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kwilquib · 29 days ago

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We can't be Friends Anymore

Yuqi (🐶) x Male Reader (📖)

switching pov

Word Count: 13.6k

a/n: tried experimenting with switching pov in 2nd person, and testing some dividers format.

The campus hums—students sprawl on the lawn or dart between classes. You’re propped against the library railing, nursing a half-hearted coffee, when familiar faces roll up.

“Yo, isn’t Yuqi your friend?” one of them asks, a little too casually.

You already know where this is going.

“She is,” you confirm, watching as they exchange looks.

“So, she’s actually single?” another cuts in, voice skeptical. “No hidden boyfriend? No messy situationship?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Nope. No secret anything. Just her and her oversized ego.”

That seems to encourage them. Someone whistles low. “Damn. Think I got a shot?”

You pretend to consider it. “Honestly? Go for it.”

That gets a reaction—a few surprised laughs, one guy nudging the other in mock encouragement.

“I mean it,” you continue, shrugging. “Might do her some good to have someone other than textbooks and late-night ramen occupying her brain. She hyper-fixates way too much on school.”

“She does look kinda intense,” one of them admits.

“Oh, she’s a menace,” you say easily. “But here’s the thing—Yuqi’s also insanely narcissistic. If you confess to her, she’d eat that up. She lives to be reminded how pretty she is.”

That earns a round of laughter.

“So you’re saying I should just walk up to her, tell her she’s gorgeous, and I’m in?”

You smirk. “Depends. Can you handle being ignored for two weeks when she gets too busy? Or her texting you at 2 AM just to brag about an exam score?”

The guy groans. “Yeah, nah. I don’t have the mental strength for that.”

Another one shakes his head. “Dude, why’s it sound like you’re feeding us to the wolves?”

You lift a brow. “Hey, you’re the ones asking.”

They chuckle, muttering something about how Yuqi’s beauty really is a waste if she’s just gonna be married to academia forever. You don’t think much of it—this isn’t the first time people have asked you about her, and it won’t be the last.

Besides, it’s not like it matters to you.

“Asking about what?”

The voice cuts through the conversation, unmistakable and laced with curiosity.

You don’t even have to turn around. You already know.

Yuqi stands there, arms crossed, one brow raised in that signature I-know-you’re-up-to-something expression. She looks effortlessly put together despite probably running on four hours of sleep and an unreasonable amount of caffeine. Her oversized hoodie hangs loosely off one shoulder, and she’s got that ever-present glint of amusement in her eyes—sharp, calculating, and just a little too pleased with catching you off guard.

The group stiffens. One guy actually takes half a step back, like she might call him out by name.

You take your time, sipping your drink before finally acknowledging her. “Oh, nothing much. Just these guys wondering if you’re single and available.”

Her gaze flicks toward them, slow and deliberate.

“Hmm.” She taps her chin, pretending to think. “And? What did you tell them?”

You smirk. “Told them to go for it. That you’d love being reminded how pretty you are.”

Yuqi scoffs, but you don’t miss the way her lips twitch upward. “Wow. Advertising me like I’m a limited-time offer?”

“I mean, you are in high demand.”

She tilts her head, feigning boredom. “And yet, nobody’s brave enough to try.”

The guys exchange awkward laughs, none of them willing to step up to the challenge. One clears his throat and mutters something about being late for class before they all make a quick exit, leaving just you and Yuqi standing there.

She watches them go, then turns back to you, unimpressed. “You really have zero faith in my love life, huh?”

“Not my fault your standards are ridiculous.”

“They’re not ridiculous,” she argues, flicking a piece of lint off her sleeve. “They’re refined.”

You shake your head, chuckling. “Whatever you say, Your Highness.”

She hums, studying you for a second too long. Then, with a smirk, she leans in slightly. “And what about you?”

You blink. “What about me?”

Yuqi’s grin sharpens. “Would you confess to me?”

She’s teasing, tossing it out like it’s nothing—just another jab in your years-long game.

So why does it land heavier this time?

“Hello??” She waves a hand in front of your face. “Stop zoning out like you’re actually thinking about it— are you?”

“Hell no,” you shoot back, forcing a laugh. “I know you’re full of yourself, but that’s taking it too far.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms. “Right. As if you could handle me anyway.”

‘God, she’s so annoying.’

She’s good-looking—annoyingly so. The kind of person who doesn’t even have to try. But when she does, she’s exceptional. Yuqi never settles. If she can push herself further, she will. She likes to joke that her father drilled perfectionism into her at three years old. You believe it. It shows in the way she studies, the way she carries herself, the way she acts like the world should revolve around her—and sometimes, it almost does.

You met her at the start of college—multiple run-ins on the same day. Apparently, that was enough for her to decide you were friends. From then on, Yuqi stuck around, pulling you into her orbit.

Rumors, of course, followed. They always do. But your relationship with Yuqi wasn’t that. Never that. It wasn’t shallow, like something you could fall in and out of, love or hate.

Best friends. Neither too close nor too distant. Something steady. Something comforting.

…Or at least, it should’ve been.

~🐶~

“Then… I can live with you.”

The words cut through the gentle hum of the café, slipping into the space between you and her without warning.

Yuqi, halfway through savoring a forkful of cake, stilling at the sudden proposition. The sweetness on her tongue dulls as her mind processes what she just heard.

Outside, the streetside view stretches beyond the window, pedestrians weaving through the early evening rush, neon signs flickering to life. It had been a peaceful moment—her, indulging in dessert, the warm glow of café lights, the casual murmur of other patrons.

And then that.

Her gaze snaps up, eyebrows slightly raised. She had been so focused on her food, on the comforting ritual of eating something sweet after a long day, that she almost forgot she wasn’t sitting here alone.

Across from her, you sit, arms crossed, looking entirely too casual for someone who just threw out a life-altering suggestion.

“…What?” Her fork hovers, eyes narrowing as she rewinds the last five minutes. Housing gripes, sure. Minnie’s betrayal, yeah. But this? “Hold up—did you just say live with me? Where the hell did that come from?”

“You just said it a minute ago, aren't you in trouble because you got stood up?”

Yuqi clicks her tongue at the memory, the taste of betrayal lingering far worse than the cake melting on her tongue.

Minnie—her supposed roommate, her supposed friend—had bailed on her at the last minute.

She had just signed the lease when the call came.

"Yuqi… I’m sorry, I don’t think I can live with you… My boyfriend offered to live with him, and I couldn’t refuse. You understand, right?? Thank you…"

Yuqi had barely gotten out a, “Wait, what? Minnie, I just signed the lease—hold on—” before the call ended.

That was two days ago.

Now, here she was, sitting in a café with you, still trying to figure out how to deal with it.

And your grand solution? Living together.

Yuqi swirls her straw in her drink, staring at you like you’ve just suggested something insane—which, to be fair, you have.

“I also have to move next month,” you continue, unfazed. “My office is closer there. So it’s perfect timing.”

“No way. Too weird—thanks, but no.” She chugs her drink, as if that will help wash away the absurdity of this conversation. “For now, I’ll call the real estate office for a cancellation.”

“And your job starts next month,” you counter, unfazed. “Good luck apartment-hunting in zero time.”

“Hmm… I guess I’ll have to postpone my work too.” Her fork idly plays with the remains of her cake, breaking it down into a mess of crumbs. Just moments ago, she had been enjoying it, and now she can’t even bring herself to take another bite. “I’ll just go back to my parents’ house, and—”

“You can’t do that.”

Yuqi frowns. “What?”

“Did you forget? I also wanted to go home, and you didn’t let me. That’s the reason I got the job I was dreaming of.”

She clicks her tongue. “See what happens when you just listen to me?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself— Give it up, you’re not pushing back your work.” You lean back, arms crossed. “Am I not your friend? Aren’t we supposed to help each other when we’re in trouble?”

Yuqi exhales, pressing her lips together. As much as she hates to admit it, you have a point.

It’s only temporary. A practical solution. Why shouldn’t she take it?

For the past two days, she had been dreading this mess—mentally calculating costs, debating whether she should force herself into a last-minute roommate arrangement with a complete stranger.

And now, just like that, you’ve handed her the perfect fix.

Her shoulders, tense from the weight of this problem, feel noticeably lighter. The only thing that irks her is that she didn’t think of this first.

“…Yeah, you’re right. We’re friends.” She leans back, eyeing you. “There’s no reason for me to decline. Especially not after all that pleading.”

“pleading?? I’m not the one who needs help here.”

“Fine. How much you chipping in?”

“Fifty-fifty. What, you think I’m just going to give you easy money?”

“If you’re volunteering…” She smirks, leaning in just enough to taunt.

You shake your head, scoffing. “Unbelievable.”

