leaned against the counter, his presence somehow more noticeable than the dozens of the other people crammed into the house. She bit her lip, weighing her options. It was just a drink at a party. "Maybe you're right," she smiled.

Quinn took her to take a shot with him. Then he went he passed her a cold beer from the fridge, a smile on his face. "They keep the good shit in the fridge."

She hestitated a second, but took it, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. "Thanks."

Quinn grabbed himself another beer, popping it open with ease. "So," he said, leaning back against the counter again, eyes on her, "what's a girl like you doing hanging out with a bunch of hockey degenerates?"

Faye laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Oh, I've got connections," she said, nodding toward the group of guys still crowded around the table. "I'm friend's with your brother's old teammates. You know, the up-and-comers. Met them all first year."

"Up-and-comers, huh?" Quinn smirked. "That makes me feel old."

She raised an eyebrow, her lips turning up into a teasing smile. "You are old. What are you, like 23 now? And still hanging around college parties?"

Quinn let out a low laugh. "I've still got friends here, you know," he said, lifting his beer to his lips. "Besides, I'm not that old."

"Right, you're ancient," she teased. "At least for a college party."

"I'm not out of place. I mean, I can still outdrink everyone here," he leaned in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Think you can keep up?"

"I think I can handle you, Hughes."

"Yeah? I like that."

She chuckled, feeling the lightness in the air between them, the chatter of the party fading into the background as they stood in their own little party. "So, does Vancouver know they've got an alcoholic captain, or is that a secret?"

Quinn put a hand on his chest in mock offence. "Alcoholic? You're really going for it tonight, huh?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Maybe I can prove you wrong."

"Maybe," Faye challenged. She wasn't sure if it was the beer or the way his gaze lingered on hers, but she felt like the whole moment could turn any second. Her usual defences of casual flirting and trying to play it cool, felt harder to maintain with Quinn standing so close.

"You're bold. I like that."

"I try."

"Guess I'll have to step up my game," Quinn said, his eyes flicking down to her lips for just a second. She would've missed it if she blinked. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Faye's pulse raced as Quinn leaned in just enough for their faces to be meer inches apart.

"So," his voice was low and teasing, "are you always this hard to impress, or is just me?"

"Maybe I'm just waiting for you to do something impressive," she tilted her head.

"Alright," he said softly like it was a dare. "Let's see if I can impress you."

Before Faye could respond, Quinn's lips were on hers. The kiss started slow and tentative, but quickly deepened as the spark between them came to life. Faye's heart was racing, her hand reaching out instinctively to steady herself, fingers brushing against his chest. All she could focus on was the heat of Quinn's mouth on hers and the way his hand gently gripped her waist, pulling her closer.

When they broke apart, her breath was short, her pulse still sky-high. Quinn's forehead leaned softly against hers. "Impressed yet?"

"Not bad, Hughes. Not bad."

She glanced around the crowded kitchen, suddenly aware of the fact that they were still in the middle of a party, surrounded by people. Feeling a rush of adrenaline, she looked back at Quinn, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"You know," she started, her tone casual but with an unmistakable undertone of suggestion, "my place is just a couple blocks from here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Faye replied, stepping back. "If you want to... get out of here."

Quinn didn't hesitate, his eyes still locked on her. "Lead the way."

With a smile, Faye took him by the hand, pulling him gently out the back door, the party fading away as they made their way down the street.

Faye walked alongside Quinn, her hand still loosely intertwined with his as they made their way down the quiet street to her apartment. The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was comfortable, a shared anticipation hanging in the air.

Faye fumbled with her keys for a second before getting the door unlocked. She held it open for Quinn, watching as he took in the cozy studio.

"Nice place."

"Thanks," Faye replied, her casual confidence from the party now felt a bit more fragile in her apartment.

He smiled at her, the same easy grin he'd worn all night, and for a second, she wondered if he was feeling just as unsure as she was.

"So... what now?"

Faye smirked, stepping closer. "I think we left off somewhere around here."

She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss. This was one deeper, hungrier, messier than the one they shared at the party. Neither of them was holding back anymore.

Quinn's hands found a place on her waist, tugging her flush against his body. The soft sounds of their breaths and the rustle of their clothes were the only sound filling the apartment. As the kiss intensified, Faye's hands slid into his hair as he pressed her against the wall. For a moment, she broke the kiss, breathing heavily with her forehead pressed against his.

"You good?" his voice carrying a hint of concern.

She nodded as she leaned in to kiss him again. This time softer and slower, savoring the moment. "I'm good," she whispered against his lips. Quinn smiled into the kiss, and they continued to her bed, the outside world disappearing completely.

Faye lay back against her pillows, the sheets pulled loosely over her chest, her body still warm and buzzing. She glanced at Quinn, who was lying beside her, one arm slung over his eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

There was an unspoken understanding between them. It wasn't love. It wasn't anything serious. Just two people enjoying a night that neither of them had planned.

Quinn shifted, lowering his arm and turning his head to look at her, a lazy smile on his face. "So, you impressed yet?"

Faye couldn't help but laugh. "You're really fishing for compliments, huh?" she teased, nudging him with her foot under the blankets.

"Can't blame a guy for trying." He stretched, then slowly sat up, running a hand through his messy hair.

Faye propped herself up on her elbow, watching as he reached down for his jeans. "So... what's the plan now?"

Quinn shrugged, slipping on his jeans and glancing back at her. "I should probably get going," he said, pulling his t-shirt back over his head. "Got some stuff to take care of tomorrow." He looked at her as if he was deciding to say something else or not. But he decided against it.

Faye nodded, not feeling any kind of disappointment. It was exactly what she'd expected. "Yeah, makes sense," she pulled the sheets tighter around herself. "I've got summer class work to do anyway."

There was no need for goodbyes or long explanations. It had been fun, casual, uncomplicated. Just how it was supposed to be.

Quinn finished lacing his shoes and glanced back at her. "This was... cool."

"Yeah, it was. No strings, right?"

"No strings," he echoed, moving toward the door, hesitating just for a second before opening it. "Take care of yourself, Faye."

"You too, Hughes." The door softly clicked shut behind him.

Faye lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, her mind clear. It had been a fun night--nothing more, nothing less.

Faye sat at the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the white stick in her hands. Two pink lines.

She blinked, her mind desperately trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. Two lines. Not one. Two. Her stomach churned as the realization slowly set in, sending her world into a spin.

It couldn't be real.

She stood up suddenly, dropping the test on the floor like it had burned her hands. Her hands shook, and she pressed them to her face, trying to breathe, to calm the panic that was rising in her chest. It wasn't possible. She'd been careful. Mostly.

The memory of the night with Quinn flashed through her mind, quick and very much uninvited. The way they had laughed, kissed, fallen into bed with that easy, casual energy, no strings attached. And no condom either.

That night had been something she was supposed to leave behind. But now she couldn't.

Her phone buzzed on her nightstand, filling the silence of her room. Faye glanced at it, her heart skipping a beat when she saw her mom's name on the screen.

"Hey, Mom."

"Faye, sweetie! Just checking in. How's everything going? Classes good?" Her mom's voice was warm and cheerful, completely oblivious to what was storming in her daughter's head.

"Yeah, uh, everything's fine," Faye replied, her voice cracking slightly. She cleared her throat, trying to steady herself. "Just... busy, you know. Summer classes and all that."

"Well, I'm sure you're managing fine, like always." Her mom's voice was full of pride, but it only made Faye feel worse. If she knew... if she knew about this...

"Yeah." Her eyes darted back to the test lying on her bed. Those two pink lines taunting her, screaming at her that nothing was fine. "I'm managing."

She had to tell someone. Eventually. But not now. Not yet. Not when she had barely processed it herself. How could she explain it to her parents? To her friends? Hell, how was she going to tell Quinn?

Quinn.

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought of telling him. She barely knew him.

Her mom's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. "Faye? Sweetie, are you sure you're okay? You sound... off."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she lied. "Just tired. I'll call you later, okay?"

There was a brief pause, but thankfully, her mom didn't press further. "Okay, honey. Just take care of youself. And remember if you need anything--"

"I know. Thanks, Mom. I'll talk to you later."

She dropped the phone on the bed and buried her face in her hands. She felt like she was suffocating. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and she fought to calm down, to push away the fear that was eating her whole.

Why was this happening? What was she going to do? How could she do senior year with a baby on the way? How was she going to tell her parents? And Quinn... what would she even say?

She had to think clearly. Step by step. She wasn't ready to tell anyone yet--not her parents, not her friends, not Quinn. But she had to talk to him. He deserved to know. No matter what she decided, he needed to be a part of this conversation.

But how?

They hadn't exactly exchanged numbers that night. Faye knew she could probably get his contact info from Luke's friends--Ethan or Luca--but how was she supposed to ask for his question without raising questions? She didn't want anyone knowing the reason why. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Her eyes flickered to the pregnancy test on the floor, the two lines staring back at her, a reminder of the secret she was now carrying alone.

Faye tapped her fingers against her phone screen, staring at the group chat she had with some of the hockey guys she'd gotten close to over the years. She had to figure out how to word her request without making it obvious.

Hey, can I get Quinn's number? Totally normal, right?

She sighed, locking her phone and tossing it beside her. No matter how she phrased it, they'd ask questions. They'd want to know why she needed Quinn's number when she barely knew him. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to guess what was going on before she ahad the chance to figure it out herself.

There was no avoiding it. She had to talk to Quinn.

Her fingers flew over her keyboard before she could second-guess herself.

Faye: hey, does anyone have quinn's number? need to ask him something abt the canucks for a summer class project

Her heart raced as soon as she hit send, the lie hanging in the air. It wasn't a complete stretch--she was in communications, after all--but she felt a pang of guilt lying to her friends. Hopefully, they'd just let it go. No questions. No suspicion.

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed. It was Ethan.

Ethan: You need it for a project? That's kinda random, Faye. You good?

Of course he'd ask questions.

Faye: yeah, it's for a case study thing about sports teams. i figured since i knew some of you guys, i could reach out to a player i've actually met instead of just cold-calling some rando

Ethan: Makes sense, I guess. Hang on, I'll ask Lukey boy for it

At least he seemed to be buying her story now. She stared at her phone, her nerves making it feel like ages before he responded.

Ethan: Here you go. Don't tell Quinn I gave it to you for a project tho. He'll probs think it's weird lol

Followed by Quinn's number.

She copied his number and created a new contact. Staring at his name on her screen felt like she was a step closer to the edge of something terrifying and unknown. She couldn't just sit on it. She had to text him.

But what could she say? "Hey remember me? We hooked up, and oh, by the way, I'm pregnant"? It was ridiculous, but she had to start somewhere.

Faye: hey, it's faye. we met at the hockey house like a month and a half ago. can we talk?

Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the screen, waiting for the three little dots to appear. But they didn't. A few minutes passed. Nothing.

Maybe he was busy. Or maybe he didn't even remember her. Either way, she'd have to figure out something soon. She couldn't just not think about this. She had to handle it.

But all she could do for the time being was wait.

Quinn had just gotten back from training with Jack and Luke at a gym near their home in Michigan. All he wanted to do was crash on the couch, maybe play a round of 'chel with his brothers or scroll through his phone before taking a long nap. The grind was constant during the offseason, but he liked to be busy.

He slumped onto the couch, grabbing his phone to check if he'd missed anything during his practice session. That's when he noticed a text from a number he didn't have saved.

Faye? He had to think about it for a second before it clicked. She was an acquaintance of Luke's, someone he'd hooked up with at that party he went to at Umich. He hadn't really thought about it much since then--it had been a one-night stand. Just one night of fun.

But the way her message was phrased didn't seem like a casual "what's up" kinda text. Something about it felt off. So, he replied quickly.

Quinn: Yeah, I remember. What's up?

Faye: can we talk? it's kinda important

Important? His heart raced. She hadn't been weird that night. They'd both agreed it was just a one and done kinda deal. Maybe she needed something. Maybe it was something about Luke, or-- No, it was probably nothing.

Quinn: Sure, what's going on?

Faye: i don't really wanna do this over text. can i call you?

He sat up the straighter on the couch, his heart beating faster. This wasn't normal. Faye didn't sound like she was asking for a favour. His fingers hovered over the screen, before he typed back his response, thinking of the best wording.

Quinn: Yeah, I can talk. Gimme a sec. I'll call you

He headed up to his room, closing the door. He assumed it wasn't a conversation he wanted to have in the living room where his brothers and parents could hear. His gut told him that whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. Maybe she had crabs or something. He tapped the call button, and after a few rings, Faye picked up.

"Hey."

"Hey." Her voice sounded different. Shaky, like she was trying to keep herself together.

"So... what's going on?" he asked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, waiting for her to speak.

There was a long pause on the other end, and he was considering checking to see if the line had dropped.

"I... I don't really know how to say this," Faye said finally, her voice faltering. "But I'm just going to say it."

He could practically hear her breathing heavily on the other end. He waited, his nerves eating him alive.

"I'm pregnant."

For a second, he didn't move, didn't say anything. His brain was still trying to process what he'd just heard. Pregnant? Did she just say she was... no, surely he just heard wrong.

"What?" his mind was struggling to keep up. "What did you say?"

"I'm pregnant, Quinn." Her voice was steadier, though she still sounded just as scared as he felt. "And it's yours."

Quinn's thoughts raced, spinning out of control. He plus thundered in his ear, drowning out anything else she was saying. How? How could this be happening? They'd only hooked up once. They'd been... no they hadn't. Shit. Once was all it took.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Quinn? Are you still there?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm still here." His voice sounded far away, even to himself.

Pregnant?

"Are you sure?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself, and he winced as soon as the words left his mouth. Of course, she's sure.

"I took two tests, but I, uh, I'll schedule an appointment with the campus clinic. I... I just found out today."

"Holy shit," he muttered under his breath. This was... a lot. He ran his hand through his hair again, pulling at the roots. He hadn't spoken to Faye since that night. And she was pregnant? With his baby?

"Yeah."

Neither of them really knew what to say. Quinn's brain was flipping through every possible scenario. His hockey career, his family, his entire future. Everything was crashing down on him at once.

"So what now?" he finally asked.

"I don't know," Faye admitted. "I'm still processing it, honestly. I haven't told anyone yet... you're the first."

The thought of being the first person she had told, hit him harder than he could have expected. He swallowed hard, a sense of responsibility creeping in even through the shock. He might not know Faye well, but it wasn't just about him anymore.

She's pregnant with his baby. His.

"I'm keeping it... I think. Like I know this is a lot, but I'm going to keep the baby."

He knew what he had to say next, even if he didn't fully understand it yet.

"I'll be there," he said suddenly, even catching himself off guard. "I mean... I'll help however I can. I'll be there for you. For the baby."

Faye was quiet for a moment, and Quinn was worried that he'd said the wrong thing.He barely knew her. How could he promise something like that? But the thought of leaving her all alone to deal with this felt wrong. Even if they weren't together, it was his responsibility too.

"You don't have to say that. I'm not asking for anything."

"No, I mean it. I'll be there. I don't know how, but... I'll, uh, figure it out." He rubbed the back of his neck, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders.

"I appreciate that," she replied softly. "I know this is... a lot. I didn't mean to just spring it on you like this, but I didn't really know what else to do."

"It's okay," Quinn lied. "I'm glad you told me."

There was another long pause, the air between them feeling more and more awkward. This was just the beginning of a conversation that was going to change everything for them.

"So, I guess... we'll figure this out?" Quinn said, trying to make it sound like he had some clue of what came next.

"Yeah. We figure this out."

He stared at his phone long after the call ended, his thumb still hovering over the screen like he might call her back, as if there was more he could say.

I'm pregnant. And it's yours.

He leaned back against his headboard, eyes unfocused, staring at nothing in particular. How had his life changed so quickly? One minute he was gearing up for summer training, focusing on hockey, and the next... he was going to be a father.

Father. The word made his stomach churn. He wasn't ready for that. Hell, he could barely manage taking care of himself, let alone another tiny human. How was he supposed to do this?

Nothing made sense. They hadn't spoken since that night. Just some stupid drunken hookup. He believed her when she said it was. But there was a part of him, a part of him that felt like a dick to say it, but what if it was another guy's. Was she 100% sure it was his? What if she asked for paternity test? No, that was too far. Way too far.

His phone buzzed. But it was a group text from Jack, something about dinner in a bit. He couldn't deal with that right now. He wasn't ready to face his brothers, or anyone for that matter. What would he even say. What could he even say?

Hey, guys, by the way, I just found out I'm going to be a dad.

He stood up abruptly, pacing his bedroom. What would his parents say? What would Luke say when he found out it was Faye? What about his team? Could this mess up his career? It was only his second season of captaincy. He couldn't take a break to look after a pregnant college student.

He stopped, standing in front of his dresser, his hands gripping the edge of the wood. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and he barely recognized himself. His face was pale, his hair a mess, his eyes wide with panic.

I'm going to be a dad. The thought sent a new wave of anxiety crashing over him. He didn't know the first thing about babies or fatherhood. He hadn't planned for this. He wasn't ready for this. But it didn't matter anymore. Faye was already pregnant.

Quinn's phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Faye.

thanks for taking my call. i know it was a lot. but we will figure this out

Figure it out. Easier said than done. His first instinct was to respond, to say something reassuring. But what? The words just didn't come. He didn't want to lie to her. He wasn't even sure he knew how to be the person that she needed.

He didn't respond. Unable to deal with it then. He needed time. Time to think. Time to process. Time to figure out how he was gonna make this work.

He sat back on his bed, his legs bouncing. He thought about his parents. How disappointed they'd be, how they'd probably give him the "we're here for you, but you messed up" speech. He thought about Faye, about how scared she must be, and how, despite everything, she'd told him first. Not her friends. Not her family. Him.

That alone felt like some sort of strange responsibility. She could ever kept it to herself, could have avoided telling him until much later, but she hadn't. Now he was all in. Whether he was ready or not.

Saying that he'd be there for her and the baby was easy in the moment. But now he wasn't so sure. Could he be a dad while balancing everything else in his life?

He needed to talk to someone. Jack? Luke? No, not yet. He wasn't ready for that conversation. He couldn't handle their reactions, not while he was still freaking out. His phone buzzed again, a call this time. From Jack. He didn't answer, instead placing his phone under his pillow. He let out a few long, shaky breaths.

For now, all he could do was wrap his head around it. He had made a promise to Faye, and no matter how scared he was, he couldn't back out of it now. But what came next? He had no idea.

Faye stared at the stack of textbooks on her desk, the words blurring together as she rubbed her eyes. It had only been a couple weeks since the semester had started, but she already felt like she was drowning. Her professors had no idea what she was going through, and she wasn't exactly in a rush to tell them. The fewer people that knew, the better.

She rested her hand lightly on her stomach, feeling the slight curve under her shirt. If anything it looked like she was very, slightly bloated. It wasn't very obvious. Three months. It was still early, but she could feel the changes. The nausea, the exhaustion, how she felt like napping after walking 15 minutes to class. How was she supposed to handle this? Classes, assignments, the baby? It was all too much.

Her phone buzzed on her desk with a message from Quinn.

How're you feeling? Everything good?

Quinn had been checking in regularly since she'd told him, but their conversations were brief. Surface-level. He was busy with training camp and preseason stuff in Vancouver, and she was busy trying to keep her head above water in Michigan. They lived in two differernt worlds, and no matter how many times he texted, the distance between them felt impossible to bridge.

Faye: tired. got a ton of work. but i'm good

She typed the words quickly, not wanting to burden him with how she was actually feeling. What was the point? He had his own life, his own career to focus on. Besides, she had immediate problems... like how she was going to tell her parents. They knew something was off. They'd been calling more often, asking questions, but she kept brushing them off, making excuses. She wasn't ready to face their disappointment. Not yet.

There was a knock at her door. Her friend and neighbour, Casey, peeked her head in. "Hey, you okay? You've been quiet lately."

"Yeah, just tired. I have a ton of work to do."

"You sure? You've been looking... kinda pale lately."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just stressed, Cas."

"Okay, well, I'm just down the hall if you need anything."

Faye exhaled slowly as her friend left, her fingers brushing her stomach. Soon, more people would start asking questions, and she wasn't ready with answers.

Quinn scrolled through his phone, staring at Faye's message. "tired. got a ton of work. but i'm good." He frowned, feeling the distance betwen them more and more everyday. He'd been checking in, but their conversations were always short. It wasn't enough. But how could it be when he was over 2,000 miles away?

Training camp had just started, and the pressure was already mounting. It was his second year as captain, and everyone had expectations--his coaches, his teammates, his friends, his family. There was barely time to breathe, let along figure out fatherhood.

He didn't know how to be there for Faye. Every time he texted, he just felt like he was checking off a box. He really did want to do more, but how? He was stuck there and there wasn't room for distractions.

But Faye wasn't a distraction. She was... something else.

His phone buzzed again. This time with a message from Petey.

Dinner in 10?

Quinn sighed, pushing himself off the couch. He didn't feel like going out, but avoiding his friends wasn't going to solve anything. He needed to keep his head straight. Focus. But even as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, his mind stayed on Faye.

The phone call from her mom came earlier than expected.

"Faye," her mom's voice was laced with concern. "Honey, are you okay? You've been so distant lately. Your dad and I are worried."

She'd been dodging this conversation for weeks, but there was no avoiding it now. Her parents knew something was wrong, and she couldn't keep hiding.

"I'm fine, Mom." Her voice cracked, and she knew her mom had picked up on it.

"You don't sound fine, sweetpea. Is something going on? School? Your health? Please talk to me."

Faye closed her eyes, there was no easy way to do this. "Mom, there's something I need to tell you."

"Okay. Go ahead."

"I'm... I'm pregnant."

The silence on the other end was deafening. Her mom didn't say anything for what felt like forever, and when she finally spoke, her voice was tight. "What? Faye, what are you talking about?"

"I'm pregnant," Faye repeated. "I just... I didn't know how to tell you."

"With who, Faye? Who's the father?"

Faye hesitated, her heart racing. "Quinn."

"Your friend Luke's brother? The hockey player?" She sounded shocked.

"Yes."

Her mom's voice hardened. "Faye, how could let this happen? How could you throw your future away like this?"

"I didn't mean for it to happen. It just... did."

"But now you're stuck," her mom snapped. "This boy has completely derailed your life. Your senior year, your future--all of it, gone! Poof! What is he going to do about it, huh? Keep playing hockey like nothing happened?"

Faye bit her lip, holding back her tears. "He's trying to help. He's... he's going to be there."

"Be there?" her mom scoffed. "How? He's in Vancouver, Faye? You think he's going to stop everything and come running every time you need him? You're fooling yourself."

"I'm handling it, Mom. I'm figuring it out."

"You shouldn't have to figure this out. He should be stepping up, Faye. You deserve better than this."

Faye couldn't say anything. Her mom was angry, but more than that, she was disappointed. And that was the worst part. No matter how much Faye wanted to believe she could handle this on her own, the reality of it was that she knew she couldn't.

The call came late that night, after Quinn had had dinner with Brock and Petey. He'd just gotten home when his phone buzzed with a call from Faye.

"I told my parents."

Quinn sat down, his heart racing. "How'd they take it?"

"They're pissed. They think you've ruined my life. My mom... she think I'm throwing my future away."

Guilt settled in Quinn's stomach. "Faye, I'm sorry. I didn't--"

"I know you didn't mean for this to happen. But I'm the one who has to deal with them. You're not here."

The words stung, even though he knew they weren't meant to hurt. Faye was right. He was in Vancouver, while she was stuck dealing with things on her own.

"I'm trying, Faye. I want to help. I just... don't know how."

"I know. But it's hard. And I'm scared."

Her voice cracked at the end and Quinn felt his heart break. He hated that she going through it all alone, but he didn't know what to do to help.

"We'll figure it out, okay?"

"Yeah."

But the words felt hollow. Like she'd given up on him being there. And Quinn knew that "figuring it out" was going to be a lot harder than either of them realized.

It was mid-term season and campus somehow seemed quieter. The October air had settled, bringing out heavier coats and the crunch of fall leaves. Faye at her desk, trying to focus on her computer, but all she could think about was how tight her jeans felt that morning.

