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thedensworld · 2 months ago

Text

Favorite Cat | k.mg

Pairing: Basketball Player Mingyu! x Roommate Reader!

Genre: Roommate to lover au!

Type: fantasy, fluff

Words Count: 14k

Summary: After being roommates for years, Mingyu finally see 'your' cat for the first time—and it's not technically a cat.

Mingyu pushed open the door to his apartment, the weight of the crutches under his arms feeling heavier than his own body. His right leg, wrapped in a brace, ached with every small movement, a dull reminder of the career-threatening injury he had suffered during practice. The air inside was still, silent—too silent. Usually, he wouldn’t have noticed, but tonight, the quiet felt suffocating.

The moment he stepped inside, reality hit him all over again. No more training. No more games. No more adrenaline-pumping moments on the court. He had spent years building his life around basketball, and now, with one wrong landing, it was all on pause.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he forced a breath through his nose. Positive mindset, positive mindset… at least, he would have a year to rest. A whole year to recover, reset, maybe even enjoy things outside of basketball. But who was he kidding? His life revolved around the game. The thought of sitting on the sidelines, of watching his teammates push forward without him, gnawed at his chest like an open wound.

With a grunt, he shuffled further inside, his good leg bearing most of his weight. But just as he adjusted his crutches, his left crutch suddenly slipped, and his balance wavered. A sharp jolt of panic shot through him as he struggled to keep himself upright.

“Shit!” he hissed, his grip tightening just in time to prevent himself from crashing down. He glanced at the floor, only to see a crumpled wet tissue stuck beneath his crutch—the likely culprit. His brows furrowed as he glared at it, frustration bubbling in his chest.

You. You must have left it there before heading out.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but right now? He couldn’t even bend down to pick up a damn tissue. With a defeated sigh, he leaned against the wall, swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat.

That tissue was staying there until you got home. And when you did, he was going to make sure you heard about it.

Mingyu lowered himself onto the couch with a groan, adjusting his injured leg carefully on the cushion. The dull ache was a constant reminder of everything he had lost—at least for now. With a sigh, he grabbed his phone and started typing out a message to you.

Mingyu: Got injured. Won’t be playing this season. Basically jobless now, stuck at home 24/7.

Mingyu: Except for when I have to stay in the hospital for surgery. Yay, fun.

Mingyu: Anyway, just letting you know before you freak out or something.

He hit send, then leaned back against the couch. But before he could even set his phone down, he heard a familiar notification sound—from the kitchen.

Mingyu’s brows furrowed. That wasn’t his phone.

Slowly, he turned his head, spotting your phone sitting abandoned on the kitchen counter. His lips parted in disbelief before he let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

Of all the times for you to forget your phone, it had to be now? He shook his head, rubbing his temple. How could you be clumsier than him? At least he had an excuse—he was injured. But you? You were just naturally chaotic.

Six years ago, you and Mingyu met at a volunteer project for an animal rescue club. You—a self-proclaimed cat lover—had eagerly signed up, hoping to spend your time caring for rescued kittens. Mingyu—a very proud dog person—joined with equal enthusiasm, but for the dogs. Naturally, the two of you had nothing in common.

That was until fate decided to be cruel.

On your first day, you were assigned to work together. Not with kittens. Not with puppies. But with snakes.

Both of you despised snakes. Yet there you were, forced to clean their enclosure, standing stiffly at opposite ends of the room, watching the creatures slither while pretending to be unbothered. That pretense lasted all of five minutes before Mingyu nearly tripped over his own feet, sending you shrieking into a corner. From then on, your dynamic was set—filled with bickering, sarcastic remarks, and the occasional truce when neither of you could deal with a particularly terrifying task.

Fast forward a few months, and somehow, your lives became even more tangled.

Mingyu’s dorm contract was expiring, and he was scrambling to find a new place. Meanwhile, your landlord had suddenly hiked up your rent, making it impossible for you to afford the place on your own. The solution was painfully obvious. So, despite your history of playful feuds, you reached out to him with an offer—split the rent and become roommates.

Mingyu agreed.

And, surprisingly, living with you wasn’t as bad as he had expected. You cooked, you cleaned, and you practically ran the apartment while he was barely home, only crashing on his rare days off. When he did have free time, he’d find you deeply immersed in your work as a linguistic researcher—something he never quite understood, no matter how many times you patiently explained it. But over time, he started noticing little details about you.

One, you loved meditation.

Your yoga mat was always neatly rolled up in the corner, and the scent of aromatherapy candles lingered in the apartment. Some mornings, he’d wake up to the sound of soft instrumental music playing from your room��peaceful, calming, something he’d never admit he actually found nice.

Two, you enjoyed tea and reading.

The kitchen cabinet had an entire shelf dedicated to neatly arranged tea bags, and your mug collection was surprisingly excessive for one person. Whenever Mingyu came home early, he’d often find you curled up on the couch, book in hand, a warm cup of tea beside you. You looked so at ease in those moments that even he, someone who never had the patience to sit still for long, could appreciate the tranquility of it.

Three, you had a cat. Or at least, you claimed to.

This one, however, was a mystery. Mingyu had never seen the cat. Not once. And yet, there was a litter box, a food container labeled with a cat’s name, and bags of cat food neatly tucked away in the cabinet. It didn’t make sense. If you had a cat, where was it? Was it hiding? Was it imaginary? At this point, Mingyu was starting to wonder if you were messing with him.

Mingyu was about to scroll mindlessly on his phone when his ears suddenly caught a faint sound—a soft, whimpering noise coming from right beside him.

His brows furrowed. That was... a cat?

Before he could process it, the blanket next to him shifted, a small lump moving underneath. Then, out of the folds of fabric, a white cat slowly emerged, its fluffy body trembling as it cautiously peeked up at him with wide, round eyes.

Mingyu froze.

For months, he had questioned this cat’s existence and now, here it was, staring right at him. His injury, his frustration, the long, miserable day he would be having—suddenly, none of it mattered. The only thing occupying his mind now was how ridiculously cute this cat was.

"Hey..." Mingyu said softly, barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle the tiny creature.

The cat flinched at the sound of his voice, its small body shivering ever so slightly. Mingyu could feel the hesitation radiating off of it, its big, untrusting eyes locked onto him.

"That's okay," he reassured gently, keeping his voice calm. "I'm Y/n’s roommate. I live here too, just like you."

He stayed perfectly still, giving the cat space, hoping it wouldn't bolt and disappear like some kind of spirit again. A tiny part of him—the competitive part—was determined to win this cat over.

Before Mingyu could even think about reaching out, the white cat suddenly bolted.

In a flash of fur, it leaped off the couch and sprinted across the living room with an urgency that made Mingyu blink. He barely had time to react before the cat launched itself at your bedroom door—and to his absolute shock, it jumped up, grabbed the doorknob with its tiny paws, twisted it, and pushed the door open.

Mingyu sat there, mouth slightly agape.

The door creaked open just enough for the cat to slip inside, and then—slam! The door shut from the inside, as if the cat had personally decided that Mingyu was no longer allowed in its presence.

For a long moment, all Mingyu could do was stare at your now-closed bedroom door, trying to process what had just happened.

Then, finally, he muttered under his breath,

“…Is that actually a cat?”

"I met your cat, Caty, yesterday," Mingyu announced as he walked out of his room, his voice still thick with sleep.

You barely glanced at him, focused on the eggs sizzling in the pan. "Want some?" you asked.

Mingyu held up four fingers. "Make it four."

"Put some spinach, please," he added, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You ate all of it two days ago," you shot back instantly.

Mingyu rolled his eyes. He had thought there was still spinach left, only to realize that, yet again, he hadn’t gone grocery shopping in months.

As he took a seat at the counter, he leaned forward on his elbows. "By the way, about Caty," he started, a smirk playing on his lips. "She’s not a cat, right?"

You raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I mean, she immediately bolted when she saw me," Mingyu said, his tone half-exasperated, half-amused. "Then she—get this—jumped up, twisted the doorknob with her tiny paws, and slammed your bedroom door shut in my face."

He leaned back, laughing at the memory, his deep chuckle filling the kitchen.

"She hates people," you said simply, placing his plate of eggs in front of him. "Especially you."

Mingyu scoffed, clearly offended. "Excuse me? That was the first time she saw me—how could she hate me already?" He crossed his arms dramatically. "Girls will be girls, I guess."

Rolling your eyes, you placed a pair of chopsticks beside his plate before untying your apron and hanging it up.

Mingyu's gaze flickered to your outfit—plaid shirt, sweater, and your signature gray glasses resting on your nose. His brows furrowed. "You're leaving again?"

"I have work," you replied, slipping your bag over your shoulder. "Unlike someone who’s injured and stuck at home for a year."

Mingyu scowled. "That was uncalled for." But then he perked up, grinning. "Still, at least I met your cat."

"Whatever, Mingyu. Caty hates you—just like I hate you. I’m going."

Mingyu burst out laughing. "You love me!" he called after you.

"The opposite!" you yelled back, slamming the door behind you.

Mingyu never thought an injury could slow him down this much. Being forced to stay home, get plenty of rest, and eat healthy, home-cooked meals felt like a punishment at first. But to his surprise, the food was actually good.

He never realized you were this skilled in the kitchen. Sure, he knew you could cook—he had been eating your leftovers and stealing bites from your plates for years—but now that he was home for every meal, he was truly appreciating it. His days were suddenly filled with steaming bowls of soup, neatly arranged side dishes, and hearty meals that made recovery feel a little less miserable.

And the more time he spent at home, the more he realized just how little he actually knew about you.

You had always been the "mystery roommate" in his life—someone who was just there whenever he came back after a long day, quietly keeping the apartment running while he was off chasing his own schedule. But now, with nothing to do but observe, he found himself studying you.

Your routine—or rather, your lack of a consistent one—was oddly amusing to him.

One morning, you were up at dawn, doing yoga on your mat with soft meditation music playing in the background. The next day, you barely rolled out of bed on time, rushing through breakfast while half-asleep.

Some evenings, you came home and immediately sat at the dining table, sipping tea and reading quietly like some calm, sophisticated scholar. Other nights, you collapsed on the couch face-first, dead asleep within seconds.

It was as if you didn’t live by a routine at all—just a collection of habits that changed depending on your mood.

Is that even considered a routine?

But what entertained him the most was just how much you slept.

After work? Nap.

After dinner? Nap.

Before bed? Another nap.

If he were to break down your day, at least 70% of it was spent sleeping.

Mingyu had never met someone so committed to maximizing every second of rest. You woke up exactly one hour before your commuting time, never earlier. Sometimes, you even set multiple alarms just to squeeze in a few extra minutes of sleep.

And the funniest part? Now that Mingyu was home all the time, you started making breakfast for him, too.

Not because you wanted to. But because if you didn’t, Mingyu would guilt-trip you.

"You forgot about my existence, Y/n?" he would dramatically gasp over the phone if he caught you sneaking out without feeding him first.

"You have hands," you would grumble.

"But you make it better," he would whine, and somehow, that always worked.

A week after his first surgery, Mingyu was lazily scrolling on his phone, booking a cab for his rehab appointment when you suddenly spoke up.

"You have rehab today?"

He glanced up, surprised that you even remembered. "Yeah," he mumbled, still tapping at his screen.

"I'll drive you," you said casually.

Mingyu froze mid-scroll.

"You have a car?" he asked, staring at you as if he had just discovered a whole new side of you.

"Yeah?" you replied, confused.

His mouth fell open. "You're rich…"

You snorted. "It's my dad’s."

Mingyu clutched his chest dramatically. "And you're driving me? You’re—" he gasped. "You’re personally escorting me? This is love, isn’t it?"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your keys. "Just hurry up," you muttered.

Mingyu grinned, slowly getting up from the couch, his movements sluggish as he adjusted his crutches. You waited by the door, watching as he hobbled over at a painfully slow pace.

"This is taking forever," you muttered.

"You try walking with one leg," Mingyu shot back.

Still, even as he struggled, even as he whined the whole way down to the car, he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

Because, for the first time in forever, you were driving him somewhere. And for some reason, that made his day.

During dinner, Mingyu brought up something that had been bugging him for weeks.

"It's been two months, and I still haven’t seen Caty since that first time," he complained between bites, setting his chopsticks down dramatically.

You barely looked up as you reached for a piece of the chicken dish—one that Mingyu had proudly insisted on making that evening, just because he had groceries delivered in the afternoon.

"Why are you so obsessed with my cat?" you asked, popping a bite into your mouth. To your surprise, it was actually good.

"This is good," you admitted, pointing at the chicken.

Mingyu’s lips curled into a smug grin. "Of course it is."

You shook your head at his self-satisfaction and returned to eating, but Mingyu wasn’t about to drop the real conversation.

"Caty is so cute. Her eyes are huge, and her fur is so fluffy. I want to bite her," he said with a dreamy sigh, as if he were talking about some mythical creature he had only encountered once in a vision.

"You saw her just once," you deadpanned.

"And I want to see her again." He leaned forward eagerly. "Come on, where is she? She’s in your room, right?"

You hummed, neither confirming nor denying it, but your head shook slightly. "Caty is a very solitary creature. She doesn’t like company. She doesn’t even like my calm and reserved company."

"Maybe she likes mine," Mingyu said nonchalantly, as if that were the most logical thing in the world.

You rolled your eyes. "Good luck with that."

The conversation drifted to other things as the two of you finished dinner. Later, as you plopped down on the couch, stomach full and ready to unwind, you flipped through the channels until you landed on an animated movie.

Mingyu, with nothing better to do, joined you, stretching out comfortably on the other end of the couch. The movie followed a boy who lived apart from his parents, only for tragedy to strike when they unexpectedly passed away.

A quiet moment settled between you both as you watched. Then, out of curiosity, you asked, "Do you miss your parents?"

Mingyu didn’t hesitate. "Sometimes," he said, his voice casual but thoughtful. "But they don’t live too far. I visit them sometimes."

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the screen, but something about his answer stuck with you.

Mingyu had always been surrounded by people—friends, teammates, fans. Yet, for someone who thrived on companionship, he never really talked about his family.

And for the first time, you found yourself wanting to ask more.

"How was your childhood, Mingyu?" you asked, your voice light but curious.

Mingyu didn’t even hesitate. "I’ve always been a bright child. Very likable, very—"

"Noisy," you muttered under your breath.

Unfortunately, he heard it.

"Hey," he shot you a look, placing a hand over his chest as if you’d deeply wounded him. "I call it opinionated, sweetheart. And my parents were very lovely with their children, by the way."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I can tell."

Mingyu turned to look at you then. He didn’t like how the atmosphere had shifted. Talking about his sunshine-filled, warm family was natural for him, but it was almost as if… you couldn’t relate.

He wanted to ask.

He wanted to know more about you.

But instead, he changed the subject. "How did you meet Caty?"

You let out an exaggerated sigh, fingers pressing against your temple. "Not with Caty again!"

"Why not? Caty is your family, right? I'd like to know!"

You exhaled through your nose, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at the screen. "Caty..." you started, your voice unusually soft. "Caty has always been there. She's always been there with me."

Mingyu frowned slightly. "She doesn’t look old."

"We age like fine wine. It’s in our DNA."

Mingyu snorted. "So, she’s your daughter?"

You smiled, but instead of answering, you turned your head back to the movie.

And for the first time, Mingyu really looked at you.

The soft glow from the TV illuminated your face, casting shadows along your features, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the way your lips curled ever so slightly, the way your eyelashes framed your eyes.

You were beautiful.

Like, very beautiful.

And what surprised him the most… was that he had never really noticed before.

One night, Mingyu noticed that you hadn’t come out of your room since the afternoon. You hadn’t even touched your dinner. He remembered you mentioning your latest research paper and how much of a pain it had been, but he found it annoying how focused you could get—so much so that you skipped meals without a second thought.

Grabbing his crutch, he slowly made his way toward your door, knocking gently before calling your name.

"Y/n, you haven’t had dinner," he said, eyeing the takeout he had ordered for you hours ago, now cold and untouched.

Silence.

"Y/n?" His voice softened, worry creeping in. "You okay? I'm coming in, alright?"

But when he carefully pushed the door open, he was met with an empty room.

His brows furrowed. You had gone out? Without a word?

He was about to leave when something caught his eye—a small, curled-up figure on your bed, rising and falling gently with each breath.

A white furball.

Caty.

Mingyu's heart skipped a beat. He had been waiting months for this moment.

He stepped inside, moving as quietly as he could, marveling at the sight of the elusive cat finally in the flesh. "Caty…" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, afraid of startling her.

The cat stirred, her ears twitching as she opened her wide, curious eyes. But the moment she realized who was approaching, she immediately scooted away, eyeing him with distrust.

Mingyu huffed, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Don't be afraid, Caty. I’m Y/n’s friend. Y/n, your owner, who, by the way, left you all alone tonight. Can you believe that?"

His gaze wandered, and his frown deepened when he spotted her food bowl—completely empty.

"Ah, no wonder you’re grumpy," he muttered, shaking his head.

Determined, he hobbled toward the cabinet where he had seen you store Caty's food before. It took some effort, balancing on one crutch while scooping out the dry kibble, but as soon as he poured it into the dish, Caty sprang to life.

She ran straight to the food, brushing past him as if he was nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle in her path.

Mingyu blinked, then grinned. Progress.

His heart softened as he watched her eat eagerly. "How dare you leave her hungry, Y/n," he mumbled under his breath.

Carefully, he reached out, fingers hesitating just above her fur before finally making contact.

Soft. So soft.

Caty stiffened for a moment but, to Mingyu’s utter delight, she didn’t run. Instead, she let out a quiet purr.

Mingyu clapped a hand over his mouth, barely stopping himself from squealing.

"Oh my god," he whispered, eyes shining. "You’re my favorite cat. Can’t believe Y/n’s been gatekeeping you from me."

Caty continued eating, completely indifferent to his excitement.

Mingyu smirked, scratching behind her ear. "Your loss, Y/n," he murmured smugly. "She's mine now."

Mingyu had been grumpier than usual lately—you noticed. Maybe it was the cabin fever from being stuck at home for so long, but he seemed to get irritated over the smallest things.

Your hair strands on the couch? A crime.

Dishes left unwashed? He huffed.

And the worst? When he held up a piece of your underwear he found in the laundry machine with an unimpressed look, only for you to sprint across the room to snatch it from his fingers.

So, when you saw him sprawled on the couch, aimlessly scrolling on his phone, you decided he needed a change of scenery.

“Wanna come with me?”

Mingyu barely looked up. “Where?”

You shrugged. “A field visit. Secluded area, about two hours of driving and an hour on the ferry.”

That got his attention.

His ears perked up, eyes lighting up at the mention of a ferry. “Wait, on a ship?”

You nodded.

He sat up immediately, his boredom vanishing in an instant. “I’m coming. Wait for me.” Without another word, he grabbed his crutch and hobbled toward his room to change.

Not long after, the two of you were on the road, Mingyu comfortably settled in the passenger seat as you drove. You let him choose the playlist, and he happily took on DJ duties, filling the car with upbeat tracks.

As the music played, Mingyu danced along, his upper body swaying dramatically to the beat. You chuckled, half-focused on the road, occasionally singing along to the lyrics you knew.

“Ohhh, you actually know this one?” Mingyu teased, turning up the volume.

“Shut up.”

He grinned, throwing his hands in the air as the chorus hit, and for the first time in days, he looked genuinely happy.