And so, the cohabitation between you and Yuqi begins.

~~~

There are private rooms, clear boundaries. As long as neither of you misjudges the sense of distance between you, nothing will change.

At least, that’s what you both assume.

The first few weeks go exactly as expected—well, mostly.

Yuqi doesn’t have to worry about rent anymore. There’s no awkward adjustment period, no need to tiptoe around like she would with a stranger. You’re not the worst person to live with, either. Sure, you’re irritating sometimes—leaving your notes scattered on the dining table, stealing the last of the coffee, acting smug whenever you manage to fix something she can’t—but she’s always known that about you.

What she didn’t expect was how quickly she gets used to you being there.

It’s the little things.

The way she hears the front door open and instinctively knows it’s you. The way you always leave the light on when you come home late because you know she stays up reading.

One night, she passes by the kitchen and finds you there, reheating food. You glance up. “You haven’t eaten yet?”

She shrugs, stealing a piece of your food before you can swat her hand away. “Hey—”

“It’s fine, I’m not that hungry.”

You exhale, shaking your head. “You do this every time. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

Yuqi frowns. “What?”

“You always scold me for skipping meals, but look at you.”

She rolls her eyes, but something in her chest stirs at the fact that you noticed.

It happens again when she comes home exhausted one evening and finds her favorite drink sitting on the counter. When she glances at you, raising a brow, you just shrug. “Thought you’d need it.”

And again, when she’s cramming for a presentation and you drop a snack beside her without a word.

She tells herself it’s normal. You’re friends. Friends do things like this.

Another moment.

Yuqi is in the kitchen early one morning, half-awake as she absentmindedly flips an egg in the pan. She isn’t much of a cook, but breakfast is simple enough—something warm to start the day before the madness of work and school kicks in.

She’s focused on the sizzling sound, the comforting routine of it, when she suddenly feels movement behind her.

Then—warmth.

You’re reaching over her, one hand bracing the counter beside her, the other stretching toward the cupboard above.

For a split second, she’s caught off guard by how close you are—close enough that she can feel the faint heat of your body against her back, close enough that she catches the lingering scent of your shampoo, something fresh and clean.

Her heartbeat stutters.

Instinct kicks in before logic does, and she turns around—only to make things worse.

Now, instead of your presence behind her, she’s face-to-face with you.

Too close.

Way too close.

Her eyes meet yours, and for some reason, it feels like neither of you moves for a second too long. Her pulse is loud in her ears, and she doesn’t know why she’s suddenly so aware of the way her breath catches—why her fingers tighten slightly around the spatula in her hand.

She’s being weird again.

“You…” She clears her throat, trying to sound unaffected. “Need something?”

You blink, as if snapping out of it, and gesture toward the cupboard. “Just getting a mug.”

Right. Obviously.

She mentally curses herself and quickly steps aside, turning her focus back to the stove. It’s nothing. You’re just tired. That’s all.

But then one morning, she walks into the living room, still groggy from sleep, and finds you sitting on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on your phone. Sunlight streams through the window, catching in your hair. You’re wearing that old, worn-out hoodie you refuse to throw away, looking like you belong there—like you belong with her.

And something about it makes her stomach flip in a way it shouldn’t.

Yuqi stands frozen in the hallway, gripping her coffee mug, heartbeat slightly off rhythm.

She doesn’t like where her thoughts are going.

She really, really doesn’t.

So she does what she always does when faced with something uncomfortable—she brushes it aside.

She’s just being weird.

It’s nothing.

It has to be nothing.

“Hey.”

Your voice cuts through the silence, snapping Yuqi out of her thoughts.

She blinks, stiffening slightly. “What?”

“You got any plans today?”

Her mind races. Why is he asking? Is he—wait, is he inviting me somewhere? A… date?

“Wh—why?” she asks, trying (and failing) to sound casual.

You shrug. “Nothing. Just asking.” There’s a pause before you add, “I’ll be home late, though. No need to wait up.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms. “Since when do I wait for you?”

You don’t answer, and somehow, that makes it worse.

Irritated, she presses on. “Why? Where are you going?”

“Meeting someone,” you say, vague as hell.

Her brows crash together. “Wait—a date? What, you’re flaunting it now?”

You smirk, dodging the question, and something sour twists in her gut—she hates that smirk, hates how it needles her, hates that she cares.

Before she can push further, a realization slams into her. “Oh—shit, work!”

Panic sets in as she scrambles toward the bathroom, cursing under her breath. Just as she reaches the door, she pauses, whipping around to point an accusing finger at you.

“Fuck you, you did that on purpose. You were distracting me!”

From the couch, you barely glance up from your phone before lazily flipping her off.

She slams the bathroom door, heart thudding too hard to unpack.

Hours later, she’s a wreck—work crushed her soul, her boss barely grunted at her efforts, and every mistake she made still burns.

She doesn’t even remember how she made it home. Everything from today—the endless stress, the way her boss barely acknowledged her work, the stupid mistakes she made because she was too exhausted to think straight—it all clings to her like dead weight.

It feels even shittier knowing what today was supposed to be.

Her first work anniversary. One year. A milestone that should mean something, should feel like progress. Instead, she feels like she’s still fumbling, still struggling to prove herself, still barely keeping up.

Her head pounds. Her chest feels tight.

And maybe—just maybe—what makes it worse is that today also marks one year since she moved in with you.

One year of this place feeling like home.

But right now, standing in the entryway, shoes barely kicked off, she just feels… drained.

She wants to cry.

Not in a dramatic, loud way. Just… silently. Curled up on the couch, alone in the dimly lit apartment, where she could finally let go without anyone seeing.

She’s relieved you aren’t home yet.

She doesn’t have to keep it together.

With a deep breath, she pushes open the door—

Pop!

Confetti explodes, and Yuqi flinches, pulse spiking as cake-scent floods her senses.

Streamers dangle, a crooked banner sags on the wall, and there you are—grinning like an idiot with a party popper, like you didn’t just ambush her fragile grip on sanity.

“Congratulations!”

She just… stares.

The weight—dread, fatigue, the whole suffocating mess—frays apart, leaving her raw.

“You made it a whole year,” you continue, motioning toward the cake on the table. “That’s huge. So, you know… I figured we should celebrate.”

It’s too much.

Not in the way work had been too much.

But in the way you always are.

Always paying attention. Always noticing the things she doesn’t say.

Always making it impossible for her to pretend this—you—don’t matter more than they should.

Her throat tightens.

Her fingers twitch, and she grips the strap of her bag a little harder, like she needs to hold onto something—anything—to keep herself from completely unraveling in front of you.

Right now, she wants to collapse into you—arms, warmth, all of it—and that scares her shitless.

She swallows hard, choking out, “You’re an idiot,” as she steps past, voice thinner than she means it to be.

“You’re welcome,” you shoot back easily, like this is just another one of your usual exchanges.

She sets her bag down. Breathes in.

But it’s different now. Everything feels different now.

Because this isn’t something she can brush off anymore.

Not when the sight of you—standing there, waiting for her—could turn her worst day into something else entirely.

She thought to herself. At this rate…

… we couldn’t be friends anymore…

… Is what you thought.

It crept up on you slowly.

At first, living with Yuqi was just supposed to be convenient. A temporary solution, nothing more. You were friends—it was easy, effortless, like always.

But then, things started changing.

You woke up earlier than expected, your throat dry, half-asleep as you dragged yourself toward the kitchen.

But before you could even reach the sink, the bathroom door swung open—

—and Yuqi stepped out. signing in fragments, lyrics clearly improvised, steam curling around her like a scene straight out of a movie.

Your brain short-circuited.

Dripping hair. Bare shoulders. A towel wrapped hugging around her body, another loosely draped over her head. She wasn’t even fully dry yet, droplets trailing down her collarbone, tracing down to her chest, disappearing beneath—

Oh, fuck.

She froze mid-step, finally noticing you.

“Oh, shit!”

Your mouth opened before your brain could catch up. “Morning.”

Her grip tightened on the towel around her chest. “You—you’re up early.”

“And you’re… in towels.”

A beat of silence.

Don’t say something stupid. Don’t say something stu—

“Yeah, you have to stop doing that.”

Yuqi scowled. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I wouldn’t if that wasn’t my towel on your head.”

“why is it a big deal, this is my home—”

“I pay for half.”

She narrowed her eyes. “It’s my house. I’ll do what I want.”

And before you could argue, she yanked the towel off her head and chucked it straight at your face.

By the time you pulled it away, she was already gone, bolting to her room like her life depended on it.

Then—

A muffled scream of frustration from behind her door.

You exhaled sharply, pressing the towel against your face—less to dry off, more to hide the heat creeping up your skin.

“Fuck.”

Then there was this one time, when you were setting up the new shelf.

Yuqi insisted she didn’t need help—because of course she did—but five minutes in, she was already struggling to balance the frame while reaching for the screws.

"You're gonna drop it," you warned, watching from the couch.

"I'm not gonna drop it," she shot back, fumbling with the last screw.

The universe, apparently, took that as a challenge.

The shelf wobbled. Yuqi yelped. And before either of you could react, she lost her footing.

She crashed into you, sending you both toppling backward.

A thud, a gasp, and suddenly—

She was on top of you.

Chest pressing into yours. Hands braced on either side of your head. Her face so close that you could feel her breath against your lips, just barely—

Neither of you moved.

Yuqi’s eyes flickered down—just for a second, barely noticeable—before snapping back up, wide and unguarded.

You swallowed.

“…You okay?” Your voice came out rougher than intended.

“I—” She blinked, like she just realized what happened. Her breath hitched. Then, in the most unconvincing voice possible— “Yeah. Totally fine.”

Neither of you made a move to get up.