She had switched to only wearing oversized sweaters and hoodies to hide her growing bump. The baby had started to feel more real over the last few days. Her morning sickness had faded for the most part, but now her back had a constant ache. She was falling behind on assignments, skipping study sessions, and avoiding her friends. She couldn't keep pretending everything was normal. Her mom had been encouraging her to go to student services and tell them about her situation. Apparently the school was supposed to help pregnant students and students with children.

Quinn: You okay? Haven't heard from you in four days

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Quinn--it was just that every time they texted, she felt like she was letting him down by not being stronger, by not being more put together. He was busy with hockey and she was trying not to let her life fall apart all the time.

Faye: yeah, just busy with school. midterms

It was mostly the truth, she was drowning in schoolwork but most of it was that her body was changing faster than she could keep up with. She'd gone up two entire bra cup sizes in a month and new ones were not cheap. But she felt like that was a weird detail to drop on Quinn. Her mom said it wasn't, since he was the father of her child, but Faye disagreed.

She felt more isolated than ever, and she felt that that feeling would just get worse the further along she was. She needed to tell her friends still and it was just a matter of time until someone noticed something was up.

Faye had been invited to the hockey house for a movie night. If she said no they'd definitely know something was up, because she never missed a movie night with the guys. Bowls of popcorn and beers were spread out across the coffee table, and the TV blasted with some shit horror movie they'd found.

Faye had a watter bottle in her hand, keeping it close to her chest, hoping nobody would notice she wasn't drinking. But she could feel their eyes on her already. It wasn't the first time she'd skipped drinking during their hangouts, but the guys didn't want her to think they were peer pressuring her.

"Hey, Faye," Dylan called out. "What's with the water? You've been off booze for weeks."

She glanced at him, then quickly at the others, who were all staring and waiting for an explanation.

"I just... haven't felt like drinking."

But Ethan shook his head, setting down his beer. "Come on, Faye. You haven't felt like drinking since the summer. That's not the Faye we know and love."

"You've been distant. Is something going on?" Mark added.

Time to come clean. She took a deep breath, setting her water bottle down on the table. "I... I need to tell you guys something."

"What is it, Faye?"

She looked down at her hands, lifting up the bottom of her sweater. Her heart pounded in her chest. "I'm pregnant."

"Wait... what?" Dylan asked, blinking in shock. "You're pregnant."

"Yeah. I'm almost four months."

"Four months? Did you get with someone at the party? Last person I saw you talking with was..."

"It's Quinn's?"

"Yeah. It's Quinn's."

"Holy shit, Faye. That's... wow."

"I know," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn't know how to tell you guys. I didn't want you to look at me differently."

"Faye, we're your friends. We're here to help you, support you. Not to judge you. You don't need to go through this alone."

"Thanks, guys. I, uh, I'm not fully alone. My parents know. And Quinn. He's... trying to be supportive."

"Does Luke know?"

"Not if Quinn didn't tell him. Luke and I don't really talk that much."

The looks of concern on their faces, the way they were all pitying her made her stomach hurt. She hated it. She didn't want people to be sorry for her. She just wanted everyone to act like things were normal, even thought things would never be the same.

"I need some air," she sighed, grabbing her jacket.

Luke was laying on the couch, scrolling through his phone when he saw a text from Ethan come through.

Ethan: Hey man, Faye just told the group she's pregnant. It's Quinn's apparently. Didn't know they were seeing each other ngl

Luke blinked, rereading the text a few times to make sure he read it correctly. Faye was pregnant? And Quinn was the dad? Quinn hadn't told him he was going to be a dad, let alone that he was seeing Faye.

Luke: You serious? Quinn never said anything???

Ethan: Yeah, dude. She's almost four months along. She showed us the bump. Seemed legit

Without thinking he pulled up Quinn's contact, shooting him a message.

Luke: What the hell man? Why didn't you tell me that you're seeing Faye and that she's pregnant???

Quinn’s stomach dropped as he stared at Luke’s text. His chest tightened with guilt--a guilt he had been pushing to the side for weeks. He hadn’t told Luke, hadn’t told his parents. Hell, he hadn’t even processed it himself. But the truth was out now, and the window to figure things out on his own was gone. He decided to call Luke, instead of texting about it.

"Hey."

"Hey? That's all you have to say after I just found out you're dating one of my college friends and she's pregnant?"

"We... we're not dating. We hooked up at that party the hockey guys threw. Look, I know I should've told you. I just... yeah."

"How about starting with the fucking truth?" Luke scoffed. "You haven't told you family? You can't keep that kinda shit from us."

"I know. I'm going to tell everyone. I just... had to figure shit out with Faye first."

"Next family FaceTime. You should tell everyone. Mom and Dad will help out... probably."

Luke was right. Secret was out and if he didn't tell the family soon, someone else would. He had to tell them sooner rather than later.

Quinn sat in front of his laptop, staring blankly at the screen. His family's faces were staring back at him through the familiar layout of their family FaceTime session. Jim and Ellen in one square, Jack and Luke in another. He hadn't added much to the conversation yet, just letting out a couple half-hearted laughs when someone cracked a joke.

Luke had been on his case all week. Ever since the news had been handed to Luke through his friends, Quinn had felt like his walls were closing in on him. He wondered if that's how Faye felt too.

Ellen was in the middle of asking Jack and Luke about their latest game when Quinn cleared his throat. "Hey, guys," his voice was much more strained than he'd planned. "There's something I need to tell you guys."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "What's up, Quinn?"

He had rehearsed this a hundred times in his head, but the words were stuck in his throat now that he had to say it out loud. He glanced at Luke, who just gave me a slight nod.

"I, um... I'm going to be a dad."

Ellen blinked, her smile faltering. "Wait... what?"

"I... Faye, one of Luke's friends from Umich, she's pregnant. I'm the dad."

Jack was the first to react, his eyes wide. "Holy shit, Quinn. You serious?"

"Yeah. She's almost four months."

Ellen pressed a hand to her chest. "Oh my god, Quinn. Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"I didn't know how. I've been trying to figure things out with Faye, but... it's been really hard."

"Quinn, this is big. Have you thought about how you're going to handle this and your career?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, I'm still working through it all. Faye's in Michigan and I'm here, so... I'm just trying to be supportive."

"Oh, sweetheart. We'll help however we can. I wish you would've come to us sooner. You don't have to go through this alone. And neither does Faye. We'd be more than happy to help her out."

Quinn nodded, appreciating his mom's comforting words. He hadn't figured out how he was going to balance everything--hockey, the pregnancy, his future with Faye and the baby--but at least his family knew now.

"You did the right thing, Quinn," Luke nodded.

Faye stood in front of the mirror, smoothering her hands over her flowly tank top. She had agreed to a girls' night out after they'd all finished their midterms, and she was really planning on making it through the night without raising any suspicions. Her friends, Casey and Sarah, were already getting ready, throwing clothes around her apartment and laughing.

Faye had told them she wasn't going to drink because alcohol made her stomach hurt--which wasn't technically a lie. But it also wasn't the whole truth. She was trying to pull her favourite pair of jeans on, only realizing that they didn't button up.

She stared down at the small gap between the button and the buttonhole, her hands trembling. That was it. None of her jeans fit anymore.

"Faye, you almost ready?" Sarah called from the bathroom, sticking her head out as she did her hair. "We're running late!"

"Yeah. Just... gimme a minute."

She stood there, her hands still on the waistband of her jeans. Casey walked over, her eyes scanning Faye's reflection in the mirror. "Did you like... get a boob job or something?" she asked, half-joking. "You look different."

Faye wanted to brush it off with a laugh and make up a lie, but when she glanced at her reflection all she wanted to do was cry. Her body was changing too much, everyone would notice soon.

"I, um..." she bit her lip, her hands falling from her jeans. "No, I didn't get a boob job."

Casey frowned, picking up on Faye's seriousness. "What's going on? You've been acting so weird recently."

Faye exhaled slowly, her eyes stinging with tears she'd been holding back for weeks. She turned to face Casey, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm pregnant."

Casey's eyes went wide, and Sarah, who had just stepped out of the bathroom, froze, her mouth falling open.

"You're... pregnant?"

"Yeah. Four months."

Sarah walked closer, the initial shock wearing off. "Faye, why didn't you tell us? You've been dealing with this all by yourself?"

"I'm just really tired of people seeing my differently. I wanted some normalcy."

"We're not going to look at you differently. You're our friend."

Sarah nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Faye. You're not going through this alone."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I didn't know what to say. Everything's been... changing so fast."

Sarah smiled, giving her a hug. "We're here, okay? Whatever you need."

Casey grinned, her usual humour shining through. "Besides, you look pretty damn good for a mom-to-be. I mean, your tits look fucking amazing."

Faye laughed through the tears. "Thanks, I guess. But they hurt like hell all the time."

"Now, come on. Let's go out! Even if you're not drinking, you deserve a night out."

Faye nodded, digging through her drawers to find a pair of pants that fit and went with her outfit. At least she wasn't hiding from her friends anymore.

The ticking of the clock and the rerun episode of something on HGTV filled the waiting room as Faye sat in an uncomfortable, plastic chair. Her 16-week appointment. She had been dreading this one for some reason, even though she knew it was supposed to be one of the more exciting ones.

It wasn't that she wasn't excited to hear the baby's heartbeat--she was. But there was something about all the changes she was facing that made her uneasy. She had been feeling more emotional lately, the hormones sending her on a rollercoaster ride. And her body? That was a whole other issue.

None of her pants, except for stretch-band waisted ones, fit. Her skin was breaking out like she was in high school again, and the weight gain was starting to show in more than just her belly. It was making her self-conscious in a way she'd never been before. She knew it was all part of journey, but it didn't make it any easier.

"Faye Brooks?"

The nurse's voice pulled her out of her head, and Faye stood up, wiping her sweaty palms on her leggings as she followed the woman into the exam room.

"Let's get you weighed," the nurse said cheerfully, like it was no big deal.

Faye stepped on the scale, trying to avoid looking at the number that popped up, but the nurse read it out anyway. "Looks like you've gained about eight pounds since your last appointment. That's good--right on track."

Eight pounds. Her stomach churned. She knew that gaining weight was inevitable, but hearing the actual number sucked ass. She stepped down, forcing a smile. "Right."

The nurse led her to a small room, where she lay back on the table, her shirt pulled up over her belly. The bump was more prominent, although she could probably still get away with saying she was extremely bloated. The nurse prepared the ultrasound equipment and Faye tried to calm her nerves. This was supposed to be a happy moment. She was going to hear her baby's heartbeat for the first time.

The gel toucher her skin, and she shivered. She closed her eyes, waiting for the sound, the moment that would make things even more real... if that was possible.

And then it happened.

The steady, rhythmic thump, thump, thump filled the room, and she swore her heart stopped. The baby. Her baby. It was real. She blinked back tears, unable to stop the happiness that surged through her.

"That's your baby's heartbeat. Nice and strong."

Faye smiled through the tears. For the first time in weeks, the stress of school faded away. The pimples, the weight gain, the cravings--they didn't matter. All that mattered was that her baby was healthy.

"Would you like some ultrasound photos to take home?" the nurse asked.

Faye nodded quickly. "Yes, please."

She couldn't wait to send the little black-and-white photos to Quinn. He wasn't there, and that still made her heart ache, but at least he could see the baby in the photos. She grabbed her phone as soon as the nurse handed the pictures to her.

Faye: just heard the heartbeat for the first time. sending you the photos :)

Quinn was in the middle of a film session with the team when his phone buzzed. He normally ignored texts during meetings, but when he saw it was Faye, he felt that he had to answer. He quickly checked the message, his breath catching when he saw the words: just heard the heartbeat for the first time

Attached were three ultrasound photos. His baby. He stared at them for a couple minutes, barely listening to the meeting anymore. He hadn't been there with her, but seeing the phots made everything feel a bit better.

Quinn: Wow. That's amazing, Faye! Wish I could've been there

God, he wished he could be there.

Faye left the clinic with the photos tucked in her backpack. She felt so much joy hearing her baby's heartbeat, relief that everything was going well, but also frustration with everything happening to her body.

Her cravings had gotten stranger--pickles with vanilla ice cream, enough strawberries to feed a small town, peanut butter on everything--and her emotions were all over the place. Some days, she felt like crying over nothing. Other days, she was just restless. Her sex drive had skyrocketed, which was great since she wasn't seeing anyone and Quinn was in fucking Vancouver.

It sucked. She wasn't about to start dating while pregnant, but the hormones had her feeling much more needy than she was comfortable with. She tried to push those kind of thoughts aside, but when she was laying in bed at night, she couldn't help but wish Quinn was there with her.

That night, she stood in front of her bathroom mirror, staring at herself. She tugged at her shirt, trying to flatten it over her belly, sucking in as much as she could. But even when she sucked in, she wasn't as thin as she was pre-pregnancy. Her skin was breaking out, a cluster of pimples along her hairline and on her chin. Her hips were wider, her thighs thicker, and her favourite clothes didn't fit the way they used to.

She felt... ugly.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. It was a reply from Quinn. He'd asked for a 'bump-date.'

Quinn: You look beautiful. I know this is hard, but you're amazing. Can't wait to meet our baby

Quinn always knew how to say the right thing, but it didn't make the insecurities go away. She was grateful for his support, but it wasn't enough to make her feel better about the changes happening to her body. She was supposed to feel strong and capable, but she felt was out of control.

She sighed, placing a hand on her bump. "We've got a long way to go," she whispered to the baby. "But I'm doing this for you."

Faye sat at the back of the lecture hall, her arms folded over her stomach. It was the same spot she always sat in, tucked away in the corner where fewer people could see her. But even when she tried to disappear, she couldn't shake the feeling that everyone was staring at her.

With her belly starting to show more and more, and her face breaking out into what felt like a million pimples, she felt like a different person. She no longer looked like herself. Every time she caught her reflection in a window or glanced down at her swollen feet, she wondered where the old Faye had gone. The Faye that felt comfortable wearing the shortest mini skirt and tank top to a party.

She tugged at the hem of her Wolverines hoodie, trying to cover her stomach more. People were definitely noticing. She could feel their eyes on her when she walked through campus, feel their whispers following her as she sat down in class or waited in line at the coffee shop.

It wasn't just that she was pregnant. It was that she was pregnant, in college, and very much not in a relationship. Every time she passed a group of students, she imagined what they were thinking. Is she a single mom? Did the dad ditch her? What's her story? She hated it.

By the time class ended, Faye felt like she was suffocating. She gathered her things quickly, keeping her head down as she hurried out of the lecture hall. She was halfway home when her phone buzzed.

Sarah: girls night at my place tonight! you in?

Normally, she loved hanging out with her girlfriends, but lately, she'd been so tired, so emotional, that the idea of socializing just felt exhausting. But she also didn't want to push her friends away. They were one of the few things keeping her grounded.

Faye: yeah, i'll come by

At least she had friends. They didn't look at her with pity or judgement--at least, not in the way that she imagined other people did. They just supported her. And that's all she needed.

Sarah's apartment was warm and inviting, the smell of freshly baked cookies filling the air as Faye stepped inside. She shrugged off her coat, glancing at her friends already lounging on the couch with wine glasses in hand.

"Hey, girl!" Casey waved her over. "We saved you a seat!"

Faye smiled, making her way to the couch. She was grateful for the normalcy her friends provided. She sat down, tucking her legs under herself, and reached for the glass of water Sarah had already set out for her. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to her.

"So," Sarah smiled. "Tell us what's new. How're you feeling?"

She wasn't sure how honest she wanted to be? How was she feeling? She felt like shit. Her body wasn't her own anymore between all her side effects, but she didn't want to bring the mood down.

"I'm... okay. Tired. Hungry all the time. You know, the usual."

Casey raised an eyebrow. "Girl, you've been looking tired. No offence, but your skin's been freaking out lately. Did you change your skincare routine or something?"

Faye bit her lip, trying to push her self-conscious thoughts aside. "Yeah, it's the hormones. I can't seem to keep up."

"That sucks, but you still look amazing."

She was trying to stay positive, but the truth was, she'd never felt more disconnected from herself. This wasn't her. The Faye she knew wasn't tired, overly emotional, or super uncomfortable in her own body. And the worst part? She had no idea when--or if--she's ever feel like herself again.

Quinn stared at the ultrasound photos on his phone again, a grin tugging at his lips. He had saved the images Faye had sent him and found himself looking at them whenever he had a quiet moment.

The baby. His baby. It still felt surreal at times, but whenever he looked at the black-and-white photos, a wave of excitement washed over him. This was real. The tiny little being in those pictures was growing inside Faye, and even thousands of miles away, he felt connected to it.

He scrolled through the photos one more time before pulling up the family group chat. He hesitated for a second, then decided it was time. His family had been asking about the baby since he told them, and now he actually had something to share.

Quinn: Hey guys, just got some ultrasound pics from Faye. Meet baby Hughes :)

He attached the photos and leaned back on the couch, waiting for the answers to come through. And it didn't take long.

Jack: Holy shit! That's so cool!

Mom: Oh, Quinn, that's amazing! Look at that little face! I can't wait to meet them

Dad: Proud of you, Quinn. Keep us updated

Warmth spread through Quinn's chest as he read their responses. Even though he wasn't physically with Faye, sharing those moments with his parents made him feel like he was more of a part of the journey. It made him feel less alone.

He sent Faye a quick text.

Quinn: Shared the ultrasounds pics with the fam. They're all super excited. How're you feeling?

He knew she was struggling, but every time he asked, she shrugged him off. He was trying his best. He was falling more in love with the idea of being a dad every day. He still had to figure out how to be there for Faye though.

Faye: i'm... okay. just feeling kind of off ngl. don't really feel like myself anymore

Quinn: I get it. But you're doing amazing, Faye. You're strong, even if you don't feel like it. Wish I could be there

She appreciated the support, but right now, no amount of reassurance was going to make her feel like herself again.

It was late, and Faye was curled up on the couch, flipping absentmindedly though a textbook she wasn't really planning on reading. She felt like she hadn't had a moment to relax recently. She sighed, shifting uncomfortably. He back had been aching all day, and felt an unfamiliar tightness in her lower belly.

She placed a hand on her stomach, furrowing her brow. The sensation wasn't painful exactly, but it felt... strange. A dull pressure that came in waves. She tried to brush it off, assuming it was just another pregnancy symptom she wasn't familiar with. But the tightness came again, stronger this time, making her sit up straight.

Something didn't feel right.

The pressure intensified again, her belly growing hard under her hand. Panic surged through her. This wasn't normal. It couldn't be normal. Was she going into labour? The baby wasn't due for months--she was only 20 weeks along.

Another wave of tightness hit her, and this time it was even more painful. She grabbed her phone, hands trembling as she dialed Quinn's number.

Quinn was getting ready for bed when his phone rang. When he glanced down and saw Faye's name, his heart skipped a beat. It was late where she was, and they hadn't planned on talking that night.

"Faye? What's going on?"

"I- I don't know," her voice was shaky and strained. "Something's wrong. I keep feeling this pressure in my stomach... I don't know what's happening, Quinn. What if the baby's coming too early?"

"What? Are you sure? How bad is it?"

"I don't know!" she cried, her panic rising. "I've never been pregnant before. What if something's wrong?"

Quinn's mind immediately went into overdrive. He wanted to be calm for her, but the fear that something was wrong with the baby made his pulse pound in his head. He needed to be there. He needed to help.

"Okay, okay, listen. You need to get to the hosptial. I'll book the next flight out."

"But Quinn, it's so far away--"

"I'm coming. I'll be there as soon as I can. Go to the hospital and let them check you out. Everything's going to be okay." He hoped his words sounded more confident than he felt.

"Okay. I'll call you when I get there."

"Text me as soon as you're on your way. I'll be there as soon as I can."

He hung up and immediately pulled up flight options on his phone. He mind was racing, fear settling deep in his gut. What if something was wrong with the baby? What if Faye was going into premature labour?

He fired off a text to his coach, explaining the situation. Within minutes he had a response telling him to go to Michigan. That they'd be fine if he missed two days of practice for his baby.

The hospital smelled sterile, and Faye felt her nerves buzzing as she sat on the exam table. Her hands were clenched in her lap and every slight tightening of her belly made her wince.

She had texted Quinn when she had arrived and he was already on his way to the airport. Finally, the door opened, and the doctor entered the room, offering her a calm smile.

"Faye, hi. I hear you've been experiencing some discomfort," the doctor said as she sat down beside her, pulling on a pair of gloves.

"Yeah. I've been having these weird contractions or something. I don't know. I'm only 20 weeks..."

"Let's take a look."

As the doctor examined her, her breath came in short, shallow bursts, her nerves eating her alive. But after a few moments, the doctor straightened up, her smile reassuring.

"It looks like you're experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions. They're often called 'practice contractions.' They're not harmful, and it doesn't mean you're going into labour."

"So... I'm okay? The baby's okay?"

"Yes! Everything looks normal. It's common to experience these at some point in your pregnancy. It can be uncomfortable, but it's nothing to worry about."

Faye let out a shaky laugh. "Oh my god... I thought I was going into labour."

The doctor chuckled. "No, not at all. Just keep an eye on things, but everything's perfectly fine."

As soon as the doctor left, Faye texted Quinn.

Faye: false alarm. it's just braxton hicks. baby's okay. everything's okay

Quinn's flight landed early the next morning, and as soon as he stepped off, he checked to see if Faye had texted. Relief flooded his chest, but even knowing things were okay, he still needed to see her. When she opened the door, she looked exhausted. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, and her hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Quinn didn't care. He pulled her into a hug, feeling the tension leave his body the second he held her.

"I was so scared," he admitted.

"Me too," Faye whispered, clinging to him. "I thought something was really wrong."

Quinn pulled back slightly, looking down at her. "I'm glad everything's okay. I'm staying for a couple days, just to make sure you're good."

Faye hesitated, then nodded, too tired to argue. "Okay. That... that would be nice."

Quinn sat on Faye's couch, a cup of coffee in his hand, while Faye lay stretched out beside him, her head resting on a pillow. She still looked exhausted, her body worn out from stress and the Braxton Hicks scare.

"How are you feeling now?"

Faye shrugged, resting a hand on her belly. "Better, I guess. I still feel... off. But the doctor said it was normal. It just freaked me out."

Quinn nodded, then hesitated before reaching out. "Can I...?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

Quinn placed his hand gently on her stomach. It was the first time he'd touched her bump, and the feeling of life growing beneath his hand hit him like a ton of bricks. He swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion.

"That's... our baby."

Faye smiled weakly, "Yeah, our baby."

Quinn's phone buzzed with a text from his mom.

Mom: Heard what happened. We're so relieved everything's okay. If Faye needs anything, let her know I'm here, okay? She's family now.

Quinn smiled, showing the message to Faye. "Mom wants to help you out. She's pretty excited to be a grandma."

"I appreciate that. Your mom's always been so nice."

"She means it," Quinn said. "And so do I. You're not doing this alone."

"I know."

It had been two days since the scare, and while Faye had physically recovered, the emotional exhaustion hadn't lifted. Having Quinn around helped, though. It was strange at first, seeing him so much more than usual, but also comfortable. He wasn't hovering, like a helicopter parent, but he was there, offering a helping hand

She wasn't sleeping well, though. Not anymore.

At 20 weeks, she'd finally hit the point where it was becoming increasingly difficult to sleep. It didn't help that her back constantly ached and her hips throbbed with every moment. Lying flat on her back made the pain worse, but when she shifted onto her side, it was like her belly was pulling her down, straining her already sore muscles.

Late at night, Faye lay awake in bed, shifting restlessly. Her body screamed for relief, but no matter how she positioned herself, the ache in her body wouldn't go away. She tried hugging a pillow like she'd seen online, but it didn't help. She was surprised she hadn't woken up Quinn with her constant tossing and turning, the rustling of her bedding.

Quinn had insisted on sleeping on the couch to give her space, but when the pain became unbearable, Faye found herself padding softly to the couch. She stood there a moment, watching him sleep, unsure whether she should wake him. But the dull ache made her decision for her.

"Quinn?" she whispered, nudging his shoulder. "I... I can't sleep."

Quinn blinked awake, his face full of concern as he sat up. "What's wrong?"

"I just... I can't get comfortable," she admitted, her hand resting protectively on her belly. "My back is killing me."

"How can I help?" his voice was deep with sleep.

"Come lay in bed with me?"