As the road stretched ahead, the rhythm of the music and the hum of the engine filled the space between you. Mingyu was busy drumming his fingers on the dashboard, nodding along to the beat, when you glanced at him and asked,

“How’s rehab going?”

Mingyu blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Oh. It’s… fine, I guess.”

“You guess?”

He sighed, rolling his shoulders. “It’s just slow. Feels like I’m barely making progress. They keep telling me to be patient, but it’s frustrating.”

You nodded, understanding. “You’re used to moving all the time. Must be hard to slow down.”

Mingyu exhaled through his nose, staring out the window. “Yeah. Feels like I’m stuck.” Then, after a pause, he mumbled, “I kinda hate it.”

You didn’t rush to respond, letting his words settle. Instead, you reached over and gave his knee a small pat before putting your hand back on the wheel.

“You’ll get there,” you said simply. “You just need time.”

Mingyu turned to look at you, and for a moment, he didn’t have a smart remark or playful retort. He just watched you, as if he were seeing you in a different light.

Then, shaking off the weight of the conversation, he suddenly leaned forward and cranked up the volume.

“Alright, no more sad talk. Sing this part with me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing as he dramatically belted out the next lyrics, completely off-key.

The salty breeze whipped through your hair as the ferry glided across the waves, the rhythmic rocking of the ship creating a slow, lulling motion. You leaned against the railing, gazing out at the endless stretch of water, while Mingyu stood beside you, adjusting the strap of the bag he had insisted on carrying for you.

He glanced over, eyes squinting slightly against the sunlight. “So, what exactly are we doing when we get there?”

You turned your head, watching as seagulls circled above. “Just an interview with an old woman for my paper,” you replied. “She has a lot of knowledge about oral traditions in the area.”

Mingyu nodded thoughtfully before grinning. “And after that? We can go sightseeing and eat, right?”

You smirked. “You just want food, don’t you?”

“I always want food,” he declared shamelessly. “You know this.” Then, tilting his head, he asked, “You like seafood, right?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t.”

Mingyu hummed, clearly pleased. “Good. Because I’m eating everything.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Try not to bankrupt me.”

“No promises.”

A comfortable silence stretched between you as you both looked out at the open sea. The horizon blurred where the sky met the water, and the sound of waves slapping against the ship’s hull was oddly soothing. Mingyu exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

“This is nice,” he admitted. “Feels like a reset.”

You glanced at him. “You needed a break.”

He nodded. “Yeah. More than I realized.”

You didn’t say anything, but you understood. The months of being stuck at home, of forced stillness, had been suffocating for someone like Mingyu. But now, with the wind in his hair and the vastness of the sea stretching ahead, he looked lighter. More like himself.

“You’re lucky to have work that takes you places,” he mused, watching a fishing boat in the distance.

You smiled. “I think so too.”

Mingyu turned to you then, studying you for a moment. “You really love what you do, huh?”

“I do.”

He hummed in approval before nudging your shoulder lightly. “Alright, then. Let’s get this interview done quickly so we can feast.”

You laughed. “Deal.”

The village was exactly as you had imagined—quiet, nestled between lush green hills and the vast blue sea. The scent of saltwater mixed with the earthiness of the damp ground as you and Mingyu stepped off the ferry, your shoes crunching against the wooden dock.

Mingyu took a deep breath, stretching his arms. "Alright, lead the way, researcher-nim."

You rolled your eyes but smiled, leading him through the narrow streets where elderly locals greeted you with warm smiles. The air buzzed with the faint sound of waves in the distance, children’s laughter echoing from somewhere unseen. Mingyu, ever the curious one, peeked into open storefronts, his eyes lighting up every time he spotted something new.

Your interview with the elderly woman took place in a small, traditional house with wooden floors and the scent of dried herbs lingering in the air. Mingyu, despite not having much to do, listened attentively from the side, nodding along as the woman spoke of old myths and stories passed down through generations. At one point, you caught him staring at you instead, watching the way you took notes, the way your brows furrowed in focus. He quickly looked away when your eyes flickered to him.

When the interview was over, the two of you explored the village, wandering through small paths that led to breathtaking cliffside views. Mingyu took photos, claiming it was for "memories," but he sneakily snapped a few of you when you weren’t looking.

Lunch was a feast—freshly grilled fish, buttery scallops, spicy seafood stew. Mingyu ate with the enthusiasm of a man who had been starving for days, humming in delight with every bite.

“You’re going to cry over food again,” you teased, watching as he closed his eyes in exaggerated bliss.

“I might,” he admitted, stuffing another piece of fish into his mouth. “This is happiness.”

By the time you both decided to head back, the sky had turned a soft shade of orange, the sunset casting golden hues across the water. The ferry ride home was quieter, more peaceful. Mingyu sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours every time the ship swayed.

“Thanks for bringing me today,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to him, surprised by his sincerity. “I didn’t think you’d enjoy it this much.”

Mingyu chuckled. “Me neither. But I did. A lot.”

The warmth in his voice made something stir inside you, but you pushed it down, nodding as you turned back to the sea.

By the time you reached home, it was already late. The apartment was dark except for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the window. You both kicked off your shoes near the entrance, exhaustion settling into your limbs.

You yawned. “That was a long day.”

Mingyu hummed in agreement, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, but a good one.”

You nodded, reaching to switch on the hallway light when suddenly—

Mingyu grabbed your wrist, turning you toward him. Before you could process what was happening, he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, warm, familiar in a way that made your stomach flip.

His eyes flickered down to your lips for just a second before he whispered, almost to himself, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

And then he did.

The kiss was slow, unhurried—like he was memorizing the way you felt against him, the way your lips fit together perfectly. His hand slid up to your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he had been waiting for this for a long time.

You were speechless.

Even after Mingyu pulled away, even after he chuckled softly and rested his forehead against yours, even after the warmth of his lips lingered on yours—you couldn't find a single word to say. Your mind was blank, your heart hammering so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Mingyu, on the other hand, had a million thoughts racing through his head.

He hadn’t planned this. He hadn’t even thought about kissing you before today, at least not consciously. But now that he had, now that he knew what it felt like—soft, warm, and entirely too natural—he didn’t know how to go back.

Because this was you. His friend. The person who had let him crash at her place, who had cooked him meals, who had dealt with his grumpiness and his boredom. You, who he had always seen as someone steady in his life.

And yet, at some point, that steadiness had become something more. He hadn’t realized it until now, until he kissed you and felt the undeniable pull in his chest.

Mingyu swallowed, suddenly feeling like he had crossed a line he wasn’t sure he could retreat from.

“Uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, stepping back slightly, giving you space. “You okay?”

You blinked up at him, lips parted slightly, still trying to process everything.

Mingyu forced a small laugh, trying to mask the sudden conflict waging inside him. “You’re looking at me like I just spoke in an alien language.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if to clear it. “I just… I didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah…” Mingyu shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Me neither.”

Silence stretched between you, the air thick with something neither of you dared to name just yet.

Mingyu glanced at you one more time, his expression unreadable. Then he cleared his throat. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

You nodded numbly, still dazed.

And as Mingyu walked off to his room, closing the door behind him, he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he could keep pretending that what he felt for you was just friendship anymore.

Mingyu barely got any sleep. The kiss kept replaying in his mind, over and over, as if his brain was determined to dissect every second of it. Was it the right thing to do? Did he just ruin everything? The moment had felt so natural, so inevitable, yet now, in the morning light, doubt clung to him like a shadow.

He sat on the couch, his crutch resting beside him, his fingers drumming against his knee. Normally, by now, he would hear the soft sounds of you moving around—your sleepy footsteps padding into the kitchen, the clatter of dishes as you made breakfast. But today, there was nothing.

His brows furrowed as he glanced at your door. Still shut.

Mingyu pushed himself up, walking over to knock softly. “Y/n?” His voice was gentle, but there was a hint of concern beneath it.

No response.

He frowned, knocking again. “Y/n, you awake?”

Silence. A familiar unease crept up his spine. Don’t tell me you already left?

He hesitated before slowly pushing the door open. And sure enough, your room was empty.

Caty was in the middle of it, lazily sprawled out on your bed, her fluffy tail flicking. The place was messier than usual—blankets half-tangled, papers scattered on your desk, as if you had rushed out in a hurry.

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You really left without saying anything?” he mumbled to himself, glancing around the room.

Caty, now realizing she had an audience, stretched and let out a tiny chirp before hopping off the bed. She trotted towards Mingyu but got distracted halfway, swatting at a fallen pen instead.

“Caty,” Mingyu called, shaking the kibble container to get her attention. The second she heard the sound, she perked up, immediately scampering toward him. He walked to the kitchen, pouring some food into her dish, watching as she eagerly began eating.

He crouched down, gently rubbing behind her ear. “I see Y/n forgot to feed you again…” he muttered, shaking his head with a small sigh. “She was really in a rush, huh?”

Caty purred under his touch, completely unbothered by the absence. Mingyu, on the other hand, couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in his chest.

You left without waking him up. Without a single word.

Did it have something to do with the kiss?

Mingyu didn’t like the way that thought made his stomach twist.

He exhaled heavily, leaning against the counter as Caty purred beside his hand, rubbing her head against his fingers like she had finally accepted him as an ally.

“At least you don’t hate me,” Mingyu muttered, scratching under her chin.

That week, Mingyu finally ditched the crutch—a massive milestone in his recovery. It felt liberating, almost like reclaiming a piece of himself he hadn’t realized he’d lost. But as he walked into the apartment, feeling lighter than he had in weeks, he noticed something else.

You were on the couch, curled up with a book, a steaming cup of tea in your hand. The sight was so... normal. A stark contrast to the avoidance act you had been pulling lately. If Mingyu counted correctly, he had seen Caty more than he had seen you this past week—a fact he wasn’t sure he wanted to categorize as progress or not.

"Hey," he greeted, setting his keys down.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for the first time in days, you actually smiled at him. "You're walking now," you noted, putting your book aside, your attention fully on him.

Mingyu smirked, stepping further into the room. "Not just walking," he said, twirling on the spot with exaggerated grace. "I can even ballet."

It was meant to be a joke, an attempt to break through the strange tension hanging between you two. But even as you let out a small chuckle, neither of you could ignore how much thicker the silence had become.

The kiss still lingered in the space between you, unspoken but impossible to forget.

Mingyu hesitated for a moment before finally lowering himself onto the couch beside you. He didn’t sit too close, giving you space, but he was near enough that you could feel his warmth. The silence between you stretched, thick with unspoken words.

He cleared his throat. "So…" He drummed his fingers on his knee, glancing at you before looking away. "About that night."

Your grip on your cup tightened slightly, but you said nothing. Mingyu caught the shift in your expression, the way your lips pressed together as if bracing yourself. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he also didn’t want to pretend nothing had happened.

"I don’t want to pressure you or anything," he said carefully, his voice softer now. "I just… I don’t regret it, you know?" He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t want you to think it was just some impulsive thing that didn’t mean anything to me. Because it did."

Your fingers traced the rim of your cup, eyes fixed on the steam rising from your tea. "Mingyu…" You started, then stopped, as if searching for the right words.

He didn’t rush you. He just watched, waiting.

"I just didn’t expect it," you finally admitted, still not meeting his gaze. "And I don’t know what it means for us."

Mingyu nodded slowly. That was fair. You had been friends, living under the same roof, never crossing that line—until now. "I don’t know either," he admitted with a small chuckle, leaning back against the couch. "But I do know that I like you."

This time, your eyes snapped up to his. Mingyu smiled, not teasing, not playful—just honest. "And I’m okay with figuring it out together. No pressure. No rush."

He could see the conflict in your eyes, the thoughts racing through your mind. But he also saw something else—something softer, something hesitant but not entirely unwilling.

Your amusement faded as quickly as it came. You set your cup down on the table, fingers lacing together in your lap as you exhaled slowly. "Mingyu… you shouldn’t like me."

His brows furrowed, the lightness in his expression fading. "What do you mean?"

You hesitated, pressing your lips together. There was a part of you that wanted to let this happen, to let yourself believe in the warmth he was offering. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew that if he found out the truth, he would regret ever feeling this way.

"There are things about me you don’t know," you said quietly. "Things I can’t tell you."

Mingyu frowned but didn’t interrupt. He was patient—he always was with you.

You swallowed, keeping your gaze fixed on your hands. "If you knew… if you found out, you’d regret this. You’d regret ever letting yourself feel that way about me."

Mingyu’s jaw tightened. "That’s not fair," he said, voice firm but gentle. "You’re deciding for me how I’d feel without even giving me a choice."

You finally looked at him, and he saw it—the fear in your eyes, the weight of something you were carrying alone. "Because I know what it would do to you," you whispered.

Mingyu shook his head. "Y/n, whatever it is, I—"

"You don’t," you cut him off, standing abruptly. "You don’t know, Mingyu. And I can’t—" You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply. "I can’t let you get caught up in it."

He stood too, searching your face, his frustration evident. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

"But I have to," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "Because I’d rather be the bad guy now than let you hate me later."

Mingyu stared at you, his heart pounding. He didn’t know what you were hiding, but he knew one thing for sure—you were terrified. Not of him, but of whatever secret you were keeping.

And that only made him more certain.

"I’m not walking away," he said, his voice steady. "No matter how much you try to push me away, I’m not going anywhere."

You looked at him, eyes conflicted, torn between hope and fear. But before you could say anything, Mingyu stepped back, giving you space. "I won’t force you to tell me," he said softly. "But I hope one day, you trust me enough to let me in."

And with that, he turned and walked toward his room, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your carefully built walls cracking just a little.

You sat at your desk, staring at the open document on your laptop, but the words blurred together, refusing to make sense. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unmoving. Your head ached from the lack of sleep, your body felt sluggish, and your mind was stretched thin from everything—your workload, the constant deadlines, your barely functioning routine, your health that you hadn’t been taking care of, and most of all… Mingyu.

You pressed your palms against your face, exhaling shakily. Everything was piling up, suffocating you. The late nights, the skipped meals, the self-imposed isolation—it was all catching up to you, and now Mingyu, with his unwavering presence, his persistence, his feelings, was another thing you didn’t know how to handle.

You shouldn’t have let it get this far.

Your chest felt tight as you leaned back in your chair, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Mingyu wasn’t supposed to look at you like that—with warmth, with patience, with something deeper that you weren’t ready to name. He wasn’t supposed to tell you he liked you. He wasn’t supposed to fight to stay when you were doing everything to push him away.

And yet… he was still here.

You knew he was in the next room, probably watching something on his phone or reading messages in the group chat. You could hear the occasional shuffling, the sound of video played on his phone. It was comforting, but also suffocating in its own way. Because you wanted to believe in the comfort, but you couldn’t afford to.

Not when you were already breaking under the weight of everything else.

You ran a hand through your hair, gripping the strands in frustration. Your schedule was a mess, your health was deteriorating because you barely had time to take care of yourself, and your work wasn’t slowing down. The pressure was relentless. And now Mingyu—Mingyu, with his steady eyes and his stubborn heart—was making it harder to keep things in check.

A part of you wanted to walk into the living room and tell him everything. To let yourself lean on someone for once. But you couldn’t.

Because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to stop. And you couldn’t afford to fall apart.

Not now.

Your breath was shallow, uneven. The weight pressing against your chest refused to ease, your hands trembling as you clutched your desk for stability. The walls of your room felt like they were closing in, suffocating you with the pressure you had been trying so hard to suppress.

No. Not now. Not this.

You pushed yourself up, pacing in an attempt to ground yourself, but your legs felt weak, and the buzzing in your head only grew louder. You needed water—maybe that would help. Maybe if you cooled down, if you just focused on something else, the panic wouldn’t consume you.

Your steps were unsteady as you walked out of your room, hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter as you reached for a glass. The water was cold against your lips, but even as you gulped it down, it did little to ease the storm inside you.

And then, you felt it.

The dizziness. The telltale warmth flooding through your limbs. The sensation that always preceded the shift.

No. No, no, no.

Not now. Not here. Not with Mingyu in the apartment.

You gripped the counter tighter, willing your body to stop, to fight it, but it was too late. The overwhelming sensation crashed into you, your vision blurring, your balance giving out. You barely registered the sound of the glass slipping from your fingers, shattering against the floor, before your body gave in.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was Mingyu.

Standing at his door.

Eyes wide.

Mouth slightly open.

Frozen in place.

Watching as you—

Became Caty.

Mingyu jolted awake, gasping for air as he found himself lying on the cold floor. His head pounded, his heart racing in his chest. What the hell just happened?

He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the moment before his eyes landed on the small figure sitting beside him.

Caty.

The white-furred feline stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes, her fluffy tail curling neatly around her paws. She looked normal—just a cat, nothing out of the ordinary.

But that was the problem.

Mingyu let out a strangled, surprised noise and immediately scooted back, his body dragging against the floor as he put distance between himself and the animal. His breath was uneven as his mind scrambled for explanations.

Was it his medication? Had the lingering effects of his painkillers messed with his head? No—he hadn’t taken them in days. Was it exhaustion? A hallucination? But he had quit drinking. Why would he be seeing things now?

His eyes darted toward the kitchen. The shattered glass glistened under the dim lighting, water pooling around the broken shards. His gaze then shifted to your bedroom—wide open, empty.

He was sure you had been there.

He was sure he had seen you.

And then—

Mingyu swallowed hard, eyes flickering back to Caty.

Was it real?

Had he really seen you shrinking—morphing—into a cat?

Was Caty… you?

Mingyu swallowed the lump in his throat, staring at Caty like she might suddenly start speaking. His mind screamed at him that this wasn’t possible, but his gut told him otherwise. He had seen it—hadn’t he?

Slowly, he sat up, never taking his eyes off the small creature. He needed to confirm it somehow.

"Y/n…?" His voice was hoarse, hesitant. "If—if that’s really you, can you… meow?"

Silence.

Caty blinked once but didn’t move.

Mingyu exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Okay. Uh, can you—jump?" He pointed at the couch, waiting, hoping for any kind of response.

Nothing.

Caty just sat there, tail twitching slightly, ears perked.

Mingyu frowned, his frustration growing. He had to be losing his mind. "Alright, what about sitting? Oh, wait—you’re already sitting," he mumbled to himself, rubbing his temples. "Fine, then. Blink twice if you’re Y/n."

Caty blinked.

Once.

Mingyu held his breath.

Caty licked her paw and started grooming herself.

Mingyu let out a strangled groan, slumping back against the floor. "Oh my god, I’m losing it," he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "This isn't real. This isn’t happening."

But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, his eyes kept drifting back to Caty—who sat there, unmoving, watching him with those all-too-familiar eyes.

Mingyu sighed as he crouched down, carefully picking up the shattered glass pieces from the kitchen floor. The mess was everywhere—your discarded clothes near the counter, the spilled water, the broken glass. It felt surreal.

Above him, Caty sat perched on the kitchen counter, watching his every move. Her tail swayed lazily, but her eyes never left him. It was unsettling.

Mingyu exhaled, shaking his head as he reached for the broom. "Okay, so let’s go over this again," he muttered, mostly to himself, but also to the silent feline observer. "You were standing here. You tried to drink water, and then—bam! You turned into a cat."

Caty’s ears twitched.

Mingyu dumped the glass shards into the trash and wiped his hands on his sweats. He glanced at the pile of clothes on the floor—the ones you had been wearing just minutes ago. His face heated up at the realization.