The moment stretched, tension thick enough to drown in.

Then—

“Yuqi.”

“What?”

“You're still on top of me.”

“…Oh. Right.”

She scrambled off, way too fast for someone who was supposedly “totally fine.” Turning away, she ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply.

You sat up, clearing your throat. The air between you still felt charged, buzzing with something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

She finally looked at you—pointedly not at your lips.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

You hadn’t even said anything yet.

And then there were the bad days.

Yuqi was loud.

You were used to it by now—the way she talked, argued, and debated like she was on some national stage. But tonight, it was worse. Her voice carried through the living room, sharp and insistent, cutting through the walls of your room.

You could tell she wasn’t just talking—she was venting.

You didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t step in.

Just waited.

Then—

A knock on your door.

Soft, hesitant. Almost out of character.

“…You wanna drink?”

When you opened the door, Yuqi was standing there, arms crossed, gaze flickering to the side. The frustration from earlier had dimmed, replaced by something more subdued.

You didn’t question it. Just grabbed your jacket. “Let’s go.”

The city felt different at night. Quieter, almost peaceful, the usual rush of people replaced by empty sidewalks and the occasional streetlight glow.

Yuqi walked beside you, hands stuffed in her pockets, gaze tilted toward the sky. The stars were faint, barely visible between the buildings, but she looked at them anyway.

“…You ever feel like you’re running out of time?”

You glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

She exhaled, kicking a stray pebble on the pavement. “I dunno. Just—sometimes it feels like I need to keep going. Like if I stop, even for a second, I’ll fall behind. And I hate that feeling.”

You stayed quiet, letting her talk.

“But then I think… what if I don’t even know where I’m running to?”

That, you understood.

You let the silence settle before answering. “You don’t have to figure everything out now, you know.”

She scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“Is it?” You gave her a pointed look. “You’re the one who’s always giving me advice.”

Yuqi opened her mouth—then shut it, visibly chewing over your words.

You smirked. “Not so fun being on the other end, huh?”

She shoved your shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

The walk continued, and little by little, the weight in her expression faded. The tension in her shoulders eased, her usual energy returning in small doses—first in the way she kicked at a stray pebble, then in how she scoffed at one of your dumb remarks.

By the time you made it back to your place, she was… lighter.

As you reached the door, she stretched her arms above her head with a sigh. “You know what? I don’t think I need that drink anymore.”

You raised a brow. “So I got dragged out here for nothing?”

“I never dragged you—”

You gave her a look.

“…Okay, maybe a little,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. Then, after a beat, softer—“But it helped, so. Thanks.”

A pause.

Then, quieter—“I mean it.”

You stared at her, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a halo over her face.

Something shifted.

The air felt heavier, charged with something neither of you dared name. It would’ve been easy to brush it off, to make a joke and keep walking—

But before you could find the words, she turned away, already unlocking the door.

“Alright, I’m going to bed. Night, loser.”

The moment passed, or at least, it should have.

But just as you were about to head to your room, Yuqi hesitated.

She turned back, her hand lingering on the doorknob, lips parting like she wanted to say something—then stopping. You caught it then, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, rare and fleeting.

And then, finally—

“…Hey.”

You raised a brow. “What?”

She exhaled, tapping her fingers against the doorframe. “Do you remember that stupid bet we made during freshman year?”

You blinked. “Which one?”

“The one where if either of us ever fell for the other, your dic…” She trailed off, then cleared her throat. “Y’know. And I’d have to shave my head.”

You let out a short laugh. “Oh. That bet.”

Back then, rumors about you two dating spread so quickly it became a joke among your classmates. You and Yuqi played along, turning it into a challenge—there’s no way we’d fall for each other. If either of you did, the consequences were extreme.

It was dumb.

It was funny.

It should’ve stayed that way.

But that night?

that night, the words felt heavier.

You studied her expression, trying to gauge where she was going with this. “Why? You getting nervous?”

She scoffed. “Pfft. You wish.”

But there was something in the way she said it. A little too quick, a little too defensive.

You smirked. “Worried about your hair, huh?”

“More like you should be worried,” she shot back, but she wasn’t looking at you when she said it.

You snorted. “Unfair, by the way. I have to cut my dick off, while you only have to shave your head. I can’t believe we agreed to it.”

“…Me either,” she mumbled under her breath.

It was so quiet, so fleeting, you almost missed it. Almost.

For a split second, neither of you spoke.

Then she rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I was just asking. Night, loser.”

Before you could respond, she was inside, the door clicking shut behind her.

You stood there for a second, staring at the empty space where she had just been.

Your bet.

Freshman year.

We will never fall for each other.

You exhaled, running a hand down your face as the thought echoed in your head.

It was supposed to be a joke. A ridiculous bet between two people who swore they’d never be that kind of cliché.

And yet…

Tonight happened.

You expected her to be surprised by the celebration. Maybe even a little annoyed at the mess—the scattered decorations, the cake waiting on the table, the small banner you hastily put together.

What you didn’t expect was the way her expression cracked—just for a second. The way her eyes softened, something raw and unguarded flickering across her face before she caught herself. Before she scoffed, gripping her bag a little too tightly, and muttered, “You’re such an idiot.”

You should’ve let it go. Just laughed, moved on, kept things the way they were.

But she didn’t move.

She stood there, caught between hesitation and something she wouldn’t name, and suddenly, it wasn’t just about tonight.

It was about all of it—the late-night talks when she came home exhausted but still found a way to smile, the quiet gestures, the way she made space for you without even realizing it.

It was the fact that today wasn’t just one year since she started her job.

It was one year since she moved in. One year since this place started feeling a little fuller. A little more like home.

And it hit you then.

All the moments that snuck up on you, that built up piece by piece until there was no more denying it.

Because at some point—somewhere between the shared space, the stolen glances, the lines you swore you’d never cross—

You started falling for her too.

The apartment was quiet except for the soft clinking of utensils against ceramic.

Yuqi sat across from you, the warm glow of the dining room light casting a soft hue over her face. She took a bite, chewing slowly, and then—there it was.

That small, bittersweet smile.

You didn’t know what it meant, not exactly. But you knew it wasn’t the usual smug grin she wore when she teased you, nor the triumphant smirk she had when she got her way.

It was softer. More subdued. Like she was savoring something that wasn’t just the food.

You should’ve looked away. Focused on your plate. Kept things normal. But you didn’t.

Instead, you watched her, your grip tightening around your fork as the weight of everything settled in your chest.

You weren’t looking at her as a friend. Not anymore.

After dinner, Yuqi disappeared into her room while you started cleaning up. You heard the faint rustling of fabric, the sound of a drawer closing, but you didn’t think much of it—until she reemerged.

She padded into the living room in an old t-shirt and a pair of short shorts, her hair slightly damp, probably from washing up. The sight of her like this—comfortable, effortless—made something twist in your chest, but you shoved it down.

Wordlessly, she plopped onto the couch as you finished wiping the table, then leaned back against the cushions, stretching her legs out lazily.

By the time you grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, she was already making herself at home, one arm draped over the backrest like she belonged there.

You handed her a can, and she took it without a word, cracking it open with a soft hiss.

The TV flickered in the dimly lit apartment, the background noise of a movie filling the space between you.

At some point, between the second beer and the slow lull of the film, Yuqi leaned into the cushions, her body naturally angling toward yours.

Neither of you said much—just the occasional comment, the quiet laughter. But even in the silence, it felt... easy. Comfortable.

And then the credits rolled.

The screen faded to black, leaving nothing but the soft glow from the city lights seeping through the window. The noise stopped.

And yet, you didn’t reach for the remote.

You glanced at her, watching as she traced the rim of her bottle with her thumb. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something contemplative in the way she exhaled, sinking deeper into the couch.

You hesitated, then asked, “Everything okay at work?”

She blinked, as if shaking off a thought. “Ye—yeah. Just some problems here and there, I guess.”

“Nothing you couldn’t handle, I assume.”

She snorted, tilting her head to look at you. “Of course not. Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

There she was again—the Yuqi you knew. The one who never backed down, who met everything head-on with that sharp, unshaken confidence.

But you’d seen her earlier. The way she lingered at the door. The way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes tonight.

You hummed, setting your bottle down. “That so?”

Her brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you mused, stretching your arm along the back of the couch. “Just wondering if the great Song Yuqi is finally showing signs of weakness.”

She scoffed, turning to fully face you now, eyes narrowing. “You—”

Then, without warning, she flicked your forehead. Hard.

You flinched. “Ow—what the hell?”

“That’s for being annoying,” she said smugly, leaning back like she’d won something.

Oh. That’s how she wanted to play it?

Fine.

You barely gave her a second to react before your hand shot out, fingers pressing into her side.

The moment she realized what was happening, her smirk vanished.

“Wait—no! No, no, no! Don't tickle me” she yelped, twisting away instinctively. “You—asshole—stop!”

But you didn’t stop.

“Think you can flick me and walk away?” you taunted, fingers digging into her sides, relentless as she writhed against the couch, laughter spilling wild between you.