"Okay," he pushed himself up, following her over to the bed. Faye lay down beside him, curling onto her side, and after a second Quinn's arm came over her stomach. She closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh of relief as his hand helped her prop her stomach in a more comfortable position. His touch grounded her in a way that felt... right. She shifted slightly, nestling deeper into the curve of his body, and for the first time that night, she felt like she could sleep.

"That better?" he murmured.

Faye nodded slightly. "Yeah. Thank you."

As she drifted to sleep, she realized how much she needed this--needed him. She wasn't used to relying on people, but with Quinn, it didn't make her feel weak. It just felt... safe.

In the morning, Quinn was already awake when she opened her eyes. His arm was casually draped over her, and Faye's cheeks flushed as she remembered how she practically crawled onto him in the middle of the night.

"Morning. How're you feeling?"

"Better," she replied. Her back still ached, but he pain wasn't as intense as it had been when she was trying to sleep. "I think you might've saved me last night."

"Glad to be of service."

She sat up slowly, stretching her sore muscles as she glanced to the textbooks scattered around the place. Finals were creeping up on her, and while she'd tried to keep up with classes, the pregnancy was making it hard. Her professors and the school were understanding, but she still felt the pressure to stay on top of things.

"Do you need help studying? I've got time," he suggested, following her gaze.

"You? Studying?"

"Hey," he shot back playfully. "I wasn't a complete slacker in school, you know."

"I wouldn't mind the company."

They spent the next few hours at her small dining table, Quinn helping her go over some notes for upcoming exams. It felt strangely normal, having Quinn sitting beside her, scribbling down notes on things she missed, cracking jokes to lighten the mood.

Faye let herself imagine what it would be like if things were different. If Quinn lived closer, if they were a couple, if they were navigating this together in a real, committed way. But she quickly pushed the thought aside. It was too much to think about.

"Do you ever think about the future?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah. I think about it a lot."

"And?"

"And..." Quinn's gaze dropped to her stomach before meeting her eyes again. "I think about how I want to be there. For you. For the baby. I know it's complicated, but... I'm in this with you, Faye."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

That night, Faye lay in bed, Quinn next to her already this time. She needed rest, but her body was only sort of cooperating. Quinn groaned slightly, having trouble falling asleep with all her tossing and turning.

"You okay?"

"No. I can't fall asleep."

He pulled her closer to his chest, nuzzling his face in her neck. "Better?"

"A bit."

She turned over, resting her head on his chest, closing her eyes.

"Better?"

"Thanks," she whispered, her breath warmth against his skin.

Faye could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her mind spinning from the physical relief but also the chemistry she was sure was between them.

And then, in the heat of the moment, their lips met. Faye's heart raced as his tongue swiped across her bottom lip, her body responding to the need she'd been ignoring for weeks. She pulled back, her breathing uneven.

"It's the hormones."

But Quinn just smiled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I know. But if you need me... I'm here."

She blushed but still laughed at his flirting. Then tension between them was electric, and she leaned up for another kiss. Quinn rested his hand on her belly, pulling away when he felt something.

"It moved."

"What?" she whispered, not liking that he'd ended their make out session.

"The baby, I felt it. It was like a little flutter. Did you feel it?"

"I wasn't really paying atten--"

Then she felt it, the strangest feeling yet. Just like Quinn had said, like a little flutter.

"Oh my god. It's moving!" she laughed, cupping Quinn's face. "Our baby is moving!"

Quinn leaned in, pressing a bruising kiss to her lips. Resting his forehead on hers as they pulled away.

"That's... that's so fucking cool, Faye! That's our baby!"

"I know, Quinn," she giggled, but as excited as she was, exhaustion was starting to take over.

"Do you want me to move my hand?" Quinn asked.

"No. It's fine there," she mumbled, falling asleep while Quinn sat there and waited for the baby to move again. He was even more in love with the baby and it wasn't even there yet.

It was Quinn's last day in Michigan, and Faye didn't like the heaviness that settled in her chest at the idea. She knew he had to go back to Vancouver. It was his job after all, but after everything that had happened, having him around felt comforting. He made everything seem a little less overwhelming.

To make the most of their last day, they decided to keep things light, indulging in Faye's latest pregnancy cravings. Currently, they were at her small dining table, staring at an odd combination of food.

"Are you seriously going to eat that?" Quinn asked, eyeing Faye as she spread peanut butter over a pickle.

"Trust me, it's so good," she insisted, though she had to admit it seemed strange. "It's the pregnancy."

"Well, I'm in. I promised I'd try all your cravings today, so let's see what this tastes like."

Faye handed him half the pickle, watching with amusement as he hesitated before taking a bite. His face twisted in confusion, then something more like... surprise.

"Okay... that's not as bad as I thought."

They spent the next hour going through her line up of food combinations--pickles in vanilla ice cream, hot sauce on a piece of white toast, avocado and chocolate, babybel cheese with whipped cream, lots and lots of orange soda. Each bite brought laughter and more jokes from Quinn, and Faye feeling better about her stupidity.

After, they sprawled out on the couch, stuffed from their culinary adventure. Quinn pulled out his phone, opening an app he'd downloaded to track the baby's development. "So, I was reading about what's going on with the baby at 20 weeks," he said, scrolling through the information.

"What does it say?" she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Apparently the baby's about the size of a banana now. That's... actually kinda big."

"A banana?" She placed her hand on her stomach. "Wow."

Quinn grinned, scrolling further down on the app. "It can hear things now too. Like they can hear your voice when you talk or when music is playing."

Faye smiled, imagining the little banana-sized baby growing inside her. She felt more connected with the baby every time she learned a new fact, but also much more anxious about the future.

As if reading her mind, Quinn set down his phone and said, "I ordered you something, by the way. It should be here tomorrow."

"You ordered something for me?"

"Yeah, I've been reading about pregnancy pillows. I figured it might help with the sleeping problems you've been having."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know," he smiled softly. "But I want to help however I can. Even when I'm not here. I hate that you've been struggling with getting to sleep."

Quinn had been supportive than she ever imagined, and while they hadn't had a serious conversation about the future, moments together like that made her feel like things would be okay.

They decided to end the day with a movie, cuddled up on the sofa. Faye was wrapped in a blanket, her head resting on Quinn's chest. It was peaceful, but just as she was getting comfortable, her phone rang.

"It's my mom," she murmured, sitting up.

"You want to answer it?"

Faye nodded, then slid off the couch and headed to the bathroom for some privacy. "Hey, Mom."

"Faye, sweetpea! How're you feeling? You've been awfully quiet lately."

"I'm okay. Just... busy with school and stuff."

"Well, your dad and I were talking, and we think you should move back home once the baby's born," her mom said. "It'll be better for you to have support--proper support."

She knew what her mom was getting at. "Mom, I'm fine. I can manage on my own."

"Faye, be realistic," she snapped. "You're going to be a single mother. It's hard enough raising a baby when you have help, but you'll be alone most of the time. And if you think Quinn's going to be around for the sleepless night and dirty diapers, then you're being delusional."

"That's not fair. Quinn wants to help."

"He might think he does now, but once the baby is here, he's going to be focused on his career, on hockey. You'll be left doing everything on your own. You should come home, where we can help you."

"I'm not moving back home, Mom! I've got everything under control."

"You're not thinking clearly, Faye! You're being stubborn, and it's going to cost you. You need to think about what's best for the baby."

"I am thinking about the baby," Faye fought back her tears.

"Then why won't you listen to us?"

"Because I don't want to move back home! I can handle this on my own! And Quinn's not going to just disappear, okay? He's been helping me, and he's going to be there."

Her mom sighed heavily. "I hope you're right. I don't want you getting your hopes up, Faye."

Faye ended the call abruptly, feeling her entire body tremble as she leaned against the counter, sobbing quietly.

Quinn had heard bits and pieces of the conversation from the couch, but when he saw Faye's face, he immediately stood up and rushed over to her.

"Hey, hey," he murmured, pulling her into his arms. "What happened?"

Faye sobbed into his chest, her words coming out in gasps. "My mom... She thinks I should move back home. She thinks... She thinks you're not going... to be around."

"What? Why would she think that?"

"She... she thinks you're just going to focus on hockey, and I'll be stuck all alone. She doesn't believe you'll actually be here."

Quinn felt a surge of anger rise in his chest, not at Faye's mom, but at anyone who would think he wouldn't be involved. He cupped her face, wiping away her tears. "Faye, listen to me. I'm not going anywhere. I'm in this with you. We're going to figure this out together."

Faye sniffed, "What if... What if my mom's right? What if this gets too hard, and you--"

"It won't. Yeah, it's going to be hard, but I'm not going to walk away. I care about you, and I care about our baby. I'm going to be here for you both of you. No matter what. Okay?"

"I'm scared."

"I know. But we'll figure it out. We're a team, Faye."

Maybe, just maybe, they'd figure this out together.

The snow was falling softly outside the Hughes' house, making everything look like a scene out of a Christmas movie. Faye stood by the window, watching the flakes settle on the ground, her hands on her ever growing stomach. It was strange being there surrounded by Quinn's family. Strange but... comforting.

She was 24 weeks along, her belly undeniably visible, and the baby had started kicking more regularly, constantly reminding her it was there. Her back ached 24/7 now and she slept most of the day, but she was still trying to enjoy her holiday break.

"Everything okay?" Quinn's voice came from behind her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Yeah. It's just... nice here. Your family is so kind. I still can't believe they invited me to stay for a few days."

Quinn chuckled, "Of course they did. You're part of the family now, Faye. Besides, my mom's been looking forward to spoiling you and the baby for weeks."

Ellen Hughes had gone out of her way to make her feel welcome, treating like she was already part of the family. And was overwhelmed as she felt, the whole thing made her feel less alone.

Later that evening, Faye sat on Hughes' couch, enjoying the warmth of the fire place, when Ellen came in and placed a large, beautifully wrapped, present in front of her.

"These are just a few things we thought might help," Ellen said, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I know you've probably already started planning, but every little bit helps, right?"

Faye blinked, holding back her tears as she unwrapped the box. Inside was a collection of things she hadn't even thought about yet. There was a breast pump, a coupld sets of baby clothes, a few board books, and even a set of parenting books. One for her and one for Quinn.

"Oh my god, Ellen," her voice wavered as she ran her fingers over the small onesie. "This is so thoughtful. Thank you."

"It was mostly my mom," Quin grinned. "But I helped."

Ellen waved a hand dismissively. "Quinn picked out a few things. The parenting books were his idea."

The fact that he had been thinking about this--about them, about the baby--made her feel even more connected to him. Quinn was clearly committed to figuring things out.

"Thank you, Quinn. I mean it," she whispered.

Quinn reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We're in this together, Faye. You and me."

Faye was exhausted from socializing, so she and Quinn retreated to his childhood bedroom. It felt cozy and nostalgic, with posters of old hockey heroes still hanging on the walls and a few trophies lined his dresser.

"So this is where the great Quinn Hughes spent his teenage years, huh?" she teased.

"Yeah, it's nothing fancy. But it's home."

Faye lay on her back, immediately feeling the stretch of her belly above her. "It's nice. Being here with you. I wasn't sure how'd I feel, but... I like it."

Quinn lay down beside her, propping himself up on his elbow. "I'm glad you're here. It feels right."

They spent an hour talking about the baby, about names they hadn't settled on yet, and how crazy it was that in just a few more months, they would be parents. As the conversation quieted down, Quinn placed his hand gently on her stomach, his face lighting up when he felt a kick under it.

"Hey, there's my little buddy," he whispered, voice full of wonder. "You're getting strong in there."

Faye smiled, her heart swelling at the way Quinn talked to the baby. She placed her hands over his, enjoying the warmth. "The baby likes you."

Quinn leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her belly. "I like the baby too."

It was late by the time they finally turned off the lights, but Faye found herself still wide awake. She shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position without her pregnancy pillow. Sighing softly, she turned to face Quinn, who was lying beside her, his eyes closed but not quite asleep. "I can't get comfortable."

"How can I help?"

"Pillows and cuddles?"

"I can do that," he handed her an extra pillow from the floor, allowing her to stick it under her stomach. "Better?"

"A lot," she sighed.

Quinn gripped her jaw, turning her face towards him. He pressed his lips to her, a strong, quiet kiss. They'd shared kisses before, but this one felt more intimate, more real.

"I'm glad I'm here."

"Me too."

It was nearing the end of January, and Michigan was wrapped in a thick blanket of snow. Faye sat cross-legged on the couch under a heavy knit blanket. The baby's kicks were getting stronger, whenever she placed her hand on her stomach she could feel it responding to her touch.

She was 28 weeks, officially in her third trimester. The reality of everything was hitting hard. It wasn't just the growing bump, the constant back pain, or the shortness of breath. Now, the emotional weight of it all was settling in, and the need to start planning for the birth was unavoidable.

Faye glanced down at the notebook in her lap, where she'd started to write out ideas for her birth plan. It felt weird, putting pen to paper and trying to map out how it would all go. Of course, she couldn't fully predict how things would play out, but the idea of having a plan eased her worries,

Her phone beside her buzzed, and she smiled when she noticed it was Quinn texting her. They talked almost every day now, and she felt like a school girl with a crush every time he texted or called.

Quinn: You free for a FaceTime? Been thinking about some stuff we should figure out

Faye: yeah, call me!

Seconds later, her phone rang and Quinn's face filled her screen. His hair was damp, probably from a post-practice shower, and he was smiling brightly.

"Hey, how're you feeling?"

"Tired. The baby's getting bigger and I swear I feel every, single kick these days."

Quinn laughed. "Strong kid. Probably gonna play hockey."

"We'll see about that," she rolled her eyes, looking back at her notebook.

"So, I was thinking... We should probably start to make some real decisions here. Like about the birth and everything that comes after."

Faye nodded, "Yeah, I've been thinking about that too. I kinda started writing out my birth plan, but it's a rough, rough draft."

"Yeah? What kinda things are you drafting?"

"Well, I want to have the baby here in Michigan. I've already talked to my doctor about it, and she's amazing. I don't want to risk flying anywhere when I'm that close to my due date."

"Good call. I'll come as soon as I can. Make sure I'm there for baby's due date."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that too. I know you'll have to travel for games, but I want you here as much as possible."

"I will be. I'll talk to the team, make sure I'm there whenever you need."

"Okay, so after the baby's born..." Faye trailed off, trying to put her thoughts into words. "I don't think I should fly to Vancouver right away. I'll need time to recover and moving across the country with a newborn... it just seems like too much."

Quinn nodded, "Makes sense. I don't want you to have to deal with that stress right after giving birth."

"So, I'm thinking I'll stay here in Michigan for the first few months. Maybe two or three? My parents will stop by and help, and you can come visit when you can."

Quinn's face dropped at the mention of her staying in Michigan. "I hate that we won't be in the same place right after the baby's born. But... I get it. It's the best plan for now."

"I know," she mumbled, her heartbreaking. She also hated the idea of being apart from Quinn for those couple months, but she knew it was necessary. "I just want to give the baby a stable place before we have to move all our shit to Vancouver."

"Absolutely. And I'll come to Michigan as much as I can. And then, when you're ready, you'll move to Vancouver. You... you can move in here with me or... we can get you your own place."

It wasn't something they'd discussed in detail yet, but Faye's heart fluttered at the thought of sharing a place with Quinn. The thought of building a life together with their baby, filled her with a lot of hope for the future.

"Okay, sounds like a plan."

"I've been looking into baby gear. Cribs, strollers, cars seats, all the works. We'll need to figure out what we need in Michigan and what we need in Vancouver."

"Yeah, I've been looking into childcare options for when we move to Vancouver. I still want to finish my degree online. It'll be a lot."

"It will be, but we're in this together. You're not doing it alone, Faye."

"Thanks, Quinn."

"Also, I think we should make a list of names. It'll help."

She giggled, "You've really been thinking about this, huh?"

"Yeah. This baby's gonna need the best name ever. No pressure."

"Alright, let's do it. Let's make a list."

Faye groaned, rolling over to look at the clock for the thousandth time that night. 2:47 AM. She was exhausted, but her body refused to cooperate. The baby liked to be active as soon as she was ready to rest. Which made it impossible to get comfortable and sleep.

Not that comfortable really existed anymore. She felt huge, like she had an oversized balloon under her shirt at all times. The baby had officially taken over. Every breath she took was shallow, and her bladder felt like it was the size of a peanut. She had to pee all the time. Every time she'd get settled, she'd have to get right back and waddle back to the bathroom.

With a groan, she pulled herself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom yet again. She'd lost count of how many times she'd made that trip in the last hour alone. The baby pressed on every single one of her organs.

"I swear, if you keep pushing on my bladder, you're grounded for life."

The baby gave a strong kick in response, making her wince and laugh at the same time. It was like they already had the same sense of humour.

After what felt like an eternity of pissing, Faye made it back to bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She drifted in and out of fitful sleep, and then the dreams started.

Faye's dreams had always been weird, but lately, her pregnancy was putting them on a whole new level. Vivid and bizzare, often leaving her very confused when she woke up. This dream, though, took the fucking cake.

In her dream, she was in the hospital, ready to give birth. Everything seemed fine at first--the doctors were calm, Quinn was there, holding her hand. But when the baby finally arrived, Faye's eyes widened in horror.

It had tentacles.

It wasn't a normal, chubby-cheeked newborn. No, this baby was some kind of squid creature, with wriggling, slimy tentacles where it should have had arms and legs. And instead of crying, it made this weird gurgling sound like it was trying to communicate to aliens.

Faye had stared at it in utter shock, unable to process what she was seeing. Meanwhile, Quinn was completely unfazed. He smiled down at the baby-squid hybrid like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Isn't it cute?" Quinn had said, his voice filled with pride. "Look at all those tentacles."

Faye woke up, her heart racing. She blinked in the darkness, trying to shake off the unease from the dream. 3:30 AM. No way she was getting back to sleep after that. She grabbed her phone, texting Quinn.

Faye: u awake?

Quinn: Yeah, what's up?

Faye: had the weirdest fucking dream. call me

"Hey? You okay? What happened?"

Faye bit her lip, trying to keep from laughing as she thought about the dream. "I had a dream that the baby came out... but it had tentacles instead of arms and legs."

Quinn was silent for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah! It was like the baby was a squid or something. And you were completely fine with it. You were holding it like 'Look how cute it is!'"

"Well, I mean, if our baby has tentacles, we'll figure it out, right? It'll be the cutest squid baby, ever."

"I'm blaming pregnancy hormones for that one. These dreams have been getting weirddd."

"I've read about that. Strange dreams are super common in the third trimester. So... get ready for more squid babies."

"Great. Just what I needed. As if peeing every five minutes and feeling like a human punching bag wasn't enough."

"How are you feel otherwise?" Quinn asked. "I know this trimester has been harder."

"Honestly? I didn't think it could get worse, and then... it did. I can't breathe half the time because the baby is squishing my lungs, and I'm always tired but I can't sleep. The baby decides to have a fucking dance party every time I lie down."

"Sorry, Faye. Wish I could help."

"I know. It's not your fault, Quinn. Every week I feel like something new pops up to remind me how massive I am."

"Baby's gonna be here soon. And the sleepless nights will be for a different reason," he offered.

"Great," Faye said sarcastically. "Something to look forward to."

31-weeks. 9 more weeks until their baby would be there. The days were flying by, and with each passing week, she got more and more anxious. Quinn wanted to be at the appointment with her, but he was busy doing hockey stuff. They were doing their best to navigate long-distance pregnancy, something she never thought she'd have to do.

Her OB entered the room with a smile. "How're you feelin' today, Faye?"

"I'm always tired, but good. Baby's active, which is probably a good sign."

"That's great to hear. We're mainly looking for the baby's position, measuring your uterus, and making sure everything is progressing as it should."

Faye nodded, trying to relax as the doctor took her measurements. She watched the doctor gently press along her stomach, feeling for the baby's position. The cold jelly made her shiver slightly, but she was more focused on the doctor's facial expressions.

"Looks like your little one is head down, which is exactly what we want to see. No signs of breech, which is good news."

"That's a relief."

"Things are looking good, Faye! And just to double-check you still want to keep the gender a surprise?"

"Yeah, Quinn and I talked about it, we both want to wait until the birth to find out."

"That takes some serious patience. But it'll be a great surprise when the time comes."

After the checkup, Faye called Quinn. He always wanted to be filled in on what was going on after appointments.

"Hey, Faye! How'd it go?"

"It went well! Baby's head down, which means no breech. Everything is looking good."

"That's awesome. I was worried about that."

"I know you were. But they're in the right position. Doctor said everything is on track, and we're still in good shape for a natural delivery."

"And the gender? They didn't slip up?"

Faye shook her head with a laugh. "Nope, still a mystery. Doctor asked, but I said we're stickin' with our plan."

"As much as I want to know, I think the wait will be worth it."

"Same. But it's getting harder to wait," she admitted, climbing into her car. "I keep imaging what they'll look like. If they'll have your eyes or my nose."

"Well, if they come out with tentacles, we're prepared."

"Let's hope not," she groaned.

"You're doing amazing, Faye. We're almost there."

"Almost there."

The day had finally come and Quinn was back in Michigan, standing in Faye's apartment, helping her settle down for the final countdown. 1 week until her due date. Faye had been anticipating this moment for months, but now that it was there, all she could think about were the things they needed to get done before the baby arrived.

It didn't matter that she'd already gone through every room, tidied the apartment, and organized all the baby gear. The urge to keep preparing, making sure everything was perfect, was strong.

"Hey, how's everything going?" Quinn asked, dropping his bags on the ground.

Faye barely heard him. "We need to get the crib set up today," she blurted out. "And I need to reorganize the dresser-- I don't think I folded all the clothes properly. Oh, and we need to clear space in the freezer for breast milk."

Quinn looked at her with an amused smirk. "You know the baby isn't coming today, right? We've got time."

"Time?" Faye repeated, staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "We have less than a week, Quinn. What if the baby comes early and something isn't ready?"

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Okay, okay. Let's do whatever you need. Where do we start?"

Faye was in nesting mode. She had Quinn building the crib, while she sorted through the baby clothes for the tenth time. Everything needed to be perfect.

"Do you think I should organize them by size or typer?" she asked from the floor, surrounded by baby clothes. "Or maybe I should put the newborn ones on top. But then again, I don't know how fast the baby is going to grow."

Quinn glanced over from where he was screwing the last part of the crib on. "I think whatever you decide will be great."

Faye huffed. "You're just saying that. What if I mess this up? What if we're totally unprepared for when the baby gets here?"

"Faye, we're ready. The baby's not going to care if it's socks are in the wrong drawer. You've done so much already."

"I want everything to be perfect, Quinn."

"It will be perfect. You're not doing this on your own."

"I know. Thank you for being here."

"I'd rather be here than anywhere else," he leaned down and kissed her temple. "What's next on the list, boss?"

Faye stood in the middle of the room, staring at the crib. It was freshly made, ready for the baby with nothing that cause any dangers while it slept. It should've given her a sense of peace, but instead she was still freaking out.

"We have the crib," she gnawed at her bottom lip. "But... we also have the bassinet."

Her eyes darted between the two pieces of furniture.

"Why do we need both?" she frantically ran her hands through her hair, pulling at the roots. "What if the baby hates the bassinet? What if they refuse to sleep in either? What if we've set everything up wrong and the baby doesn't sleep at all?"

Quinn came through the front door, just as she was doing another lap of the apartment.

"What's going on?"

"Do we really need the crib and the bassinet? Why do we have both?"

"The bassinet's for when the baby is super small. Easier to keep them close that way. Then we'll use the crib when they're older. That's what the book said, remember?"

Faye just let out a frustrated sigh. Of course she remembered. But nothing felt logical anymore. Everything could go wrong in a million different ways.

Quinn moved to the kitchen to make some tea while Faye continued to pace.

"What if the baby doesn't latch?" she stopped in her tracks. "What if breastfeeding doesn't work? What if we have to switch to formula and we're unprepared?"

"If breastfeeding doesn't work, we'll figure it out. Formula is fine, Faye. We'll handle it."

"But what if the formula we pick isn't right? What if the baby's allergic to it or something? And I've been reading about colic. What if the baby screams for hours every night and we don't know what to do?"