"Oh my god, this is insane," he whispered, running a hand through his hair. He turned to Caty, pointing at her. "So all this time… you were Caty?"

Silence.

Mingyu let out a breathy laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You’ve been sleeping on the couch. Sitting on my lap. I even fed you tuna last week!" He groaned, rubbing his temples. "Oh my god. Oh my god."

Caty just blinked at him, expression unreadable.

Mingyu leaned against the counter, staring at her. "You know, the least you could do is react. Maybe a guilty meow? A tail flick? Something?"

Caty licked her paw and groomed her face.

Mingyu groaned again. "This is ridiculous. I—I need a drink. Wait, no, I quit drinking." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need answers."

His eyes met Caty's again, and this time, there was something different—something knowing.

"You really are Y/n, aren’t you?" he whispered.

Caty finally did something. She blinked. Twice.

Mingyu let out a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling as Caty—you—sat comfortably on his stomach. He had never been a cat person, but here he was, hosting the biggest secret of his life on his body, staring at him with those too-familiar eyes.

"This is insane," he muttered, gently poking your tiny forehead. "I should be freaking out more, right? Like… panicking, losing my mind. But no, here I am, talking to a cat—you—like this is normal."

Caty blinked slowly.

Mingyu groaned, rubbing his face. "You’re not gonna talk, huh?" He tried again, looking at you. "Maybe blink twice if you can understand me?"

You just stared at him.

Mingyu huffed. "Okay. You’re either messing with me, or you really can’t answer like this." He let his head fall back against the couch. "Either way, you’ll probably shift back soon, right?"

That thought struck him suddenly. If you turned back into a human, you’d be—Mingyu’s eyes widened. "Crap, you’re gonna need clothes!"

He carefully moved you off his stomach and onto the couch before rushing to his room. Grabbing a couple of blankets, he returned and draped them over the cushions. "Here. If you shift back while sleeping, just—just wrap yourself in these, okay?"

He pointed at the blankets and then at you. "Inside them when you sleep, alright? Caty? Y/n? Whoever you are!"

You flicked your tail, making him sigh.

"Okay, fine. Ignore me." Mingyu plopped back onto the couch, still watching you with curiosity and concern. His head was still spinning, but there was nothing he could do except wait.

The next morning, Mingyu stirred awake to the soft glow of sunlight seeping through the curtains. He stretched, muscles stiff from sleeping on the couch, before something caught his attention.

There, curled up under his blankets, was you.

Not Caty. You.

Mingyu stilled. His breath hitched as he sat up, staring at your peaceful face. The blanket was wrapped securely around you, your hair a little messy from sleep, but there was no doubt—you had shifted back.

It was real. All of it.

Mingyu leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. "Holy shit."

Caty had been you all this time.

You sat on the couch, a human-sized bundle of blankets, while Mingyu stood in front of you like a detective who had just uncovered the most absurd case of his life. His arms were crossed, his jaw slightly dropped, and his eyes were scanning you as if expecting you to sprout whiskers at any moment.

"So… you are Caty?" he asked slowly, as if hoping he had misheard himself.

You nodded, peeking up at him from the cocoon of warmth.

"You shift into a cat," he continued, his voice a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. "Am I right?"

Another nod. This time, you kept your gaze firmly on the coffee table.

"So you're human… but you can also turn into a cat?"

You nodded again, bracing yourself.

Mingyu opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again—like a fish trying to form words but failing. And then, as if his brain short-circuited, he let out a loud, exasperated groan and ruffled his hair so aggressively it looked like he’d been caught in a wind tunnel.

"You should’ve just told me it was all a dream!" he burst out, pacing the living room. "Or that I was hallucinating! That I was seeing things! Y/n, what the hell?! How—why—how does a human just shrink into a—into a cat?!"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, pulling the blankets tighter around yourself like they could somehow shield you from his meltdown.

Mingyu let out another deep breath, his hands on his hips. He turned away for a second, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "I quit drinking for this?" before whipping back around to face you.

"Okay, wait. You said it happens when you're stressed?"

You gave a small, pitiful nod.

Mingyu blinked, as if this somehow made less sense than before. His brows knitted together in deep thought before he squinted at you suspiciously.

"So… all this time, when I was talking to Caty… was that you? Were you ignoring me on purpose?"

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head frantically. "No! That was Caty! I—I can't control myself when I shift. It’s like… I become the cat version of me, but I don’t remember anything when I change back."

Mingyu opened his mouth again, closed it, rubbed his temples, and then let out a long sigh as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

"This is insane," he muttered, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to his problems.

You swallowed hard, watching him carefully. He looked like he was either going to burst into another round of questions or possibly combust.

Then, after a long, heavy pause, Mingyu exhaled deeply, shook his head, and mumbled, "Of course the girl I like turns into a damn cat."

Mingyu sat there in stunned silence, his brain slowly piecing everything together like a detective in a crime drama—except the crime was you being a cat.

He turned to you, eyes narrowing in deep concentration. “Wait a minute.”

You tensed. “What?”

His gaze scanned you like he was seeing you for the first time. Then, his mouth fell open as realization hit him like a truck. “Oh my God.”

You blinked. “…What?”

Mingyu shot up from the couch, pointing at you like he had just solved the biggest mystery of the century. “It all makes sense now!”

You pulled the blankets tighter, suddenly very nervous. “…What does?”

“All of it! Your hobbies—meditating, reading, and drinking tea—you do everything to reduce stress. And your sleeping habits!” He started pacing. “You nap all the time, and you hate waking up early. You curl up in the weirdest positions when you sleep—like a cat!”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I—I do not—”

“Oh, you do!” Mingyu pointed an accusatory finger. “And your attitude—how you act all distant sometimes, but the next moment you’re affectionate? Total cat behavior! And don’t even get me started on how you disappear for hours and then show up like nothing happened!”

You sank deeper into the blankets, heart pounding. He was way too good at this.

Mingyu continued, voice getting louder with every revelation. “You love warm places! You always complain when it’s too cold, and you sit next to the heater like your life depends on it!” He gasped. “And the hair! The random strands of hair I keep finding on my clothes—it was you!”

“I mean—technically, it was still my human hair—”

“And the way you stare at me sometimes, like you’re silently judging me but won’t tell me why! That’s such a cat thing to do!”

You opened your mouth to argue but… well. He wasn’t wrong.

Mingyu groaned, running his hands down his face. “How did I not see this sooner?”

You bit your lip, guilt creeping in. “I—I wanted to tell you, but—”

He spun around, eyes wide. “Oh my God. I bathed you.”

You winced. “Oh. Really?”

He pointed at you again. “I carried you like a baby after you fell asleep on my lap! I let you sleep in my bed!”

“…You must had volunteered that one.”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE A REGULAR CAT, Y/N!”

You shrank under his intense stare, whispering, “I was a regular cat at the time…”

Mingyu let out a strangled noise, like his brain was overheating. He collapsed back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I need a minute. Or maybe ten.”

You hesitated before mumbling, “…You still fed me tuna.”

Mingyu groaned into his hands. “I fed you tuna.”

Silence stretched between you before he finally peeked at you through his fingers. “Okay. So you turn into a cat when you’re stressed. But why? How?”

You sighed, tugging at the blanket. “It’s… complicated.”

Mingyu exhaled sharply. “Y/n, everything about this situation is complicated.” He tilted his head at you, still processing. “But somehow… it still makes sense.”

You blinked. “It does?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s weird, but it’s you. And honestly, the cat thing explains a lot.”

You stared at him, heart stuttering in your chest. After all this—after watching you shift, realizing you had basically been living a double life, learning he had bathed and fed you tuna—he was still sitting here, talking to you like you were just… you.

Maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the worst-case scenario after all.

From that day on, Mingyu became obsessed with monitoring your stress levels.

It started small—like when you reached for your morning coffee, and he immediately snatched it away.

“Caffeine increases stress,” he said, squinting at you like a scientist observing a volatile experiment. “You could shift if you get too anxious.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Mingyu, I won’t turn into a cat just because I drink coffee.”

He didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know, Y/n. You shift when you're stressed. What if caffeine speeds up the process?”

“Mingyu—”

He grabbed a tea bag and handed it to you. “Just to be safe.”

You glared. “I don't want tea.”

“You don't want shifting in front of me more.”

You wanted to argue, but… fair point.

Then it escalated.

Every time you sighed even slightly too heavily, he’d whip around like you had just announced you were about to combust.

“Are you stressed? Are you shifting? Should I get a blanket?”

“I just sighed, Mingyu.”

“Yeah, but was it a regular sigh or a cat-inducing sigh?”

“Oh my God.”

At one point, he even started doing random check-ins.

“You good?” he’d ask, mid-lunch, mouth full of food.

“Yes, Mingyu.”

“You sure? No tiny paws incoming?”

“I swear to God.”

Even when you were peacefully reading, he'd suddenly lean in, staring suspiciously at you. “You seem tense.”

“I am tense,” you deadpanned, “because you keep asking if I’m tense.”

“So you are stressed?”

“Mingyu.”

He hummed in thought. “Should I get some chicken? Maybe chicken will help.”

You threw a pillow at his face.

And the worst part? You actually started feeling stressed because of him.

At work? You were fine. Dealing with your schedule? Manageable. But Mingyu constantly watching you, gasping dramatically whenever you so much as blinked too hard?

That was starting to become a real problem.

One night, after yet another "Are you feeling shifty?" question, you groaned and flopped onto the couch, burying your face in a pillow. “Mingyu, I swear, if I shift into a cat, it’s going to be your fault.”

Mingyu gasped. “So I am stressing you out?”

“Yes!” You shot up, glaring at him. “You’re so paranoid that I’m going to turn into a cat that you’re actually making it more likely to happen!”

His eyes widened like he had just uncovered a terrible truth. “Oh my God.”

“Oh my God, what?”

Mingyu clasped his hands together. “So what you’re saying is… I’m your trigger?”

You blinked. “That’s not—”

His face lit up. “Does this mean I have power over your shifting?”

You groaned, throwing yourself back onto the couch. “I give up.”

Mingyu, now grinning like a kid who had discovered a new toy, leaned over you. “Don’t worry, Y/n. I promise to use my powers wisely.”

You peeked up at him. “If you ever use this as an excuse to mess with me—”

“I would never,” he said, hand over his heart. Then, after a beat, he smirked. “But, you know… if I ever need a cute little furball to do my bidding—”

“Mingyu.”

He laughed, dodging the second pillow you threw at him.

Mingyu was out grocery shopping when something in the pet accessories aisle caught his eye—a delicate, silver cat collar with a tiny pendant hanging from it.

He picked it up, examining the details. It wasn’t just any collar; it had an adjustable strap and a small locket that could be opened to store a tiny piece of paper inside.

"You can adjust the size, sir," a salesperson said, approaching him with a polite smile. She took the collar from his hands and demonstrated how it worked.

Mingyu nodded, intrigued. It was simple but elegant—something you would probably like.

"How old is your cat?" the salesperson asked casually.

Mingyu blinked. Well. Technically, you and Caty were the same age, and there was no way in hell he was about to blurt out, Oh, she’s 27, actually.

"Uh… four?" he answered, hoping that was a reasonable number.

The salesperson beamed. "Oh, how sweet! This locket is great for adventurous cats. You can write their name inside—or even a personal contact number, just in case they like to wander off."

Mingyu nearly laughed. You liked to wander off. You loved adventure. If anyone needed a tag in case they went missing, it was you.

As ridiculous as it was, he suddenly found himself imagining slipping this around your neck—not just when you were Caty, but even as yourself. It would be a little secret between the two of you, a playful reminder that he knew your real secret.

Yeah. This would make a great gift.

Grinning to himself, he grabbed the collar and headed toward the cashier.

During dinner, Mingyu suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the table toward you.

“I got you something,” he announced, leaning back with a smug grin.

You looked at him suspiciously before picking up the box and opening it. The moment your eyes landed on the contents, you froze.

"You got me what?"

"A collar," Mingyu repeated, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked at him. “Mingyu. I’m human.”

He nodded, completely unfazed. “And also a cat.”

You groaned, closing the box with an exaggerated sigh. "Not this again."

“Hey, listen—it's adjustable! And I got one with a little pendant so I could write my number inside. Y'know, in case you ever shift outside and get lost.”

You shot him a deadpan look. “You seriously think I’m going to wake up in an alley one day and some stranger will check my collar for your number?”

Mingyu shrugged. “It’s just a precaution. Plus, it was pretty expensive, so you better appreciate it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Where did you even find this?”

“Hm…” He scratched his chin, pretending to recall. “You know, at—” He paused for dramatic effect. “—E-Mart.”

You let out a scoff. “So you just casually browse the pet aisle for gifts now?”

“Only for my special cat-human hybrid roommate.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to push the box back toward him, but Mingyu was already reaching over. Mingyu’s fingers brushed against your skin as he adjusted the collar, the cool metal of the clasp briefly pressing against the nape of your neck before he fastened it in place. His touch was light—careful, almost reverent—as if he didn’t want to startle you, as if this ridiculous gesture somehow held more weight than either of you had expected.

When he finally leaned back, his gaze lingered on you, a slow smile stretching across his face. There was something different in the way he looked at you—not just teasing amusement, but something softer, something unreadable.

The air between you shifted, quiet and thick with unspoken things. The usual banter was missing, the jokes fading into something more uncertain. Mingyu wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smirking. He was just looking at you, his brown eyes warm, thoughtful, studying you in a way that made your pulse stutter for a second.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Your breath hitched.

It was just a word, a casual compliment, but something about the way he said it made your stomach flip. Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, or the way his gaze softened ever so slightly, like he had never really looked at you like this before. Like he was seeing something new—something more.

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the collar resting against your skin, the weight of it foreign yet oddly grounding. “It’s—” Your voice wavered, and you cleared your throat. “It’s just a collar, Mingyu.”

He grinned, the spell breaking just slightly, but his eyes never lost that unreadable glint. “Yeah. Just a collar.”

And yet, as you sat there, your fingers brushing the pendant absentmindedly, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had changed. Even the air felt different—charged, expectant.

You had spent so long keeping a distance, so long making sure that Mingyu never got too close. But now, sitting here with his warmth still lingering near you, with the way his gaze held just a fraction too long, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—it was already too late.

The moment Mingyu pulled your wrist, you barely had time to react before his lips were on yours. It wasn’t rushed or playful like you would have expected—it was slow, deep, and entirely consuming. His hands found their way to your waist, grounding you as he leaned into you, his body warm and solid against yours.

Without thinking, your arms lifted, slipping around his neck as he crouched down to meet you properly. The chair beneath you felt distant, the dinner forgotten. All you could focus on was the way his lips moved against yours—gentle yet insistent, like he was memorizing every second of it.

His fingers curled slightly against your waist, and a shiver ran down your spine. There was no hesitation in the way he kissed you, no uncertainty—just quiet, deliberate affection. It wasn’t like the first time, the one that had left you confused and shaken. This time, there was no doubt.

Mingyu was kissing you because he wanted to. Because he meant it.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you slightly breathless. His hands stayed on your waist, thumbs tracing absentminded circles against the fabric of your shirt.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes were darker now, filled with something you couldn’t quite name but felt all too clearly.

“You…” You swallowed, trying to gather your thoughts, but the words felt tangled in your throat.

Mingyu exhaled a soft laugh, his breath fanning against your skin. “Yeah.” His voice was quieter than usual, almost tender. “Me.”

Your heart pounded, but this time, you didn’t want to run. Not when his hands were still holding you close. Not when his lips were still tingling against yours. Not when, for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

The moment your fingers tightened around the collar of his shirt and you pulled him back in, Mingyu knew—dinner was over. The food, the conversation, the playful banter about the ridiculous collar—it all faded into the background.

His lips met yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation. Mingyu took it as a sign, as permission, as everything he had been waiting for. His hands moved instinctively, one sliding up to cup your face, the other pressing against your back, pulling you closer. The chair scraped slightly against the floor as you shifted, molding into him, deepening the kiss like neither of you could get enough.

Mingyu wasn’t gentle anymore—not because he wanted to rush, but because he needed you, and he was finally letting himself show it. The way your fingers tangled in his hair, the way your breaths mingled between kisses, the way your body leaned into his—it sent his heart into overdrive.

He barely registered how he had lifted you, how your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried you away from the table. The scent of dinner was still in the air, but all he could focus on was you. The way your lips never left his, the way your hands explored, the way his name came out in whispers between breaths.

By the time he reached his bedroom, both of you were already lost in each other, in the heat, in the pull, in the undeniable truth that this had been building for far too long.

Mingyu wasn’t thinking anymore. He was feeling. And right now, he felt like he needed you more than anything else in the world.

Mingyu’s breath was warm against your skin as he hovered over you, his lips brushing against your cheek before trailing down to your jaw. His voice was barely above a whisper, but every word sent a shiver through your body.

“I like you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. “I want you… I need you.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could hear it. His words weren’t just words—they were filled with something raw, something real. The weight of his body against yours, the way his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns on your skin, the way his gaze held yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away—it was overwhelming.

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Mingyu noticed, his lips curving into a soft, almost teasing smile as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Are you nervous?”

You exhaled, trying to steady yourself, but the truth was, it wasn’t just nerves. It was him. The way he made you feel—like he could unravel you with just a look, like he was seeing all of you and still wanting more.

Mingyu leaned in again, his forehead resting against yours. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with restraint.

Your breath hitched, panic creeping into your veins as your body tensed beneath him. The warmth of Mingyu’s touch, the weight of his body pressing into yours—it was too much. Not in a bad way, but in a way that sent your heartbeat into overdrive, your nerves firing off alarms you couldn’t ignore.

You could feel it happening.

The shift.

Your skin prickled, a deep sensation rolling through your bones, telling you that your body was about to betray you at the worst possible moment.

“Mingyu—” you gasped, trying to warn him, trying to push against his chest, but he was too lost in you. His lips dragged over the sensitive skin of your neck, down to your collarbone, his grip firm as he held you in place, his breath heavy with desire.

“You’re beautiful, Y/n,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with emotion.

Don’t say that, Mingyu… You clenched your eyes shut, your head spinning. Your stomach twisted, your blood rushed too fast, too hot. It was coming. It was coming.

You barely managed to shove at his shoulder before it happened.

Your world tilted. Your limbs curled inward. The familiar dizziness hit you like a freight train, and before you could even process it—

Poof.

The weight of the blankets suddenly felt ten times heavier. The warmth of Mingyu’s body was gone.

And in his place?

A very, very stunned man, now lying chest-down on the mattress, his arms empty where you had just been.

“...What the—?” Mingyu blinked, slowly lifting himself up, eyes searching the space where you had been seconds ago.

And then, finally, his gaze landed on the small bundle of fur now tangled in his sheets.

Silence.

Pure, deafening silence.

Mingyu sat there for a long moment, his brain clearly short-circuiting. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Then, after what felt like forever, he exhaled, voice flat.

“You have to be kidding me.”

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You stirred awake, your body stretching instinctively against the soft sheets—only to realize, with a jolt, that you were naked. Your breath hitched as your fingers clenched around the blanket, pulling it tighter around you. The air smelled like Mingyu—like warmth, like home.

Then, a voice, teasing and low—

"Awake, kitty cat?"

Your head snapped toward the doorway, where Mingyu stood leaning against the frame, arms crossed, watching you with barely contained amusement. His dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but his smirk told you everything.

Your mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing you remembered—Mingyu, his hands, his lips, the way your body reacted to him, the way your nerves got the best of you—oh god.