You pressed in, grinning, chasing her squirming frame—her giggles breaking apart into breathless, jagged bursts. She swatted at you, sloppy and weak, but you had the upper hand, her strength no match for yours.

“Admit it,” you teased, skimming the tender spot just below her ribs, knowing it’d unravel her.

“N-never—!” she choked out, twisting under you, her voice fraying as she fought your grip.

The couch groaned under the tussle—her thrashing, your weight shifting—and without thinking, you slid forward, pinning her deeper into the cushions. Your knee nudged between her thighs, pressing firm against her heat.

It didn’t register at first—too lost in the game, her laughter ringing sharp and bright. But then her giggles stumbled, thinning into ragged breaths. Her hands, once shoving, latched onto your arms, fingers digging in—not pushing now, but clinging.

You felt it—the hitch in her chest, the way her body stiffened, then softened, melting against you. Her laughter faded, replaced by something breathier, needier—a sound caught halfway between a gasp and a plea.

And then it slipped out—a moan, soft and unbidden, trembling past her lips.

Everything froze.

Your fingers stalled against her waist, her nails bit into your skin, and the air turned thick, electric. Her eyes snapped wide, lips parted, shock flickering over her face as her breath raced—short, shallow, unraveling.

Your pulse thundered, drowning out the silence, and that’s when you clocked it—your knee, still wedged between her thighs, pressed flush against her warmth.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you breathed.

The laughter was dead.

Something else took its place—hot, heavy, and undeniable.

You cleared your throat, a feeble attempt to break the spell, to shake off the weight of what had just happened. Slowly, you pulled away, putting space between you before you lost the will to.

Your eyes flickered anywhere but at her—afraid to see what lingered in her expression. Fear? Surprise? Or something else entirely?

You pushed yourself up, ready to remove yourself from the couch, from the heat still clinging to your skin—But then. A tug. Subtle, hesitant.

Fingers curled around your wrist, just tight enough to stop you. To hold you in place.

To keep you from leaving the moment.

You turned, catching the flush creeping up her neck, her lips parted as she refused to meet your gaze.

“Yuqi…” you groaned, your voice strained, warning.

Her grip on your wrist tightened. “Do—don’t leave.”

That was all it took.

You moved back toward her, hesitant but drawn in all the same. The space between you shrank, your breath mingling with hers, lips barely a whisper apart. Her fingers twitched against your skin, but she didn’t pull away.

You could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her chest rose and fell, the way her body swayed ever so slightly in your direction. Just a little more and—

“Wait—!”

Her hands shot up, pressing against your chest—not forceful, not pushing you away completely, but enough to halt you in place.

Your jaw clenched. You stayed there, hovering, pulse hammering in your throat.

“What do you want, Yuqi?” you asked, your voice low, steady despite the storm inside you. “Be clear with me.”

She hesitated, eyes darting anywhere but yours. You felt it—the war within her, the pull and the push, the fear and the want.

You exhaled, nodding slightly. “Okay.”

You started to move back, giving her the space she seemed to need—

But then, just as you did, her arms looped around your neck, her body pressing against yours, her warmth, her scent, her head rising for her lips to meet yours.

Briefly, she pulls away gauging your reaction.

You cursed under your breath, a quiet, ragged sound, because you knew—knew—that if she kept holding onto you like this, you wouldn’t be able to stop.

Your hands found her waist, fingers curling instinctively, and before you could think better of it, you scooped her up.

Yuqi gasped, eyes widening. “Wha—what are you doing?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

You carried her past the dimly lit hallway, You stop at before the doors of your rooms.

Yuqi who had grasp your intention, murmured close to your chest “Mine—my room.” giving a answer to your conundrum.

Carrying her through the threshold of her room, our grip firm yet careful, your body thrumming with something dangerously close to surrender.

Then, as gently as you could, you set her down.

The bed dipped beneath her weight, her body sinking into the sheets.

And for a moment—just one agonizing moment—silence stretched between you. To pause. To asses. To decide.

Her breath came in uneven waves, fingers clutching the comforter beneath her, knuckles whitening as if it were an anchor. She looked like she was bracing herself—teetering on the edge of a decision, weighing what came next.

You hovered above her, resolve fraying, the heat of her body pulling you closer, unraveling every thread of restraint—

“…The—the door,” she whispered, voice barely audible, trembling with something fragile.

You pulled back, glancing toward it. “If I lock that, there’s no turning back.”

Her eyes flickered, wide and searching, then steadied. “I—I think it’s… it’ll be okay. If it’s you, I want it.”

The door clicked shut with her words, a soft, final sound that echoed in the quiet. You returned to her, sliding back onto the bed, looming over her frame—close enough to feel the faint tremor in her breath. “Do you even know what you just said?”

“Stop talking to me like a kid,” she snapped, her voice sharpening, though it wavered at the edges.

“That’s not an answer.” You held her gaze, unflinching. “Do you want to sleep with me?”

“Uh… yes.” The word slipped out, small and shaky, laced with fear and a defiance testing her own limits. She swallowed hard, then added, “Why? Don’t you want to?”

You shifted closer, your nose brushing hers, so near you could taste the alcohol on her breath—sharp and warm, mingling with the heat radiating off her skin. Her heavy exhales grazed your lips, and the air between you thickened, charged with something neither of you could name.

“What is this?” you murmured, half to yourself. Song Yuqi—bold, unshakable Yuqi—lay beneath you, face flushed crimson, pride crumbling into doubt. Her words stumbled, her usual fire dimmed, and you couldn’t help but press. “Are you really Yuqi?”

Maybe you were stalling too—teasing her, skirting the edge of what you both knew was coming, afraid to leap.

Then, out of nowhere, her hand shot up, smacking your chin with a clumsy shove, forcing distance between you.

“Ugh! I don’t know anymore, okay?! I haven't done this before!” she yelled, voice cracking with frustration. “Just—hurry up and show me your dick already!”

Her legs thrashed, feet flailing against the mattress in a wild, petulant burst. “You—crazy—woman” you blurt out.

You lunged forward, seizing her ankles, pinning them to the mattress with a firm, unyielding grip. “Calm down,” you said, voice low and steady, anchoring her as her chest heaved, the wild outburst dissolving into a taut, trembling stillness.

Her eyes flashed, defiant even now. “What, are you scared?”

You leaned in close, her challenge igniting something reckless in you. “You’re about to get fucked senseless.”

She smirked, unshaken, her voice a dare. “I think you’re the one who’s sca—sacred. Prove it.”

You crashed into her, lips seizing hers with raw, tongue intruding into her mouth, bruising hunger. Your hand slid up, fingers knotting in the back of her hair, yanking her closer—deeper—until no space remained, her frantic breaths fusing with yours in a desperate, unrelenting tangle.

Your other hand found her breast, cupping it firmly, and a sharp whimper broke from her throat—soft, unguarded, trembling against your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to rasp, “Do you want more? Tell me if you don’t.” “Ah!” she gasped, startled by the sudden absence of your lips, her voice faltering. “Uh—uh… it’s okay…”

You dove back in, claiming her mouth again, fiercer now, your hand slipping beneath her shirt.

Fingers roamed her chest, squeezing through the thin fabric of her bra, rucking up her clothes in the chaos. The hem of her shirt climbed past her breasts, her bra tugged askew—one pale pink nipple already peeking free, stark against her skin.

“Yu—qi,” you murmured, breaking the kiss again, though your lips hovered close, tethered by a glistening thread of saliva that refused to snap. “Do you want this?”

“I want it, yes,” she panted, breathless, her words tumbling out in a rush.

You guided her arms up, stretching them straight above her head, and she followed—pliant, trusting.

Your hands gripped the edge of her dress, peeling it upward, sliding it off in one fluid pull. Then, just as swiftly, you hooked her shorts, tugging them down as she lifted her legs to help, the fabric slipping free and pooling forgotten on the floor.

There she lay—pale skin glowing faintly in the dim light, her fit frame taut and trembling. Blonde hair spilled across the bed in wild, tangled waves, framing her like a halo gone rogue. Her white underwear clung to her hips, stark against her flush, one bra strap sagging, the displaced cup exposing a modest breast, its pink nipple hardened in the cool air. She blushed deep, one arm crossing shyly over her waist, the other hovering near her mouth, fingers brushing her lips as if to hide.

Her eyes darted away, unable to hold yours. “Why are you just staring?” she mumbled, voice small, edged with nerves she couldn’t quite mask.

You exhaled, a faint chuckle slipping out as you shook your head. “I’m just trying to figure out how you still look like a menace even when you’re—” Your words snagged mid-sentence as her glare cut through you, her cheeks blazing.

“Don’t,” she warned, voice tight.

You smirked, tilting your head. “Don’t what?”

Her eyes narrowed, sharp and accusing. “You know what.”

You leaned in, your breath grazing her skin, close enough to feel her tense. “What? I thought you lived for praise about your beauty.”

She swallowed hard, throat bobbing, fingers twisting into the sheets. Then, so soft it nearly slipped past—

“It’s different when it’s you.”

“Well, you are beautiful, Yuqi. I mean it.”

Her breath hitched at the words, a flicker of protest rising—ready to snap at your sly jab—but before she could, your lips found her neck, pressing firm and warm. Your hand slid to her breast, fingers brushing the exposed nipple, teasing it into a stiff peak.

She stiffened, a fleeting push against your chest, but it melted away fast—her resistance crumbling as you lavished her skin with attention.

“It… tickles,” she murmured, voice wobbling, half a complaint, half a surrender.

Your hand snaked behind her, deftly unhooking her bra with a flick. You tugged it free, letting it fall aside, her breasts spilling out—modest, pale, and perfect in the dim light. No hesitation—you dove in, lips closing over one nipple, sucking gently while your fingers toyed with the other, rolling it between them.

“Hey,” she gasped, a shaky laugh threading through her words, “aren’t you too good at this?”

You didn’t answer, too lost in her—her taste, her warmth, the way her whimpers grew sharper, rewarding every flick of your tongue, every pinch of your fingers. You pulled back, just enough to take her in fully—sprawled beneath you, clutching the sheets with white-knuckled desperation. Her blonde hair fanned wild across the bed, pale skin flushed deep, chest rising and falling in jagged bursts.