Quinn walked over, gently taking her hands in his. "Breathe. We'll figure it out if that happens. And if the baby doesn't latch, we'll get help. It's not all on you."

"But what about the bottles? Why do we need a warmer and a sanitizer? Can't we just use the microwave?"

Quinn stifled a laugh, realizing Faye wasn't in the mood for humour. "The bottle warmer is supposed to heat it more evenly than the microwave. And the sanitizer is for making sure things are really clean. Trust me, people do it all the time. We've got it covered."

"It just feels like there's so much to keep track of. I keep thinking I'm missing something important, and then I panic," she sighed, collapsing onto the couch.

"You're not missing anything," Quinn reassured. "You've done everything. The apartment is ready, the hospital bag is packed, the car seat is installed in your car, we've got all the gear we need. We are prepared."

"What if the baby gets cold at night? And the swaddle isn't enough?"

"They'll teach us about that at the hospital, Faye. And we have those sleep sacks, we'll make sure the baby is all nice and cozy."

"I-"

"Faye, no more. We're going to be fine. We don't have to be perfect. No first-time parents are perfect. Now, let's watch something and stop talking. You're giving me a headache."

"Hey!"

Quinn was right. They didn't need to be perfect, they just needed to work together.

It was late in the evening, just two days before her due date, when Faye felt a strange twinge of pain. She had been lying on the couch, flipping through Netflix while Quinn did dishes. At first she thought it was just more Braxton Hicks, she got those a lot, but as the pain spread and deepened, her brain told her it wasn't.

She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as another wave of pain gripped her lower back. She knew what was happening now. This wasn't a false alarm.

"Quinn?"

"What's up?"

"I think... I think I'm going into labour. The baby's coming."

Quinn froze for a moment, his eyes widening. "Are you sure?"

"I don't now," she admit, feeling the pain again. "But these feel different. Stronger."

Quinn was at her side in an instant, his hand resting on her lower back. "Okay, let's time them. Figure this out."

The next half hour was a blur of counting and breathing. Faye's contractions came steadily, each one closer than the last. She could feel the baby moving lower with each wave of pain, the pressure in her abdomen nothing like she'd ever experienced before.

"Four minutes. We should go."

Once Faye actually got in a bed, doctors and nurses were hooking her up to things, checking her vitals, checking the baby's heartrate, seeing how dilated she was.

They told her she was about six centimetres. And that she and Quinn had some time to wait. Faye had to take her mind off the pain, wracking her brain for something to do.

"You know, Quinn, I really don't know the basics about you."

"What do you mean?"

"Like your favourite colour, favourite movie, that kind of stuff."

"You want to play 20 questions while you wait to push?" he laughed.

"Yes. I'll go first, what's your favourite colour?"

"Blue. I know it's basic. What's yours?"

"Green. But not just any green. Like forest green. Like deep in the woods of Vermont typa shit."

"You have quite the way with words, Faye."

"I know," she winked.

"If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

"Hmm, anywhere that I'm happy and with people I care about. But preferably close to a body of water. I find that calming."

"Vancouver, here we come," Quinn smiled, allowing her to squeeze his hand as another contraction hit.

"Are you scared to be a dad?"

"Wow, hard hitting question. I mean, a little. But isn't everyone? I think I'm mostly worried about being there for you guys. Are you scared to be a mom?"

"Fucking terrified. But I can't exactly shove it back in the oven for any longer," she joked, allowing him to brush some hair from her sweaty forehead. "Do I look hot?"

"Oh, amazing. Hotter than when I met you at that party."

"Don't even mention that party. That party's got me pushing a watermelon out of my--"

"Shut up," Quinn cackled.

"One more big push and we've got the baby, Mama!" the doctor smiled.

"I hate you, Quinn Hughes. Ahh!" she gripped his hand, giving her one final push. And then cries filled the room.

"It's a boy!"

Faye collapsed, too tired to cry as they placed the baby on her chest. Quinn, however, wasn't too tired to cry. He wiped at his eyes, staring in wonder at the slime-covered baby on Faye's chest.

"We'll get him all cleaned up and then you can hold him, Dad."

He nodded, kissing Faye's forehead. "You did it, Faye. I'm so proud."

"Is he okay?" she mumbled, beyond exhausted.

"He's perfect. He has my nose, I think. You tell me what you think once he's all clean."

"He's really here."

"He's here," Quinn nodded. "Our baby boy."

A couple minutes later, the nurse brought the baby back, now clean and bundled up, only his face peeking out of the blanket. "Here he is, Mama."

Her little face was scrunched up, his eyes closed, and his lips puckered in the most adorable way possible. Faye stared at him in awe, lightly tracing his cheek with her knuckle.

"Quinn," she whispered. "He's perfect."

Quinn leaned over, wrapping his arm around her as they gazed down at their son. "Yeah. He's perfect."

His little nose did look like Quinn's, but she could see traces of herself in him too, in his chin and the curve of his lips.

"He has your mouth," Quinn said softly, noticing the same thing she did.

"And your nose."

Quinn reached out, gently loosening the blanket and brushing the baby's tiny hand with his finger. The baby stirred slightly, his little fingers curling around one of Quinn's. It was just the three of them, wrapped in their own little perfect bubble of love.

"What are we going to name him?" Faye continued to whisper, not taking her eyes off the bundle of joy in her arms.

"I think... he looks like a James. What do you think?"

Faye smiled. "James. I like it. James Hughes."

Quinn grinned, kissing the top of her head. "James Hughes it is."

Everything they had been through--the stress, the worry, the fear--had all led to that moment. It was all worth it. And as Faye held James close, she felt her heart swell in a way it never had before. She'd never held so much love for one thing.

She glanced at Quinn, who was still staring at James. She reached up, wiping away the last of Quinn's tears with her thumb.

"We're a family."

Quinn smiled, leaning down to give her a proper kiss. "Yeah, we're a family."

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine

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shy-writer-999 · 2 days

Text

Summary: Zoro loves to tease you until you cry. Seeing your face glistening from tears really gets him going. What happens when he finally gives you what you want? Afab reader, ~2k words.

CW: Pure smut. Gendered language, e.g. "pretty girl", edging, toys, crying, overstimulation, P in V. Note that this is consensual & no safeword used :3

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Zoro held a vibrator to your clit at the lowest setting and slowly fucked you with three fingers. His brows were bent, and he was laser focused on the slick dribbling out of you.

For the past two hours, every time you were about to cum he’d turn the vibrator off and pull his fingers out. He was being cruel. You’d gotten to the brink of orgasm no less than 10 times. By the 5th you were begging him to let you cum, and, historically, he’d give in. But today, no matter how much you begged, he just wasn’t listening.

He knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it.

Hot tears made trails down your cheeks, hooking under your jaw and pooling on your collar bone. Zoro’s cock twitched at the sight. He loved to see you like this, drooling, begging for his cock, so worked up from his fingers that you started to cry in frustration. Every sob made him feel like he was on fire, every tear coaxed more precum out of his tip.

This was like a sport to him. He got off on seeing you unravel from his fingertips, fully broken down in pleasure. When your eyes got glossy, teary, and you could barely talk, he knew he was doing it right.

Zoro took the vibrator off your clit and left his fingers in you, unmoving. His hand was a mess—your arousal coated every finger and his whole palm, glistening around his wrist and dripping onto the covers.

“Zoro, please,” you pleaded for the millionth time, voice cracking. “Wanna cum, please.”

Blinking through the blurry drops of your tears and batting your eyelashes for visibility, you could see Zoro’s sickeningly sweet smile. “I know you do, sweetheart. But you gotta hang in there.”

“Zoro,” you tried to wiggle around on his fingers for friction. You needed him to move. You were going fucking crazy.

He tutted and pulled his fingers out of you, a sticky string connecting his fingertips to your puffy, red lips. You gasped at the emptiness, exasperated beyond words. You couldn’t think straight, and the tears wouldn’t stop.

“You’re doing such a good job for me, baby. Can’t you keep going?” He was frowning.

You didn’t want to disappoint him. But you were reaching your limit. More desperate tears seeped out of the corners of your eyes.

Sucking his fingers clean, Zoro then cupped your face with both hands and kissed you tenderly. The kisses were salty from your tears.

He wiped under your eyes with both thumbs, swiping away the frustration. “You poor thing. I’ll put my cock in you, ok? But you have to ask really nicely this time.”

You nodded vigorously. “Please Zoro, please fuck me. I need your cock so bad. Please.”

He sighed and frowned again. “Don’t you need it more than that?”

Tears welled in your eyes again. He was being downright ruthless. You had asked nicely. Really nicely. But it wasn’t enough.

“Zoro, fuck” you sobbed. “’M going crazy. I’ll do anything. P-please fuck me. Please.”

He brought a hand down to lazily stroke himself for a moment while he stared into your cock-crazed eyes. He loved it when you were pathetic like this, when you were shameless.

Tanned skin rippled as Zoro’s rough hand twisted over the head of his cock, grazing the sensitive spots on and under his head. Precum oozed out of his inflamed slit, every drop evidence of how badly he wanted you.

He leaned close to your face and practically growled. “When I fuck you, you have to promise not to cum unless I say so. Either that or I won’t fuck you at all.”

His threat made you feel fucking feral. You didn’t care at this point, and you would agree to anything. “Zoro, I promise. Just fuck me.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow and then positioned you exactly how he liked, in some sort of mating press. One hand held your thigh up, fingerpads digging into your plush flesh. The other was braced on the bed next to you. He lined his cock up with your entrance and took a deep breath. Your eyes were lust-filled, hungry, and almost rabid. His heart skipped a beat.

Pushing through your folds as slowly as he could, he could feel your walls starting to clamp down on his cock. You were so wet that it felt like heaven to him—slippery, velvety, and warm. When he bottomed out, he let out a lengthy groan. “Fuuucccck.”

Finally, Zoro’s hips rocked and grinded into you. Every shove of his cock felt electric. Each bundle of nerves that his tip and shaft dragged over sent waves and tingles of pleasure to your core, radiating outwards to every limb. Your toes were already curling with pleasure.

Zoro had been waiting for this moment. He made you ready enough for his cock, and now he was going to fuck you into oblivion.

His girthy, veiny cock pushed out and in, and each pass attacked your g-spot. Your back was arching, you keened his name continuously, and your eyes rolled back in your head. You had completely lost yourself, forgetting what was going on or who you were; you only knew one thing—Zoro’s cock.

Orgasm approached within minutes. He could tell from the way you started to shudder around him and the way your thighs started to tremble. He frowned again and held still.

“Baby, I said you can’t cum unless I say so.”

“Zoro, ‘m so close, please.”

“Don’t you want to be good for me?”

Once again, you started to cry. It was almost worse now that he was fully fucking you but dangling your orgasm in front of your face. Any time you tried to get it, he’d yank it out of reach. He was sadistic about it. But really, what could you expect? It was naive to think that he’d let you cum right off the bat.

“I wanna be good,” you sobbed quietly, and your fingers clawed half-moons into his biceps. Your tortured eyes met his. Zoro was looking at you like he was going to devour you. Like he’d rip out each morsel of pleasure and then leave you for good. It felt like he was using you, but you knew that he was doing it with your own interest in mind. Any time he got heartless like this, your orgasm almost made you faint.

“I-I’ll be so good, Zoro. Please. I’ll wait. I promise.”

“That’s my girl,” he groaned at your words and tears. He fucked you again, slower this time, pressing more of his weight on your thigh that he was holding up. His other hand passed up your body, travelling from your hips to your breasts.

Greedy hands massaged and squeezed. Fingertips brushed over your sensitive buds gently. Pulling and pinching them, he rolled one nipple softly and then harder until you whined and your eyes fluttered.

“Doing such a good job for me, pretty girl. Keep takin’ my cock like that and I’ll let you cum.”

You whimpered as he fucked you so deeply that his cock hit your cervix. It hurt, but the pain was overrun by the gigantic waves of pleasure elicited from your cunt any time Zoro’s head snagged over your hot gooey spot.

“Just like that,” he murmured quietly, coming as close to your face as he could. Your walls throbbed and clenched around him, squeezing out his precum and swallowing his shaft. “So fuckin’ wet for me, baby.”

“Zoro, ’m getting close,” you mewled. Everything about you intoxicated him. Whenever your tits bounced from his thrusts, whenever you scrunched your nose up from him fucking you too deep, those damp cheeks from your tears moments ago… You had been good for him. You’d let out enough needy whimpers, too. You earned it.

“Let it out. Cream on my cock, sweetheart. Show me how much you love it.”

As soon as you registered his permission, you came. You screamed his name, convulsed and spasmed under him, throwing your head back with euphoria. It felt like you orgasmed for minutes. Your juices gushed out around the base of his cock and he moaned at the sensation.

It was foolish of you to assume he would be done after that.

Of course, his hips kept grinding into yours through your orgasm. You started to squirm.

“Zoro, fuck,” you whimpered. “’s too much.”

“No, it’s not.” He cooed and purred in your ear. “I know you’ve got another for me. No matter how much you writhe, I’m still going to fuck you through it.”

More tears. It felt like he was pressing a button in you that made you wince from overstimulation and pleasure. “Z-zoro, fuck, it’s—it’s too much, Zoro.” You struggled and contorted around his cock. It felt too good, the sensation was too overwhelming, you wanted it to stop but at the same time it was addictive.

“Stay still for me.” He put all his weight on you, and you continued to writhe for a second before you did what he said. Your eyes were fucked-out and hazy, barely sentient of what was happening other than pleasure. His hips rolled with each squelching sound that echoed in the room. Slowly, your cunt started to pulse again.

“Does it feel good now, princess? You like it when I stuff you full of my cock?” Zoro was starting to get riled up. Each hump and thrust goaded feverish desire.

“You’re milking my cock so well, baby. Pussy feels so good.” Every nasty word he rasped in your ear burned.

As Zoro’s peak built, yours did too. He wanted to time it so you came at the same time—though he could be a sadist, he was also a romantic. To climax together was something sweet that he put the utmost effort into.

He praised and encouraged you as much as he could muster. He choked out a word between each grunt. “Doing—so—good—for—me— fuck.”

Zoro reached a hand to rub his fingers in circles over your clit. The noises you produced were guttural and primal—it’s like pleasure was exploding in you. He pressed down with his thumb, hard, and you gasped his name.

“Let it out, sweetheart. Cum on my cock. Wanna feel it.”

Your second orgasm was pure ecstasy. Zoro wrenched it from your core, ripped it out of you like the animal he was. When you started to shake, his hips jerked into you, haphazard and frenzied.

“F-fuck, fuck, your pussy is—so good, fuck, ‘m cumming, fuuuccckkkk.” He came, cocked twitching, seeing stars. You could feel him filling you up, hot and sticky.

Completely losing touch with the world, your orgasm literally crushed your sense of reality. You blacked out for a couple seconds, and by the time you were cognizant again, Zoro’s cum was leaking out of your cunt. He was panting, trying to catch his breath. Sweat matted his hair down around his temples, his cheeks were ruddy, his hair was ruffled up and he was a mess. “Fucking hell, babe.”

Zoro may have been the one feigning control during your sessions of arduous orgasm denial, crying, and fucking, but in reality, you pulled the strings. He wouldn’t have the experience he wanted, and you wouldn’t have the experience he wanted for you, if you didn’t play along too. Zoro knew this, and he was grateful that you’d humor him, grateful that you cherished his intimacy enough to entertain hours of edging, crying, and nasty fucking. Sharing an experience like this and simultaneously respecting the other’s vulnerability was something precious to him.

Aftercare for him was a different sport entirely. And like everything he did, Zoro was determined to become the best. He sprinkled your face with ticklish kisses, replacing the tears that were there minutes ago with love.

that’s all for this one!! thank u sm for reading :D here’s my masterlist and my October posting schedule.

also for giggles - trick or treat? (both tumblr links heh)

#z's kinktober #roronoa zoro smut #zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #op smut #one piece smut #op zoro smut #one piece zoro smut #one piece x reader

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beomiracles · 2 days

Note

can I request a strength/breeding kink with older bf!soobin with afab!reader for kinktober? feel free to decide on the age gap !! I love your works!! thank you !! ><

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

DAY 2 : CHOI SOOBIN + BREEDING KINK — “You’re so perfect. Got such a pretty pussy, just waitin’ to be bred”, he huffs, cock twitching deep inside of you.

A breeding kink is an intense sexual attraction to the idea of getting pregnant or impregnating someone.

pairings older bf!soobin x fem!reader warnings heavy breeding kink, creampies, overstimulation (both f. and m.), age gap, "mommy" used to describe reader as pregnant, talks of starting a family and whatnot, manhandling/strength kink + bulge kink.

#serene adds ✎ .. oulala day two :> this one was sm fun to write !! as always let me know if i missed any tags !!

EVENT POST

Your limbs ache and burn, exhausted from the way they had been groped at and squeezed as your boyfriend manhandled you into position after position, thick cock using your spent cunt as he spills load after load into you. — When Soobin came home from work that evening, a small frown etched onto his face as he tore his blazer off, you already had a small idea about where this night was headed. But for this long?

Through lidded eyes you peer up at your boyfriend, sweat clung to his naked torso, making his dark hair stick to both his neck and forehead. Despite that, Soobin looks far from content, his jaw visibly clenching as his gaze trains on the way his hard cock pushed inside your pliant little cunt. — “Come on baby, one more, just one more.” He practically pleads, though not even bothering to hear your reply as he snaps his hips against yours, causing the bed to squeak as you moan out into the bedroom.

“Too much..” You gasp, nails tearing at his biceps as your head lulls back, completely docile in his grasp as his strong arms keep you against his chest. Soobin shakes his head, a small huff passing his lips as he grips you firmer. “You can do it, know you can..” He murmurs, his words cut off by a sharp groan as he feels you clench around him, orgasming for what you could only guess to be the fifth time that night.

The way you cry out into the dark room only seems to spur him on further as he watches your arousal slide down his cock, making him twitch inside your far too overstimulated cunt. “Need to make sure..”, he grunts, jaw slacking as he feels his own high approaching. — “Need to make sure you have my baby… S’important.” He breathes, lips grazing your neck, his teeth sink into your supple skin when he releases inside of you; hot cum spurting from his cock as he continues to fuck himself through his climax.

You knew that your boyfriend was eager to start a family, to make you pregnant. You couldn’t fault him, being well over 8 years your senior and entering his mid-thirties; it was all but understandable that he’d want kids, and who were you to deny him? — He remains inside of you, big arms loosening their grip around you as he lets you settle back against the covers. You wince as he shifts above you, his thick cock still nestled between your legs making your sore cunt ache.

His breath is warm against your neck as he buries his face in the crook of it, making sure to uphold most of his bodyweight as he lays on top of you. The soft caress of his large hand on your stomach makes you shiver and Soobin hums in contentment. “Wan’ get you pregnant so bad”, he mumbles, his voice muffled against the skin of your neck. “Yeah?” You croak, fingers splayed in his damp hair and you feel him exhale. “I do”, he says, his voice filled with determination. “Bet you’d look gorgeous stuffed full with my baby.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you consider his words. The thought of having a bunch of little mini-Soobins running around the house, it made your heart swell. — “I think I’d like that too.” Your quiet whisper is loud enough only for him to catch, but when he does, you immediately feel his semi-hard cock twitch as he lifts his head to peer up at you. “Yeah?” He counters to which you nod, watching as his eyes visibly darken with desire.

It takes about half a second for him to flip you around, making you yelp, completely unprepared for his quick course of action as he has you straddle him. His cock, now fully hard inside of you, makes you let out a moan of surprise as his hips jerk up, large hands on your waist keeping you firmly in place. “Fuck, you’d be the prettiest mommy”, he groans, eyes focusing on the way your tits bounced with every thrust of his, already imagining them plump and filled to the brim with milk.

“And I’ll take good care of you and our, -f-fuck-, our baby.” His words make your head spin and you feebly nod, whining in agreement as your nails rake across his large chest. — “You’re so perfect. Got such a pretty pussy, just waitin’ to be bred”, he huffs, cock twitching deep inside of you. Too lost to even register half of his words, you let your head fall forward as your arms struggle to keep you upright. — Your boyfriend’s hands are all over your body, touching and caressing your soft stomach as he feels the faint bulge of himself, instantly hardening further at the discovery.

He makes sure to finish as deep inside of you as possible, fingers trailing down your back soothingly as he helps you calm down from your own high with soft words of praise. — With a loud exhale, you fall forward as he catches you, propping you on top of his chest. And with your eyes closed, you find yourself relaxing in his strong arms.

You think you might be on the very verge of entering a comfortable slumber when you suddenly feel Soobin shift beneath you, hard cock sliding against your abused clit as he draws a quiet whimper from you. His voice is soft, a mere whisper against the shell of your ear as he says:

“One more, just to be sure.”

kinktober taglist (send an ask to be added) — @sweetpotatogyu @aduh0308 @joieouioui @inkigayocamman @bambammtori @hkplushier @gyusoulz @eliluvsjjunie @velvetmoonlght @izzyy-stuff @hwanghyunjinismybae @lunathewritingcat @ninitorih

#binnie’s dreams #beomiracles ₊˚⊹ ᰔ #soobin smut #txt smut #soobin hard hours #soobin hard thoughts #soobin x you #soobin x reader #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt x reader #txt x you #soobin imagines #txt imagines #choi soobin smut #choi soobin hard hours #txt fanfic #beomiracles kinktober 2024

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foreverlittlesoshi · 2 days

Text

i mean camaraderie

noah sebastian x reader

content warning: smut, rough / harsh sex, belly bulge, size kink, fingering, noah is pretty much just a pleasure dom honestly

word count: 1.6k

MINORS DNI 18+

The loud sound of the front door being slammed let Noah know immediately you were in a bad mood. Must’ve been pretty bad he thought to himself and let out a sigh as he could hear you screaming into a pillow since the apartment walls were thin.

He made his way to your bedroom door, knocking lightly and waited for an answer. The sound of your mumbling made him nervous but he just wanted to check on you and made sure you weren’t gonna destroy your vocal cords from screaming so much.

“WHAT?!” “Woah, what’s wrong?” He asks, raising his hands in defense and you immediately feel bad. “I’m sorry, the date was just-ugh.” you explained and he just chuckled.

“Was it really that bad?” You couldn’t help but start ranting about how the dude was a complete narcissist misogynistic asshole even though you tried so hard to deal with it to get a quick fuck. You didn’t even hesitate to complain about how badly you needed it because it was ovulation week and it was killing you.

“Are you serious?” he scoffed, “You went out with a complete stranger when i was here the whole time?”

He wasn’t wrong. Everyone could just smell the sexual tension between you two, even past boyfriends or girlfriends and hell, even flings could. It would be a lie if you denied ever thinking about him in that way but you always pushed those feelings aside so it would never be awkward. Fuck, why did he have to be so attractive?

“You’re so fuckin lucky that i need dick so badly or else i’d turn you away.” You tell him as you grabbed him and pulled him into your room, slamming the door shut. Hopefully Jolly will come home late tonight. A rough kiss makes you moan softly, his large tattooed hand holds your face, and he tilts your head slightly trying to kiss you deeper as his tongue enters your mouth. Pushing him down on the bed, knees buckling as you sat on his lap and could feel him getting hard.

“Damn,” he breaks away from the kiss, “You weren’t lying.” Whining at him as you kiss him again, Noah then gently tugs at your hair causing you to pull away and let out a sigh of pleasure. “So fuckin needy for my cock, aren’t you?”

“Don’t start talking like that.” Breathlessly telling him, grinding on him to feel some type of friction. “Awww, why not?” his taunting didn’t help, tugging again while his other hand trailed under your dress. “ Because I’ll cum way sooner than I plan to.” You informed him and tugged at his hair causing him to hiss as his eyes closed from the pleasure. As much as he knew this probably didn’t mean much to you besides a quick fuck, he couldn’t help but think of it much deeper. Was it because he always felt something more for you or was it because of how fuckin cute you looked in that short red & black velvet dress?

Removing each of your hands from each other, you reached behind to unzip the dress and let it fall around your hips. Your mind is blank as he pushes you onto your bed, removing your clothes and pulls you into another kiss, softer but still passionate. Feeling his hands and fingers roam your body makes you shudder as he pulls away. Noah settled himself between your legs, running a finger along your slit and rubbing his thumb in circles on your clit. Hips and knees are buckling from just the tiniest bit of stimulation, both of you groaning at the sensation of his finger sinking into you and just taking in the feeling of his finger, thicker and longer than your own and reaching places you couldn’t.