Mingyu pushed off the doorframe and walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. Instinctively, your arms tightened around the blanket, shielding yourself from the weight of his stare.

"I still can't believe it," he mused, shaking his head. "Caty really did that." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before giving you a pointed look. "Do you have any idea how traumatizing it is to be cockblocked by a cat? A cat that just so happens to be you?"

You swallowed, cheeks burning.

Mingyu let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to gently tug the blanket away from your face. His fingers brushed through your hair, a quiet tenderness in the way he touched you.

Then, his voice dropped, turning serious. "After last night…" He hesitated, his thumb grazing your temple. "You know we can’t just go back to being friends, right?"

Your heart pounded in your chest.

"I like you, Y/n," he confessed, his tone unwavering. "So much that I wanted you. And I could feel it last night—you wanted me too. But you were nervous." His hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm, grounding. "And then you shifted."

Shame curled in your stomach, and you lowered your gaze. "I'm sorry…" you whispered.

But Mingyu shook his head. "No, don’t be sorry. I get it now." He exhaled, his hand moving down to grasp yours. "But please—tell me you want this too. Tell me we’re together."

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. He wasn’t just asking for an answer—he was asking for you. And you knew, despite everything, despite the chaos, despite the impossible nature of what you were—you wanted him too.

"But Mingyu… I'm a cat," you whispered, your fingers gripping the sheets tighter. "I can shift anytime—just like last night. And..." Your voice wavered as you swallowed hard. "I can't even communicate with you when Caty takes over. You don’t understand how—how frustrating that is. How helpless it feels."

Mingyu sighed, his fingers tightening slightly around yours as if afraid you'd slip away—not just figuratively, but literally. His brows furrowed as he looked at you, deep in thought, but there was no hesitation in his expression.

"So?" He said simply, tilting his head.

You blinked. "So?"

"So what if you’re a cat sometimes?" He shrugged, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "I mean, yeah, it’s insane. But you think that’s enough to make me not want you?"

You bit your lip, eyes flickering downward. "Mingyu… I shifted right in the middle of—of that last night. That’s not normal. I can’t control it. What if it happens again?"

Mingyu dragged a hand down his face, exhaling heavily before leaning closer. "Then we deal with it," he said, voice softer now. "We figure it out. And maybe next time, we make sure you’re not stressed, huh?"

You frowned. "You stress me out most of the time."

Mingyu gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Me?! No way."

You shot him a flat look, but he only grinned, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Look," he continued, "it’s a little complicated, sure. But Y/n, I like you. Whether you’re human or a cat, whether you ignore me as Caty or let me kiss you as Y/n��I like you."

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart tightening in your chest.

"Besides," he added, flashing you a lopsided smile, "if you shift again, I’ll just put your little collar on. That way, if you run away, at least people will know you belong to me."

Your mouth fell open. "Mingyu!"

He burst into laughter as you smacked his arm, but the warmth in his eyes never faded. You wanted to argue, to tell him how ridiculous this all was, how dangerous it could be. But the way he looked at you—like shifting into a cat in the middle of making out was just another small inconvenience, like it didn’t change the way he felt about you—made you wonder.

Maybe this wasn’t so impossible after all.

Mingyu came home after practice, greeted by an unsettling silence. The apartment was dark, save for the faint glow from the city lights seeping through the curtains. He stepped inside, his muscles aching from the long day, and made his way to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he changed into his pajamas, slipped on his wedding band, and went to find you.

It was already past ten, but the quiet felt unusual. You were a night owl, always awake, always up to something. Yet tonight, not even the hum of the TV or the soft clatter of your late-night snacking filled the space.

“Babe, where are you?” Mingyu’s voice echoed slightly in the stillness, laced with growing concern. He checked his phone, scrolling through his messages—he had texted you earlier, letting you know he’d be late because of practice. No reply.

A frown settled on his face. "Did she go out?" he muttered, not liking the idea one bit. The thought of you wandering around alone, pregnant, made his stomach twist.

It still amazed him how much life had changed. When he first met you, he never imagined falling this hard. But after months together, he knew—he knew—you were the one. Through all the ups and downs, his knee surgery, his return to the team, he always came back to you. Marrying you was the easiest decision he’d ever made.

Meeting your family, however, had been chaotic. He would never forget the way your father—so nervous about meeting his future son-in-law—had turned into a cat right in front of him. Then there was your brother, Wonwoo, who had also shifted into a sleek black cat the moment he found out you were pregnant before marriage. Mingyu had nearly lost it. But somehow, after all that madness, things smoothed over, and now, he was officially part of the cat family.

And now, with you seven months pregnant, he was counting down the days until he could hold his baby girl. Though, he did have a sneaking suspicion that one day, she too might randomly turn into a cat.

But that was fine. Mingyu had long since accepted that cats—especially you—were cute.

"Baby?" His voice carried through the apartment as he checked the master bedroom. Empty. The nursery? Empty. His frown deepened. Where the heck is she?

Feeling increasingly uneasy, Mingyu perched on the barstool and dialed your number. The moment he hit call, he heard a faint rustling noise. His head snapped toward the pantry.

A breath of relief escaped him. There you are.

But when he opened the pantry door, he didn’t find you.

Instead, he found Caty.

A very pregnant Caty.

Mingyu groaned, rubbing his temples as his gaze shifted to your phone and the pile of clothes discarded beside her.

"Not this again," he sighed, exasperated but unsurprised.

Shaking his head, he scooped Caty into his arms, along with your things, cradling the small, fluffy body of his very human wife-turned-cat.

"You just had to stress yourself out, didn’t you?" he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Caty’s head as he carried you back to bed.

“What was it this time? Did you watch a sad movie? Did Wonwoo say something weird again? Or was it me? It’s me, isn’t it?”

Caty—you—only flicked an ear in response.

Mingyu huffed, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen this coming,” he muttered, glancing down at your small, round belly. “You’re literally seven months pregnant, Y/n. You can’t just shift like this every time you panic.”

But deep down, he knew you couldn’t control it. The stress, the hormones, the whole being-pregnant-and-turning-into-a-cat thing—it was a lot.

Mingyu gently laid you down on his pillow and covered you with the blanket, careful not to make you feel trapped. Then, he sat beside you, rubbing his face tiredly.

“We really need to figure out a way to stop this from happening,” he mumbled to himself. Then, he side-eyed you. “What if you shift during labor? Am I gonna have to explain to the doctor why there’s a cat in the maternity ward?”

Caty blinked.

“Oh my god,” Mingyu groaned, flopping onto the bed. “I’m gonna be a dad and a cat owner at the same time. This is a nightmare.”

Despite his complaints, his hand found its way back to stroking your fur. He sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “At least you’re cute.”

He yawned, exhaustion from practice finally catching up to him. He wasn’t sure when you’d shift back, but until then, he’d just have to wait.

“Just don’t go into labor while you’re still a cat, okay?” he mumbled sleepily. “I don’t think I can handle that.”

With that, Mingyu let his eyes drift shut, one hand still resting protectively over you.

Mingyu woke up to the sound of soft shuffling beside him. His arm instinctively reached out, landing not on soft fur but warm skin. His brows furrowed as his fingers flexed against the familiar shape of your waist. Slowly, he cracked one eye open.

And there you were—back in your human form, sitting up in bed, stretching with a yawn, his oversized pajama top slipping off one shoulder.

Mingyu blinked blearily. Then, his mind caught up.

“Oh, thank God.” He groaned dramatically, flopping onto his back. “I thought I’d have to raise a kitten instead of a baby.”

You scoffed, pulling the blanket over yourself. “I was planning to wake up in human form before giving birth, you know.”

Mingyu sat up, rubbing his face with both hands. “Yeah, well, forgive me for being concerned when my pregnant wife disappears and a pregnant cat magically appears in her place!” He dropped his hands to his lap, staring at you pointedly. “You really gotta stop doing this to me, babe.”

You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Mingyu sighed, reaching over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered, thumb brushing against your cheek. “You scared me, though.”

Your eyes softened, fingers playing with the hem of your sleeves. “I’m sorry…”

Mingyu exhaled, then suddenly pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“You should be,” he muttered against your hair, his grip tightening. “I lost at least five years of my life because of you.”

You giggled, snuggling into his embrace. “You’ll be fine. You still have, like, a hundred years left.”

Mingyu snorted, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands rested on your belly, thumbs rubbing small circles over the bump. “I guess we should start preparing for the fact that she might inherit your little condition.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the pillows. “I really hope she doesn’t.”

Mingyu leaned on one elbow, gazing down at you with a knowing look. His fingers traced absentminded circles over your belly as he asked, “Is that what you were stressing about last night? The fact that she might inherit the cat DNA?”

You hesitated, then sighed, covering your face with your hands. “Okay, maybe…”

Mingyu let out a short laugh, amused but not mocking. “Babe.” He pried your hands away gently so he could see your face. “You really think that’s gonna make me love her any less?”

You pouted. “It’s not just that, Mingyu… What if she suddenly shifts for the first time at daycare? Or what if she can’t control it, just like me? What if—”

Mingyu pressed a finger to your lips. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You blinked up at him, and his expression softened. “You think I haven’t already prepared myself for this? I married into a literal cat family, Y/n. I knew what I was signing up for.”

You exhaled, feeling some of the weight lift from your chest. “You’re really okay with it?”

Mingyu grinned. “Are you kidding? I think it’d be adorable if our kid turns into a tiny furball. She’s gonna be the cutest kitten and the cutest baby.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, some of your worries melting away. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” Mingyu teased, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then, with a smirk, he added, “But for real—should we get her a tiny collar? Just in case?”

“Mingyu!”

Your husband only laughed as you smacked his arm, his affection and lightheartedness making it impossible for you to stay worried for long.

Mingyu smirked, leaning over you, his nose brushing against yours. “Well… if she does, at least she’ll be a very cute kitten.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face as Mingyu kissed you softly, his warmth melting away the last remnants of your stress.

The end:)

934 notes · View notes

mazeeelabyrinth · 1 month ago

Text

♡♡♡ Project Bunny ♡♡♡

Chapter I: Live - PixelBunny.exe

“Y-you all are so mean… I’m shy, y’know. I’m not just here to be your toy…” You purred, same curated high-pitched tone matched with a sickly sweet giggle. “But thank you, Daddies.”

♡■♡■♡ Pairing: LADS MLIs x afab camgirl!reader

♡■♡■♡ Plot Summary:

By day, you're just a broke barista with a caffeine addiction, with a useless degree and a student loan nightmare, and a customer service smile stitched over your burnout. By night, you're Pixel Bunny—a bratty, cosplay-clad camgirl with a shy voice, a pastel aesthetic, and a growing fanbase that keeps your lights on and your legs open.

Except… your five most generous patrons are a little too devoted. Each a stranger with a username and a hard-on for control, slowly bleeding into your real life.

♡■♡■♡ Tags: 18+, multichapters, second pov, eventual poly, eventual orgy, dark romance, reverse harem, shameless smut, porn with plot, explicit, gradual shift into darker themes, voyeurism, praise kink, porn, ooc, canon divergence au, sex toys, clothing fetish, cosplay, breeding kink, ddlg (daddy dom/little girl), pet names, live masturbation, power play, strip tease, sex work, camgirl au, streaming culture, orgasm denial, parasocial relationship, obsessive parasocial behavior, dirty talk, stalking tendencies, reader is not mc, reader has a day job, reader is addressed as "Bunny" or "PixelBunny" on stream, masked identities

♡■♡■♡ Word Count: 7.2K

A/N: Finally dug up an old idea and use it for another LADS fanfic. I was debating whether I use an oc or just follow my usual "x reader", guess what I did? Please take this "you" persona impersonally.

A/N2: holy shit, I thought I saved it up as a draft 😂 I wasn't done editing it lmfao

MASTERLIST | AO3 | FOR TAG LIST, INTERACT HERE. | NAVIGATION

Your screen flickered to life with the soft, ambient glow of neon pinks and cool lilacs. Lo-fi beats hummed low through your headset, a curated loop of calming bass and synthetic purrs you’ve fine-tuned to make every viewer feel like they were lounging right in bed with you.

The room behind you was an aesthetic fever dream: plushies, pastel LEDs, posters of vintage anime girls with glassy eyes and lollipops too large for their mouths.

You're perched on the center of your bed, legs curled just right, clad in a baby-pink cropped cardigan that technically covers your nipples—but just barely, plaid skirt strategically rumpled that showed off your panties you’d pretend were modest if they weren’t riding a dangerous line between “cute” and “cam site terms of service violation.”

The bunny-eared headset—your signature look—bobbed slightly as you adjusted, lips glossed to a cherry sheen and parted with practiced nervousness.

A delectable morsel wrapped in pastel and lust. That’s you, PixelBunny. A camgirl rising on the other side of the internet.

Just shy. Just bratty enough.

Innocent. Dumb. Deceiving.

Click. You're live.

The chat was already rioting. A thousand hearts bloomed in the corner of your screen. Familiar names lit up the chat like a twisted bouquet of usernames you knew better than your actual friends.

Syl.Draconia 💎 has joined the stream 🐇

R.tist!c tipped 1000 credits: angel, that lipstick shade is killing me

X-Devoted upgraded to SUGAR DADDY - ULTRA VIP 💎

Mr. WhiteCoat tipped 500 credits: Don’t overwork yourself.

C.Pilot: you're late. I've been waiting Bunny. ;)

3009 more viewers have joined 🐇

You smiled sweetly. Blushed. Looked away. A beat too long, just to make them ache for it. And then, your voice—high, breathy, a porcelain teacup too full of heat—spilled into the mic.

“H-hi, everyone. Welcome back to my... super cozy Friday stream. I—I missed you all so much... I was sooo lonely today…”

A flurry of small donations exploded with the flood of emotes. Bunnies. Eggplants. Hearts. Claws. One name after another. Each one hit your account like a loaded promise. A private ping dinged—five times, exactly. Direct messages, encrypted, VIP access only.

You ignored them. For now.

The camera zoomed slightly—auto-focus tracing your thighs as they shifted. Your skin was glossed, powdered, glowing under artificial moonlight. You stretched your arms overhead, the croptop sliding just enough to show the soft curve of underboobs, a calculated ‘oopsie’ perfected by months of practice.

C.Pilot: you know you missed yesterday right?

X-Devoted: Uve been a veeery naughty bunny…

Mr. WhiteCoat: I’m monitoring your dopamine spikes in real time. They’re inconsistent.

R.tist!c: is that the cardigan i sent you? unbutton it slowly

Syl.Draconia: Shes hiding something tonight. Increased blink rate. Deviated gaze.

“Y-you all are so mean… I’m shy, y’know. I’m not just here to be your toy…” You purred, same curated high-pitched tone matched with a sickly sweet giggle. “But thank you, Daddies.”

You giggled, again, hiding your face in your hands. A perfect little bunny. Tempting fate like it was a game. Innocence so carefully curated it could only be filthy. Just a girl in your safe little pastel den, alone in your apartment, with predatory men watching you burn.

You shifted, thighs parting slightly, your voice rising just a note.

“I m-might’ve been a little mean… I didn’t respond to some DMs. I went live without private previews tonight... I guess I was just feeling bold.”

X-Devoted: U will learn sweetheart

Syl.Draconia: Already running your own script. Dangerous.

Mr. WhiteCoat: This requires corrective conditioning.

C.Pilot: youre gonna make me break my keyboard Bun.

R.tist!c: keep talking, your shame is muse enough

The camera light pulsed. You leaned forward, intentionally framing your cleavage with your forearms as you pouted at the lens.

“You’re all so strict with me lately,” you murmured, voice full of mock-pout and something that wasn’t so mock. “But I know how much you missed me…”

You reached for a small heart-shaped plastic on the nightstand.

“A-and I think I’m ready to be your good bunny again.”

Then—click.

You pressed the first tip-button. The sex toy that was already inserted before the stream purred to life inside you, humming quiet and wicked.

“A-ah—mm! T-that’s... oopsie.” Well, at least the moan that slipped from your glossy lips was real.

X-Devoted: Dont play shy. U wore that choker for me.

Syl.Draconia: Zoom. 140%. Enhance the thighs.

R.tist!c: such soft curves, let me paint you like this

Mr. WhiteCoat: Keep still. I’m running diagnostics.

C.Pilot : bet she soaked the sheets already.

mr.unknown: oh yes, moan for us more 😩

zeronut: show pussy plz… 💦

"Oh... Oh Daddy..." You murmured into the mic, your eyes glazed over as the vibrations from the toy X-Devoted had chosen for you resonated through your body. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a blush that surely painted your face in a way that made the camera love you more. The chat was a whirlwind of lewd comments and generous tips. Each one of your patrons had a piece of you, and you knew it. You reveled in it.

You leaned back into the plush pillows, your hands sneaked under the cardigan, fingers dancing over your chest, tracing the edges of the pasties you knew R.tist!c had picked out from the last set of gifts he'd sent. His taste was always so... exquisite. You could feel your heart racing, the decorative adhesive tickling against your skin with each breath.

"Thank you for the tips, Daddy..." You breathed into the mic, a soft smile playing on your lips as you scanned the chat for X-Devoted's name. His tip had triggered the toy, and the pleasure was already pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill over. "You're all so generous tonight."

The screen was a blur of usernames and donation amounts. You bit your bottom lip, letting the anticipation build as you slowly unbuttoned the cardigan. The cool air hit your bare skin, and you shivered dramatically for the camera, knowing it would drive them wild. The room was a symphony of virtual praise, each note hitting a different chord of your arousal.

X-Devoted: Good girl. Thats what I like to see

C.Pilot: let’s see how much you’ve been taking care of yourself Bunny.

R.tist!c: more little bun, show us everything

With a devilish smirk, you leaned forward, giving them the show they were dying to see. The cardigan fell away, revealing the purple, starfish-shaped pasties that covered your areola—nipples already peaked out and were begging for attention beneath the adhesive silicone.

The cold lens of the camera was the only thing touching them as you whispered, "Look at what you do to me, Daddy." You gave your torso a gentle shake, watching your breasts jiggle before the eyes of your devoted audience.

The chat exploded with emojis and messages. The numbers on the side of your screen spun upwards like a slot machine hitting a jackpot. You felt a thrill of power, a heady rush of adrenaline, knowing that these men were all watching you, all wanting you, all willing to give you anything to satisfy their desires. You were the puppeteer, and they were your marionettes, dancing to the tune of your siren's song.

"Would you like to taste my tits, Daddy?" You whispered into the void, watching the screen as your words sent a shockwave through the chat. The vibrator in your panties buzzed in time with your racing heart every time someone tipped, a symphony of need and greed. You cupped your breasts, your thumbs flicking over the covered areola, teasing the silicone away from your sensitive skin.

X-Devoted: Yes baby. Take off the starfish. Let us all admire ur pretty nipples

Mr.WhiteCoat: Use the adhesive fabric next time if the silicone irritates your nipples.

R.tist!c: i wish those pasties were my mouth

R.tist!c: soon you will be mine

C.Pilot: make it quick, I can feel my cock pulsing already.

Syl.Draconia: Watch yourself Bunny. Watch how beautiful you are.

You bit back a giggle, feeling a thrill of excitement at their commands. You knew they were all watching, all waiting with bated breath for the moment you'd give in. Your fingers danced along the edge of the silicone, the tension building as you paused, just for a second, to let them beg for more.