Your hands returned, pinching both nipples now, firm and deliberate. Her eyes—barely open—fought to hold yours, glazed with pleasure, her tongue slipping out as her mouth parted. Words failed her, dissolving into a string of moans and broken whimpers, the only sounds she could muster as she drowned in the sensation.

Wa—wait a sec…” She propped herself up against the pillow, hands darting to your face. Her fingers dug into your cheeks, pulling you in—too close, her touch firm and insistent.

“Kissing really feels good, don’t you think?” she mused, voice lilting with forced casualness. Her thumbs brushed slow, deliberate circles against your skin, betraying the act. “Especially when you feel it—you know, with tongues and everything.”

You arched a brow, amusement curling your lips. “Are you fishing for a kiss?”

She scoffed, but her hands didn’t budge, fingers lingering like they’d fused to you. “I’m just saying,” she huffed, eyes flicking aside, dodging yours. “No harm in a little discussion, right?”

You smirked, reading her like an open book—her little game, the way she circled what she craved, betting you’d cave first. “Just discussing, then?” you teased, tilting your head with mock innocence. “So I shouldn’t do it?”

Her grip faltered, a flash of panic skittering across her face. “I didn’t sa—”

She didn’t finish.

Your lips crashed into hers, silencing her protest, swallowing her words in a swift, ravenous press. Her breath snagged against your mouth, a sharp hitch—and for a fleeting second, she froze, caught off guard. Then she melted, hands slipping to grip your jaw, and before you could take control, her tongue darted forward—bold and sure, sliding into your mouth like she’d been waiting for this all along. The kiss deepened fast, tongues clashing in a messy, heated tangle, her pretense torched by the hunger she couldn’t hide.

Your hands roamed, restless—sliding down her sides, then lower, until they settled at her crotch. Fingers brushed the fabric of her panties, then slipped beneath, meeting slick heat that made your pulse jump. She was already wet, soaked through, and a low groan rumbled in your throat as you felt her.

You pulled back from the kiss, lips parting with a wet smack, and her eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy. Your other hand hooked into her waistband, yanking the white fabric down her thighs in one rough tug, peeling it free and tossing it aside. She gasped, legs trembling as the cool air hit her bare skin.

“Already this wet?” you teased, voice gravelly, a smirk curling your lips. “You little pervert.”

Her face blazed red, embarrassment clashing with a spark of defiance in her eyes, but she didn’t pull back—her breath jagged, teetering between a snap and a whimper.

“Dum—dumbass, that’s what happens when—”

You didn’t let her finish. Your fingers pressed to her folds, slick and warm, rubbing along her slit with slow, deliberate strokes. Her grip on your neck tightened, nails biting into your skin, while her other hand fumbled to clutch your arm, trembling as her tongue slipped out, instinctive and desperate.

“Wha—what are you doing? St—stop—” she stammered, voice fracturing, but her hands betrayed her, sliding back to clutch the pillow behind her, knuckles whitening as she braced against the onslaught. “It fee—it feels weird. Really weird!” she cried, her tone pitching into a yell, raw and unraveling.

Her body locked tight for a split second—then shattered. Her back arched sharp off the bed, head snapping back into the pillow, a convulsion ripping through her as her thighs quaked. A rush of wet heat surged against your hand, her juices spilling out, soaking your fingers and dripping onto the sheets beneath. Her breath came in broken gasps, chest heaving, her tongue lolling slightly as the waves crashed over her, leaving her trembling in their wake.

“Fuck… shit…” she rasped, hands flying to cover her face, the flush so deep it seemed to bleed through her fingers, staining them red.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why are you suddenly cursing?”

“No, no, I mean…” She peeked through her hands, voice small but edged with frustration. “Be—because my sheets… they’re all wet now.”

“Oh, uh… sor—sorry…” you muttered, heat creeping up your own neck.

Her eyes flicked to yours, still glassy from the haze, then narrowed with a glint of mischief. “Then… hurry up and take off your pants already,” she ordered, voice low and impatient.

You rose to your feet on the bed, shedding your pants and briefs in a quick, fumbling pull, letting them drop away. Your dick sprang free, hard and hovering above her as she sat back on her knees, gazing up at you. The sight alone—her pale, flushed body, blonde hair spilling wild, those sharp eyes locked on you��hit like a punch, and her intense stare only made it worse. You couldn’t hold it; your gaze skittered away, heat crawling up your neck.

“Hmmm… hey, what’s wrong?” she hummed, a smug grin creeping across her lips. “Why’re you suddenly shy now?”

“It’s reasonable with this view,” you muttered, voice snagging in your throat, barely dodging her piercing stare.

“Is that so?” Her smug grin bloomed wide, teetering on a giggle. She edged closer, her face drifting nearer—dangerously near—to your cock, so close a twitch could’ve brushed her lips. Then her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your length, forming a tight ring just below the head. The sudden heat of her grip hit you hard—soft skin, firm pressure, a jolt of warmth that shot straight up your spine, making your breath catch and your hips tense instinctively. She started stroking, slow and deliberate, her palm sliding smooth against you, each pull tugging a raw, electric pulse through your core. “How is it? Is it okay? Does it feel good? Does it hurt?”

“You know, for someone who doesn’t know what she’s doing, you’re pretty damn bold,” you said, half-breathless, a smirk tugging despite the way her touch was unraveling you—every stroke a tease, her fingers tight enough to edge you toward losing it.

She ignored you, eyes flicking up with a glint of mischief, her hand keeping its rhythm—steady, maddening, the friction building heat that made your thighs twitch. “Doesn’t it feel good? Are you in paradise yet? You can cum—go ahead, it’s fine! Cum quick! Why aren’t you cumming? What’s wrong?!” Her questions tumbled out, fast and insistent, voice rising with a mix of glee and frustration.

“Yuqi, calm down,” you managed, voice straining as her pace quickened your pulse, her grip coaxing a throb you could barely hold back. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“It’s so warm,” she said, a grin tugging at her lips, “I could use it as a hand warmer.”

“Then tell me when you’re cold next time,” you shot back, half-jesting, legs trembling as you teetered between giving in to the pleasure and laughing at her ridiculous innocence. “I’ll whip it out for you.”

Her hand stilled mid-stroke, eyes snapping up to meet yours—sharp, focused, like she’d just clocked her next move and was weighing whether to go for it. Then she did. Her lips parted, soft and tentative, brushing against your tip. She pressed forward, mouth opening wider, her tongue flicking out to guide you in, warm and wet as it curled around the head.

She lingered there, treating it like a lollipop—licking slow, deliberate laps, tilting her head with each pass as if testing every angle. Her movements were clumsy, unpracticed—teeth grazing you now and then, a faint scrape that sent a jolt through you. A stray thought flickered: She might actually bite it.

And then, as if she’d snatched the thought right out of your skull, the ever-impulsive Yuqi went for it. Her teeth clamped down—not hard, just a quick pinch—sending a jolt of shock and a strange, sharp thrill spiking up your spine.

“Fuck—let go, you dumbass!” You yanked yourself back, pulling free from her mouth with a hiss.

“What the hell made you think biting it was a good idea?!”

“Ahh, sorry, sorry—I’m really sorry!” she blurted, eyes wide with panic, guilt flooding her face so fast it almost convinced you she didn’t mean it. “I didn’t even realize what I was doing!”

“Song Yuqi, get over here,” you said, voice firm, cutting through her fluster.

“Ar—are you okay?” she stammered, inching closer, her tone softening like a scolded puppy caught in the act. “Looks like you’re fine, though…”

You tugged her by her waist, laying her flat on the bed, your hand curling around her hip to pull her close. Fingers traced a slow, deliberate path from her knees up to her core, brushing her skin with intent. “Why’d you try to bite me? Do you want to be scolded, is that it?”

She turned her head, dodging your stare, her voice sinking to a sheepish mumble. “It looked delicious… so I thought I’d take a bite…”

You leaned in, capturing her lips again, kissing her deep and slow as you shifted between her thighs. Your hands nudged her legs apart, her skin warm and trembling under your touch. Your cock brushed her folds—slick, hot, a fleeting graze that made her breath hitch against your mouth.

You pulled back, eyes dropping to your shaft, guiding it with a steady hand. Your tip nudged her entrance, teasing her pussy with shallow dips, testing her heat. “Yuqi, you want to keep going?”

“Huh… How—how many times are you gonna ask?” she huffed, voice quivering, each word stuttering in time with the faint pulses of your cock against her. “Are you deaf…?”

You pressed in, your tip slipping past her entrance, sinking just enough to feel her tighten around you. A whimper spilled from her lips, quick and sharp, and you froze. “Are you alright? Should I go slower…?”

“Y—yes…!” she gasped, breaths shallow and ragged, holding them like she could trap the sensation inside.

“Yuqi, I want you to be comfortable,” you murmured, voice low, careful. “Tell me if it hurts—”

“Hey…” Her eyes glimmered, wet with tears—some already streaking down her flushed cheeks. She grabbed one wrist with her other hand, pinning her arms above her head, a shaky attempt at control. “Fu—fucking a beauty like me must feel good, right…?”

Even now, she bluffed—voice cracking, bravado fraying—but she wasn’t wrong. She felt incredible, her walls gripping you tight, pulsing hot around the bare inch you’d slipped inside, coaxing you deeper despite her trembling.

“…You just want to keep messing with me, don’t you…?” she murmured, eyes glinting through the haze.

“You keep doing it too,” you shot back, a faint smirk tugging at your lips.

“I’m gonna move a little,” you said, voice low. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“Mmhh,” she hummed, nodding faintly, her breath already shallow.

You pressed deeper, sliding slow and steady, her heat swallowing you inch by inch. Her body tensed, a soft gasp escaping as you sank further.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, pausing. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, voice thin but firm, her eyes locked on yours.

“Then I’ll move a little more…?”

Your hands slid to her thighs, fingers digging into her soft flesh as you pulled her closer, burying your entire length inside her in one smooth thrust. She clenched around you, a tight, wet pulse that made your breath hitch.