“Fucking hell, Noah.” your voice sounded like you were on the verge of crying. If you were already this fucked out from his finger how were you gonna be due to his dick? He rested his other hand on your right thigh and squeezed, trying to help you back down to earth but with him entering another finger didn’t help and it just caused you to go more light headed as he pumped them.

“Hey, don’t go dumb just yet.” Shivering as his hand touched your cheek, eyes fluttering open and kissing him.

“Please just fuck me. I can’t stand this anymore.” Begging him as he pulled away and he lifted himself up to tug off his shirt. You couldn’t help yourself as you caressed his chest, lightly dragging a finger to trace some tattoos and the sight of his bulge making you whine.

As he removed his boxer, you weren’t expecting him to be so big. I mean you had thought it was but actually seeing it made you anxious. It was actually pretty and didn't look like a mushroom wearing a skin hat.

“You plan on using lube?” He laughed at your question. “I’m serious. You’re the biggest I’ll probably ever take or have.”

“C’mon, I’ll fit.” You just scoffed.

“Let’s test it real quick then. Get up here.” He shrugged then positioned himself between your legs and lined his size against your stomach. Right at your navel was his tip, precum dripping right in your belly button and it made you whimper again.

“Noah, I don’t know about this.” “How about this, just the tip and it’s up to you when you can take more?” It shouldn’t be surprising that he was being thoughtful but it made your heart swell with how understanding he was. “Deal.”

He gave you a quick peck before letting his spit fall directly on your hole, shivering at the feeling of the warmth and feeling his tip run through your folds, his tip slightly pushing into you and already feeling the pain. Digging your nails right into his forearm and you could feel yourself break his skin but you didn’t mean to, it’s not like you expected him to be this fuckin big. He just rested there while you did your best to relax and get used to the feeling.

“You know what?” You groaned out.

“What?” He was worried you changed your mind about the whole thing.

“I’m probably gonna regret this but just go balls deep.” “Are you sure?” Absolutely not but it’s just better to get this pain over with.

“Yes please.”

Just the feeling of him pushing himself just a little bit more in made you feel so like you were genuinely being split in half so when his pelvis met your own, your head fell back against the pillow and felt so full.

“Are you still with me?” “Mhm, just please fuck me now.” The feeling of pleasure taking control over you again.

“Whatever you want princess.” Not even looking at him, you could hear the smirk in his voice and you almost snapped back at him until he pushed your knees near your head and it caused you to literally scream.

The way he angles his hips makes you feel the merciless rhythm, deciding today was a good day to try and completely obliterate your cervix. You could feel the tears streaming down your cheeks, brain feeling so fuzzy and Noah clouded any thought you could form. He couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. The way you looked as you got fucked stupid made you look so beautiful. The way your hair was disheveled, face flushed, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure and the little whines of his name leaving your lips. His eyes trailed down your body, the little bump that would appear as he thrusted into you made him want to cum right then and there.

“Wanna feel something?” You nodded weakly.

Feeling his hand guide yours to your belly and you could feel the bulge of his cock from inside of you.

“Noah.” is the only word you could whine and for some reason, that awoke something in him. He pulled out then flipped you over and slammed back into you, hips slamming into your ass at a bruising force and honestly thought you could feel him ever deeper than before. His moans sounded so guttural at first but as he got closer to finally cumming, he got so whiny and you couldn’t help but have a slight thought that he was so cute.

“How can you still be so tight? Please tell me you’re close? I’m about to cum. Oh f-fuck,I’m gonna cum. Please cum first.”

Hearing him whine made you clench around him tighter as you finally came, screaming and crying out his name.Noah then pulled out and flipped you onto your back again making you overstimulated as he leans down into the side of your neck,he slams into you one more time before his hips finally stutter and feel him paint your inside with his cum as he bites your neck harshly causing you to let out one final moan.

Even with the cloudiness in your brain, you still felt Noah lift himself up, an audible pop could be heard as he slid his cock out of you and the stickiness of the mix of cum leaking out made you cringe just a bit.

“Don’t make that face.” His chest was heaving, “Honestly, it’s hot.”

You weakly chuckled at him,” You’re not wrong but i’m already sweaty as fuck so this just makes me feel gross. Also, you’re a fucking dumbass.”

“Hold up, I just gave you the best dick you could’ve ever imagined and you’re insulting me?”

“I am because I didn’t think you would actually cum in me. I told you during my ranting that I was ovulating!” You remind him as you lightly slapped him.

“You act like we can’t go get the morning after pill.” He tells you.

“I don’t think I can walk because of you. So get your ass moving.” Groaning as he stands up and pulls his boxers back on then gets dressed. “Fine but I expect some cuddles when I get back.”

“Of course.”

A/N - this took me over a day to finish because fuck walmart also if it's not clear, yeah jolly didn't come home.

by the way, i based the height of the reader on myself since i’m 4’10 but obviously this could go for any height since noah is 6’3

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens #bad omens smut #bad omens x reader

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saythenametotheworld · 2 days

Text

Backburner | k.mg (18+)

There is a rule of thumb for casual relationships: do not fall in love with the other. Yet with Mingyu, it felt easier to watch the world burn than to stop yourself from falling for him.

Prologue

Genre: friends with benefits, smut Pairing: Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader Warnings: angst, explicit content (18+) Notes: 21k words. Part 2 of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Backburner by NIKI. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Backburner by NIKI, Say Don't Go by Taylor Swift, Another You (Another Way) by Against the Current Taglist: @scoupsjin @iarayara @gaslysainz @silvermist002 @ssmebody @katfaceu

It was midnight, and what was usually a quiet evening was shattered by the persistent ringing of your phone—tucked inside the drawer of your nightstand. You shifted from your comfortable position on the bed, laying on your back to stare at the ceiling, your ringtone still playing and making the nightstand buzz faintly.

“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered, groaning as you moved to grab your phone. The backlight made your eyes sting. Squinting at the words on the screen, you recognized the unique caller ID: ‘R18+++’

One week of nothing and here he comes, calling you in the middle of the night. The audacity.

You shouldn't pick up. You were mad at him after all. But what if he had something important to say? Even if he didn't, would it really hurt if you pick up?

Not you trying to justify the desire to talk to him.

“Hello?” you answered, against your better judgment (or not).

“Hi…” said Mingyu from the other line, his voice more dragged out than usual. Deeper. Lonelier. “Did I wake you?”

He did. “No. Not at all.”

He hummed on the other side. “Can't sleep? What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing important,” you sighed, sinking deeper into your soft pillow. “What’s up with you?”

“Me? I was just working on this paper,” he replied. You could hear him groaning as if he was stretching his limbs. “This course is kicking my ass.”

“Professor Jung?” you asked, remembering how he often complained about the same professor.

“Yeah. He’s the worst,” he chuckled but there was no humor in it. “I’ve been staring at this screen all night, trying to make sense of it. You know when you read the same line over and over, and it still doesn’t click?”

You hummed in acknowledgment, shifting on your bed. “Sounds like every assignment I’ve ever done.”

He let out another laugh, soft and hollow. “Right? This one’s on some theoretical nonsense. I keep typing, hoping something’s gonna make sense eventually, but it’s like... whatever. I’ll probably just wing it.”

You could hear the faint tapping of keys on his end as if he was still half-distracted by the work in front of him. But something felt off, and somehow, you knew exactly what it was. He didn’t really want to talk about the homework, he was just stalling. The words were just filler—something to pass the time, to keep the conversation going.

“Maybe I’ll just email the professor and tell him the universe swallowed my homework. Think he’d buy that?” Mingyu joked and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Probably not,” you replied with a soft smile of your own, but your mind was elsewhere now, sensing the unspoken heaviness behind his casual complaints.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he chuckled followed by a soft groan and the sound of him falling back on his bed.

Another pause settled between you, and this time you didn’t wait for him to fill it with more empty chatter. “Wanna come over?” you asked instead, and he was quiet for a moment.

“Well… yeah, I’d love to. I mean…” he paused and then chuckled. “If it’s alright.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, it’s alright. You'd always taken it in stride when he ghosted you and returned like nothing happened. Sometimes you wonder if he was genuinely oblivious or pretending not to know. “Sure. You know where I’ll be.”

After hanging up, you let the phone slip from your hand, staring at the ceiling. You weren’t supposed to do this. Mingyu was someone you should’ve been keeping at arm’s length, a complication you couldn’t afford. The smart thing would’ve been to ignore his call. But you didn’t. No matter how much you tried to keep your distance, you would always find yourself waltzing back towards him.

You thought about how easy it would be to send a quick message, tell him not to come, maybe even block his number if you really wanted to make a clean break. You should. A single text, a few words, and it would all be over. Your fingers hovered over the screen, but you didn’t type anything.

Then the knock came, gentle but firm, and you abandoned all protests, tossing them aside as easily as you tossed your phone back into the drawer. You didn’t hesitate as you crossed the room, your hand already reaching for the doorknob.

When you opened the door, there he was—tall, tousled hair, a lopsided smile, as if he wasn’t entirely sure you’d actually let him in.

“Hey,” Mingyu said softly, standing in the doorway like he’d been there dozens of times before—he had.

“Hi,” you replied, your heartbeat picking up pace, louder now that he was here, standing in front of you.

Without another word, he stepped inside, scooping you up by the waist like it was a habit, crashing his lips into yours. For a split second, your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, but your body betrayed you.

You kissed him back, letting yourself sink into the feeling. His hands moved to your back, pulling you even closer, and any remaining hesitation crumbled as the tension between you both sparked to life.

He was completely unaware, lost in the moment, and you let him be—because pretending felt easier than confronting the truth. It felt easier to let him kiss you like this, to let him believe everything between you was simple—as if you weren’t standing on the edge of something much heavier.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a grin. “Is Mina here?” His voice was teasing and light.

“You wouldn’t be here if she is,” you replied, breathless, your words barely forming as you watched him tug his sweater off, the urgency in his movements sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

For a moment, you stood there, watching as his sweater hit the floor, your heart racing against your better judgment. Here you go, again. You could stop it right here—send him home, tell him you don’t want to see him again even if that was a lie. Again, you didn’t. You reached for him, pulling him back toward you, his lips meeting yours with a kind of hunger that made you forget everything else.

The door clicked shut behind him, and with it, any resolve you thought you had.

“Wait, hold up. Let me just—” You made a rolling gesture with your fingers, trying to gather your thoughts. “—roll it back a bit. I think I went straight to the intense part.”

Seungcheol’s calm demeanor didn’t budge. He leaned back. “Didn’t feel intense to me.”

“Yeah, well…” You shifted in your seat. “I should’ve started by telling you how we met, right? Or how we even ended up in… this kind of arrangement.”

He nodded. “Context would help.”

You paused, sipping your water. “Okay, so… I first met Mingyu in freshman year. Second semester, to be exact. We had one class together—gen-ed history. I was late the first day.” You smirked, remembering how rushed you’d been, shoes squeaking against the floor as you slipped into the back row, heart pounding from running across campus.

The only available seat was next to Mingyu. You didn't notice him at first because the room's quietness was the first to catch your attention.

You tugged his sleeve. “Hey, sorry to bother you.” You told him your name. “I just came in. Did I miss anything important? I feel like I did.”

He glanced at you, brows slightly raised. He looked half amused, half confused. “I'm Kim Mingyu. And… yeah, you missed a bit. Professor gave us five minutes to pray for the diagnostic test.”

“Pray?” you’d repeated, your disbelief clear, eyes wide as you stifled a laugh. “How hard could a gen-ed diagnostic exam be?”

Very hard.

You cringed at the memory of that test and how you didn’t know the answers for most of it. Mingyu was grinning beside you, walking in easy strides. “Still think you didn’t need those five minutes to pray?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite to it. “Alright, fine. I’m humbled. But you don’t have to be so smug about it.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’m just teasing. Anyway, don’t worry about it. The test won’t affect your grades or anything.”

Before you could respond, another classmate who overheard had stopped to join your conversation. “Actually, it does count. It goes straight into your record.”

Mingyu snorted, clearly doubting it. “No way. It’s just a pre-assessment.”

“The professor said so herself. You probably didn’t hear because you left too soon.” She looked at you with a sympathetic smile. “But hey, I bombed it too, so… you’re not alone.”

You felt a strange sense of closeness with her, but mostly, you were trying to process what that meant for your grades. “Great,” you muttered, but you weren’t sure if you were saying it sarcastically or just in defeat.

“I'm Mina,” she said, offering her hand for a shake.

“Nice to meet you,” you chimed, shaking her hand and telling her your name.

“I know. See you around!”

When Mina walked away, you expected Mingyu to say something mocking, but instead, he just laughed lightly. “Guess I should’ve prayed too.”

Over the next few weeks, Mingyu became someone you interacted with mostly during class. You’d sit near each other by default—mainly because the two of you are often the last ones to arrive, you being late most of the time. You exchanged quiet jokes when the professor wasn’t looking and sometimes teamed up when group discussions were required. But outside that lecture hall, you led entirely separate lives.

In the hallways, you'd pass by each other every now and then. He’d nod or smile—never stopping, never lingering. Just a brief acknowledgment as you walked in opposite directions. Sometimes, you’d give him a quick wave, or he’d send you a lazy salute with his fingers.

During class breaks, when the professor let everyone stretch their legs for a few minutes, you’d talk. Mingyu liked to complain about how boring the lectures were, though his grumbling always seemed exaggerated, more for humor than actual frustration.

“Think I might pass out,” he’d groan, letting his head drop to the desk dramatically. “I don’t know how anyone stays awake for this.”

“You’d stay awake if you actually took notes,” you’d tease back, scribbling in your notebook as you spoke.

“Ah, but see, that’s what friends are for,” he’d reply, flashing you a playful grin. “You can lend me yours later.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” you’d retort, shaking your head with a smile.

But that was it. When class ended, he went his way, and you went yours. He wasn’t someone who crossed your mind outside of that classroom, and you suspected it was the same for him. Mingyu wasn’t a constant presence in your life, just a classmate who made lectures slightly more tolerable.

There was a comfort in that distance. He was easy to talk to, someone you didn’t have to think too hard about. No expectations, no complications. Just small moments of shared boredom, passed with lazy smiles and half-hearted complaints.

For a while, that was all he was—someone who filled the pauses between lectures. That is until the night of your first off-campus party for the semester.

The music pulsed around you, louder than it needed to be, vibrating through the floor and into your chest. You were seated at the edge of the crowded party, a half-empty cup of something strong in your hand, watching as your ex-boyfriend paraded his new girlfriend around like she was a shiny new toy. Every touch between them felt like a jab. You couldn’t care less about him, not really. But watching him be all giggly and touchy with her after he’d cheated on you with her, no less—yeah, that was annoying.

You took another sip from your drink, trying to keep your irritation in check. It didn’t help that they were standing close enough that you could hear snippets of their conversation—his low, stupid laugh and her breathy giggles.

“Someone’s pissed.”

The voice came from beside you, startling you out of your thoughts. You turned, finding Mingyu standing there with a half-smile, hands tucked in his hoodie pockets as he glanced over at your ex and his new girlfriend.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, though your sarcasm was clear.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, amused. “Come on. I’ve seen you shoot daggers at them from across the room.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and staring into your cup. “I’m not pissed. Just... annoyed.”

His eyes flicked over to the couple again, then back to you. “I get it. Ex-boyfriend?”

You hesitated but nodded. “Yeah. Not that it matters. We broke up ages ago.” You bit your lip before adding, “But he cheated on me with her. So, you know... watching them be all gross together isn’t exactly fun.”

Mingyu winced in sympathy. “That’s rough. Sounds like he’s not worth the headspace, though.”

“He’s not,” you said quickly, and you meant it. “But it’s still annoying.”

He snorted. “I don’t blame you. If it makes you feel any better, they look like a bad reality show couple.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, they kinda do.”

Mingyu shrugged, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping. “If it’s bugging you that much, want me to help you take your mind off it? We can head somewhere else, or... just stay here and make fun of them quietly. Your call.”

You hesitated, glancing at your ex one more time, then back at Mingyu. The idea of staying here, stewing in the background while they flaunted their new relationship, made your stomach turn. Maybe leaving was the better option.

“Actually,” you said, standing up and finishing the last of your drink, “let’s get out of here. This party’s boring anyway.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised but pleased. “Alright. Lead the way.”

The two of you slipped out of the crowded party and into the cooler, quieter night. The noise faded behind you as you stepped outside, the crisp air was a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the party. You hadn’t really thought about where you were going, just that you needed to leave.

“Any place in mind?” Mingyu asked, falling into step beside you, hands still casually tucked into his pockets.

You scoffed. “I don’t know. This was your idea.”

He shrugged, glancing at the sky briefly before turning back to you. “We could walk a bit. Sober up.”

“I barely drank.”

Mingyu nodded. “Okay, fair. If you want, I’ve got some soju and beer at my place. Not much, but it’s better than whatever was in that cup you were drinking.”

You glanced at him. There was no pressure in his tone, no hidden motive—just a suggestion. Still, something about the idea of going to his place made your heart beat a little faster.

“Exactly how many ulterior motives do you have right now?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him in mock suspicion.

A grin spread across his face. “For now, zero,” he replied, showing a zero with his fingers.

“For now?” You rolled your eyes. “Better keep it at zero.”

Mingyu winced with a mock-hurt expression. “Do I have to make promises too? Man, this is a lot of work.”

“Kim Mingyu!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, raising his hands. “Come on. It’s this way.”

The walk to Mingyu’s apartment wasn’t long, but the conversation between you was comfortable. He was funny, as always. By the time you reached his door, your cheeks were red and slightly hurting with how much you were laughing.

His place was a studio, small and cozy with a few mismatched pieces of furniture. It was tidy, except for the couch, which was covered in a pile of unfolded laundry.

“Oh, crap,” he muttered, laughing awkwardly. “I forgot about that. Let me just—”

“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t mind at all,” you said, waving your hand dismissively.

“Nah, there’s nowhere else to sit,” he insisted, kicking off his shoes and quickly tidying the couch.

While he put his clothes into a basket, you took a moment to look around. The tidiness of his home was unexpected. You rarely judge people’s living spaces but it was surprising for a man to be this clean. Then again, that was just the stereotype speaking.

Mingyu grabbed two beers from the fridge, tossing you one as you settled onto the now-cleared couch.

You raised an eyebrow, inspecting the can. “You promised me soju.”

He chuckled, opening his own drink. “Well, you told me to keep my motives in check, so soju is out of the table.”

“You’re no fun.”

As you sipped your drinks, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about class, made fun of the test you’d failed, and joked about the people at the party. But somewhere between the laughter and the quiet moments, the atmosphere began to shift. The space between you felt a little smaller, the eye contact a little longer. It wasn’t forced, just... there.

At some point, Mingyu’s arm stretched across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. You didn’t move away. Instead, you leaned into him slightly, the warmth of his presence comforting.

“I think you should go,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Wow, okay. There’s no need to shoo me away. I’ll go,” you scoffed, offended. You stood up instantly, reaching for your jacket but he grabbed your wrist.

“No, I don’t mean—” he paused, sighing as he looked at your annoyed expression. “I’m sorry. Come sit. Don’t go.”

You didn’t answer, instead, swatted his hand away and put on your jacket. Mingyu stood up, taking your hand and squeezing it.

“Please,” he sighed, holding your gaze.

You were exasperated. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting so confusing all of a sudden?”

There was a glint of hesitation on his face. “Can I be honest?”

You retracted your hand and crossed your arms over your chest. Then you raised an eyebrow, urging him to speak.

Mingyu leaned back slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I have at least six ulterior motives.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Six? What are they?”

“Are you sure you want to find out?” he asked back, but it didn’t seem like a question to know how curious you were. Somehow, it sounded as if he was asking for permission.

You held his gaze, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the air around you charged with an intensity you couldn’t ignore. Time seemed to slow as you considered his question.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice steady but low. “Yes.”

Before you could think about what came next, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. There was no hesitation this time, no second thoughts. The tension that had been building all night finally found its release as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss.

You kissed him back, slowly at first, as if testing the waters, but it didn’t take long before the hesitation melted away. You know where this was going—but whether it was just the alcohol, the moment, or something more that drove you to do this, you didn't know. But for now, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way Mingyu’s lips felt against yours, the quiet hum of desire building between you as you let yourself get lost in the moment.

Your fingers drummed rhythmically on the table, eyeing Seungcheol as if trying to gouge out his thoughts. His head was tilted slightly, thinking about your question: ‘What do you think happened next?’

“You became friends with benefits,” he said with certainty.

Your fingers stopped abruptly. “Really? You didn’t think we’d started dating after that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Did you?”

“No,” you replied sheepishly. “But you seemed so sure that we were gonna be friends with benefits.”

“I had a hunch. It didn’t seem like your connection was building up to a romantic relationship just yet.”

You scowled, confused. “What do you mean? You didn’t think our connection was romantic?”

“Not at all. You were just friends. There was nothing that hinted any romance until the night you went to his flat.”

“Ah, I see what you mean.”

Seungcheol nodded, not smiling but he seemed pleased with himself. “So, what happened next?”

What happened next? You and Mingyu became friends with benefits, that’s what happened. Despite that arrangement, Mingyu was thoughtful in ways that made it hard to draw a clear line between what was casual and what wasn’t.

At university, nothing changed. You were still just classmates—maybe not even that close. You’d smile at each other in passing, maybe sit near each other in a lecture like usual, but that was it. To anyone else, you were barely acquaintances. But behind closed doors, it was different—passionate, fervent, and surreally euphoric.

Soon after that first night, you moved your rendezvous to your place. Your apartment was bigger than Mingyu’s tiny studio, with enough space for both of you to comfortably exist, though most of the time you didn’t bother with space. Whenever he came over, it didn’t take long for his hands to find you or for you to pull him in. There was something magnetic between you, like a spark that kept reigniting no matter how many times you tried to cool it down.

The passion was always there, and you were always eager to touch each other. Sometimes, you wouldn’t even make it to the bed—his lips on yours, your hands tugging at his shirt, and before you knew it, you’d be tangled in each other, the sheets forgotten. Other times, when the heat had subsided, you’d lay there talking, conversations flowing easily about anything and everything.

It was odd, in a way—how effortless it felt when you were alone together. You could laugh, joke, and even sit in silence without any discomfort. Yet, in public, it was like nothing existed between you. Mingyu never brought it up, and neither did you. It was easier that way. You weren’t together, after all—just two people who couldn’t get enough of each other when no one was watching.

Sometimes, the heat was so consuming, that it blurred the lines between passion and affection. And yet, after the fire died down, there was always this: Mingyu, showing up with bread that you loved, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re here already?” you asked, surprised to see Mingyu standing in your living room, browsing your bookshelf like he had all the time in the world.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted, flashing a smile as he carefully returned a small ceramic bear to its place.

“How did you get here so fast? You texted me like ten minutes ago,” you said, dropping your bag on the sofa as you walked toward him.

“I was nearby,” he said with a casual shrug, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, the familiar spark flickering between you. When he pulled away, he said, “I picked up some bread on my way here.”

“No way, is it the same ones you brought last time?” You couldn’t hide your excitement as you reached for the bakery bag he’d left on the coffee table.

He nodded, looking pleased with himself. “Yep, that’s the one.”

You sat in the living room that afternoon, talking over warm cups of chocolate and bread. You barely paid attention to the football game on the TV, giggling and pawing at each other, feeling cozy despite the cold weather outside.

At some point, Mingyu’s hands moved to your shoulders, and you sighed in contentment. “Thanks, I needed this,” you murmured, closing your eyes as his skilled fingers worked through the tension. It was one of Mingyu’s many skills, massages.

He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “We should take this inside.”

You opened one eye, pretending not to understand. “Take what inside?”

Mingyu chuckled, his lips curving against your skin. “Well, if you want to do it here, that’s fine too but we should probably turn off the TV. I don’t feel comfortable having my idols watch,” he replied, making you turn to face him.

“Your idols?”

Mingyu shrugged and then nodded towards the TV where the football game was still on. Scoffing, you grabbed a throw pillow and hit him with it. You both laughed about it for a while, but eventually decided to lock yourselves in your bedroom.