Syl.Draconia tipped 1000 credits: Take it off let the breeze kiss those pretty nipples of yours.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the message from Syl.Draconia. His requests always sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement. But you had a show to run. You had to keep them all on the edge of their seats. So, with a flick of your wrist, the pasties came off, revealing your bare breasts to the camera. The coolness of the room kissed your skin, making your nipples peak even further. You leaned closer to the camera, letting them get a good look at the prize.

But amidst the flurry of tips and messages, one stood out. C.Pilot’s text was simple, but the implication was clear. "you know I wanna fuck those tits Bunny." The chat went wild, a mix of excitement and anticipation. This wasn't the first time he'd made such a bold statement.

You looked into the camera, eyes wide with feigned shock, "Oh my... Daddy's being extra naughty tonight." You giggled, playing coy. But inside, you felt a thrill of danger. It was all part of the game, but you knew it was one you couldn't ignore for much longer.

The tips continued to flood in as you played with the strings of your skirt, tugging it down just enough to reveal the sheer lace of your panties. The camera zoomed in, capturing the wetness that had already begun to soak through. You could feel the fabric sticking to your skin as you teased them, the anticipation building. Each user's kink reflected in their words, a silent bidding war for your attention.

X-Devoted: Spread ur legs for us baby. Show us ur sweet little cunt

Mr.WhiteCoat: I can see your heart rate increasing. Keep going.

R.tist!c: imagine its my tongue licking you clean

C.Pilot: you know I’d shower those tits with my cum.

Syl.Draconia: Take off the skirt. Give us a show.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their eyes—or rather, the screens—on you. It was all a game, a dance of power and desire played out in pixels. But you were good at this dance, weren't you? You'd been doing it for some months. You leaned back, letting your legs fall open just enough to hint at the lacy treasure beneath. The toy in your panties buzzed louder, the intensity of the vibrations making you gasp.

"M-maybe later, Daddy. I-I’m getting shy now…" you whispered, batting your eyelashes at the camera in practiced timidity. The chat erupted again, the sound of keys smacking screens echoing in your mind. The thrill of control was intoxicating. You were the queen of this digital realm, and they were all just pawns in your game.

The vibrations grew more intense, and you couldn’t help but squirm. You reached down and slipped your hand into your skirt, your fingers sliding over the drenched fabric of your panties. The toy buzzed against your clit, and you let out a soft moan, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. The room grew hot, the air thick with lust.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your pulse is racing faster now. Tell us how it feels.

X-Devoted: Ure mine tonight bunny

R.tist!c: i can almost taste you through the screen

C.Pilot: give us a better look.

Syl.Draconia: Yes show us how much you want it.

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, and your breathing grew heavier as you read the messages, feeling their eyes on you—or rather, the screens that served as their windows into your private world. The vibrations grew stronger, and you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. But you weren’t ready to give in just yet. You had to keep them wanting more.

"But not yet, Daddy," you murmured into the microphone, your voice a sultry whisper. "I want to save the best for later." You pulled your hand away from your panties, leaving them wet and exposed. The camera zoomed in, and you watched the chat light up with excitement. You had them hooked, and you were the master angler reeling them in, inch by inch.

With a practiced brattiness, you stood from the bed.

"Oh... so cold!~" You gasp, hugging yourself in a manner dramatic enough to tease your audience.

You turned to face the camera fully, your eyes scanning the chat for any signs of the five high-rollers you knew were out there. You strutted over to the clothing rack, the soft thud of your feet echoing through the quiet room. The outfit was a surprise, something you'd picked out just for them. A devilish smirk played on your lips as you pulled out the hanger, the fabric gliding over your fingertips like silk.

"Alright, everyone," you announced, the sound of you unraveling the garment garnering a slew of eager messages. "It's time for the main event!" The anticipation in your voice was palpable as you held the outfit against your body, obscuring your nakedness with the screen of fabric. "Tonight, I've got something extra special for you. Who's ready for a surprise?"

The chat exploded with excitement, a barrage of suggestive emojis and filthy messages.

C.Pilot: can't wait Bunny.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your secrets are the best part of the show.

R.tist!c: show us little muse

You took a deep breath, the anticipation building in your chest as you held up the lingerie set. "I've got something that's gonna knock your socks off, Daddies!" You giggled, feeling the excitement of your digital audience pulse through the air. The pastel colors shimmered under the soft light, a perfect blend of innocence and desire.

You turned around, giving them a glimpse of your bare back, the tension building as you slowly untied the strings of your skirt. The skirt softly rustled as it slid down your thighs like silk, leaving only your sheer panties that barely covered your dripping cunt and the vibrator thrumming inside you.

"Oopsie daisy!" You exclaimed, feigning clumsiness, making sure the camera captured every inch of your exposed skin. "Looks like I need to get changed!"

The chatter in the chat grew louder as you began to peel off your panties, the fabric sticking to your wetness before finally sliding away. The toy remained in place, a silent sentinel of your pleasure.

You stepped into the new set, a pair of lace g-strings that barely covered your curves, and a matching sheer bralette that left nothing to the imagination. Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your body, the vibrations syncing with your heartbeat.

"How does this look?" You asked, spinning around for them, giving a full view of the new ensemble. The chat went wild, a cacophony of lewd comments and tips. You could feel the power surging through you, a heady rush that only grew as you watched the numbers climb.

X-Devoted: Perfect. Just like I knew it would be

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your obedience is... commendable, PixelBunny.

R.tist!c: a masterpiece worthy of my canvas

C.Pilot: fuck baby. you're driving me wild.

You leaned closer to the camera, your breath hot against the lens. "Does Daddy like it?" You whispered, your eyes sparkling with mischief. The chat was a blur of eager responses, each one more eager than the last.

Syl.Draconia: Youre a vision, my sweet bunny. I could rip that in one flick of my fingers.

You winked at the camera, the toy inside you buzzing in response to the thrill of their words. "Good, because I got something extra special for you all." Your breasts bounced slightly as you turned, giving them the show they craved. "Who wants to see what I've got planned?"

The tips—smaller amounts this time—poured in faster than you could read, the screen lighting up like a Christmas tree. Your heart raced as you felt the eyes of your devoted fans, the vibrations inside you reaching a crescendo. "Alright, Daddies. Let's get this party started!"

You slid the toy out of you with a wet pop, ensuring the camera caught everything, the chat exploding in a symphony of virtual pleasure. The toy was replaced with something new, something they hadn't seen before. It was a custom-made dildo, the girthy shaft covered in bumpy, tiny lights that matched the color scheme of your room.

"This little guy is gonna light up the night," you said with a wink, turning it on. The lights flickered in time with your racing pulse, a silent promise of what was to come.

Strutting closer to your desktop, you straddled the fuschia pink-white gaming chair, posing your back against the lens. You took a moment to appreciate the view on the screen—the way the lights played off your curves, highlighting the view of your asscheeks in the air, your drenched cunt peeking through the scant g-string. Turning you into a living work of art.

Then, with a sultry smile, you placed the tip of the dildo against your entrance, the coolness sending a shiver down your spine.

"Ready for the main event, Daddies?" You teased, tapping the toy playfully against your asscheeks. The chat was a sea of anticipation, a mix of eagerness and greed. You spread your legs wider, giving them a perfect view of your glistening pussy, the fabric of your g-string the only barrier between you and their hungry eyes.

You leaned further into the chair, the cold leather against your skin a stark contrast to the heat building within you. The lights from the dildo reflected off the chrome of your gaming chair, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room. The plastic frames bit into your knees as you settled into the position, a slight discomfort that only served to heighten the thrill of the moment.

The chat was a blur of excitement, a cacophony of usernames and tips flying by as they watched you, rapt and eager for your next move.

X-Devoted: Slowly baby. Make it last

Mr.WhiteCoat: I’m taking notes of how many pumps you’re going to do tonight.

R.tist!c: oh i wanna sketch this

C.Pilot: fuck bunny. you're so wet, I could almost feel it.

Syl.Draconia: Use the lube I sent.

With a seductive smile, you took the lube, never breaking eye contact with the camera’s lens as you lathered it around the girthy artificial phallus. The squelching echoed to the mic as your hands pumped in a tantalizing rhythm, giving your audience the fantasy of you touching their cocks instead.

You began to rub the tip against your swollen clit, the lights flickering in time with your movements. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt through your body that made your eyes roll back in your head.

"Mm, Daddy likes it slow?" You murmured, your voice a breathless purr. "Alright, let's see if I can be a good girl." You slid the toy down, teasing the folds of your pussy. The chat was a flurry of commands and compliments, each one feeding the fire of your desire.

With a deliberate slowness that was as much for show as it was for their benefit, you brushed the string of your panties aside and pushed the dildo inside your cunt. The lights flickered in time with the strokes, creating a mesmerizing pattern across your skin. You moaned, the sound carrying through the quiet apartment, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo back at you from the screens of your devoted fans.

"Oh, yes... just like that," you whispered into the microphone, the vibrations from the dildo making your voice shake slightly. "Daddy's got me feeling so good."

Your eyes remained locked on the camera, watching as the tips continued to roll in. Each one a little victory, each one a validation of your power. You began to move the toy in and out, the lights casting a rainbow of shadows across your vaginal walls. "Tell me, Daddies," you gasped, "How does it look when I'm being such a good girl for you?"

Mr.WhiteCoat: Your pussy looks so tight around that new toy, PixelBunny. You’re taking it well.

C.Pilot: oh fuck. that's so hot. like you're begging for the real thing.

R.tist!c: like a painting baby, a masterpiece

Syl.Draconia: Tell me you wish it was my cock Bunny.

X-Devoted: Ure mine Bunny. Remember that

Their reactions varied, a symphony of desire played out in digital text. Some praised your obedience, others painted vivid pictures of what they’d do to you, while another whispered dark promises of possession. Yet, none of them knew the truth behind your shy demeanor, the cynical smirk that tugged at your lips as you read their words.

With each stroke, the lights of the dildo grew more intense, painting your face with a rainbow of pleasure. Your body began to respond, your hips moving in a gentle rhythm that grew more urgent with each passing moment. You knew the act well, the dance of a siren luring sailors to their doom. You were their obsession, their escape from the mundane.

The sound of your wetness filled the room, mingling with your soft moans. It was a symphony of lust, each note a declaration of your power. You watched the chat, eyes flickering from one message to the next. Their words were a drug, a sweet poison that made you feel alive.

You began to rock your hips, the toy sliding in and out with increasing speed. "Is Daddy proud of me?" You whimpered, your voice a siren's call. The chat exploded, each tip a declaration of their adoration. You felt their desire, a palpable force that seemed to tighten around you, squeezing out every last drop of your inhibition.

"Oh, Daddy," you moaned, the pleasure building, the lights from the dildo casting a glow across your face. "You make me feel so... dirty." The words were like honey, sweet and thick with meaning. You watched the chat, the screen a blur of tips and messages, each one more desperate than the last.

The toy slammed into you now, the plastic thud echoing through the room. Your hands were a blur, moving in a rhythm that was almost violent. The sensation was overwhelming, the lights pulsing with your heartbeat. You could feel yourself getting closer, the orgasm a tidal wave just beyond the horizon.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Yes, PixelBunny, take it another inch deeper.

C.Pilot: so good baby. take it all for me.

R.tist!c: like youre riding my cock baby

Syl.Draconia: Mines bigger than that silly toy Bunny.

X-Devoted: Make sure u wont hurt urself

Their commands fueled you, pushing you closer to the edge. You took the toy out and licked it clean, the taste of yourself making your eyes roll back.

"Daddy, I need more," you whimpered, dropping the dildo to the floor. Slowly, you turned around to face the camera and present yourself on the chair. Your hand snaked into your g-string, your fingers finding your clit. "Is Daddy going to make me cum?"

Mr.WhiteCoat: Play with yourself more, BunnyPixel. Show us how much you want it.

C.Pilot: spread those legs wider, let me see everything.

R.tist!c: i want to see that pretty pussy swollen with desire for me

Syl.Draconia: You know you want it bunny. Take it all.

X-Devoted: Ure so greedy, arent you, Bunny? But Daddy loves that about you

Their words were a siren's song that you couldn't ignore. You spread your legs wider, the fabric of your g-string stretching tightly over your swollen clit. You watched the chat as your fingers began to dance across your folds, the wetness of your pussy glistening in the soft glow of the lights.

"Look at how wet I am for you, Daddies," you breathed into the microphone, the sound of your voice sending a shiver through your body. Your thumb circled your clit, the sensation making your toes curl. "Do you like watching me play?"

The chat erupted in a symphony of affirmations, their digital applause filling your ears. You felt a strange sense of belonging, a thrill that came from being the object of their desire. It was a power trip, one that you were all too eager to indulge in.

With a wicked grin, you picked up the dildo again, the lights pulsing to the beat of the music that played in the background. "Alright, Daddies," you said, your voice a mix of sweetness and seductive challenge. "Who wants to see how fast I can make this little toy disappear?"

The chat went wild as you positioned the dildo at your entrance, the coldness a stark contrast to the heat that had built up within you. You pushed it in, the lights dancing on your skin as you took it all in one go, the tip brushing against your cervix. You gasped, the sensation intense and overwhelming. The chat exploded in a flurry of tips and messages, each one more eager than the last to claim a piece of you.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Bravo, PixelBunny. You’re so good at taking what you’re given.

C.Pilot: fuck yes. just like that. you're mine baby.

R.tist!c: a true masterpiece in motion

Syl.Draconia tipped 1000 credits: If its my cock filling you up, youd scream louder than that.

X-Devoted: So obedient. So perfect

You watched the tips climb, feeling a thrill at their desperation. "Is Daddy proud?" You asked, your voice a needy whine as you began to pump the dildo in and out of yourself. The lights reflected off the sweat that had begun to form on your skin, casting a glow around your body.

The chat was a blur of usernames and dollar signs, a testament to your power over these men. You felt a twinge of guilt, a tiny voice that whispered they didn't know the real you, that you were playing a role. But the rush of power was too great, the thrill of their desire too potent to resist.

You began to moan, the sound echoing through your headphones. The camera captured every inch of you, every bead of sweat, every gasp of pleasure. It was a dance of seduction, a performance honed over countless nights in front of the lens.

The chat was a furor of commands, each one more demanding than the last. But you were in control. You knew just how to play them, how to keep them on the edge of their seats. With each stroke, you felt their eyes on you, their thoughts wrapped around your body like a second skin.

"Oh, Daddy," you whimpered, the dildo moving faster now, the lights blurring together into a rainbow of ecstasy. "I'm so close." The chat exploded in a frenzy of tips once more, each one a declaration of war for your pleasure.

You felt yourself getting closer, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Your hand moved faster, the dildo a blur as it plunged into your pussy. Your other hand gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles white with the effort of holding back. Its creak was a silent protest against the relentless pace of the dildo, creating a lewd harmony along with the squelching of your pussy around the glowing, bumpy, glass phallus.

"I'm... I'm gonna cum," you whispered, your voice shaking with need. The chat was a sea of fire emojis, a digital inferno of desire. You could almost feel their eyes on you, their hands moving in time with yours, imagining it was their cocks that filled you so completely.

The lights grew brighter, pulsing in time with your heartbeat. It was as if the room was alive, a living entity that feasted on your pleasure. Your walls tightened around the dildo, a silent plea for more, for harder, for deeper. The glass felt like fire in your hand, a tool of your own making that you wielded with expert precision.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Yes, baby, keep going. You’re on the 496th pump and counting.

C.Pilot: that’s it slut. give it to me.

R.tist!c tipped 1500 credits: youd be more beautiful painted with my cum

Syl.Draconia tipped 300 credits: Youre so pretty when youre full of me.

X-Devoted tipped 500 credits: Ure perfect… my little whore

You threw your head back, your mouth open in a silent scream. The chat was a blur of lewd comments and demands, a symphony of desire that seemed to crescendo with every stroke. You felt their eyes on you, their hunger a palpable force that pushed you closer to the edge. The room was spinning, the lights a kaleidoscope of pleasure that painted the walls of your reality.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, crashing over you with the force of a thousand suns. You screamed into the microphone, the sound echoing through the room. The camera captured every twitch of your body, every spasm of pleasure that racked your frame. The chat exploded in a cacophony of tips and messages, each one a declaration of victory.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Beautiful, PixelBunny. Drink water to hydrate.

C.Pilot: I’d breed that little cunt like the bunny you are.

R.tist!c: fuck youre an artwork

Syl.Draconia: Good girl.

X-Devoted tipped 750 credits: Look how swollen your clit is

As the wave of pleasure receded, you slumped in the chair, panting heavily. Your body was a wreck, a plaything used and discarded. But there was no regret, only satisfaction. You had done your job, played your role to perfection. The tips kept rolling in, a testament to your power, to your ability to manipulate and control.

Mr.WhiteCoat: That was exquisite, PixelBunny. You pumped twenty-three times more tonight than the last stream.

C.Pilot tipped 2000 credits: you're so fucking perfect, you’re gonna make me cum on my keyboard.

R.tist!c: i want to capture that moment forever

Syl.Draconia: You never disappoint pet.

X-Devoted: Such a good little bunny letting us watch

You took a moment to catch your breath, the sweat cooling on your skin as you surveyed the chat. The room was bathed in the glow of the pastel lights, a soft symphony of colors that seemed to pulse with the aftermath of your climax. The usernames swirled like a kaleidoscope, each one a reminder of the men who had claimed a piece of you.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Take off the g-string. Let us see you completely bare.

C.Pilot: you’re so responsive baby. I bet you’d scream if I was the one fucking you.

R.tist!c: i wish i could paint the way you look right now because your pussy is an art form

Syl.Draconia: Youre so open, so inviting. It makes me want to take you right here, right now.

X-Devoted: Good girl. Show me whats mine

With trembling hands, you slowly pulled the g-string to the side, fingers gliding to spread your swollen labia—exposing your clit to the cool air. The chat erupted in a symphony of desire, a crescendo of tips that sang your praises. You felt a thrill, a dark pleasure in knowing you had them all at your mercy.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Perfect. Just like that.

C.Pilot: so wet, so needy. who’s going to fill you up next?

R.tist!c: thats the look of a well-fucked muse

Syl.Draconia: Your pussy is begging for it.

X-Devoted: Remember, ure mine

You began to toy with yourself again, the dildo forgotten on the floor. Your hand moved with a newfound confidence, a silent challenge to the men watching you. You knew they were all thinking of themselves, of how they'd make you scream if they had the chance. But you were the one in control here, the one pulling the strings of their desires.

Mr.WhiteCoat: I want to see those breasts bounce, PixelBunny.

C.Pilot: play with those perfect tits.

R.tist!c: the way your titties jiggle is like watching a masterpiece come to life

Syl.Draconia: Show us your tits slut.

X-Devoted: Only for me my greedy little bunny

You leaned forward, your tits spilling out of the lingerie. Your nipples were hard peaks, begging for attention. You pinched them lightly, watching the chat for their reactions. The messages grew more frantic, a silent battle for your focus.

Mr.WhiteCoat tipped 300 credits: You’re shaking, PixelBunny. Just relax.

C.Pilot: pinch them harder, make them beg for mercy.

R.tist!c: oh baby thats the picture id sell for a fortune

Syl.Draconia: I want to feel those nipples between my teeth.

X-Devoted: Ure such a good slut for me

The room was a whirlwind of lewdness, a tornado of desire that you were at the center of. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, knowing that any of these men could be watching you from the shadows of your real life, and could be closer than you ever imagined.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Make yourself come again, PixelBunny. Show us how many times you can come tonight.