“You’re really okay…?”

“Yeah… I’m good,” she managed, a shaky edge to her words. “Just… carry on, alright…?”

You grabbed her wrists, pinning them between you, tugging them toward your chest as you started to pump—slow at first, each thrust deliberate, feeling her stretch and yield. Her breath stuttered, eyes fluttering shut.

“Wha—what’s this… it feels so weird…” she gasped, voice breaking as her body rocked beneath you.

You quickened your pace, pounding faster, harder—stamina leaching with every sharp snap of your hips. Her moans poured out, jagged and piercing, swelling louder as you drove into her. Then, with a final thrust—deeper, fiercer than the rest—you buried yourself to the hilt, her head whipping back into the pillow, back bowing high off the bed. A raw, guttural moan ripped from her throat, her body quaking beneath you, clenching tight around your cock.

Out of breath, you propped yourself up on your arms, hovering over her sweat-slick frame. “Yuqi, you sure you’re okay? Should I go slower?”

She groaned, rolling her eyes despite the flush on her cheeks. “I told you I’m fine already—”

Her complaint drowned as you thrust back in, cutting her off, plunging deep to reclaim your rhythm. Her moans sang out again, sharp and sweet, and you drank them in, one hand finding her breast—cupping it firm, kneading the soft flesh, her nipple stiff and pressing into your palm like a needy pulse. You used it as leverage, anchoring yourself as you rocked into her.

“Raise your back,” you ordered, voice rough. She obeyed, arching up, and your hands slid to her waist, gripping her hips tight. With the new angle, you pulled her against you, thrusting harder, each slam sinking you deeper—her heat swallowing you, slick and tight, tugging you toward the brink.

The edge hit fast. Her walls spasmed around you, hot and relentless, a sudden, vise-like grip that yanked you over. You groaned low, thrusts stuttering as you came—thick, pulsing spurts flooding her, the wet heat of her pussy milking every last drop, a dizzying rush that blurred your senses. Yuqi shattered with you—her moans spiking into a broken cry, legs trembling, nails clawing the sheets as her climax tore through her. Her core clenched hard, a gush of warmth soaking you both, her body bucking against yours in wild, shuddering waves.

Exhausted, you slumped toward her, chest heaving. She met you halfway, mouth open, greedy—her lips crashing into yours, tongue darting out to pull yours in, tangling with a sloppy, desperate edge as she rode out the aftershocks pressed against you.

~🐶~

Yuqi teetered on the edge of consciousness, drunk on pleasure, her mind barely clinging to coherence in the quiet lull. She slumped back against you, her spine pressing into your chest as you hugged her tight from behind, your back braced against the headboard. Her breath came slow, ragged, her body limp yet humming with the afterglow.

Exhausted but not sated, she stirred as your hands roamed again. One slid to her breast, cupping it gently, fingers teasing the still-hard nipple—rolling it slow, coaxing a faint shiver from her. The other dipped lower, finding her clit, rubbing soft circles against the swollen bud. Her folds, slick and warm, rested heavy against your dick, subtly coating it with her dripping heat, a fresh trickle of her arousal seeping out as her body woke anew. She squirmed, a sleepy moan slipping free, her hips twitching instinctively into your touch—chasing more despite the haze.

Her mind spun, fragmented thoughts flickering through the haze: What should I do??

I’m actually doing it with him—with you.

Having sex with my friend—with you, of all people.

Yuqi’s thoughts snapped off, severed by a single, brutal thrust as you plunged back into her. Her body jolted, pinned tight against yours—your arms clamped around her, refusing her even an inch to squirm. A raw, involuntary moan tore from her throat, heat flooding her core as your cock filled her again, stretching her slick walls with a sudden, relentless pressure that made her head spin.

“You—you jerk!” she gasped, voice fracturing, each word sliced by whimpers and moans she couldn’t choke back. “Why did you suddenly—” Her sentence crumbled, drowned by the waves of pleasure rippling through her, your thrusts relentless, robbing her of breath and coherence. Her hand shot back, fingers tangling in your hair, yanking you closer in a clumsy, desperate retaliation—her nails scraping your scalp as she fought to reclaim some control.

“Fuck! It… feels so… good…” she moaned, the confession spilling out, her voice thick with surrender. Every slam of your hips sent a jolt through her—her insides clenching tight around you, a tingling heat pooling low, her thighs trembling against the onslaught.

Yuqi twisted her head toward you, lips parting, tongue lolling out in a silent plea. You met her halfway, your mouth crashing into hers, tongues tangling in a sloppy, wet mess—her saliva mixing with yours, sharp and bitter on her tastebuds, a hungry edge to the kiss that made her dizzy.

You paused, buried deep inside her, your length a thick, unyielding pressure stretching her core. Your voice rasped hot against her ear, rough and taunting. “Yuqi, why are you moaning so loud? You’re a total pervert, aren’t you?” Your hand clamped onto her breast, squeezing hard, fingers catching her nipple—pinching with a sharp twist that sent a jolt of heat stabbing through her chest, her skin tingling, raw under your grip.

“Wha—what?” The sudden stillness yanked her from her euphoria, your words sparking a flare of annoyance in her hazy mind. “I’m not a pervert! This is because—”

Her protest died as she felt you shift inside her—a subtle, deliberate twitch, just enough to press against her walls, sending a fresh ripple of pleasure curling through her belly. A whimper slipped out, soft and traitorously loud, snuffing her temper before it could catch.

“Is it because it doesn’t hurt anymore?” you teased, voice low, your breath grazing her neck. “You’re fully fitted to my cock now, is that it?” It wasn’t just a taunt—it was a truth she couldn’t dodge. She felt it: her body molded to you, slick and tight, every inch of her clinging like she’d been made for this. Denial burned on her tongue, but her silence betrayed her.

For a heartbeat, the air hung thick—then Yuqi felt it again. Your cock twitched inside her, a sudden, firm pulse that nudged against her walls, straining the tight grip she had on you. She barely registered it before your hands tightened on her hips, lifting her ass higher mid-thrust. The motion shoved her forward, a sharp jolt rocking through her core as you pumped harder, still buried deep. Her arms buckled under the force, knees skidding across the sheets, and she scrambled to catch herself—landing on all fours, ass propped high, her body trembling from the hot, aching stretch where you stayed lodged inside her.

“What are you—?!” she yelped, voice splintering, but before she could twist or protest, your weight shifted forward. You followed her down, pressing against her back—a solid, unrelenting heat pinning her in place as you kept thrusting, relentless, your rhythm unbroken, each slam sinking deeper into her slick, pulsing core.

uqi’s hand flailed back, fingers scrabbling for purchase against your relentless, rabid thrusts—each one slamming into her with a force that made her core throb and ache, a wild rhythm she couldn’t match. Tears streaked her cheeks, her cries spilling out sharp and broken as the pleasure drowned her, too much, too fast. Her grip faltered, and the bed seemed to tilt—your weight unsteady above her. In a clumsy tangle, you both toppled sideways, crashing onto the sheets. But the fall didn’t slow you—your hips kept pumping, unbothered, and now she was trapped. Your arms snaked around her, pinning her own against her chest, locking her tight in your embrace. She moaned helplessly, voice raw and trembling, as you ravaged her hole—each thrust a deep, merciless plunge that wrecked her from the inside out.

Then it hit—a sudden, electric shock blasted through Yuqi, sharp and blinding. Your cock struck her G-spot, a precise, brutal nudge that made her walls clamp down hard, a scream tearing from her throat as her body bucked wildly against you. You caught it—your rhythm shifted fast, seizing the moment. One hand hooked under her thigh, hoisting her leg up, twisting her into a scissoring sprawl. The angle split her open, and you drove deeper—impossibly deeper—your length grinding that spot with every thrust, a hot, pulsing pressure that sent shudders racing up her spine. Her slick heat drenched you, her core spasming out of control, and she couldn’t stop it—the moans, the tremors, the way her body gave in completely to the chaos you unleashed inside her.

Both of you gasped for air, a brief break settling in as your bodies stilled. The position shifted naturally—Yuqi’s eyes stayed clamped shut, too heavy to lift under the intensity, even now in the quiet. She couldn’t see, but she felt your shadow loom over her, your presence hovering close, a dark heat she sensed through her haze.

“Yuqi, get up,” you said, voice rough. She obeyed, dragging herself upright, though her lids barely cracked open—exhaustion weighing them down. You pulled her onto your lap, her thighs straddling yours, facing you. Your thrusts resumed, slower now, and she felt your mouth on her breast—lips sucking, tongue flicking her nipple, a wet, warm pull that sparked faint jolts through her chest. Her arms trembled as she propped herself against you.

Slowly, you reclined back, and Yuqi’s hands slid to the headboard, gripping it for balance. She didn’t know when it happened—her mind too foggy to track—but she realized she was moving, humping you on her own, hips rolling instinctively against your steady length. Her pace faltered, exhaustion creeping in, slowing her down. Then you took over—your hands gripped her hips, and you pumped up into her again, reigniting the fire in her core with each thrust.

Her hand shot to your hair, fingers twisting tight, yanking your face close. Her tongue lolled out, desperate, and you met it—your tongue tangling with hers, a sloppy, wet dance that tasted of sweat and need. “Hug me,” she rasped, tongue still out, voice thick. “Hug me,” she begged again, more frantic, a plea trembling on her lips.

Yuqi felt you overpower her—your arms wrapped around her, pulling her down until she crashed onto her back. She clung to you, arms looping around your neck, legs locking tight around your waist, holding you deep inside her. Any second now, she knew it—both of you teetering on the edge. Her thighs parted wider, welcoming your thrusts, her body aching for release.

Then it came. Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave—her walls seized around you, spasming hard, a gush of heat flooding her core as she shattered. She felt you pull out mid-clench, your cock slipping free, and a split second later, the hot, thick splatter of your cum streaked across her skin—her belly, her thighs—branding her as her own climax pulsed through. Her moans choked off, her vision blurred, and her consciousness slipped away, fading to black as the last shudder rocked her limp frame.