Later that night, you stirred, the quiet glow of a laptop screen pulling you from sleep. Blinking, you realized Mingyu was no longer beside you. He was sitting on the floor, his back resting against the bed, fingers tapping rapidly on the keys.

Reaching out, you squeezed his shoulder. “What are you doing?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep.

Mingyu paused, turning slightly to kiss your knuckles. “Go back to sleep, baby. I just need to finish this.”

“Can’t it wait till morning?” you mumbled, burying your face in the pillow.

He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around you. With a soft shush, he ran his fingers through your hair. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll be done soon. Just sleep.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed your forehead. At that moment, it seemed so normal, so typical of him. But you didn’t realize at the time—it was a sign that Mingyu had trouble sleeping through the night.

Mingyu had a quiet way of making you feel seen. It wasn’t grand gestures or romantic proclamations, but in the little things he did—thoughtful acts that slipped under the radar until you realized just how much attention he paid. One time during class, he came over holding a tiny ceramic bear, almost shy as he handed it to you.

“What’s this?” you asked, turning the figurine over in your hands.

“I noticed that your bear family didn’t have a dad, so,” he said with a small grin, watching as your eyes lit up in recognition.

It was such a simple thing, but the fact that he remembered your collection, that he’d thought of you—it left you feeling touched.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmured, smiling. “But thanks.”

“It’s a grizzly, not a polar bear. Is that okay?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s perfect,” you giggled. “He’ll have to take up the responsibility of taking care of kids who aren’t his though.”

Mingyu shrugged, though there was a quiet satisfaction in his expression. “He’ll be a good stepdad to them. I can vouch.”

“You barely know the guy,” you laughed, playing along.

It wasn’t just gifts. Mingyu had a habit of taking care of the little things in your life without even asking. Like the time the lightbulb in your bathroom had gone out. You didn’t mention it to him, but the next time he came over, he had a replacement bulb in his bag.

“Didn’t realize you were an electrician now,” you joked as he stood on a chair, screwing in the new bulb.

He laughed. “Just figured you’d forget to buy one.”

“I wasn’t going to forget,” you protested, even though he was right. “But… thanks.”

It was like that often with him—effortless, natural.

“Alright, let’s see,” he said, stepping down from the chair and reaching for the switch to test if it worked. When it did, he let out a satisfied hum. “There you go. Good as new.”

“How much for your labor, good sir?” you quipped, wiping away the tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

The grin Mingyu gave you was menacing, shamelessly checking you out in your tank top and shorts. “I’ll have you know I do not accept monetary fees.”

You knew what he meant and he made it especially clear when he casually pressed his palm on your left boob. You just scoffed and swatted his hand away. “I see you work pro bono. Thanks a lot.”

With a teasing grin, you walked away. In the kitchen, he cooked dinner while you sat on the counter, munching on an apple. You found it amusing that the wok he used was something he had brought from his own flat. It's been in your kitchen for a while now. Today, he brought his own kitchen knife.

“You might as well move in at this rate,” you teased after he warned you to be careful with his sharp knife. “What’s next? A drawer for your clothes?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll consider it.”

“You might as well do since you’re here almost every day,” you jeered. “You should bring your own toothbrush too.”

“Ah, that reminds me.” He moved toward you, placing a kiss on your cheek as he rummaged through the paper bag resting on your lap. From there, he fished out two toothbrushes, holding them up like a peace offering. “Look. They came in pairs.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I use an electric toothbrush, you know.”

“Then keep it as a backup,” he shrugged, still grinning. “Or don't. It’s not a big deal.”

You’d joked at first, but eventually, you started using the toothbrush he brought. It felt like a small connection, something that tied him a little more closely to you, even if neither of you talked about it.

And he remembered everything. When you ordered food, he always knew exactly what you wanted without asking. “Chicken katsu with extra sauce,” he’d say, already placing the order. He’d put on music that matched your mood perfectly, like the playlists you loved but never had to mention. Even the book you had been reading—he remembered the title, asked if you’d finished it yet.

Those little moments kept piling up, making it harder to separate the physical nature of your relationship from the real deal. Every time he remembered, every time he took care of something small, you wondered if maybe this wasn’t just friends with benefits after all.

But then there were moments of uncertainty that made you question how much you really knew about him. Sometimes, in quiet moments, he would zone out, lost in thought. You vividly remember one evening when you were curled up together on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. You had been laughing at the antics on-screen, leaning into him, when you glanced over and found him staring blankly at the flickering light of the television.

When he slept over, you’d sometimes wake up to find him staring at the ceiling. His face was relaxed, but there was a tension in the way his jaw was set, a hint of a furrow in his brow. You reached out to touch his face, hoping to draw him back into the intimacy you cherished.

“Mingyu?” you whispered, your voice thick with sleep. He’d blinked, as if waking from a dream, and he turned to you then. For a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes before he masked it with a smile. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just… thinking,” he replied, his voice trailing off. You could see it in his eyes—something was weighing heavily on him, a thought he was wrestling with that he didn’t want to share.

“About what?” you prodded, trying to gouge out something—anything that he’s willing to share. He shifted slightly as if the question made him uncomfortable.

“Just stuff. Don’t worry about it,” he said, a noncommittal answer that only left you more curious. He pulled you closer in a warm embrace. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

The way he shrugged it off felt like a wall going up between you, and for a moment, the warmth of his embrace dissipated. You didn’t push further; you never wanted to pressure him. Instead, you closed your eyes, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

You wanted to know, to understand what made him so distant at times, but every time you tried to get closer, he would slip away like sand through your fingers. You had asked about it in passing, and while he always deflected your inquiries with a joke or a change of subject, it left you wondering if there was more to his silence. You didn’t want to overthink it; after all, it didn’t happen often. Or so you told yourself, hoping that with time, he would open up.

But instead of that, Mingyu disappeared, leaving behind an emptiness that echoed in the spaces where he once filled your days with warmth and laughter.

“Are you keeping up?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at Seungcheol who seemed to be quite slow at processing what you’d just told him.

“Yeah, of course. Though, I’m not gonna lie. I’m a little lost,” he admitted, arms crossed and holding his chin. “If you don’t mind, can I ask why he disappeared?”

You smirked, standing up at once. “I’m gonna need a drink for this.”

Seungcheol’s understood. “By all means.”

Mingyu’s disappearance wasn’t sudden or unexpected; there were signs you hadn’t recognized until he was gone. It began with him replying late to your messages, then not replying at all. You’d see him in class, and when you approached, he didn’t avoid you outright but dodged your questions and made excuses to avoid conversation. Eventually, he started sitting on the opposite side of the lecture hall, far from you and even missed a handful of classes.

You were upset, not just because he chose to stop seeing you but because he didn’t give you any warning. You had been easing into it, getting used to the idea of something more. But when he left so abruptly, you felt foolish.

Still, you had to come to terms with the fact that there was no commitment between you—what you shared was temporary, and he was free to walk away just as you were. It didn’t change the fact that his action was a total jerk move.

“It’s okay. We were just fooling around anyway,” you told yourself after almost two weeks of silence. You forced a smile at your reflection in the mirror. “That’s right. You’ll be fine.”

You tried to push Mingyu out of your mind, diving into a busy social life—going out with friends and meeting new people. At one party, you were in the midst of flirting with a cute guy when you spotted Mingyu across the room. A wave of warmth washed over you at the sight of him, but you played it cool, pretending to be engrossed in your conversation.

“So, are you always at Jinwoo’s party?” you asked, trying to sound charming but feeling more like a dork.

“Only when there’s free food,” he replied, a little too eagerly.

You forced a laugh, trying to play along. “Well, they do have snacks... and drinks.”

He leaned in closer. “You know, I’m really into snacks. Like, I could talk about snacks all night.”

Your stomach turned slightly at the sudden wave of ick. You couldn’t tell if he was serious, or just saying it to be funny. What the hell does that even mean?

You caught a glimpse of Mingyu from the corner of your eye, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the exchange with an amused expression. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you realized how embarrassing this was—Mingyu was listening, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him hearing you flounder like this.

“Right, snacks. That’s... cool.” You shot him a tight smile, glancing around the room in a bid to escape. “Speaking of snacks, I’m gonna go get me some more. Excuse me,” you smiled and slipped away from the guy, the weight of Mingyu’s gaze following you as you headed outside.

“Wow, that was awful,” Mingyu said, appearing beside you just as you stepped into the cool air.

“You,” you spat, glaring at him.

“Hello to you too,” he replied, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “What’s your opinion on people eavesdropping on other’s conversations instead of minding their own business?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he teased, though the grin on his face suggested otherwise. “I can’t help it if you guys were loud enough for me to hear, can I?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s none of your business,” you replied smartly, looking away with a frown.

Mingyu’s laugh was deep, the kind that made your stomach twist in a way that was all too familiar. “Alright. I’m sorry. How about hanging out with me so you need not deal with all those lame guys?”

“Pretty sure you’re much much lamer,” you scoffed.

He called your name softly, a teasing smile playing on his lips but his eyes were more serious than before. You failed to ignore the way your heart began to race. “Lighten up. I missed you, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you now?”

“I did.” Mingyu’s gaze flickered to your lips for a split second before he grinned again. “I missed you so much, I thought I’d go nuts.”

The confession caught you off guard but your annoyance was stronger. You scoffed, struggling to hold back and trying not to just go ahead and smack him. “Then you shouldn’t have ghosted me like that.”

His smile faltered slightly. The air between you shifted again, the playful banter fading into something heavier. Mingyu didn’t respond right away, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward—just filled with something unspoken.

After a long pause, he finally nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry about that.”

You smirked, looking away and fixing your gaze into nothing. He should be sorry, it’s only right to be. But the fact remained: you were not in the kind of relationship where you could hold him hostage for something he was allowed to do. Yet here you were, feeling more hurt than you were allowed to be.

You let the silence hang between you, thick with unspoken tension. It went on for a while before it was broken by the sound of people clambering out of the main door, their drunken laughter echoing in the cool night air.

“Wanna get out of here?” Mingyu finally asked, breaking the spell.

“Took you long enough to ask,” you replied, striding toward the street with him following closely behind.

As you were passing by the parking lot filled with cars, Mingyu suddenly grabbed your hand. “We’re not walking to your apartment. That’s like a mile-long hike.”

“What?” you asked, confused but still allowing him to lead you toward a black SUV.

He opened the passenger door and gestured for you to get in. While he rounded the car to the driver’s side, you glanced around the unfamiliar interior, a fleeting thought crossing your mind that maybe this wasn’t his car. But as soon as he slid into the seat and turned the key in the ignition, you relaxed a little.

“Please tell me this is yours and you didn’t just steal it.”

Mingyu chuckled, his smile easing some of your lingering unease. “Why would you think that?”

“Because last time I checked, you didn’t have a car,” you replied, watching him navigate the vehicle out of the parking lot.

“Oh, this is my dad’s. He’s letting me borrow it while I’m staying with them.”

You blinked, surprised. That was the first time Mingyu had mentioned his family or anything about his life outside of university. Naturally, curiosity sparked in you.

“You moved back to your family’s house?” you asked, hoping to finally get some insight into where he’d disappeared to.

“Yeah, had to,” he said casually, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“Why?”

He hesitated, fingers tightening on the steering wheel for just a second before he shrugged. “Just some stuff came up. Nothing major.”

There was something vague about his response, and you could sense the conversation wasn’t going to go any deeper. He’d always been good at deflecting when it came to his personal life.

You nodded, accepting the explanation without pressing further, even though the curiosity still lingered in the back of your mind. It was frustrating, but at the same time, you’d gotten used to the fact that Mingyu shared only what he wanted, and nothing more. Maybe it was just his way of keeping distance—emotional distance, that is.

When you arrived at your apartment, you barely had time to take a breath before Mingyu’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him. It was like being caged, but in a way that made you feel safe, wanted. You couldn’t explain how much you had missed this—missed him. His warmth, his touch, the way his presence alone seemed to fill the space around you.

As you moved together from the living room to the bedroom, it felt inevitable, like gravity pulling you into his orbit once again. You knew you were letting yourself fall, diving headfirst into the abyss of passion and euphoria that was Kim Mingyu. And yet, even knowing that, you didn’t stop yourself.

You couldn’t.

“You missed me, didn’t you?” he whispered as he took your breast in his mouth.

Yes, you wanted to scream out, but all that ever left your mouth was a lewd moan. And when he heard that, he slid a hand under your dress, moving down to your hips and slipping inside your lace panties to put pressure there. He caressed your sex slowly, and then urgently in circling motions while his kisses trailed up from your breast to your neck, nipping at the supple skin before they found your lips.

Your hands had a mind of their own, greedily removing his jacket, and then running your fingers on the firm muscles and warm skin underneath. As the pleasure grew, it clouded your brain and you clung your arms around his neck in fear that your trembling legs would collapse under you.

“Lie down, baby,” he rasped in your ear, pushing you gently towards the bed.

You let yourself fall on the mattress, bouncing slightly. You watched as he undid his belt and kicked off his jeans before moving to undress you out of your dress. You saw how he ogled your body with those beautiful lustful eyes before he hovered over you and traced the outline of your face with his fingers.

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” he whispered. He slid a finger into your mouth and you sucked it, making him exhale sharply and dive in to kiss you feverishly.

You were almost breathless with desire, your skin prickling with anticipation of what was about to happen—of what Mingyu was about to do. You could feel him against your thigh, hot and hard, so you spread your legs open, welcoming him.

And then with one push, he was filling you—stretching your cunt in the most exquisite way possible. His body pressed against you as he thrust in and out in a rhythm that sent ripples of pleasure through every single nerve in your body.

And all of a sudden, he stopped, leaving you momentarily confused. He stood up and said, “Come here.”

Without a word, you obliged, walking toward him in a haste. He then spinned you around so you were facing the full-length mirror in the corner of your room. “Take a good look at yourself.”

You saw yourself in the mirror; messy hair, flushed cheeks, and your lips swollen from kissing. You could see him in your reflection, standing behind you with fire in his eyes. You watched as he reached for your breast, while his other hand cupped your pussy, collecting the slick in his hand before bringing it to his tongue.

You gasped at how hot he looked, and seeing your reaction made Mingyu grin. Without warning, he pushed you back on the bed. Before you could move to lay on your back, he lifted you by the waist so your ass was sticking out. Then he pressed your face on the mattress before you felt a sharp, delightful pain on your buttcheek where he smacked you with his palm.

“Oh, Mingyu!” you cried out.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “That’s not loud enough, baby.”

“Mingyu, please!” you begged, needing nothing but to be filled again.

Once again, he pushed his cock inside you, making you whimper in the most obscene manner.

“Fuck,” he grunted. His fingers dug hard into your hips as he thrusted deeply and vigorously. Your hand held onto to the sheets, pleasure so intense that you couldn’t think anymore—you couldn’t even see your own naked, sweaty self in the mirror in front of you. But you could hear the sound of bodies slamming into each other again and again, and a breathless moan that must have been coming from your own throat.

When the ecstatic high engulfed the two of you, he loosened his hold of your waist and your legs felt so weak you could barely hold yourself up. So you collapsed on the bed, followed by Mingyu, panting beside you with a satisfied look on his face.

“How was that?” he said smugly, knowing damn well how wonderful he made you feel.

You just laughed, snuggling into him as you put off washing up for a few more minutes.

The heated passion gave way to a quiet intimacy as you both settled into bed. The sound of rain tapping against the window filled the silence, soothing and rhythmic.

You chatted lazily about random things—music, classes, friends—until you finally gathered the courage to ask, “What happened to you? Where’ve you been?”

“I’m really sorry. I got busy with school and stuff at home,” Mingyu replied, his tone casual. But you could sense something unspoken beneath his words, as always. “Did you miss me?” he added, trying to keep it light.

You had missed him. A lot. But you weren’t about to admit that. “Barely. Didn’t even notice you were gone.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly not buying it. “Is that why you were out there flirting with every cute guy you meet?”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “You seem to know an awful lot about me. One might think you’re interested or something.”

He laughed softly, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flutter. “You’ll find that I am, in fact, very interested,” he said with a quiet conviction. And suddenly, the air between you shifted again, filled with tension—desire mingling with uncertainty.

“Say,” Mingyu began, his voice lowering as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want to be exclusive?”

Your heart raced at the word. “Exclusive…? Like—”

“Like not sleeping with other people,” he clarified, though that wasn’t quite the question you were about to ask.

You were about to ask if he meant dating. Thank God you didn’t.

“Oh…” you trailed off, unsure how to respond. “Why?”

Mingyu shrugged, his tone still casual. “No reason. It’s okay if you don’t want to. You’re free to do whatever you want. But… it’d be nice, don’t you think?”

There was no reason to say no. The truth was, you’d stopped considering other guys long ago, the moment this thing with Mingyu began. Still, his offer made your heart race—both giddy and nervous. But there was no way you’d let him see that.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like a fair deal,” you quipped, hiding behind banter.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at you, curious. “Wait, what does that mean?”

You shrugged again, refusing to elaborate, though it didn’t really mean anything.

“Hold on—what?” He sat up, feigning shock, and flexed his arms dramatically. “You don’t think this is a fair deal?”

“Where?” you teased, squinting at his muscles like you couldn’t see them.

Mingyu grinned and started flexing even harder, pointing out specific muscles like they were on display. “You seriously don’t see this? Look closely and tell me this isn’t a fair deal.”

You giggled, reaching for him with your toes. Grinning, he grabbed your foot and pulled you toward him. The sudden tug made you squeal.

“Come on, baby, take it back.” He leaned down, hovering over you, eyes soft. “Take it back while I’m still being nice.”

“I didn’t ask you to be nice,” you taunted, your coy smile daring him.

Mingyu chuckled low in his throat. “You’re extra beautiful when you’re naughty, did you know that?”

“No idea,” you replied, grinning as he leaned in, capturing your lips again. When his hand cupped your boob, you pulled away from the kiss and pushed him off. “No.”

“Aw, fine,” he sighed in defeat, falling next to you on the bed. Quietly, he settled behind you, wrapping an arm around your torso and sliding his other arm under your head. “Get some rest.”

He didn't say much after that, but there was a warmth in the way he pulled you closer, an unconscious act of intimacy that made your chest tighten.

It hit you then—how much you’d come to crave moments like this, not just the passion, but the feeling of being with him, of having him there with you in the silence. You’d never felt this way before, not even with past relationships, and the realization made your heart race. You were falling for him, had already fallen. It wasn’t the way he teased you or the way he kissed you, but the quiet moments in between, where you felt like he saw you, really saw you.

It had been a long week. Between schoolwork, dealing with your chaotic schedule, and pretending like everything with Mingyu was still as casual as it used to be, you were exhausted. The tension gnawed at you—this thing between you two was starting to feel like more than it should. It wasn’t something you were ready to acknowledge yet, but it lingered in the back of your mind.

You walked into your apartment after a particularly grueling day, half-expecting the silence to greet you. When you walked into the kitchen for water, you found a small plastic bag filled with food on the table. Next to it was a tiny ceramic panda bear, about half the size of your palm.

You blinked, trying to process it. It wasn’t there this morning. Mingyu must’ve stopped by.

You walked over to the counter, looking at the items. Inside the bag were a couple of your favorite snacks—nothing big, just the kind of things you liked to nibble on when you were too tired to cook. There was no note, but the panda felt like something only he would give you. It was cute in an oddly sentimental way, like he knew you’d smile at it.

You heard a knock at the door and quickly set the bear back on the counter, hurrying to open it. Mingyu stood there, casual as ever.

“Hey,” he said, flashing you that familiar, easygoing grin.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling back. “Did you stop by earlier? Or do I have a creepy psychopathic stalker who’s obsessed with me and thinks it’s romantic to leave food for me at home while I’m away?”

Mingyu laughed heartily. “What are you gonna do if the creepy psychopathic stalker was me?”

“I’m calling the police,” you told him, closing the door to his face. He didn’t stop you, nor did he knock for about thirty seconds after you closed the door so you opened it again. “Come on in, then.”

“I was in the area so I thought I’d drop by and surprise you but you weren’t home,” he explained, kicking his shoes off at the foyer.

“Snacks and a panda?” you asked, raising an eyebrow but smiling. “That’s quite a combination.”

Mingyu shrugged, a soft laugh escaping him. “I saw it in this shop near campus. And I figured if it was you, you wouldn’t leave it alone in that shop.”

“I don’t go around adopting every bear figurine I see, Mingyu,” you snorted, picking up the panda again.

“Maybe, but since he’s already here, you should have it up there with your little bear family,” he beamed, taking the panda from your hand and placing it up on the shelf with the rest of your bear collections. “She can be their Chinese aunt.”

“Because she’s from China?” you asked and saw him nod his head. You both laughed. “I’m sure they appreciate you making their family bigger.”

“Thanks for saying that,” he smiled, not the mischievous kind of smile that he usually sported, but a sincere one—as if he was touched by your statement. “I’m glad I could make them happy,” he added, staring at the bear family.

You stared at him for a moment, something warm and unfamiliar swelling in your chest. This wasn’t just some casual fling anymore, was it? You tried to play it cool, but the way he just knew—the way he quietly showed up in your life, making you feel special in small but wonderful ways—made it harder to keep pretending you didn’t care. You could only hope he’d open up to you and let you into his world. That way, you could love him properly.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning his gaze back at you. “You’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart skipped a beat. “Shut up.”

Mingyu chuckled, leaning against the wall, watching you with an unreadable expression. It was like he wanted to say something but was holding back. You were holding back too, both of you toeing the line of something you could not bring up.

“I’ll make you dinner,” you offered, trying to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to,” Mingyu replied, but you were already walking toward the kitchen, grateful for the distraction.

The rest of the evening was spent with each other’s company, sitting together on the sofa with your head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly stroked your hair. The silence wasn’t awkward or strained; if anything, it was soothing, the kind of peace that made you feel safe and whole.

It is in moments like this that you realize you need not fill every moment with words. Being with him like this was comfortable and nice.

Mingyu shifted slightly, one hand holding your shoulder as he reached for his phone on the coffee table. You glanced up at him, watching as the light from the screen cast soft shadows across his face. You’d memorized every detail of how he looked by now—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, that playful smirk he always wore. But tonight, something about him felt different. His dark hair, slightly disheveled, framed his forehead just the right way, and you couldn’t help but think of how soft it looked—how soft it felt the mornings you ran your fingers through it when he was half-asleep. He always looked good, like some kind of casual perfection, but right now, with his face relaxed in the glow of the phone, he looked almost unreal.

You’d thought he was handsome the day you met him—he’d always had that charm that caught you off guard—but now, now that you’d spent nights tracing every inch of him, mornings laughing at how messy his hair could get, and afternoons like this where he seemed so unaware of how much space he took up in your thoughts... it hit you all over again. He wasn’t just good-looking. He was beautiful in a way that made you ache a little, like your mind couldn’t fully comprehend that someone like him was sitting here with you.

His voice broke through your reverie, a gentle reminder that this wasn’t some dream you’d conjured up. He really was here. “Ah, I almost forgot. Exams start tomorrow. Are you ready?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, suddenly reminded of the real world. “I’ve gone through all my notes, but I’m not sure,” you muttered, the conversation feeling trivial compared to what was really on your mind. You weren’t thinking about exams. You were thinking about how, with him beside you like this, nothing else seemed to matter.

“We could pray,” he snickered. “For our grades.”

You rolled your eyes. “As if you have to. You’re gonna ace everything and graduate with flying colors.”

Mingyu chuckled. “We’re freshmen—ages away from graduation.”

“Yes, but if you continue at your current pace, you’d really graduate with distinction.”

He hummed, kissing your forehead. “You think too highly of me. I like it more when you used to call me a himbo. Less pressure.”

Without thinking, you let out a soft sigh, turning to look at him. Really look at him. His focus had shifted back to his phone, his long fingers casually scrolling through whatever app he was on, but there was a subtle tension in his jaw, like maybe he was thinking about something too.

“Let’s go to bed. I’m tired,” you said, nuzzling into his shirt.

Mingyu sighed, pulling you closer as he placed his phone down. “Sorry. I have to be home tonight.”

“Oh.” You didn’t mean for it to sound so disappointed, but it slipped out anyway.

Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck, clearly sensing the shift. “I just have to help out at home tonight. My parents…” He trailed off, leaving the explanation half-formed, and you didn’t press him for more.

“Right. Of course,” you said, forcing a small smile. “You don’t have to explain.”

There was an awkward pause before he kissed the top of your head again, his voice soft. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” You sat up as he rose from the couch, the warm space he left behind feeling a little colder already.

Mingyu grabbed his jacket from the chair, glancing at you with a small, apologetic smile. “I’ll text you.”

You nodded, watching as he left, and once the door clicked shut behind him, the silence of the room felt a little too loud.

“He’s just busy with exams,” you told yourself, sitting in your living room with your elbows propped on your knees, chin in your hands. You stared at the bears on the bookshelf, speaking to them as though they could somehow offer an answer. “Or maybe he had stuff to take care of at home.”

It had been four days, and you hadn’t heard from Mingyu. He texted after he left your apartment like he said he would, but after that—nothing. The last thing he mentioned was that he was spending time with his father. But then, radio silence.

“He should at least check in on me, right?” you muttered, leaning back into the sofa. “It’s been four days.”

Just as you were spiraling further into your thoughts, your phone buzzed in your hand, making you sit back up with a jolt. Your heart raced at the thought of Mingyu finally texting you, but your excitement died down as quickly as it came. It was just Mina.

Mina: otw to pick u up. U ready?

“Oh, shit,” you cursed, bolting upright. You scrambled to your bedroom, throwing on the first outfit you could find that was semi-decent for a party.

You spent the next five minutes getting ready, knowing Mina lived nearby and would be here in less than ten minutes. By the time you heard the knock on your door, you were almost done with your makeup, except for the lipstick that you decided you’d do in the car.

“Coming!” you called out, rushing to slip on your shoes as you headed for the door. But when you flung the door open, it wasn’t Mina standing outside.

Mingyu stood there, his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, wearing the faintest of smiles. “Hi.”

“Mingyu!” you exclaimed, gripping the doorknob to resist the urge to leap into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d drop by. Is now a bad time?”

“No! I mean, yes—kinda! I’m going to Hoshi’s party,” you rambled.

Mingyu nodded, a flicker of realization crossing his face. “Ah! I was supposed to go there too. Should we go together?”

“My friends are already on their way to pick me up,” you said quickly, wincing. “Come inside for a bit.”

You pulled him in by the sleeve, shutting the door before Mina could catch you in this whirlwind of confusion. Mingyu was here—after four days of nothing—and suddenly, all those unspoken thoughts came rushing back. Why hadn’t he reached out? What was going on?

“You said you’re supposed to go to the party?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yeah,” he answered, walking closer and resting his forehead on your shoulder. His sigh was long, deep, and heavy. Much heavier than you expected.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, placing a gentle hand on his back.

“Yeah, it’s just… I’ve been exhausted these days,” he confessed, sighing again. He wrapped his arms around your waist. “Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

And you did. You let him stay there, gently stroking his back in hopes that it would bring him comfort from whatever it was that was bothering him. It was as if you could sense the weight of his worries pressing down on him.

In that silence, your mind raced. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but something in his demeanor urged you to hold back. Instead, you focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He needed this comfort, and for now, it felt like enough to be there for him. You didn’t move, not even when you heard the first series of knocks on your door. You just stood there, giving Mingyu the warmest hug you could offer.

When the second knocks came, followed by Mina’s voice calling your name, Mingyu pulled away. “Is that your ride?”

“Yeah,” you replied softly, almost in a whisper.

He smiled at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, lingering for a moment—thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. “I’ll see you there, then.”

“Alright,” you whispered, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I’ll go first, okay? You can stay for as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” he said, kissing your lips softly.

In the car with your friends, your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Mingyu. Is he okay? What happened? Why did he seem upset and sad? Where was he these past few days?

“Where’s Mingyu these days?” Mina asked, tugging on your elbow to get your attention. “You guys are close, right?”

“Huh?” you asked, surprised by the question. What you have with Mingyu wasn’t a secret, but you didn’t openly tell other people about it. Whenever someone noticed that you seemed close, you always told them that you were friends. And in a way, you were.

Mina tilted her head slightly, confused. “Was I wrong? I thought you two got along.”

“Oh, yeah. We’re friends.”

Mina said, “I haven’t seen him around campus in a while. Is he okay?”

“I think he’s fine, yes. Why’d you ask?” you replied.

“Well, something happened a few days ago,” Mina said, hesitating. She turned to Jill, your other friend who’s driving. “Jill, tell her what happened.”

You met Jill’s gaze in the mirror briefly. “Lea and I saw him getting slapped outside the campus.”

Your heart ached. “When was it? Who hit him?”

“It was probably his mom,” said Lea, glancing at you from the shotgun seat. “She looked like it and Mingyu got in her car after. Luckily there weren’t many people there and I think only a few noticed. But he seemed really depressed at the time.”

You leaned on the backrest of your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you wondered about Mingyu. Is he having problems at home? Is that why he was upset?

“You’re worried. You must be close,” Mina said, probing for answers about your relationship with him.

“He’s my friend. Of course I’m worried.”

When you reached the party, you were stuck with your friends for a while, playing a round of drinking games with other people. When that was over, and you’d managed to slip away unnoticed, you searched the crowd for Mingyu.

You leaned against the wall, holding a half-full cup of punch, scanning the crowd. You spotted him nearby, talking to a group of friends, his usual easy smile lighting up his face. You smiled too, watching him. It was almost effortless with him, how he could make everyone around him feel comfortable. You’d noticed it before—Mingyu was always the life of the party wherever he went.

But then you remembered what your friends told you, and the smile faltered from your lips. How much pain was he hiding behind those sweet smiles? Were they fake the whole time? Or were they real and was he only able to smile this much outside his home? What was going on with his life? With him? At this point, the most fitting question would be, ‘Who is he really?’

You were about to join him when you noticed someone approach him—some girl you hadn’t seen before. She was tall, pretty, with perfectly styled hair and an outfit that screamed confidence. She touched Mingyu’s arm lightly, leaning in to say something that made him chuckle. It was a small, polite laugh, the kind he gave when he didn’t want to be rude, but that didn’t stop the knot from forming in your chest.

You tried to ignore it, reminding yourself that it didn’t mean anything. But when she took another step closer to him, her fingers lingering on his arm, you felt a strange tightness, a familiar sensation that crawled under your skin.

Jealousy.

Jealousy was a strange thing. You had never felt it before—not like this. The idea of losing him, even though you weren’t “together,” made your stomach flip.

Mingyu’s eyes flicked over the room, and then they landed on you. For a split second, you thought about looking away, playing it cool. But the look in his eyes, the way his face softened when he saw you, stopped you in your tracks. He smiled—his real smile, the one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners—and the knot in your chest loosened a little.

Without a word, Mingyu took a small step back from the girl and made his way over to you. You tried to act casual, leaning against the wall as if your heart wasn’t racing.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. He stood close, the heat of his presence drawing you in.

“Hey,” you replied, trying not to let the relief show on your face.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, leaning in slightly so you could hear him over the music.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you said, shrugging. “You seem popular tonight.” You couldn’t help the slight edge in your voice, even though you tried to play it off as a joke.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tone. “You mean her?” he asked, tilting his head toward the girl who was now talking to someone else. “She’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly, huh?” you replied, taking another sip of your drink. “Looked like she was being a little too friendly.”

Mingyu laughed softly, stepping even closer. His hand brushed against your arm, sending a familiar warmth through you. “Did you know I like my women territorial?” he teased, but his tone was gentle.

You scoffed, trying to hide the sudden rush of embarrassment. “Go find yourself someone territorial then,” you said, bumping your shoulder against his when you pushed past him.

Mingyu chuckled, turning to grab your wrist and stop you from leaving. “I don’t need to find one.” He tugged you towards him, hugging you from behind and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “I have my territorial girl right here.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered. “Get off me. Why are you doing this in public?” you chided, shaking him off but not putting in any strength to actually get away from him.

“Oh, is this not allowed?” he asked and you were about to fire a retort when you caught your friends’ gazes from across the room. You felt your cheeks flare, looking away to avoid Mina’s teasing grin.

“Get off.” You pushed him away and straightened your clothes.

Mingyu chuckled heartily, tugging your shoulder so you’d face him. He was smiling softly, a softness that made you feel seen in a way that was more intimate than anything else. “Don’t worry. I’m yours exclusively.”

You stared at him, trying to read what was on his mind. You wish you could, but it was impossible.

The words hit you harder than you expected. Exclusively? He must be talking about the fact that you were exclusive fuck buddies. You wished he wasn’t, but you’d rather not have false expectations.

“I know,” you said, your voice quieter now.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension hung in the air between you, thick and unspoken. You didn’t need to say anything more. You both understood.

“Mingyu!” shouted someone from across the room. You both turned your heads in the direction of the voice and saw a guy waving for Mingyu. “Come on, man! It��s your turn!”

Mingyu chuckled, waving back. “You guys continue without me!” he shouted back. Then he took your hand, fingers lacing through yours, and gave it a small squeeze. “Wanna ditch?”

You shrugged.

“Come on. I know you want to leave and go for burgers right now.”

You felt a smile tug at your lips. “Did you just read my mind?”

“No, but I have a manual in my head with your name on it, and that information is saved here,” he replied, pressing an index finger to his temple.

“You’re so obsessed with me. Aren’t you embarrassed?” you quipped, pushing off the wall and walking toward the door, feeling the familiar warmth of Mingyu’s presence right behind you.

The night ended in your apartment, as expected. In the heat of the moment, you set aside everything—your confusion, the questions, everything. There was only you and him in this moment of passion. Once more, you let yourself spiral into the momentary distraction of pleasure. And when the high slowly dissipated, you found yourself in the warm bathtub, with your back leaning on Mingyu’s chest.

“Are you staying?” you asked softly. “Over, I mean. Or do you need to go home?”

“I’d love to stay,” he replied. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” You closed your eyes, content with his answer. “I don’t even want you to leave,” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

Mingyu chuckled lightly. “I don’t want to leave either. I wish I could just stay here. Forever, if that’s even possible,” he said and it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Oh yeah? Then why do you—” You bit your lip, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. You weren’t used to confronting things like this. You looked up to meet his gaze, looking into his eyes. “Where will you disappear next time, Kim Mingyu?”

For a second, his expression shifted—just a flicker of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite read. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “Not unless you want me to.”

Your chest tightened. His words were simple, but the weight behind them hit you harder than you expected. How long had you been waiting to hear something like that? To know that, at least for now, he was yours, and he wasn’t going to slip away without warning like he had before.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice again. “No. I don’t want you to go.”

Mingyu smiled, that same easygoing grin that always seemed to make everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t. “Then stop worrying,” he said, his thumb still tracing those soft circles on your skin.

He didn’t make a promise, and maybe you should’ve asked for one. Because even though he stayed for a while, it didn’t stop him from fading away all over again.

You were at Mina’s apartment, sitting on the edge of her bed while she packed her things. Beside you, Jill was cradling a bag of chips, pointedly refusing to share.

“I still don’t get why you’re moving out,” Jill grumbled, slapping your hand when you reached for a chip. She shot you a glare and continued, “Can’t you just tell your parents you don’t want to live with them?”

“Asian parents,” Mina sighed, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Exactly! I don’t understand why they’d move to another state just to follow you here,” Jill said, incredulous. “That’s some next-level parenting!”

“They moved because they can’t stand being away from their daughter,” you chimed in, swiping a protein bar from Jill’s stash. “Also because they can.”

“Yeah, and that’s why it’s so confusing,” Jill scoffed, gesturing toward Mina. “My parents love me too, but they wouldn’t move out of their hometown just to keep me close. Are all Asian parents like hers? Do they really want their grown-ass kids living at home?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it happens more often than you’d think.” Your mind briefly wandered to Mingyu, remembering how he’d moved back in with his parents.

Before you could say more, music blared from outside the bedroom, cutting through the conversation. You looked up to see Lea entering the room, a towel draped over her shoulders like a makeshift cape. She carried a speaker in one hand, which she promptly set down on the nightstand.

“You say!” she belted, voice dramatic as she launched into the opening lines of a Hamilton song. “The price of my love is not a price that you’re willing to pay!”

The three of you groaned in unison.

Mina rolled her eyes, standing up to shove Lea out of the room. “Get out, nerd,” she said, feigning annoyance but unable to hide her smile.

“She’s sad. Let her grieve,” you teased, glancing toward the door where Lea continued knocking persistently.

Mina sighed and switched off the speaker, silencing the music. “She’s just overdramatic, that’s what she is. It’s not like we won’t see each other anymore.”

“Maybe you won’t,” you said, shrugging. “Who knows? Some people like to disappear and not say a word. Only to show up out of nowhere and act like nothing happened.”

Mina crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head slightly as she observed you with a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “Where is this coming from?”

You shrugged, glancing at Jill who was giving you the same look. The chuckle you let out was awkward and defensive. “Nowhere. I’m just yapping for no reason. You know me.”

“Yeah, we know you,” Jill said, grinning playfully. “We know you’re hiding someone up at your apartment.”

“WHAT?” you exclaimed, backing away and laughing incredulously. “No. When did I ever! You’re crazy," you denied, snorting.

“Uh-huh? Then why haven’t we been invited there in like, six months already?” Jill interrogated.

You looked away. “I didn’t know you guys were keeping count.”

“Who is it?” Mina pressed, a teasing smile on her lips.

“No one,” you said briskly. “We haven’t talked in like, a week.”

“Oh, is it over before we even found out who it was?” Mina asked, appalled.

Before you could respond, Lea’s voice rang out from outside the door, full of flair. “You’ll be back! Soon you’ll see! You’ll remember you belong to me!”

Yeah. Mingyu will be back. Like always.

You went on with your life, like always. You’d learned to adapt. Classes came and went, each lecture merging into the next. On the first few times that Mingyu would disappear, you used to be distracted. Now you just went on as usual. Each day passed in a blur of classes, late-night study sessions, and the occasional laugh with friends.

“You still haven’t told us who this mystery man is. He’s not a professor, is he?” Lea questioned while you were at a cafe one evening.

“No! What the heck?” you said briskly, shaking your head at the ridiculous accusation.

“Is it Mingyu? You guys seem... close,” Mina teased.

“No,” you lied, blatantly.

Mina nudged your elbow. “Then why won’t you tell us?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your plate. “It’s just… it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Jill asked, leaning in, her eyes glimmering with curiosity. “He ghosted you, right? You’re better off without him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you said, but the words felt heavy in your mouth. You could not bring yourself to tell them that he’d done this before, and that he’d be back. When he does, you’d take him back like you always did.

You didn’t want to tell them how much you craved his presence, even if it was a source of confusion and pain. The idea of him laughing and teasing you again, the thought of being held by him, being one with him in body and mind—it all felt like a drug you couldn’t resist. How could you tell your friends that? They’d kill you if they can’t kill Mingyu first.

Mina reached out, squeezing your hand. “You deserve someone who’s all in. Not someone who just pops in and out of your life.”

“I know,” you nodded, appreciating their concern. You know they were right, but you still wanted to wait for Mingyu.

Just as the ache began to dull into a familiar rhythm, you were in the library, buried under a pile of textbooks. The quiet hum of studying students surrounded you, but you were in your own world, focusing on an assignment.

“Hey, stranger,” said a familiar voice that made your heart race. You looked up to find Mingyu and your stomach flipped as you caught his eye. He looked goofy—exactly as you remembered. “Missed me?”

“More like I forgot what you looked like,” you retorted, trying to play it cool.

He laughed, that warm, infectious laugh that always made your heart flutter. “Oh, come on! You know you missed my face.”

“Not as much as I missed your annoying habit of interrupting my study sessions,” you shot back, though you couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto your face.

Mingyu grinned, leaning closer. “I can’t help it. What’s more interesting than me?”

Your heart swelled at his playful confidence, and for the first time in weeks, the tension in your chest eased a little. “A lot of things, actually,” you teased, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

“Lies,” he said pouting as he slid on the seat next to you, scooting so close that your shoulders were squeezed together. “So, any plans tonight?”

You rolled your eyes, but inside, you felt the warmth of his presence filling the void he had left.

Mingyu started to integrate himself back into your life seamlessly. He would swing by your apartment with snacks, distract you with silly anecdotes, and make you laugh until your sides hurt. You need not mention that most of these nights were spent with your limbs tangled underneath your sheets—half his weight pressing on you, your fingernails digging into his skin, as your moans blended with his soft grunts, creating a beautiful melody that made you lose your mind.

One afternoon, you found yourselves in the park, lounging on the grass under the fading sunlight. “So, what’s new with you?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you.

“Not much. Just the usual—classes, studying, hanging out with the same friends,” you replied, your gaze drifting to the clouds above.

He raised an eyebrow. “Just that? No wild adventures? No spontaneous trips?”

You laughed softly. “You’re my wild adventures, Mingyu.”

Mingyu’s expression shifted, his playful demeanor softening as he studied your face. “I’m sorry for disappearing like that. I just needed some time to take care of stuff,” he explained, playing with the ends of your hair. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

His words hung in the air, and your breath caught in your throat. The way he looked at you made you feel special again—loved even. You could feel the warmth spreading in your chest, a blend of relief and yearning.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you said softly, your heart swelling with hope.

“I know,” he replied with a teasing smirk, but his eyes were sincere. You stayed like that for a while, just staring at each other, not quite understanding what your eyes were trying to tell each other, but content nonetheless.

“I should go,” you said, sitting up. Mingyu followed, holding your hand and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Go where? I was hoping we could hang out again tonight. How does steak sound? I’ve gotten good at it recently.”

“I am tempted, but maybe next time. I made plans with the girls.”

“Can I sleep over tonight, then? I don’t wanna go home,” he pleaded.

You winced. “Mina’s sleeping over tonight.”

“Didn’t she sleep over the other day, though?”

“Yeah, well. She doesn’t have an apartment anymore. It’s a long story.”

Mingyu gasped playfully. “Is she moving in with you?”

“No, not really. But she’d be sleeping over sometimes.”

“Not your friend cockblocking me.”

You threw your head back laughing. “Dumbass. Go away.”

As the days turned into weeks, you settled back into the regular rhythm with him. Mingyu seemed lighter, more carefree. Every moment felt precious, as if you were both making up for lost time.

But behind the lighthearted moments, you could feel it—the underlying tension that often accompanied Mingyu’s presence. You pushed it aside, choosing to savor the time you had together instead of dwelling on what might come next.

Then, one chilly evening, it happened.

You’d heard somewhere before that one should expect disappointment. That way, the said disappointment would hurt less once it comes. They were only half-right.

“What’s your opinion so far?” you asked, watching Seungcheol lean back in his chair.

He shook his head slowly. “I’m not really in a position to comment.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. I’m the one asking.”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I think you’ve got yourself stuck in an impasse. And honestly, it’s a frustrating one, because you knew what was going on, you didn’t like it, and you knew exactly what you could do to get out of it.”

“And your point is?”

“My point is, you could have spared yourself the trouble. You could have chosen differently—confront him, walk away, tell him to leave if he’s just gonna keep doing what he’s doing,” he replied.

You shot him a teasing smile. “Notice how you’re listing all the things I could have done, instead of what Mingyu should have done?”

There was a flicker of realization on Seungcheol’s face, clearly caught off guard. “Oh…”

You chuckled softly. “Exactly. That’s because people generally don’t trust men to be capable of picking up after their messes.”

“That’s actually a good insight,” he admitted with a nod. “So what happened after that?”

“You know what happened. It’s where I started when I told you this story. He called me after a week of radio silence, complaining about his annoying professor. Then I invited him over, we had sex, and we fell back into the same cycle of pretending like nothing was wrong. With him. Or with us. Then he vanished again.”

Seungcheol nodded quietly as he refilled your empty glass. For some reason, the gesture felt like a pat on your shoulder. In your mind, you thought that maybe this was his way of comforting you. That is—if he cared at all.

“That was the first time we fought,” you added, smiling bitterly at the memory.

At that point, you’d recognize the cues. You’d had Mingyu memorized and knew exactly from the way he was beginning to get detached that he was about to disappear again—late replies, making excuses and avoiding you at the campus. The thought of being abandoned by him once more struck a chord in you. Before you know it, you were confronting him, demanding to be heard.

“You’re doing it again,” you said, just as he was reaching for the doorknob.

Mingyu stopped, looked back at you, and blinked, confused. “Doing what?”

You gestured at him at the door. “This. The avoiding, the excuses.” Your voice was sharper than you intended, but you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ve been busy—”

“Stop!” you interrupted. “Just stop it! Don’t lie to me, Mingyu. You think I don’t notice? You’re pulling away, and you always do this right before you disappear!”

Mingyu sighed, backing away from the door and facing you fully. He uttered your name—softly, pleadingly. “Come on, baby. Let’s not do this right now.”

“What? Am I supposed to just take it in stride while you disappear to God knows where without so much as a word? No. We’re doing this right now,” you demanded. The corner of your eyes began to sting with the tears threatening to fall.

He reached to touch you but you recoiled, and he could only clench his fist then withdraw his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you have to say?” you asked, appalled.

“I don’t wanna make excuses.”

“Who said you have to?” you asked quietly, your voice unsteady. “You just have to be honest.”

“It's easier said than done!” he snapped, exhaling sharply as he held your gaze. You could see the hesitation on his face before he looked away and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“What do you want from me, Mingyu?” you croaked out, trying to steady yourself on your feet. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”

“I don’t mean to hurt you,” he said defensively, reaching out again but you backed away.

“But you do! And I feel like absolute shit because… because…” The words got stuck in your throat. How were you supposed to explain the constant tug-of-war inside you? The feeling of wanting more but being too scared to ask for it? “Am I just someone you use when it’s convenient? Someone you need when you’re lonely, then toss aside the moment you’re done?”

“No! Don’t say that!” Mingyu growled, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you into a tight hug. You tensed at first, but then you felt it—the way his arms wrapped around you, not in anger, but in desperation. “I care about you. I care a lot about you.”

The force of his hold spoke louder than anything he’d said. His grip tightened slightly, but it wasn’t suffocating. It felt… conflicted, as if he was holding onto you for dear life but didn’t know how to tell you why. You felt his breath, unsteady against your hair, like he was battling with words that refused to come out.

But it wasn’t enough.

You stiffened in his arms, resisting the urge to melt into his warmth like you always had before. “Mingyu,” you whispered, your voice barely holding together, “if you care about me, why won’t you just be honest?”

He didn’t let go, but his grip faltered, his fingers loosening just enough for you to feel the uncertainty. His silence stretched on, filling the air between you, but he still couldn’t say it. He couldn’t give you what you needed—a promise, a reason, something to hold onto.

“Go,” you said, your voice raw with pain.

Mingyu faltered, his arms falling to his sides, his eyes pleading as if you’d just said something he wasn’t ready to hear. “Please…” he whispered, reaching out again.

You turned your back on him. “Just go, Mingyu,” you repeated, voice cracking as you struggled to keep your tears at bay. “Go. I can’t do this right now.”

With your back turned you didn’t see him linger by the door, hand hesitating on the knob. You didn’t catch the sadness clouding his eyes, the way his fingers twitched as if to reach for you one last time. And you missed the way he looked at you—torn, broken—before he slipped out of your life once again.

And with Mingyu gone, he didn’t see your legs give out beneath you. You collapsed onto the living room floor, where the two of you had spent countless hours together, making memories that now felt like they belonged to a different time. Your sobs filled the silence of the empty room, the weight of everything crashing down on you, and for the first time, you let yourself break at the place where you had once felt whole.

You went on with your life, almost mechanical now with its repetition. Classes, study sessions, dinners with friends—it was all about keeping your head above water, distracting yourself from the void Mingyu had left behind. You had been through this before, so in some twisted way, you were used to it. He always came and went, and every time he left, it hurt less. The only difference was that this time, you weren’t sure if he’d ever come back.

You missed him in the morning. Your eyes searched for him around campus all day. And your soul ached to be held by him at night. Your friends noticed your distracted state, and they had asked once but didn’t press on when you’d hinted that you didn’t want to talk about it. They figured that, eventually, you'd open up. In the meantime, you stuck to your routine, pretending everything was fine. And in a way, it was. Your tears eventually dried up and the restless nights decreased. The pain had dulled, and you were starting to accept that maybe this was for the best.