C.Pilot: I want to see you squirt for me baby.

R.tist!c: youre like a living, breathing fantasy

Syl.Draconia: Imagine its my tongue on you licking you clean while you squirt.

X-Devoted: Ure going to come for me arent you?

With a shiver, you focused on the task at hand. You began to rub your clit in slow circles, the sensation sending shockwaves through your overstimulated body. Your nipples tightened further as you pinched and twisted them, the pain adding a delicious edge to the pleasure.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Faster, Bunny. Make it count.

C.Pilot: so pretty when you're desperate.

R.tist!c: i want your juices mixed with paint

Syl.Draconia: So close bunny. Give us what we want.

X-Devoted: Be careful not to fall on the floor

The second orgasm built slowly, a crescendo of pleasure that you couldn't ignore. Each touch of your fingers was a declaration of war, a battle for dominance that you were determined to win. The chat was a blur of praises and commands, but you were in control. This was your show, your performance, your moment of power.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Yes, baby. Just like that.

C.Pilot: I can almost taste you Bunny.

R.tist!c: your body is a masterpiece

Syl.Draconia: Soon youll be screaming for me.

X-Devoted: Ure mine to use little slut

With a final, desperate push, you came, your body arching off the chair as your juices arced in the air—subsequently soiling your chair and the floor. The camera captured every twitch, every shiver of pleasure. The chat exploded in a flurry of tips, each one a declaration of victory. You panted, your chest heaving as you watched the numbers climb, the power of your own sexuality laid bare before you.

Mr.WhiteCoat: Beautiful, baby. Simply breathtaking.

C.Pilot: that was so fucking hot. you're incredible

R.tist!c: the way you come is like watching the universe unfold

Syl.Draconia tipped 1500 credits: Thats my slut. Ill give you a taste of my cock soon.

X-Devoted: Good girl

As the waves of pleasure receded, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. These men didn't just want to watch you; they wanted to own you. The thought sent a thrill down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement that you couldn't quite place.

You knew you had to keep them at bay, keep your real life separate from this digital playground. But as the tips continued to flow and the chat demanded more, you couldn't help but wonder if the line had already been crossed.

If they had already claimed a part of you that you couldn't take back.

— ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ —

You overslept.

The kind of oversleep that left mascara smudged in the corner of your eyes and thigh-high sock marks ghosting along your skin. Your alarm had gone off four times—each one silenced by a sleepy, swollen hand that still smells faintly of coconut oil and shame.

You’re not sore exactly. You're ruined.

Tender. Overfilled. Buzzing like your favorite toy never turned off. Your vibrator still under the pillow—taunting you like the whore you were last night. Your apartment smelled like artificial strawberries, lube, and desperation.

And your phone? Oh, bunny.

47 unread messages.

Syl.Draconia: Your audio peaked at 2:14:37. I liked that sound.

Mr. WhiteCoat: You should ice your thighs today. Hydration report pending.

X-Devoted: Still think about how u moaned my name last. Be good today

C.Pilot: saved the vod. watching it again before my morning meeting.

R.tist!c: i want to paint you mid-climax ill need the raw footage

You deleted none of them.

Your thighs stuck together as you rolled onto your side, squinting at the soft morning light bleeding through cheap blinds.

7:48 AM. Your café shift started at 7:00.

You groaned, dragging yourself out of bed. Your bunny headset laid discarded on the floor like a casualty, tangled with the cord of the bullet toy that made you scream so loud you had to bite the pillow. The heart-shaped toy from last night was still blinking faintly on the nightstand—taunting you. Judging you.

You’re still wearing the cropped cardigan. Nothing underneath. Just a smear of dried gloss on the collar and a suspicious hickey where your neck met the webcam’s frame.

— ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ —

You yanked on your barista apron with the grace of a drunken octopus, hair still smelling like body spray and cum-adjacent perfume, cheeks flushed with residual shame. The “CUP O' SUNSHINE!” logo stared at you like a passive-aggressive middle finger. A wrinkled pair of jeans hugged your thighs fine—inside out. No time to fix it. No bra.

Your thighs sticked slightly as you walked, the aftermath of being toyed open for hours, edged to oblivion and backed by faceless men who knew the sound of your moans better than your coworkers knew your name.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket with unread messages. The same five names.

X-Devoted: Did u eat yet baby?

Mr. WhiteCoat: You should’ve hydrated more. You lost a lot of fluids.

C.Pilot: when’s your break? I’ll call you.

R.tist!c: sketching the way your thighs shook

Syl.Draconia: You looked perfect on your knees.

You groaned and shoved it in your boring, beige, canvas tote bag.

Outside, the bus screeched past your stop without a single care for your state of existential hangover. You missed it by six goddamn seconds.

"Fuck you, rush hour,” you panted, trying to speed-walk without waddling. Your thighs screamed. Your lower back protested. You're ninety percent sure there was still some faux hickey ink blooming under your collarbone in the shape of a painted thumbprint.

Then the subway ride was hell. You shifted on the plastic seat with a soft hiss, cursing your post-stream sensitivity. The train lurched and your sore cunt clenched involuntarily. You could only bite your lip and pray no one noticed your discomfort.

When you clocked in, the coffee shop was already packed. You're over an hour late and reeking of vanilla lotion and unsanctioned orgasms.

Your workplace was aggressively normal. Neutral-toned hell. A cozy café chain squashed between a vape shop and a dentist’s office. The fluorescent lights buzzed like judging aunts. The espresso machine wheezed like a dying horse.

“Nice of you to join us,” your manager—Lysander—muttered, tossing you a stained dish towel and a name tag that read PIXEL. You didn’t bother to correct him. You were too busy hiding the fact that you forgot underwear.

You forced a smile. The same one you used on camera. “Sorry! Long night.”

As you staggered toward the counter, last night kept crashing back in wet waves.

After the ‘normal stream’—you on all fours, bouncing on a glass dildo while holding a printed-out chatlog to your chest like a script from hell.

“I-I’m gonna come again if you keep saying that, please—please don’t make me—!”

And them—ULTRA VIP chat exploding, all five usernames watching you fall apart like a perfectly wound toy snapping loose.

Syl.Draconia: Youre not allowed to finish until I say so.

X-Devoted: Slower. Hold eye contact. Now beg

Mr. WhiteCoat: Apply pressure to your clit. Precisely three fingers. That’s right.

C.Pilot: fuck, you’re gonna make me blow in my headset.

R.tist!c: cry for me, let me paint it from memory

You had collapsed into a moaning mess while the private chat was filled with tips, voice notes and possessive claims. You came so hard you nearly dislocated your mic stand.

And now here you were—Pixel Bunny’s shadow, stripped of pastel lights, lace, and fake moans. Fresh graduate, still buried in student debts, living alone, half-fucked out, and working the register for caffeine-deprived Karens and stoners.

Taking someone’s half-skim oat milk latte with a fake smile and shaky hands, your body still twitching with phantom overstimulation, your panties still sitting in a tipped-over laundry basket, and your cunt still slick from ghosts of last night’s sins.

You slapped a paper cup onto the counter like a half-dead soldier. Your bones ached. Your legs felt like overcooked noodles. You were seconds away from collapsing into the espresso grounds when you heard it:

“Medium latte. One pump vanilla.”

You didn’t look up at first. You were too busy auto-piloting through your camgirl trauma, but something about the voice made you pause.

It’s… calm and smooth. Measured.

You glanced up and your breath caught mid-exhale.

He was tall. Easily six feet. Fair-skinned and silver-haired, the kind of anime-protagonist-just-transferred-to-your-school handsome that would normally make you roll your eyes. His white sweater looked soft, expensive, the kind of thing someone would wear just to make you think about how good it would feel brushing against your thighs. His pants were dark, tailored. Hands tucked casually into the pockets.

And his eyes. Blue. Not icy—glacial.

Like he sees straight through you, and hasn’t decided if you’re prey… or his.

You swallowed. “N-name for the order?”

His head tilted slightly as he studied you for a second, gaze lingering for a beat on the upside-down nametag stuck above your chest.

“…Xavier.”

Your hand trembled around the Sharpie. You barely managed to scrawl the name on the cup, your brain already conjuring the worst possibilities.

X-Devoted. No. No. It’s just a common name. It’s fine. You’re fine, you’re just sleep-deprived and overstimulated.

You slid the cup toward the espresso machine and forced your voice steady. “It’ll be right up. Um. X-Xavier.”

His lips twitched. Not a smile. Just a flicker—barely there.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly.

Xavier turned to wait at the other end of the counter, hands still in his pockets. Posture straight. Like he was listening.

You sneaked one more glance as you started the order. He was staring at the pastries now. Or the board. Or maybe the reflection in the glass. You couldn’t tell.

But the prickle on the back of your neck said: be careful.

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taintandviolent · 11 months ago

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Turbo Lover ; Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: After getting fed up with Jason Carver and his gross attitude, reader decides to take him up on a dare. That dare, is kissing Eddie Munson on the mouth. Something she's been longing to do since she arrived in Hawkins.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.5K | female reader, smut, use of pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), fingering, handjobs.

a/n: started writing this back in *checks watch* july of 2022....... ahem. finished writing this to turbo lover by judas priest, if you wanna listen! just felt like an eddie song to me, don't ask for clarification. this could possibly be a multi-parter, haven't decided yet. my first (technically) eddie fic...... do not come for my throat, thanks. not beta-read, yada yada yada. divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

“Oh, choke on it, Jason.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Mrs. Cowan for a replacement lab partner.”

Rolling your eyes, you resist the urge to fling your forkful of corn at him. “Hah! Please do. I’d rather stick my tongue down Eddie Munson’s throat and spend the weekend with mono than spend another blissful second trying to watch you figure out anatomy, dipshit.”

“Go do it then. I dare you.” Jason barks, nostrils flaring. He was going to call your bluff. There was no way that you were going to go over to that weird satanist’s table. Being more of a rocker, you weren’t posh and cute like Chrissy was, but you still had boundaries. And a good head on your shoulders. He knew you did. He hoped you did.

“Fine,” you snap, slamming both palms onto the table. “I hope you fail your science project.” Jason’s confident expression falls. Your rings scrape against the plastic as you push yourself up. With more determination than you’d had the entire semester, you swing both your legs over the bench and head for Eddie’s table, navigating around the other tables. The rest of his little dungeon buddies are already gawking at you as they’d been paying attention to the shouting. Confidently, you take a running leap up onto the table, and stomp your way down its length like a soldier marching towards enemy fire. The target, Eddie Munson, was staring at you with wide eyes and brows lifted.

“Outta my way.” The pointed tip of your boot sends an empty lunch tray flying off the table and clattering onto the floor.

“Hey, Munson!” You drop down onto your haunches, and now, eye-level with him, grab his face and pull it towards you, crushing your lips against his. The roll he’s holding drops from his grasp, falling lifelessly onto his tray. As soon as his plush lips press into yours, giving way to your tugging, your shoulders relax, melting into the kiss. You had been waiting for an excuse to get his attention since you’d sat down in your first class at Hawkins High, daydreaming about talking to him. You’d spent many a class period staring at Eddie’s lips, so you expected the kiss would be enjoyable… but not like this.

At first, both of your lips were closed, smushed together in the hurriedness of the moment, but when you exhale and his lips part, your tongue delves into his mouth, sweeping along his. To your surprise, he reciprocates the action, and presses his chin up into yours, asserting a new sort of need. Despondent groans and laughs of shock pepper the cafeteria around you, and from behind you, came the confusion of the other residents of the table. As you take Eddie Munson in literal mouthfuls, you felt something shift in him, and the noise started to fade away. You tilt your head, and push deeper into the kiss.

“Who the hell is she?” One of the boys asks, clearly as confused as everyone else was.

You shudder against him, feeling a burning heat between your legs, and immediately pull away to stand up, turning to face the far table. Jason was staring at you, looking more embarrassed than disgusted, but he did well hiding it with his scholarship scowl. You wipe the back of your hand across your mouth, drawing your — Eddie’s— the mutual saliva across your cheek. Triumphantly, you hold your arms out, daring the blonde haired moron to say anything further. He doesn’t.

With a proud smirk on your face, you pivot back to Eddie, lips parted to speak, maybe to apologize to him for being so forward. All that comes out though, is the jarring echo of the lunch bell as it rings loudly through the cafeteria. You take that as an excuse to get out of the situation, and step down onto the bench between two of his little minions, then onto the floor. With your heart pounding in your chest like a drum, you make a beeline for the lockers. You’re practically running down the halls, and for what? To get away from Eddie? The guy you had just swapped spit with? And liked it?

After shaking his head free of the shock, Eddie hurriedly bins his lunch and takes off after you, leaving the boys to their own devices. He was panting quietly once he’d finally caught up to you. “Hey, just wait a minute, okay?”

You say nothing, and keep digging in your locker for a book you knew wasn’t there. You’d left it at home, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Come on, you can’t just plant something like that on me and run away, man.” You hear a thump against the locker next to you, and out of the corner of your eye, see him leaning his shoulder into it. You huff and keep digging.

“You really think I’d give you mono?” He asks, sounding hurt.

Forcing your breath out through your teeth, you stop digging, and lean back to look at him. Those puppy eyes…

“No,” you say, feeling bad that he even heard that to begin with. You shut the locker. “I don’t. But the point was that I’d rather suffer with y— errr suffer any sort of wicked sickness than be even remotely happy around him.”

“So… why’d you stop? Was it that bad?”

“No, actually. It wasn’t. I stopped because I… um, the bell was going to ring.” That was a lie. You stopped because your beating heart had sunk between your legs. Kissing him was a massive turn-on, but you weren’t about to admit that.

“That it did…” he starts, absentmindedly playing with a strand of his own hair. “And now we’re late.”

You narrow your eyes. His brows flick upwards and the tip of his tongue presses pointedly into his lower lip, a little glimmer of mischief in his expression. Ready to prove him wrong, your eyes dart to the clock above the lockers, the visual causing you to curse under your breath. You hadn’t even heard the second bell, but he was right. Three minutes past. And Mr. Jenkins? Didn’t let anyone in after the bell rang. Fucker. Eddie shimmies closer, his soft, brown eyes falling to your lips. He was smiling, watching you and looking like he was daydreaming about having those soft lips against his again.

“You wanna’... maybe show me what else you’d rather be doing than spending your time with brainless Ken dolls?”

You considered the offer for a moment. You had been pining after him since your first English class with him, and now… your split decision had thrown open the door to opportunity. When you’d tried to close it, Eddie had put his dirty white Reebok right in the way.

“Screw it, let’s go.”

“Yeah?” He confirms, excited.

“Yeah.”

Eddie wastes no time, taking hold of your hand as he passes you, towing you in the direction of the doors and out into the parking lot.

How did you end up here? In retrospect; you’d probably have to thank Jason for pissing you off that day, in that particular way that really drove you over the edge. Because if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been crawling into the back of Eddie Munson’s van while he stood behind you, looking at the gentle curve of your ass.

After throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder, making sure there weren’t any prying eyes watching the two of you, Eddie follows you inside and pulls the door shut behind him, the metal squeaking loudly. You sit down and cross your legs, resting against the interior wall. The inside of his van is warm, having baked in the sun all afternoon. Cassette tapes litter the floor behind the seats, and a Judas Priest shirt hangs over the headrest of the passenger seat. A few undisclosed cables are wadded up in the corner, you assume they were musical in nature. He seemed like the type. It’s exactly what you’d pictured his van to look like.

Eddie clears his throat. “Sorry about the… mess.”

You chuckle, looking brightly at him. “I don’t care. Plus, Judas Priest is rad. That song that came out last month… Turbo Lover? Gets stuck in my head all the time.”

Delighted by this reaction, Eddie knee-walks over to you, that same mischievous smile on his face as before. He leans down, exhaling over your lips before looking into your eyes with a burning curiosity.

“Why were you sitting at his table anyway? You don’t seem like his type.”

“His type? Gah, gross. No. We’re lab partners. Regrettably. Turns out, he’s kind of a massive dolt when it comes to science.” You pause and heave a sigh, your breath rushing out over his cheeks. He blinks. “I really don’t want to talk about Jason right now, Eddie.”

“Oh yeah, totally.” With that, his hand snaps to your jaw, where he holds it gently, his thumb stroking your cheek. “You wanna’ makeout or something?”

You can’t help but laugh, unsure if it’s because of the butterflies in your stomach, or because he’s kind of a dork. Smooth and very charming, but a dork all the same. You chalk it up to a combination of both and lean forward until the tips of your noses touch. “Yeah, Eddie, I wanna’ makeout. Again.”

This time, Eddie is the one to initiate the kiss. He presses his lips against yours softly a few times, your lips sticking together each time he pulls away. Relishing in the taste of you, he hums into the kiss, pressing himself closer to you. After a few moments, he breaks the kiss to readjust his position. The break is too long, it seems, because before you know it, he’s back to leaning over you and craning his neck down to kiss you from above. His hands drop to find your neck, his thumb trailing down over the front of it while the others stay tenderly wrapped around the side, squeezing slightly. The motion sends a deep shiver down your spine, reigniting the embers of your arousal. Eddie laughed breathily into the kiss.

“Quite the reaction…” he murmurs over your lips.

“Oh, shuttup.” Your hand makes a fist in his shirt, pulling him back onto you. “Keep kissing me.”

“As you wish.” He says dreamily, with lust woozying his speech. His voice is slightly deeper now, laced with hunger, and you whimper, pressing your knees together. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie notices this, and moves his free hand to your kneecaps, wriggling in between them to separate them. They fall apart with no resistance, and again, Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against your lips, sending a tickling wave over them. Your willingness almost embarrasses you, but when Eddie says nothing, only moves to slot himself in between your thighs, you realize that he’s into it.

“No need to be shy here, princess. Just you and me.”

Your hands wrap around his neck, fingers splaying out over his back. “God, you’re cute.”

“So are you.”

“No, you’re really cute.”

Eddie pulls away, furrowing his brow as if he’s confused. He is – he’s confused on whether or not you realize he thinks you’re a catch, too. You sense the confusion, and roll your hips up against his. His breath hitches in his throat, eyeing you pleadingly. It’s a warning – you can’t do things like that lest he lose control.

“Uuughh,” you moan. “I don’t know why it took me this long to kiss you.”

“Me neither.”

He presses his lips against yours again, his tongue slipping past the two plush pillows, tasting the waxiness of your lipstick. Swiping his tongue along yours, he deepened the kiss, enticing you to join in a painfully erotic dance of spit-swapping. He exhales hotly over your mouth and grinds his hips against yours, groaning softly into your mouth. You grind back, knowing exactly what you’re doing. You can feel what you’re doing to him; it was currently pressed against your inner thigh.

You reach down between your bodies, finding the warm bulge in the front of his black jeans and give him a soft squeeze. The sudden contact makes him lurch forward, crushing himself somehow further against you. He can’t get any closer to you without melting into your body which, in truth, makes him crazy. He makes a sound — something between a whine and a gasp — and ruts his hips against your center. The pressure has you reeling, pressing your back against the inside of the van.

“Eddie, fuck…”

“Yeah,” he echoes your sentiment, nodding his head so enthusiastically that his soft brown hair flutters.

“Can I…?”

He grins. “You can if I can. It’s only fair.”