~~~

Yuqi woke up to warmth—soft fabric against her skin, the dull ache in her limbs, and the distant hum of the world outside.

Her brows furrowed, still caught in the haze of sleep, but something felt… off. The scent in the air wasn’t quite hers. The bed didn’t feel quite right.

Then, as she shifted, the sensation of bare skin against unfamiliar sheets jolted her fully awake.

Her eyes snapped open. Sunlight streamed through her curtains, too bright, too loud, as her pulse pounded in her ears. Her room. She was in her room. But—

The sheets. They weren’t hers.

Panic flared in her chest as fragments of last night started to piece themselves together.

Her breath hitched.

Oh. Oh, shit.

She sat up too fast, wincing as soreness bloomed through her body. That was another thing—the ache in her muscles, the evidence of everything she’d done, everything she’d let happen.

And then, finally, she noticed—

The oversized shirt slipping past her shoulder, familiar but not hers.

Your shirt. Her grip on the fabric tightened.

This wasn’t happening.

But the soreness in her body told her it was. The unfamiliar sheets told her it was. Your shirt draped over her skin—your scent clinging to it—told her it was.

Yuqi’s breath came uneven as the full weight of what she’d done crashed over her.

She’d slept with you.

You.

Her friend. Her longtime friend.

A sharp pang of regret twisted in her chest, not because she hadn’t wanted it—God, that was the worst part—she had wanted it. She had kissed you back, had let you undress her, had clung to you like you were the only thing keeping her grounded.

But she hadn’t expected it. Not like this. Not when she wasn’t ready to risk everything.

Not when it could ruin you.

She raked her hands through her hair, cursing under her breath. How the hell did she let it get this far? How the hell did she let herself fall?

The silence of the room felt suffocating. And you—where were you? Were you regretting it too? Were you somewhere in the apartment, figuring out how to tell her this was a mistake?

Her stomach churned at the thought.

The smell of food drifted into the room, warm and familiar.

Yuqi swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the bedsheet.

You’re cooking.

That meant you were still here. That meant you hadn’t run off in regret, hadn’t left her alone in this mess she didn’t know how to clean up.

Maybe… maybe it’s not too late.

If she just acted normal—if she pretended last night was a mistake, a stupid, drunken slip-up—maybe things wouldn’t have to change.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to lose you.

Yuqi exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers to her temples. Her thoughts spiraled, one after the other, faster than she could catch them.

What if you wanted to forget too? What if you were in the kitchen right now, thinking of ways to brush it off, to laugh about it, to shove it in the back of your minds where it could rot, untouched?

Could you both really pretend it didn’t happen? Could she?

She forced herself out of bed, her legs weak beneath her, the oversized fabric of your shirt hanging off her frame. She had to face you. She had to fix this before it shattered into something she couldn’t repair.

With careful steps, she made her way to the kitchen.

And there you were. Standing by the stove, spatula in hand, acting like this was just any other morning.

Her chest clenched.

Maybe it could be. Maybe if she played it right, you could go back.

She took a deep breath, steadied herself, then tried.

“So,” she started, keeping her voice light. Too light. “What’s for breakfast, chef?”

You turned slightly, meeting her gaze. And for a second—just a second—something flickered in your expression.

Something unreadable.

But then you smirked. “Figured you’d need something to get your strength back after last night.”

Her stomach dropped.

She forced a laugh. “Oh, shut up.”

You plated the food, setting it on the counter. “Not hungry?”

Yuqi hesitated. Her fingers curled around the hem of your shirt—her only layer of protection against the vulnerability clawing up her throat.

This was slipping. She could feel it.

“Look,” she said, trying to sound casual, like she wasn’t barely holding herself together. “Last night was… you know. We were drunk, and it just… happened.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you grabbed a glass of water, taking a slow sip before setting it down.

Then, you leveled her with a look.

“And?”

Yuqi blinked. “And?”

You leaned against the counter, arms crossing over your chest. “Are you trying to say it was a mistake?”

Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Because that’s not what she meant—not really.

But if she didn’t say it, if she didn’t put that distance back, she didn’t know what would happen.

She didn’t know if she could handle what would happen.

“I just think,” she tried again, voice weaker this time, “that we should just… go back. Like before. We don’t have to—”

“Yuqi. You know that's bullshit.”

She froze.

"That was four cans between us. You can drink five alone and still balance on a pole—don't act like that was the reason.”

The way you said her name—steady, firm, like you’d already made up your mind—it made her stomach twist.

“Before isn’t an option,” you said simply.

Four cans.

That’s all it was. Just four stupid cans.

And yet, here you were, looking at her like you were about to ruin everything.

The air in the room shifted—her room, but suddenly it didn’t feel like hers anymore. The sheets smelled like you, the oversized shirt hanging off her shoulders wasn’t hers either. Nothing felt like hers anymore, not even her own body, sore in places she had no right to acknowledge.

Her stomach twisted, panic crawling up her throat. No. No, no, no—

Her gaze dropped to the floor, unable—unwilling—to look at you. If she saw your face, if she saw the regret, the indifference, or worse, the pity—it would break her.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she blurted, voice thin, barely holding together. Maybe if she said it first, if she got ahead of it, she could stop whatever came next.

But then—

“Yuqi, being friends with you has been fun, but—”

But.

That one word shattered everything.

No. Not like this. Not you.

“But what?” Her voice cracked, too raw, too exposed. “Is that it? Over just like that?”

You didn’t say anything, and it made her chest tighten, like her ribs were caving in.

“Did you hate it that much?” she forced out, her hands fisting in the fabric of the sheets.

“No, Yuqi, not like that. Let me talk—”

“To what? To hear your excuse?” Her voice rose, frantic now. “How can you talk so calmly? Is that how it is? I’m the only one who actually valued this friendship? I make one mistake, and you’re already ready to leave?”

“Yuqi. Look at me.”

There was a weight in the way you said her name—stern, unyielding—but she didn’t want to hear it. Couldn’t.

Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled as she dug them into the mattress, nails pressing into the fabric, grounding herself.

“Why can’t you just stay?” Her voice was barely above a whisper now, desperate, fraying at the edges. “I’m sorry, okay? This—this was a one-time thing. That’s it. So you don’t have to leave. It doesn’t mean anything.”

It was a lie. A pathetic, miserable lie.

But if saying it kept you from walking away, then she’d let it shatter her.

Except—

Before she could breathe, before she could take it back—

Your lips crashed into hers.

You knew what she was thinking. You knew how much she was spiraling, how the weight of her own fears was crushing her. And maybe—probably—it was best to just tell her, to stop her panic before it got any worse.

But watching her like this, hopelessly caught in her own misunderstanding, her pride stripped away, her vulnerability laid bare… you couldn’t help but find her cute.

So you kissed her.

When you pulled away, her breath was shaky, her wide eyes darting between yours.

“Will you listen to me now?”

She nodded—barely, hesitantly—before her gaze dropped back to the floor.

You sighed. “Yuqi, we’ve been friends for a while—”

Her head shot up so fast you almost laughed. Her eyes were glassy, lips parted as if she was about to say something—

But before she could, you kissed her again, swallowing whatever words she had.

“We’ve been friends for a while,” you repeated against her lips, softer this time. “And I thought we were always going to stay that way. But this past year…”

She was shaking now, small, uneven trembles as her tears finally spilled over. She pouted, biting her lip, trying so hard to keep it together. You placed a hand on her head, fingers threading through her hair, petting her gently.

That was the trigger.

The dam broke.

Her shoulders shook as she let out a muffled, choked sob, burying her face into your chest.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “But this past year, Yuqi…” You wiped her tears away with your thumbs, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to look at you. “I realized how dumb I was to keep thinking of you as just a friend. An amazing woman like you—you’re funny, you’re smart, you work hard, you’re pre—beautiful, and above all, you’re confident in everything you do…”

Then, with a smirk, you added, “And it’s absolutely hilarious when you’re wrong.”

She punched you—hard enough to send the message, but too weak to actually hurt.

“What I’m trying to say is, I like you. And just like you, I was scared of losing you too, Yuqi.”

She sniffled, hastily wiping at her face, the reality of your words finally sinking in.

“…That’s why, um—”

“What?!”

“I’m asking—can we be together?”

Her breath hitched.

And then, with no warning, the tears came rushing back as she smacked your chest. “Of course we can, you idiot! Why didn’t you say that first?!”