But it seemed like fate wasn’t done toying with you yet. One evening, you were lounging on the couch with Jill, Lea, and Mina. You were halfway through a movie you’d been meaning to watch, a quiet evening like so many before when your friends had kept you company so you weren’t left to your sad thoughts.

Then your phone rang. At first, you thought it might have been a mistake, that you were hallucinating when you saw Mingyu’s nickname on your screen.

“R18 plus plus plus? Who’s that?” Mina teased, noticing the name flash on your phone. “A fling?”

“It’s no one,” you muttered, still staring at the screen.

“Aren’t you gonna pick it up? It’s kinda loud, love,” said Jill, motioning to the TV.

You stood up, heading to the kitchen to answer the call. You knew you shouldn’t, but a part of you—the part that still hoped, still craved his presence—wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice shaky.

“Hi.” The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, and they said your name uncertainly.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“This is Dan. Your number was on the phone so I called. Can you come to the bar downtown? It’s right across from 00 University. The owner of this phone had a little too much to drink. Can you come pick him up?”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. Mingyu? You hadn’t heard from him in weeks. “I… yeah, I’ll be there,” you managed, glancing at your friends. “Give me twenty minutes.”

You ended the call and stood, grabbing your coat. Mina raised an eyebrow, but you avoided her gaze. “I have to go,” you said quickly.

“Now, now. You’re not ditching us for Mr. R18 plus plus plus, are you?” Mina teased again, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes.

“R18? Is that a booty call?” Lea chuckled.

“It’s not what you think, guys.” You sighed, offering a quick, apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for their protests, you rushed out the door, your heart pounding. You were confused and surprised. Mingyu drunk and alone in a bar? This was so out of character for him. He’d never done anything like this before.

When you arrived at the bar, you spotted him immediately. Slumped against the counter, his head hanging low, he was a mess. His hair was tousled, his eyes half-closed, and his cheeks flushed with alcohol. The confident Mingyu you knew was gone, replaced by this hollow, drunken version. You approached him, appalled at the sight of him looking wasted.

“You must be her,” asked the bartender.

You nodded, glancing at Mingyu. “How long has he been like this?”

Dan sighed. “A few hours. He was drinking alone, staring at your number. Said he wanted to call, but wasn’t sure if he should.”

Your heart twisted at that. He wanted to call? He was thinking about you? But then, why hadn’t he?

“How much did he drink?” you asked, eyeing about a dozen bottles of beer in front of him and hoping he didn’t drink all of those by himself.

Mingyu stirred at the sound of your voice, his head lifting slightly. He tried to focus on you, but his eyes were hazy. He mumbled your name. “...is that you?”

Dan gave you a sympathetic smile. “He’s all yours.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” You sighed, wrapping an arm around him, trying to lift him to his feet. He leaned heavily against you, his body sagging.

He whispered your name again, slurring the syllables, and for a moment, something inside you softened. But no. You couldn’t do this again. Not like this.

With a struggle, you managed to get him outside. “Kim Mingyu, you’re gonna have to pull it together, or I’ll leave you here.”

Mingyu groaned, trying to straighten up. “I missed you,” he mumbled, his words barely coherent. He stumbled, reaching for your face but missing, his hand landing on your shoulder instead. He rested his head on your shoulder, taking a deep breath. “Missed you so much.”

You winced at the words, unsure of what to feel. Did he mean it? Or was it the alcohol talking? “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

In the cab ride back to your apartment, he kept trying to pull you closer, his head resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. Every time he said your name, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he hurt you so easily, and yet make you feel so needed at the same time?

When you got him inside, your friends were still there, their faces full of questions. Jill stood first. “What’s going on?” she asked, though the answer was obvious.

“He’s drunk,” you said simply, guiding him to the couch. “I’m sorry. Can we call it a night? I promise I’ll explain later.”

They exchanged looks but didn’t argue. Lea gave you a quick hug before leaving, followed by Jill and Mina. “Text us if you need anything,” Mina said quietly, her eyes lingering on you as if she wanted to say more.

Once they were gone, you turned to Mingyu, who had collapsed onto the couch. He was mumbling your name again, his eyes barely open.

You knelt beside him, brushing the hair from his forehead. “You’re a mess, Mingyu.”

He smiled lazily, his hand reaching for your face. Then he chuckled. “Dan, you bastard, what did you put in my drink? Why am I seeing things?" he drawled out the words.

“You’re not seeing things,” you chided, albeit softly, as you pushed his hand away.

You sighed, pulling away from his touch. You started to help him out of his jacket, his body warm and damp with sweat. As you worked, he kept trying to pull you closer, his hands wandering over your body, his lips trying to find yours but clumsily landing on different spots in your face.

You swatted his hand each time, and pushed him away as much as you could. You stripped him down until he was left with only his boxers. Afterward, you gave him a blanket and were about to leave when he grabbed you by the waist.

“Stay,” he whispered.

Just like that, the tears you thought had dried up started welling your eyes again. You stood there, letting yourself get enveloped by his warmth again. If only he could stay like this—open, vulnerable, needing you. But deep down, you knew this wasn’t real. Tomorrow, he’d be gone again.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and gentle. You stirred awake, feeling a familiar ache settle deep in your chest. The first thing you did was rise out of bed and go to the living room. Mingyu was still asleep on the couch, his arm draped lazily over the edge, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.

Quietly, you walked over to the couch. You sat down on the floor next to him, folding your legs beneath you. Your eyes traced the familiar lines of his face, softened in sleep. He looked peaceful—vulnerable even, like he wasn’t the same man who’d disappeared for weeks without a word.

How many times have you told yourself not to expect more? That he wasn’t yours to keep. He was only yours in stolen moments—when the world outside didn’t exist, and it was just the two of you, tangled in each other. But those moments were fleeting, like a breath you couldn’t quite hold on to.

You sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his forehead. “Damn you, Kim Mingyu.”

What if this time was different? What if, just once, he stayed? Hope was a dangerous thing. Every time you thought you were free from him, he pulled you back in, sometimes with nothing more than a look, a word, or the weight of his presence.

Mingyu stirred, his eyelids fluttering open slowly. His gaze found yours almost immediately, bleary but aware. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just looked at each other, the silence heavy with unsaid words, with everything you were too afraid to admit. The hurt. The longing. The quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

His eyes lingered on your face, as if he was trying to read your thoughts. You felt exposed under his gaze, like he could see through the walls you’d built to protect yourself from him.

Then, without a word, he reached for you. His hand, warm and tentative, cupped the side of your face, and you leaned into his touch instinctively, closing your eyes for a second as your breath caught in your throat. When you opened them again, his gaze was intense, searching.

His lips brushed against yours, soft and familiar. Then, his grip on you tightened, and you found yourself sinking into him. For a few moments, it felt like nothing else mattered. The pain, the confusion, the nights spent wondering where he was—none of it existed here.

You knew this wasn’t safe. Letting him back in, letting him hold you, kiss you—it was a cycle you couldn’t break. But you didn’t pull away.

He guided you to the bed, his hands sliding over your skin with tenderness, as though he was afraid you’d slip away from him. You weren’t sure who needed who more in this moment—whether he was seeking comfort from you, or whether you were the one hoping he would stay, if only for a little longer. Maybe it didn’t matter.

Your clothes fell away slowly, piece by piece, until there was nothing left between you. His touch was familiar, yet it felt different somehow—softer, more cautious. You shivered as his lips trailed across your collarbone, your breath hitching in your throat.

He then lay on his back, guiding you to straddle him. You’d miss everything about him these past few weeks, but you didn’t know how much you longed for him until he was deep inside you. It hurt a little, but you didn’t falter, you just stayed there for a second, adjusting to the stretch that you hadn’t felt in a while.

Mingyu sat up, his hands supporting your back as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You okay?” he asked, his lips ghosting over your skin. You nodded, moving ever so slightly. Mingyu kissed the side of your head. “Good girl.”

You didn’t reply, too caught in the moment to think beyond the feeling of his hands on you, and his manhood inside you. Soon you were breathless on top of him, grinding rhythmically, back arching with each motion. His hands were as strong as they had always been, gripping your hips as he guided your movements. You did not contain your moans, knowing Mingyu preferred hearing them—that he loved hearing you.

Just as you were nearing release, Mingyu shifted your positions, pinning you underneath him. He stared into your eyes for a moment, caressing your cheek before he kissed your open mouth. And once again, he thrust into you. The room was filled with soft sounds—quiet breaths, gentle whispers of each other's names. Everything felt slow, like time had stretched out just for you two, giving you space to exist in this fleeting moment.

There was no rush, no frantic urgency. Just two people, tangled together in a slow, deliberate, and passionate sex driven not solely by lust but by something more powerful.

Love. You felt it in his every push, every kiss, and every touch. It was different this time. His hands lingered longer, his lips sought yours more often, and the way he whispered your name—it wasn’t just desire. It was more, and you felt it deep within your chest, like an ache that had finally found its release

And when it was over, you lay together, his arms wrapped around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. You traced lazy circles on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. His body was warm, his presence grounding you in a way that made you want to believe he could be yours.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but clear.

You froze, your hand still on his chest as the words hung in the air. You weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. Slowly, you lifted your head to look at him, your heart hammering in your chest. “What did you say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu’s eyes softened, a faint smile playing on his lips as he repeated the words that made your breath catch. “I said, I love you.”

Your heart swelled, but with it came a surge of doubt. Could you believe him? Could you trust these words from the same man who had vanished from your life without a second thought so many times before? It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, one step away from free-falling into something that could either break you or save you.

You wanted to say it back. The words were on the tip of your tongue, but they felt too heavy, weighed down by all the times you’d convinced yourself that this moment would never come. Instead, you settled for leaning up and kissing him, slow and soft, your lips lingering against his. Maybe this kiss could say what you couldn’t. Maybe it could be enough to bridge the gap between hope and reality.

When you pulled back, you looked at him again, the uncertainty gnawing at your chest. “Do you really mean that?” you asked, your voice smaller than you intended. “Or are you just saying it because… because of what just happened?”

Mingyu’s eyes darkened with something unreadable. He reached up, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I mean it,” he said, his voice rougher now, like the words were harder for him to say than he let on. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but there was something else there too—something softer, more vulnerable. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. You both knew what this was, even if neither of you was ready to admit it.

You pressed another kiss on his lips, your hand cupping his face. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Seungcheol’s eyes stayed locked on you, you could see curiosity and concern written on his face. You just stared right back, keeping your lips tight.

“That’s it?” he asked, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

You nodded. “That’s it.”

He blinked slowly, clearly not satisfied with your answer. He’d been so engrossed in the story that neither of you had noticed how late it had gotten.

“It can’t be,” he murmured. “What happened after?”

You let out a breath, shrugging as if it didn’t matter. “We talked. Well, fought, mostly. I asked him what he wanted—if he’d finally commit. In the end, he didn’t pick me. After everything, I thought he would. You know confessing his love and all that. But… meh.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s how it went.”

Seungcheol leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “So you walked away?”

“I don’t wanna go into details anymore, but yes I walked away with my dignity intact. I mean,” you paused to laugh. “I couldn’t keep letting him do that to me, could I? I had to stop it. I was better than that, though it took a while for me to finally grasp that fact and walk away.”

Seungcheol nodded slowly, but there was something unsatisfied in his expression. “Well, good for you. You deserve that. You deserve better.”

“I know,” you chuckled, but the laugh felt forced. “It’s funny, looking back. I acted so stupid for him. But I’m just glad it’s over now, you know? That chapter is closed.”

He tilted his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “That’s good. Although I dare say, your storytelling is a bit, I don’t know… anticlimactic?”

“Is it?” you asked like it wasn’t something you already felt too. You forced a shrug. “Maybe. But that’s how it went. Things kept circling back to the same pattern and this part is basically the same. There’s only so many times you can replay the same argument, you know? I just skipped it,” you added with a forced smirk, hoping it would distract him from prying any further.

Seungcheol observed you for a minute, and you wondered if he could see right through you. Seems impossible. He didn’t really know you until today, and you were a pretty decent liar.

“Right,” he said, his tone softening, though the doubt hadn’t entirely left his face. “What’s next then?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean, who’s next?” he clarified, leaning back in his chair. “Kim Mingyu is not the only guy you’d ever dated, is he?”

You let out a short laugh, but it was strained. “No, there were others. But it’s late, Mr. Choi. The lady needs her sleep.”

He shot to his feet, his face immediately contrite. “Ah, of course! I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. If you want to hear more, you can ask the front desk for me. Tomorrow’s my day-off so I have time. We can also discuss the fee you promised,” you said, smiling and then narrowing your eyes at him. “That is, if you haven’t forgotten about it.”

“I remember.” He smiled. “Good night then.”

“Thanks for listening,” you said with a small wave as you turned to head toward your room.

As you made your way back to your quarters, thoughts of Mingyu swirled in your mind. You’d lied to Seungcheol. The ending between you and Mingyu wasn’t anticlimactic at all. It had been messy, filled with bottled-up anger and days wallowing in misery. But you’d never admit that to Seungcheol. Sharing a failed romance with a stranger was one thing; baring the ugly truth of just how miserable and pathetic you felt back then? That was something else entirely.

At the time, you thought he’d finally let you in. He did, for a moment. Mingyu had opened up about the weight of familial expectations, how it crushed him to follow a path that wasn’t his. He talked about the people and dreams he had to leave behind. And he confessed that the reason he couldn’t choose you, after all this time, was that same fear—that one day, he’d have to turn his back on you too.

“You don’t have to,” you said, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll be here. Wouldn’t it be easier if you had someone to rely on?”

He’d smiled at you then, a smile filled with gratitude and maybe something like love. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

And so, you stayed. And Mingyu? He stayed the same—thoughtful, goofy, always consistent. Sometimes, he’d come to you in low spirits, and you’d let him lean on you in silence, even though he never fully shared his feelings. You fell deeper in love with him, slowly realizing that everything felt emptier, harder without him. You barely noticed time fly by, but you did notice that Mingyu no longer disappeared. He no longer detached himself from you. He was there all the time, even on days when he didn’t feel like himself.

Freshman year passed and you went up with him at his family’s estate to spend the break. He lived in a big house but his parents weren’t home the whole time you were there. It was nice to get a glimpse of his life, of the place he grew up in and the person he was before you met him. You spent time hanging out, making love, and being each other’s support system.

But despite how wonderful it was, despite the burning passion, the cloud of uncertainty loomed over you while you were there. The happiness you felt was so overwhelming, it scared you. It felt too good to be true, like the calm before an inevitable storm.

This storm would come earlier than either of you expected. And it came in the mail.

“What is it?” you asked, wrapping your arms around Mingyu’s seated figure. You tried to peek into the letter, but he put it away.

“Nothing important,” he replied, holding your arm and rubbing it as he looked up at you. He smiled at you and then pressed a soft kiss on your lips. “Where were you?”

You pointed at your head, wrapped in a towel. “In the bath,” you said, straightening up and walking toward the bed to undo your hair.

“You were gone for an hour.”

“Yeah. I was actually waiting for you to join me,” you said, not hiding your disappointment.

He groaned. “Oh, man. You should’ve told me.”

You grimaced. “No, you should’ve looked for me when you noticed I was gone.”

He tucked the envelope in the drawer before jumping in the bed with you. He pinned you down, making you squeal. Then he started peppering you with kisses all over your face. When he caught a whiff of your neck, his expression immediately shifted from goofy to naughty.

“I’d love to do it in the tub, but the bed isn’t such a bad idea too,” he lilted, undoing the ribbon of your robe.

“The bed is the best place to do it, dumbass.”

Mingyu hummed in satisfaction. “I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he said, making you laugh.

That afternoon was spent being one with each other too, like the previous ones. When you fell asleep, Mingyu was beside you, his head leaning on your chest while you play with his hair. But when you woke up, it was already dark and the spot where Mingyu laid was cold.

You pushed yourself upright, wrapping your robe around you as you padded across the room, calling out his name. “Mingyu?” The sound echoed back in the silence. You checked the bathroom, the living room—every corner of the house, each step feeling heavier than the last. No sign of him.

You tried his phone next, only to find it sitting on the nightstand. Thirty minutes passed, then an hour. Your calls for him became more frantic, though still unanswered. It was only when the housekeeper returned that she offered some explanation.

“He went out earlier, ma’am,” she said, smiling kindly. “He didn’t say where, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Mr. Mingyu would never leave you alone.”

Right, he wouldn’t. Yet that wasn’t reassuring at all. This housekeeper might have watched Mingyu grow up, even took care of him during those years, but she had no idea what Mingyu had put you through. Still, you wanted to believe in him.

The hours passed, and the next morning came. He hadn’t come home yet. You waited until the evening, and the following evening on the next day, and the next, and the next. Still no Mingyu. The house felt hollow without him, as though the walls themselves knew something was wrong.

It was on the fourth day, when your frustration turned to desperate curiosity, that you found the letter tucked away in the drawer of his desk. Your fingers trembled as you unfolded it—an acceptance letter to a university abroad.

He hadn’t mentioned this. Was he planning to leave? Had he already left?

You’d looked for him and asked everyone at his house for help but no one seemed to know where he went. They even had to contact his parents and you didn’t really expect them to know either, but it was frustrating to hear them say it.

“Have you checked his flat, ma’am?” the housekeeper asked.

You blinked. “I thought he moved out of his flat?”

The housekeeper shook his head. “No, ma’am. He’s been living here again, but that place in the city still belongs to him. Maybe he’s there?”

It wasn’t like him—not anymore. Ever since the two of you had gotten closer, you thought the days of him pulling away without warning were over. You had let yourself believe that, anyway. But now, you felt the creeping sense of something breaking, something final.

You commuted back to the city and went straight to his flat. You hated this feeling—the waiting, the uncertainty. It felt like standing on the edge of something crumbling beneath your feet.

And now here you were, in front of his door, heart pounding as you knocked. You didn’t expect him to answer. But, he did.

Mingyu stood there, looking disheveled, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. The sight of him was both a relief and a frustration, all the hurt and confusion swirling inside you.

“We need to talk,” you said, pushing past him into the apartment before he could say anything.

He closed the door behind you but didn’t move. “I know,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms. “What’s going on, Mingyu? You disappeared. Again. After everything we talked about. After you said you didn’t want to keep doing this.”

He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m sorry,” he said, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Your voice cracked despite your efforts to keep it steady.

Mingyu finally looked at you, his expression torn, like he didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words. “I don’t know… I needed time. I couldn’t—”

“You always need time, Mingyu,” you interrupted, your frustration boiling over. “You say you don’t want to do this alone, but then you push me away every chance you get. Do you even want me in your life?”

“I do! I’ve never wanted anything else! But I can’t… I—” he paused, running his fingers through his hair. “I can’t keep dragging you into this.”

“You’re not dragging me, Mingyu. I’m here to stay! But if we’re gonna keep having this… if you’re gonna keep doing this to me, then what’s the point?” you asked, the words heavy with your anger and frustration. “I’m sick of this, Mingyu. Aren’t you?”

His eyes widened, and you could see the conflict in him. But he didn’t answer. He didn’t say anything, and that silence hit you harder than anything else.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, taking a step closer to him. “If you don’t want me, just say it. Tell me to go, and I will. But if you want me to stay…” Your voice faltered as you searched his face, desperate for any sign. “Tell me to stay, Mingyu. Say it.”

For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your uneven breaths. You waited. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“Mingyu, please…” you pleaded, holding back your tears. “Just say ‘don’t go,’ and I won’t,” you added, shaking your head.

Mingyu reached for your face, staring at you with tears in his eyes. Then he pressed his forehead against yours as he sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart sank, the answer clear even though he never spoke the words. You took a shaky breath, nodding to yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, wiping away a tear that rolled down your cheek. “I get it.”

You backed away and then turned toward the door, your chest aching with every step you took. But before you could reach the handle, you stopped, glancing back one last time, hoping—praying—that he would say something, anything, to stop you.

But Mingyu stayed silent. And with that, you walked out with finality in your stride.

To say you were a mess after that was an understatement. You were a wreck—miserable and sad, wandering through the days like a ghost of your former self. You ran to your friends, crying in their arms for hours, the kind of raw, gut-wrenching sobs that left you breathless. You thought you’d only cry about it for a few days and get over it. But it went on for a whole month.

Some nights, after too many drinks, you’d find yourself dialing his number, the alcohol loosening the grip of reason in your mind. “Mingyuuuu,” you’d whine into the phone, your voice slurred and pathetic. “I love you so much! Take me back!”

The next morning, you’d wake up to the shame of your drunken confessions, staring at the ceiling with the weight of regret pressing down on you. You’d replay the conversations in your mind, cringing at how desperate you sounded, wondering how you let yourself fall apart so completely.

Your friends did their best to pull you out of the darkness, but every attempt felt futile. You’d join them for outings, but you were barely present, laughing too loudly at jokes that didn’t register or staring blankly at the world around you. One night, they dragged you to a party, insisting you needed to have fun. But there you were, clinging to your drink, watching everyone dance and laugh, while the memories of Mingyu spun in your mind. Once the reality set in that he was no longer there to ditch the party with you, you stumbled to the bathroom and locked yourself in, sobbing into your hands as the beat thudded through the walls.

Even the simplest tasks became challenges. Your studies slipped away; assignments piled up, and your grades plummeted. You’d sit in your lectures, staring at the board but absorbing nothing. Friends would express their concern, but you brushed it off with a half-hearted smile, not wanting to burden them any more than you already had.

Eventually, you hit a breaking point. On one particularly dark day, you sat alone in your room, surrounded by empty cans and bottles and crumpled tissues. The realization hit you like a freight train: you couldn’t do this anymore. You weren’t just grieving—you were drowning.

In the haze of your despair, you made the impulsive decision to skip the semester and move back home with your family. The thought of facing another day in the city without Mingyu felt unbearable. Packing your things felt like burying a part of yourself, but it was your only option. Every corner of your apartment did nothing to help your move on anyway.

You took one last look of the place where you made the most memories with Mingyu. And as you closed the door, you hoped it would also close that chapter in your life.

Your parents welcomed you with open arms, concerned and confused by your sudden return. You pretended everything was fine, but they noticed the shadows under your eyes, the way you flinched at the slightest mention of your time at university.

In the quiet of your old room, you often found yourself staring at the ceramic bears on your nightstand, remembering the small joy of building a family for these inanimate decors. Your friends tried to reach out, but you brushed them aside, too ashamed to admit how far you had fallen. They understood, giving you the time and space that you needed, knowing you'd be back once things were all better.

And as the weeks passed, something began to shift. The sun shone a little brighter, and the weight of your grief slowly lightened. You spent time with your family, rediscovering old hobbies and connecting with friends who reminded you of who you were before Mingyu. Slowly, you started to feel like yourself again. You laughed more, shared stories, and realized that life still held moments of joy, even in the absence of him.

One day, while cleaning your room, your eyes caught your little bear family, focusing on the grizzly and panda Mingyu had gifted you. Their faces seemed more cheerful now and you felt a bittersweet pang in your chest.

Where could Mingyu be right now? How is he? You had no idea, but you wished he was in a better place than before. Somehow, you wish you could at least extend a hand to comfort him, even as a distant friend.

Then an idea came. You picked up the grizzly and the panda, memories flooding back—of laughter, of warmth, of love. But you knew that holding onto them was holding you back. And right now, you didn’t really need them anymore.

You wrapped the figurines carefully in bubble wrap and wrote a short note:

“I’m sending these with a happy heart and I hope that instead of bitterness and sorrow, they will bring a smile to your face, just like they did when we first met them. Thank you for the memories. Know that I do not regret meeting you, and if I had to do it again, I would. Although, maybe I’d make better decisions then. You’ll always have a space in my heart, Gyu. I hope you’re in a better place—both in your heart and mind. Love, me <3”

As you dropped the package off at the post office, you felt lighter, liberated. The storm that had raged within you had dissipated, replaced by the gentle promise of new beginnings. You smiled to yourself, knowing that while the past would always be a part of you, it no longer defined you. You were ready to embrace whatever came next. You’re young, you have a whole life ahead of you.

And if you happen to run into Mingyu again in the future, you hope he will be in better circumstances. Whatever he was going through, you wished he’d get over it and be genuinely happy.

[fin]

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