You let your legs fall farther apart, granting him access. With a newfound urgency, you quickly yank on his waistband, pull the silver button from its slit and maneuver your hand inside the elastic of his boxers. On the way down, you rake your fingers through the thatch of brown hair above his cock. Eddie responds by tightening his grip on your neck instinctively. The tips of your fingers find the searing hot head of his cock, precum leaking from the slit. With an audible mmmm, you swipe your thumb over it, smearing around the underside of the tip. Eddie hisses through his teeth, rutting his hips over and over again – forcing you to jerk him off a little. The tip slides through your fist, slippery and warm and you can’t help but let out a satisfied sound.

“Wow,” you breathe, in awe. You weren’t sure what you expected, but feeling a cock this heavy wasn’t on the menu. You’d been with a few metalheads before, and they were all average at best. You thought he’d follow suit. Not heavy in your hand. But he is. God, he is. Eddie licks hungrily at your mouth before running his tongue along your bottom lip and taking it between his teeth, biting down slightly. You groan, pressing your head back against the wall.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you say, breathlessly before squeezing his cock again. It twitches in your grip, hardening just a little bit further. You can feel the tension in his lower abdomen every time you slip your hand deeper into his boxers, tugging at his cock as you slide back up.

His hands drop from your neck to your waist to your hips, his thumb making circles on the strip of exposed stomach flesh between your black leather skirt and your shirt. One hand sinks lower, moving from your hip to your leg, sliding against the pillowy, cream soft flesh of your inner thigh. It slides up your skirt, pressing against the nylons, and grazing your cunt from the outside. Inside his jeans, your hand starts to go slack, but Eddie quickly snaps you back to attention.

“I’m gonna’ need you to stay focused, baby. Don’t stop.”

“S-sorry.” You pick up the pace, stroking his cock again at a much steadier speed. He lets out a soft groan, the feeling of your hand gently stroking his dick sending him into a haze of pleasure. But, he, too, has to focus.

Eddie gets back to work, carefully undoing the zipper on the side of your skirt. He tugs, shimmying the skirt down over your hips and continues pulling until he pauses to pull your legs from the black circle, tossing it towards the van doors. Now, the only thing between him and your cunt is the fabric of your tights and your white satin underwear. You’re painfully aware of this fact and so is Eddie – the look on his face says it all. He sweeps you into another kiss.

It’s almost as if he was using the kiss as a distraction from the adept way he’s rolling your nylons off your hips and down your thighs. You almost don’t feel it and don’t notice until he’s got them down around your ankles.

“May I?”

“May you? What is this –” You asked, trying to tease him, but your voice is so high pitched, so feathery with lust, that it just sounds ridiculous. You huff and nod, giving him whatever permission he felt he needed.

His middle finger traces the visible slit in your underwear and embarrassingly, your whole body responds. From your legs snapping shut on his hand to the utterly humiliating moan that tumbled off your lips, there’s no coming back from that reaction. Eddie laughs quietly, almost devilishly and you relax your legs again.

“Sorry, I’ve… I’ve been…. Um…”

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart.”

“Oh god, fuck… I’ve kinda’ sorta’ had a thing for you since English with M–”

“Mrs. Lawrence? Last semester.”

Your mouth hung slack. He knew?

“You really thought you’d walk in, looking the way you do, and I wouldn’t remember?”

Your stomach tightens underneath your shirt; butterflies are erupting beneath the skin. Any further jabs to your heart and they actually might rupture through your ribcage.

His finger sweeps along your center again, before hooking around the scalloped edge of the panties and pulling them down over the curve of your hip. A clear, slick strand stretches between your cunt and the fabric before snapping. Eddie growls, a deeply pleased sound erupting from his throat.

Two fingers part your folds, sweeping tantalizingly at the underside of your clit before sliding down to your entrance. He prods the opening with his middle first, making tiny circles and spreading your arousal around your cunt. Finally, he inserts both fingers, sinking them to the knuckle. Moving his arm, you watch as the bats literally fly back and forth and let out a small, breathy laugh. The way he was working you felt so good, your hand instinctively tightened around his cock. Eddie shuffled closer, his knee in front of your cunt. Before you have time to react, Eddie abruptly takes hold of your left hand and brings it above your head, holding it tight against the wall of his van, his rings pressing into your fingers. Your digits tangle with his and he flays them open.

He continues thrusting his fingers in and out, watching your every move. You looked up and whined loudly; the sight of your smaller hand entangled with his larger one was divine, and sent another shockwave through your core. The coil in your stomach wound tighter, and tighter. Your body flushed with heat, and you were suddenly wishing you were naked underneath him. Eddie suddenly leans over you, pressing the side of his face against yours.

“I’m your turbo lover…” He sings quietly in your ear, his tone honeyed and low, absolutely dripping with sex appeal. Your eyes roll back in your head, your jaw falling open. “...tell me there’s no other…”

“Oh fuck, Eddie, oh my god-!”

At the singing, your needy pussy clenched around his digits, shivering violently. His thumb moves to your swollen, tender clit, rubbing it back and forth expertly. The coil snaps, and you moan loudly, banging your head against the wall a few times.

“OH MY GOD!”

You shouldn’t have found it so hot, but the way he sung the lyrics into your ear sent a wave of electricity through your entire body. As the sound of your moans reach his ears, Eddie groans and bucks his hips rhythmically, pumping himself closer to the edge of orgasm.

After a few more pumps from you, his back arches and he groans your name – another surprise that he knows that – as his hot, sticky release coats your fingers as wave after wave of pleasure surges through him. The flushed, pink tip was exposed enough that when he does finally lose it, the first spurts of cum find their way onto your shirt. He doesn’t notice right away, still thrusting his hips into your loose fist. Finally, he brings his head forward to look at you again. His chest is heaving, panting from the exertion, and his eyes trail from your face down to your shirt. The wanton look is replaced with one of horror.

“Jesus, I’m sorry! Here uh,” Eddie paused, stretching over to yank the shirt from the seat. “Wear this. I promise it’s clean. Decently… uh… clean.”

You didn’t care if it wasn’t. The fact that he had given you his shirt because he accidentally came on yours was single handedly the cutest thing you’d ever had a guy do for you. You withdrew your hand from his boxers, and he let go of your other hand. Quickly, you pulled your shirt over your head and wadded it up in a ball, setting it next to you. His shirt was baggy, but you quickly remedy that by tying the front in a knot. The way that Eddie’s eyes skirted over your breasts wasn’t lost on you. You smirk.

“Think Mr. Jenkins noticed we were both gone?” He asks as you fluff your hair.

“Probably. F’s for both of us.”

Eddie smiles.

You look down at the shirt, trying to talk your blushing cheeks down. “I’ll give this back to you. Remind me.”

“Sure,” he says, not fully convinced he wants it back. He likes the idea of you wearing his shirt around school. A dirty little reminder of what occurred. “You should come to one of our meetings.”

“Meetings?” You ask, quirking a brow.

“Yeah,” he says, plucking his shirt. Your eyes drift down to the red, snarling demon on his chest. The words Hellfire Club crown the demon, decorated with medieval looking weapons.

“Right, right. Dungeons and Dragons… I’ve never played it.”

“I’ll teach you, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

[PART TWO HERE]

#jesus h CHRIST i hope this is well received lmao #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #myfics

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arolesbianism · 1 year ago

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If I had the freedom of not knowing there is going to be future new lore stuff added to oni I would do unspeakable things to so many of these guys. Or Id just make them normal guys who just sorta exist. Either or.

#rat rambles #oni posting #let it be known that the second we have any sort of base of scientist ari's character and job Im going to go buck wild #I'm not even the biggest ari fan but idk I've been thinking a lot abt them lately #not anything concrete for obvious reasons but still they have so much potential #like tbh I wouldnt be surprised if theyre already technically in the logs as one of the randos I know theyre klei's second favorite child #I say second favorite because we all know meep is the favorite #anyways I hope ari does smth mildly fucked up when they do inevitably become relevant I think thatd be fun #or maybe theyll just be another artifact namedrop and never be mentioned again but I doubt it #you see meep is a man of few words he only needs to be implied through one email to leave his mark #ari needs to do smth a bit fucked up and then not elaborate I think thats the most fun ari play #as in I think itd be funny if they were like involved in smth super important but it's only briefly implied in a log where theyre talking #abt smth irrelevant and unrelated #my vote is them either being involved in the employee kidnapping or being involved in the dna stealing #yknow we still dont know who the duo in bioengineering that was mentioned once are #the only potential duo I can think of would be maybe liam and ada but idk if theyd be involved in that specifically #I think they very well could have been tho and it would be kinda fun #plus it'd give us more insight as to who could hypothetically be in the know abt the inner workings of the duplicant project #because that would mean that the plant guy could also be in the know #as in it would draw the critter and plant bioengineering ppl closer to the actual duplicant stuff itself #which would make some sense for them to be aware of the dupes but the extent of that knowledge is a question that remains #but yeah other than those two I can't rly think of any duos that are both in bioengineering #like liam isnt comfirmed but he also isnt explicitly in a different department so hes still an option #banhi and bubbles cant be it since banhi is in robotics #and every other duo falls into a similar situation or are just not in bioengineering at all #its probably not that relevant of a detail but I think its fun to speculate #but yeah Im excited to learn more abt all these guys in the future as long as it's not ellie she can explode (affectionate but still)#oh also no first hand nikola second hand nikola is fine tho #oh also I hope gossmann only gets a first initial I don't wanna know her first name #itd be so heartbreaking if they walked out and declared her full name was like tiffany gossmann or smth like that

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jedi-starbird · 1 year ago

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Time Travel is my favourite trope and I think we need more fics where both Obi-Wan AND Qui-Gon time travel together because no matter when they get sent it's chaos. They're saving the galaxy and being physic flash-bangs to everyone around them.

like before Bandomeer?

The entire council is baffled to watch as Qui-Gon 'never taking a padawan again' Jinn has suddenly cut off his post-Xanatos depression tour to return to the temple and beeline to the creche with a frantic energy. His wild eyes immediately single out a fluffy, red-haired initiate.

"You." he exhales with a pointed finger, slightly ominous as he towers over the child. Said child starts vibrating with delight. "Me." he agrees, launching himself at the man. Qui-Gon drops to his knees with a thud that cannot be healthy. Obi-Wan's attempts to clamber into Qui-Gon's robes and maybe onto his shoulders is thwarted by the fact that Qui-Gon's massive hands are cupping Obi-Wan's tiny squishy cheeks. He stares at the initiate for a few minutes with an intensity that is starting to worry people.

Finally, "You're so small." Qui-Gon sounds like he might cry.

'What the fuck?' Plo Koon projects at Mace.

"I'm 9! That tends to be the case!" the child chirps back.

"You're nine." Oh. Ah. Qui-Gon's eyes are distinctively misty. He squishes the boy in a hug so hard he squeaks. Mace makes a series of gestures that imply the need for a head-scan. Depa obligingly drifts off towards the halls. Qui-Gon scoops the child up onto his hip and claims him as his padawan on the spot. The assorted council members and creche-masters burst into noise. Mace tells Depa to bring some space ibuprofen as well.

after Naboo?

Anakin is a little apprehensive of his place in both the order and Obi-Wan's life, but then one day Obi-Wan wakes up and is suddenly a lot less sad in the force?? In fact, if Anakin didn't know better he'd say he was almost giddy, but he's watched Obi-Wan try to pretend his world hasn't fallen apart for the past few months so it can't be that, right? And um, Miss Bant? He knows grief is a funny thing that affects people differently but he's pretty sure 'massive mood swing' and 'having full conversations with invisible people' is not...great? and you said to tell you if Obi-Wan got really weird in any way.

Anyway after a lot of medical exams, intense consultation with the archives, and a couple exorcisms, Anakin ends up being raised by his 'real' master and his ghost master. He is far more well adjusted emotionally and far less well adjusted for what counts as normal people behavior(not talking to thin air). When questioned on this, all he ever says is that he's talking to Qui-Gon. Isn't he...dead? Well, yes. Wait, he's a ghost? Ghosts are real? ...Well this ghost is real.

This starts a great number of existential crises among non-force sensitives and incredibly heated theological arguments amongst the Jedi. Whenever Obi-Wan is questioned on this, all he ever says is some variation of "the force got to know him for 5 seconds and kicked him back out." Mace backs him up on this even though that reasoning is technically blasphemous. Qui-Gon is having the time of his un-life. He's ascended to his final form, his sheer existence is a heresy, this is truly all he has ever aspired towards.

the Clone Wars?

The minute they get dropped back Qui-Gon immediately goes and haunts the shit out of Dooku. They have a signed terms of surrender and promise of info on the Sith Lord within the year. Only half of it is because Qui-Gon's giving Dooku complexes that are only perceptible to shrimp, the other half is because they now have a ghost spy that is not bound by the laws of physics nor spacetime.

Obi-Wan only nominally pays attention to this as he immediately goes and implements his 19 step seduction plan with Cody (he had to focus on something on Tatooine to pass the time). It fails. Spectacularly. Publicly. Ah right. Tatooine was not exactly the height of his sanity. Everyone in the GAR and temple is now riveted by High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempts to go on a date with his Commander, who bats him away him like a particularly annoying stray and seems one bouquet of cactus away from committing mutiny. Anakin is worrying if it means his master knows about his secret marriage and this is some sort of really weird power play. (It is, but not in the way he thinks)

The next time Dooku goes after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon spends a good few months appearing tear-stained at the edge of Dooku's perception and only communicating in terrible wails and discordant mutterings of 'padawan. my padawan. my little one.' 24/7.

"Wait, you're annoying Dooku into surrendering?"

"Oh no Anakin, we're crushing his psyche like a bug. :)"

#everyone feel free to use these i crave more time travel fics #the sheer power qui gon would have as a fully communicating force ghost before and during the clone wars is astounding #qui gon with baby obi wan is like inconsolable sobs cause he never saw him this small and then his life was so sad and he couldnt even hug #him on tatooine but now look at his boy!!! so small and huggable!!!!#they absolutely weaponise baby obi against others his wet cat eyes are 1000% stronger now #they drop him in dookus lap like look grandpadawan:)#if you hold the grandpadawan maybe your sith behaviour will calm down :/#anyway them together is like they throw enough bullshit into the air to blind everyone while they speedrun important changes in the back #after naboo is like everyone offering obi wan condolences and obi responding yeah im going to need them the fucker wont stay down #star wars #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #qui gon and obi wan #fic ideas #time travel shenanigans #codywan #anakin skywalker #disaster lineage #count dooku

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atlabeth · 6 months ago

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unadulterated loathing (pt 2)

pt 1 / pt 3

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner with fiyero on a history project. things don't go as you imagine.

a/n: sprinkling anthony bridgerton references in this because wreck my plans that's my man!! anyways this is actually going to be 3 parts because i have zero self control and ended up writing 15k words in total and im trying to see whether i like posting parts or doing one whole one shot more so there's going to be a third part. but for once in my writer life i have the whole thing written so it will be out in a couple days! have no idea how this fic became this long out of nowhere but i hope you all enjoy lol. stressed reader x calm bf will always be famous on this blog

wc: 4.9k

warning(s): almost cheating? fiyero is still w/ galinda for most of this so the line is very blurred but they dont cross it lmao. the slightest bit of angst but basically all fluff

“Isn’t this nice?” Fiyero spread his arms out as you took a seat in the grass. Idly, you wondered about getting grass stains out before he started talking again. “Fresh air, actual sunlight, and things to look at other than words on a page.”

“I do go outside,” you said wryly. “You act like I’m some hermit.”

He shrugged. “I only ever see you in class or at the library.”

“I’m just there most of the time,” you said with a slight laugh. “I’m not this smart by slacking off.”

Fiyero said your name with surprise. “Was that a joke?”

You laughed again. “Hardly.”

“I think it was,” he nodded. “You really are learning how to have fun.”

“I know how to have fun!” you exclaimed. “We just have different ideas of fun!”

“And what is your idea of fun?” Fiyero asked pointedly. “Studying? Attending class? Going through the intricacies of various languages?”

“That last one is very fun,” you defended.

“How did you decide on linguistics anyways?” he asked. “You’re incredibly passionate about something I didn’t even know was a major here.”

“It’s not, technically.” You shrugged. “I’m a history major. I just convinced Doctor Dillamond to let me be his teacher’s assistant so I could include more linguistics lessons in the syllabus.”

“How do you do it?” he asked. “Oz— why do you do it? You’re stressed all the time. Surely taking one less class or not being a TA wouldn’t kill you. All of this seems like it is.”

“I’m not like you, Fiyero,” you said. “I can’t get kicked out of a hundred schools and still be fine. I’ve got one chance, and if I squander it, then I’ve also squandered my dream. And that’s unacceptable to me.”

“There’s always second chances,” he said. “And third ones, too. Sometimes even fourth.”

“Maybe for a prince,” you laughed. “But not for somebody like me.”

“And just who are you?” Fiyero asked as he sat down next to you. “I know you’re Gillikinese and I know you’re probably going to succeed in whatever you attempt. But I still feel like I don’t know anything about who you are without the school uniform.”

“Why does that matter?” you asked defensively. “We’re project partners, not friends.”

“Because I’d very much like us to be friends,” he answered simply.

That might have been the most shocking thing he’d said all day. Fiyero Tigelaar, Winkie prince and self-declared slacker and desired paramour of nearly every Shiz student, said he wanted to be your friend.

Again, that warmth bloomed inside you. You tried to ignore it—tried to fully banish it.

“Don’t do this,” you said, looking away from him.

“Do what?”

“Act like you like me,” you said, stronger this time. “You— you do it with everyone, and that’s fine, but don’t do it with me.”

“I’m not following,” Fiyero said.

You glared at him. “I know you aren’t this daft.”

“Apologies,” he said. “I’m just trying to figure out how you figured I don’t genuinely like you.”

You blinked. “Because you’re you. You flirt with everybody so you can dance through life.”

“Of course,” Fiyero agreed. “It just so happens that I genuinely like you in addition.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why?”

His laugh was nothing but shocked. “Are you asking me why I like you?”

“Well,” you glanced away with a huff, “when you put it like that it sounds ridiculous.”

“I’ll bite anyways,” Fiyero said. “I like you because you know what you want. You never really stop talking about it, honestly.”

“Are you trying to compliment me?”

“You’re intelligent and driven and you don’t shy away from anything you want,” he continued. “And you thoroughly vex me in near every encounter we have, most joyously.”

“…So you like me because I’m stubborn and confusing,” you said.

Fiyero sighed. “You‘ve got some serious self esteem issues.”

“I do not!” you exclaimed.

“You’ve tied your worth to your academic achievement,” he said. “You can’t see all the good you’ve already done, how smart you truly are, because you only stress about the next thing you need to do. You’d rather lose your mind over what’s to come than realize all you’ve got in the moment.”

Your mouth opened and closed for a good five seconds, like a fish out of water, before it snapped shut.

“I thought you were supposed to be brainless,” you settled on.

“I am,” Fiyero agreed with a chuckle. “But I also know people better than most, and our study sessions have given me ample time to study you.”

Great Oz, why was your face so hot? You felt like you were burning up from the inside out. Fiyero Tigelaar was killing you, and slowly at that.

“Why are you studying me?” you asked pointedly.

“Because you’re interesting,” he said. “And very beautiful.”

“Well, I’m— I’m glad we’ve finally reached a truce.” You tried to sound as casual as possible—you couldn’t let Fiyero know the full effect he was beginning to have on you. You didn’t think he would ever shut up about that, and Galinda certainly wouldn’t either. You didn’t want to make an enemy of her. “It’ll make this project much easier.”

“Yes,” Fiyero mused. “I believe it will.”

Amusement, and maybe something warmer, danced in his irises. A very small part of you wanted to let yourself fall, freely and uncaring, just as every other student did.

You had to lock that part of you away, never to be seen again. You didn’t like Fiyero. He was still a nuisance in every single sense of the word.

You swallowed, trying to cure your cottonmouth. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.

You needed to finish this essay immediately.

You sighed when you heard a knock on your door. Coralie, for how smart she was, had a habit of forgetting her room key—so much so that you’d stopped bothering to lock the door on the days she went to class before you.

“It’s unlocked, Cora!” you called out. You didn’t want to get up from your desk, not when you were in the middle of writing. You were worried that you would lose the thread of inspiration you’d finally caught the moment you got out of your chair.

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” a familiar voice said. “All sorts of miscreants could get in.”

Your hand slipped in your shock, but you couldn’t even be annoyed about smearing the fresh ink on the page or getting it on your shirt cuffs because you had more important things to worry about. Namely, your surprise visitor.

“Fiyero?”

“Present,” he affirmed as he leaned against your doorframe. “You’ve got a nice place here.”

“Thank you,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

“Much less pink than Galinda’s,” he continued. “I think it’s the only color she owns, honestly. A bit absurd but—”

“What are you doing here?” you repeated.

“I should be asking you that question,” Fiyero said, eyes narrowing in on you. “I went to the library and you weren’t there.”

You cleared your throat. “I was giving you the day off.”

He frowned and stood up from the doorframe. “Who said I wanted the day off?”

“You,” you said. “When you didn’t show up to Doctor Dillamond’s class today.”

Fiyero brushed his hand through the air. “That’s different.”

You looked at him expectantly. “So you skipped the class this project is for, but you don’t want to skip the actual project.”

“That sounds about right, yes.”

“You don’t even do anything whenever we’re together,” you said. “You just stare at me and complain about doing work and ask me about my life and take an hour to write one page of notes.”

“That also sounds about right,” Fiyero said. “I enjoy your presence. Do you not enjoy mine?”

If only he knew the way he’d been making you feel for the past week. He could never know that he appeared in your dream last night.

“...Your presence is fine,” you said. “I just figured I would give you the day off, seeing as we only have one week left until it’s due.”

“How much have you written already without me?” he asked.

“Five pages, but that—”

“You’ve nearly done half of the project without me?” Fiyero interrupted.

“...Yes?” Why did you actually feel bad about this?

Fiyero got closer so he could look over your shoulder at your work, and you found yourself holding your breath at his proximity.

“Do you think you’re doing me a favor?”

“Clearly,” you said. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner it’s over, and the sooner you don’t have to deal with me anymore.” You shrugged. “You said you wanted to ride my coattails anyways, so I figured I would make it easier for you.”

“Just a few days ago you were chastising me for not doing my part,” Fiyero said. “Now you’re not even letting me try?”

“I—” the words stuck in your throat, and again you felt your face heat.

I don’t want to have to think about any of this more than I have to because I’m worried what I’ll realize.

I don’t want to give you any more chances to take me off course because I know I’ll say yes.

I don’t want to be around you longer than I have to because I think I’m starting to like you.

“Yes?”

“I am doing you a favor,” you finally decided. “You don’t have to worry about it. Go ride that horse of yours, or bother other students, or spend time with Galinda. You’ve earned it.”

“Hardly,” Fiyero said. “I’m doing my part, whether you like it or not. We’ll meet at the library tomorrow morning before class like we’ve been doing.”

“I have class at 8 in the morning tomorrow.”

“...Then we’ll do it after class,” he reneged. “I do need my beauty sleep.”

That got a smile out of you, which spurned one from Fiyero in turn. “I think that is one of the only genuine smiles you’ve given me since we started working together.”

“I smile plenty,” you insisted.

“At your books,” Fiyero said. “Not at me.”

“That’s because my books are oh-so-beautiful,” you said. “And they don’t even need beauty sleep.”

He placed his hand on his heart. “You wound me.”

Your smile grew and you set your pen down. “The library after class?”

Fiyero nodded and tapped on your desk as he stood up. “Library after class.”

He was about to go to the door when Coralie poked her head in. “Why is the door— oh! Fiyero!” She straightened up, plastering on a pretty smile as she stepped inside. “What brings you to our corner of Shiz?”

“Doctor Dillamond’s midterm,” he said. “Your roommate here is trying to save all of the fun for herself.”

“That sounds like her,” Cora nodded sagely. “You’re very good to try and keep her from that fate.”

Fiyero pressed his hand to his chest. “I consider it my duty. But I apologize for the intrusion—I’ll leave the two of you be.”

“Oh, stay as long as you want,” she spoke up. “I’m sure your partner wouldn’t mind.”

“He’s got things to do,” you interceded. “You’ve got things to do, Fiyero.”

He smiled knowingly. “I certainly do. You lovely ladies have a fine rest of your day.” He looked at you and said your name. “Don’t forget tomorrow.”

“How could I?” you said weakly.

Fiyero chuckled and bowed his head in lieu of more parting words. The second he left, Cora turned to you with wide eyes.

“Don’t,” you warned.

“He came here to talk to you!” she exclaimed. “He found out your room number because he wanted to talk to you!”

“Be quiet!” you exclaimed. “The door is still open—he can probably hear your screeching!”

Coralie shut the door and squealed. “He likes you!”

“We are project partners,” you enunciated. “Nothing more.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s what you think,” she said. “Just like I’m sure that he wants to be more.”

“You’re acting like he isn’t with Galinda,” you said. “She controls this whole school—do you remember what happened to Elphaba when she didn’t like her?”

Cora shrugged. “Sure. But I’ve been hearing there’s trouble in paradise.”

That got you paying attention. “What?”

“I knew it!” Coralie exclaimed—nearly yelled, honestly. “I knew you liked him!”

“Be quiet!” you whisper-yelled. “Oz, what is wrong with you?”

“I knew you liked him!” she repeated. “And he likes you— oh, it is too perfect!”

“He does not like me,” you insisted, “and you are crazy.”

“You didn’t say that you didn’t like him,” Coralie sung, and you screwed your eyes shut.

“Fine!” you finally said. “Fine— I like him. Will you stop now?”

“Of course not,” she said, and you sighed. “How bad do you have it?”

“I don’t have it bad,” you scoffed. “I just— I enjoy spending time with him. And I think he’s kind of cute.”

“Oh, you are full on head over heels,” she mused. “You just don’t know it. It’s okay.”

You groaned as you buried your head in your hands. “I hate you.”

She laughed. “And you like Fiyero.”

“Shut up.” Your words were muffled, but you meant them all the same.

You were comically doomed.

The next day went… shockingly smooth.

Fiyero was in the library when he said he’d be—he was even there before you, much to your surprise and he still had the notebook and pen you’d given him, much to his surprise. He made sure to bring an extra canteen of water for you, because he noticed you never had any with you. You were probably concerningly dehydrated.

He tried to be a more attentive student to you than he’d ever been at any of his classes—not that that was difficult. You explained your outline and all the work you’d already done, what he could do on the last five pages and how to make his writing voice match yours to make a consistent paper.

He wrote notes both on what you knew about Ilara Mayfair (a ridiculous amount, in his opinion) and anything else you thought he needed to know (also a ridiculous amount).

He was impressed most of all, though. No wonder you’d isolated yourself from near the entire student body and stressed over every letter in every sentence in every assignment. You were incredibly intelligent, but you were also able to explain everything in a way that even he understood. Fiyero had never really cared about… well, anything relating to school before he ended up partners with you.

But now, Fiyero found himself surprisingly entranced by it all. He’d always liked your voice, and he had a permanent smile on his lips watching you talk so easily about your passions. It put a spark in your eye and a brightness about you that was usually bogged down by everything else that you stressed about.

You were beautiful, especially when you were happy. And Fiyero had discovered over the past week that you were happiest when you got to talk about what you cared about to an interested audience. He only regretted acting like he wasn’t interested for so long.

Finally, when Fiyero called a break on account of his hands aching (he’d never written this much in his life, and it still was only half of what you did basically every day), and you were eating an apple (that he also brought, because you really didn’t take care of yourself when you were doing work, which was always), he smiled at you.

“You know, we really do make a good team,” Fiyero said.

You swallowed the bite of apple you had in your mouth and cocked your head as you looked at him. “You think?”

“I know,” he nodded. “You’ve done the impossible, darling. You’ve actually made me care about school.”

“Well, I think you’ve done the impossible too.” You lifted the apple up. “You made me care about my health during midterms season.”

“It certainly wasn’t easy,” he said wryly. “You kind of took it all kicking and screaming.”

You shrugged. “I’m not top of our class for nothing.”

“Do you have to stress yourself into misery to be top of the class?” he asked.

“I’m not miserable,” you retorted.

It was when you said things like that that Fiyero really began to worry about you. It was part of the reason he was so intent on staying by your side through this whole project—no matter how dull he found the material—after the first session. He sometimes saw you around campus, usually carrying a stack of books or talking with your roommate.

After Fiyero was paired with you, he wondered why he didn’t see you more before it all, considering how active you were with literally everything school-wise. Then he realized you were likely always in the library, and the only time he’d visited the library was on Galinda’s tour. You were there, well enough, but you took your leave as soon as things started getting rowdy.

A shame, he realized. He wondered what your relationship could have been had Galinda not staked her claim on him so soon.

You weren’t going to take care of yourself, clearly enough, so Fiyero decided—at least for the duration of this project—that he would. It didn’t really matter if you were top of the class if you passed out from stress, exhaustion, annoyance, or a mix of all three. Likely a mix of all three.

He didn’t really anticipate those feelings morphing into genuine affection.

“I seem to recall you saying you dream of your future assignments,” Fiyero said, coming out of his thoughts. “That doesn’t sound like the habit of a happy person.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “Everybody has stress dreams.”

“You know, I really don’t think they do,” Fiyero said.

You rolled your eyes as you picked your pen up with your free hand and jotted down a few more sentences. “Sure.”

“On that note,” he said, “why don’t we call it a day?”

“We can’t call it a day,” you said. You took another bite from your apple and swallowed, continuing to write all the while without looking at him. “We’re not finished yet.”

“That is the most casually you’ve said that so far,” Fiyero mused. “I really am making progress.”

You laughed, finally paying him mind. “Progress with what?”

“I’ve been tracking your smiles and laughs this whole time,” he said. “See, this essay was your project, but that was mine—trying to make you enjoy your life.”

“This essay is both of our projects, Fiyero,” you said. “Besides, I don’t think Doctor Dillamond will accept your bar graph of all the times I laughed at you making a fool of yourself.” You frowned. “Or would it be a line graph because it’s over time? Or maybe it could be—”

“Alright,” he interrupted. “You’re going into hypotheticals on my joke. That’s clearly the sign that we need to call it a day.”

“…Fine,” you reneged. “But it’s just a break, not calling it a day. And I get to finish proofreading the rest of the essay when we get back.”

“A compromise,” Fiyero said. “Love it.”

You rolled your eyes as you started gathering your things. “You love everything.”

“Eh,” he tilted his head, and you felt his eyes on you. “Most things.”

You couldn’t help your smile, much as you tried to bite it back. “Whatever.”

Soon enough, you and Fiyero were sitting together by the dock. You let your legs dangle over as you watched the scenery around campus—the ripple of the water, the gentle brush of the wind, the chirping birds that flew around without a care.

“Isn’t this nice?” Fiyero asked. He also had his legs over the edge, but he’d laid down against the stone.

“You don’t have to push your relaxation propaganda so hard anymore,” you said wryly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“And I’m grateful for it,” he said. “Someone that works as hard as you do deserves to relax the same amount.”

“We’ve gone over this a thousand times—”

“I know,” he interrupted. He turned his head to smile at you. “I just have to hope that some of it sticks.”

You rolled your eyes, once again unable to hide your smile. “And I have to hope for the same with this paper. Do you think you’ll remember any of this once we turn it in?”

“Oh, but of course. You were the one to teach it to me, after all. I could hardly forget it all.”

“Good,” you said. “Everyone should know about Ilara Mayfair.”

Fiyero chuckled, and you once again fell into comfortable silence.

That was the thing that shocked you the most, you think. Not that you were beginning to like Fiyero, or that you actually liked Fiyero, or that you actually looked forward to spending time with him. It was that you were so comfortable just sitting with him in silence.

It was very difficult to get to the silence, though. Fiyero couldn’t really stay quiet, and you didn’t know if he liked talking or the sound of his own voice. But you found it didn’t really annoy you like it used to.

Great Oz. You really were into him. How embarrassing.

Eventually, when the strain in your wrists and fingers from writing had finally faded, you turned your head to look at Fiyero. “I think it’s time we go back.”

He sighed. “Already?”

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” you said. “Far longer than the breaks I usually take.”

He opened his mouth, likely to say something of the same ‘you need to relax’ ilk, but you held up your hand. “Don’t. Just be thankful you got me away for this long.”

Fiyero smiled, and he pulled himself up off the ground. “I always am.”

He held his hand out, and you stared at him for a moment. “Why do you always do that?”

“Help you up?”

You nodded. “I can do it myself.”

He shrugged. “I told you it was my project to make your life easier.”

“You said it was your project to track my happiness,” you said.

“And they go hand in hand,” he said. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“It happened thirty minutes ago, Fiyero,” you said wryly. “Besides, I remember everything. It’s a gift.”

Fiyero laughed, and you finally took his hand. He pulled you up and once again, you tumbled a bit too close—and again, his hand fell to your waist. He had to be doing this on purpose by now.

“We keep finding ourselves in this position,” Fiyero mused.

Heat flooded your cheeks like usual. “And whose fault is that?”

“Well,” he said, tilting his head, “you’re not exactly pulling away.”

Your mouth opened, trying to think of what words to say when your head was reeling from his mere presence. But then you saw a flash of pink in the background, and your eyes darted away from Fiyero.

Galinda. She was distracted, talking with Pfannee and Shenshen as she went down the stairs. Oz, how did she slip your mind so easily whenever Fiyero was in your proximity? Why did you let him get this close when he was spoken for?

You panicked—nothing less. You tore out of Fiyero’s grasp with a bit too much gumption, and then you stumbled, then you slipped, and then you fell. Fiyero called your name in shock, reaching his hand out, but it was too late. You’d plunged into the water before you could save yourself.

The cold water instantly shocked all your senses, your eyes widening as you gasped out on instinct. Your mouth filled with water and your muscles seized up from the change in temperature—it was so much deeper than you’d imagined, and all your layers of clothing weighing you down were of no use.

You tried your damnedest to ignore the alarm bells going off in your head as you fought against yourself, finally gathering the sense to swim. You kicked your way up to the top, gasping for air once when you breached the surface.

You heard Fiyero yell your name again and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear the water from your eyes. When everything finally came into focus, you saw him on his knees, his coat shed and his sleeves rolled up.

His eyes were wide as he reached his hand out, once again saying your name—this time with a certain desperation. “Are you alright?”

You tried to respond but all you could do was cough, trying to expel the water from your lungs. You took his hand and he helped pull you up onto the dock, where an exhale shuddered out of you.

“I— I am so sorry,” he stammered. It was the first time you’d ever seen him flustered, and you were too busy hacking up a lung to point it out. “Obviously I didn’t think—”

You held up your hand in lieu of saying something, as you didn’t think you could say something.

This was so stupid, and it was something that never would have happened before you and Fiyero started working together. Your paper was due in two days, you’d only just finished the draft, you still had so much proofreading and rewriting to do, and instead, you were here on the docks soaked to the bone.

And you found yourself laughing.

“Oh, Oz,” Fiyero said. “You’ve lost it.”

You couldn’t refute it, because you kept laughing. You could feel the eyes of your classmates on you, could hear them whispering to each other—likely making fun of you—and it only made you laugh harder.

“Are—” Fiyero chuckled nervously as he said your name, “are you okay?”

“I’m soaked,” you got out through your laughs. “And everyone saw me fall into the water. I’m a fool, Fiyero!”

He was still staring at you in that careful way, as if you were made of glass. “I can’t tell if you’re mad or not.”

“Oh, Fiyero.” You wiped the trailing water off of your face and wrapped your arms around him. You felt him freeze beneath you for the slightest moment—it had to have been the last thing he expected you to do. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Fiyero returned the hug, his movements still unsure. He didn’t seem to care that you were getting him wet, just about your wellbeing. “What— what for, exactly?”

For a moment, you couldn’t look away. His blue eyes were meant to enrapture, his soft lips typically an invitation sealed with a smirk. But for once, Fiyero looked genuine—he wasn’t putting on a performance, or trying to seduce anyone who looked at him. He was genuinely sorry, genuinely confused. It only made you laugh again.

“What for, indeed.” A higher voice pierced through the air, and you separated from Fiyero immediately. Galinda, to no surprise, had found her way over to the chaos you’d created, her compatriots flanking her on either side. She smiled at you brightly, but her whole demeanor was like a violin string pulled taut.

“Galinda,” Fiyero said. “Lovely to see you.” He didn’t seem half as shocked as you at her appearance, but his words fell flat.

“And you as well, dearest.” Her smile turned sickly sweet as she shifted her attention to Fiyero momentarily, taking the opportunity to lace her fingers with his and pull him into a kiss. He pulled away first, but if it affected Galinda, she didn’t let it show when she looked back at you. She batted her eyelashes as she said your name incorrectly. “What was it you were saying?”

The sudden combination of cottonmouth and sour guilt creeping up your throat didn’t really help your already flustered state. She knew what she was doing—but you did too, didn’t you?

She was with Fiyero. You knew that. And though Fiyero danced across the line, you took his hand every time he offered.

“I—” you cleared your throat, attempting a casual smile of your own. “Just that I know why Doctor Dillamond put us together.”

“Excellent,” Fiyero said. “Off-topic, but excellent— are you sure you didn’t hit your head down there?”

“Perhaps you should go to the nurse,” Galinda said. “I’m sure Shenshen could—”

“I’ll be fine,” you interrupted, your smile tightening ever so slightly. You looked at Fiyero. “Meet me at the library tonight, and bring coffee. We’re finishing this project tonight.

“Of course,” he nodded.

You nodded as well, and you started to go. Galinda’s gaze was sugary sweet poison, and you couldn’t take the weight of it anymore.

“Wait,” Fiyero spoke up.

You stopped against your better judgment, and he let go of Galinda’s hand to take his jacket off. He moved closer to you and wrapped it around you. His touch, light but certain, lingered on your shoulders once he’d finished adjusting it, and his gaze stayed on yours

“Until you can change,” he said.

“...Thank you,” you said.

Galinda cleared her throat extremely loudly, her taut smile back. You remembered yourself and stepped away from Fiyero.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you said, already starting on your way. You wouldn’t let him stop you again.

“Tonight,” he agreed, bowing his head in parting.

You only glanced back once you were by the stairs. When you did, you saw Galinda speaking rapidly to Fiyero—you were too far away to hear anything, but she didn’t look happy. When your gaze drifted to him, you found he was already looking at you. Almost subconsciously, you tugged his jacket tighter around you. When you realized what you were doing, you stopped. You averted your eyes immediately and hurried up the stairs.

You weren’t out of breath from exertion.

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