You had no excuse, only laughter. You pulled her into your arms, and she clung to you just as tightly.

“Yuqi…” you whispered, lips brushing against her ear.

You kissed her cheek. Then her forehead. Then her lips. Slowly, tenderly, you moved downward, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, her neck—

And then, a loud growl rumbled through the silence.

Yuqi stiffened.

You froze.

And then—

You let out a loud snort.

Yuqi turned bright red. “Don’t—don’t laugh! I hate you.”

You grinned, pulling away just enough to meet her eyes. “I like you.”

She huffed, still flustered.

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Do you at least like my cooking?”

Her voice was small, barely above a mumble.

“…I—I like it.”

You smirked, reaching for her hand, your fingers brushing her sweat-damp skin. “Then come on, let’s eat before you actually pass out on me.”

But just as you turned toward the kitchen, a sharp tug yanked you back.

Her grip was firm on your wrist.

“What is it?” you asked, pivoting to face her.

Yuqi hadn’t moved, her body squirming slightly, thighs pressing together. Her hands fisted over the oversized shirt—your shirt—clutching the fabric low over her stomach like she could hide her itch you could scratch away. Her chest heaved, tits straining against the fabric, nipples poking through—already hard from the kiss earlier. Her face was red, not from embarrassment of her stomach, but from the heat that you just have built up.

She was still breathless, her chest rising and falling unevenly, her skin flushed in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

And her eyes—dark, hungry, locked onto you like she was barely holding herself back.

Your grin deepened.

You leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat of your breath against her lips, but not close enough to give her what she wanted.

“Let’s eat first,” you murmured, your voice low, teasing.

Then, smirking, you added, “After, you can beg me to fuck you again.”

She shook, a quick, horny tremble.

And just like that, you pulled away, already heading toward the kitchen.

You didn’t have to look back to know she was still standing there, fuming, frustrated, and—most of all—waiting.

a/n: thanks for reading, also thoughts on the switching pov while maintaining 2nd pov ("you" pronoun)? Or is using 3rd person pov when in idols pov better?

#yuqi smut #gidle smut #male reader smut #kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #idol x reader #idol x male reader #qwilorg

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arachine · 2 years ago

Text

yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing.

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks.

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince:

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’”

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up.

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad.

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?”

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there.

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily.

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy.

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.”

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level.

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes.

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him.

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after.

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.”

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping.

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner.

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence.

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question.

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod.

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement.

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her.

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul.

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall.

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat.

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice.

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed.

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life.

“You tried any dating apps?”

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?”

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?”

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces.

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes.

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars.

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!”

“Right…”

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too.

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match.

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace.

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail.

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’.

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry.

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch.

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response.

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself.

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality.

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.”

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone.

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type.

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more.

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit.

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders.

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it.

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties).

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile.

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds.

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are!

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol).

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so?

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice.

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say.

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other.

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it.

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this).

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too.

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual.

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago.

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half.

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’.

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way.

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult.

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’”

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call.

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet.

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body.

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!”

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother.

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking.

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.”

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention.

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki.

“Come in, hon!”

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room.

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception.

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment.

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time.

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly.

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana.

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate.

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you.

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone.

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue.

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them.

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here.

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know.

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–”

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him.

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it.

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something.

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder.

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t.

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact.

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase.

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger.

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?”

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now.

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway.

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go.

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs.

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’.

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children.

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep.

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him.

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted.

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight.

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity.

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say.

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date.

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further.

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now.

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot.

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first.

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened.

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out.

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch.

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks.

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?”

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom.

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you.

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.”

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation.

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.”

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting.

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow.

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious.

“Wait, what?”

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d.

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance.

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness.

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating.

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?”

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes.

“I don’t know…” you trail.

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow.

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway.

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you.

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.”

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?”

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.”

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter.

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed.

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate.

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating.

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed.

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit.

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental?

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence.

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more.

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.”

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver.

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers.

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door.

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?”

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time.

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?”

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?”

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you.

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?”

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal.

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly.

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.”

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat.

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence.

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water.

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?”

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows.

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?”

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?”

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly.

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter.

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?”

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass.

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased.

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment.

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?”

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy.

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed.

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!”

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.”

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.”

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song.

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns.

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them.

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame.

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage.

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems.

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were.

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down.

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling.

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful.

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs.

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.”

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay.

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles).

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it.

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs.

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.”

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago.

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.”

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees.

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound.

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core.

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love.

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.”

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you.

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation.

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins.

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?”

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue.

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit.

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.”

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor.

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them.

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.”

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes.

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone.

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand.

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you.

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears.

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers.

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously.

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.”

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm.

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind.

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.”

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You.

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally.

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt.

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give.

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.”

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium.

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.”

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days.

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp.

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration.

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.”

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you.

Soon, that silence is broken.

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads.

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying.

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you.

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages.

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants.

“Shit!”

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you.

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!”

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom.

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

#art by: @yamada_souko (twt)#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk smut

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smutoperator · 20 days ago

Text

My Gamer Wife

Miyawaki Sakura x Male Reader

Sequel to King of Oshiri

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

Word count: 5779

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

Except when it comes to those damn video games.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can't wait."

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

#sakura smut #le sserafim smut #izone smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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batboyblog · 6 months ago

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Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #36

September 27-October 4 2024

President Biden and Vice-President Harris have lead the federal response to Hurricane Helene. President Biden's leadership earned praise from the Republican Governors of South Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, and Georgia, as well as the Democratic Governor of North Carolina and local leaders. Thousands of federal workers are on the ground in effected communities having given out to date over 8 million meals, over 7 million letters of water. Both President Biden and Vice-President Harris have been on the ground in resent days meeting with effected families. During her trip to Georgia Vice-President Harris announced that the federal government will reimburse state and local government 100% of the costs from Hurricane Helene.

A strike by the International Longshoremen’s Association that briefly shut down ports on the East Cost and Gulf ended in a tentative deal. Both sides thanked Acting Secretary of Labor Julie Su and Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg for helping push the deal through. President Biden and Vice-President Harris had expressed solidarity with the works when the strike was announced and President Biden directed Secretary Buttigieg to take the lead in pressuring management to make a deal with the Longshoremen. The ILA got a 62% raise as part of the agreement.

Vice President Harris announced new actions to help those struggling with medical debt. This actions include new standards from the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau on debt collection. the CFPB plans on requiring debt collectors to confirm debts are valid and accurate before engaging in collection actions. As well as cracking down on debt collectors that collect on debt that is not owed by patients. Other actions included an announcement by the DoD that it was reducing pricing for civilians who get medical treatment at DoD hospitals and a track down on tax-exempt hospitals who are required by law to offer financial assistance but often do not. These steps come after Vice President Harris in June announced plans to remove medical debt from credit scores. Following the Vice President's call to action North Carolina moved forward a plan to eliminate medical debt for 2 million people in the state. President Biden's American Rescue Plan funds have been used by state and local Democrats to eliminate $7 billion dollars in medical debt.

The Department of Transportation announced $62 Billion in infrastructure funding for 2025. Thanks to the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law passed by President Biden this will be $18 billion dollars more than was spent in 2021. The Biden-Harris Admin has helped support over 60,000 infrastructure projects across all 50 states, rebuilding roads and bridges, breaking ground on America's first high speed rail, updating ports and airports, and breaking high speed internet to rural communities.

The Department of Transportation announced $1 Billion dollars of investment in America's passenger rail future. This comes on top of $8.2 billion in investments announced in December 2023. The funds will help expand and modernize intercity passenger rail nationwide.

The Departments of Energy and Agriculture announced a $2.8 billion joint project to bring 100% carbon pollution-free energy to the rural midwest. The DoE is investing $1.5 billion into helping bring the Palisades Nuclear Plant in Michigan back on-line. Shut down in 2022 plans to refit and reopen it to allow the plant to keep generating clean energy till 2051. Once back online the Palisades Nuclear Plant will help stop an anticipated 4.47 million metric tons of greenhouse gas emissions a year, or 111 million metric tons of greenhouse gas emissions over its lifetime. The USDA is investing $1.3 billion in two rural electric cooperatives, Wolverine Power Cooperative and Hoosier Energy, which cover rural communities in Michigan, Illinois, and Indiana. This investment will help Wolverine and Hoosier connect to the Palisades Plant, reduce prices for customers, and reduce climate pollution, putting Wolverine Power on the path to be 100 percent carbon-free energy before 2030.

The Treasury and the IRS announced that 30 million Americans, across 24 states will qualify for free direct filing of their taxes in 2025. The IRS says that the average American spends $270 dollars and 13 hours filing their taxes. Thanks to the Inflation Reduction Act, passed by President Biden with Vice President Harris' tie breaking vote, Americans will be able to file their taxes quickly and for free directly with the IRS. Tax payers in Alaska, Arizona, California, Connecticut, Florida, Idaho, Kansas, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Washington, Wisconsin, and Wyoming will in 2025 be able to use direct file.

The USDA announced $7.7 billion in funding for Climate-Smart Practices on Agricultural Lands. This represents the single biggest investment in these programs in USDA history. Since implementation began in 2023 this conservation assistance has helped over 28,500 farmers and ranchers apply conservation to 361 million acres of land.

The Department of Energy announced $1.5 billion in investments in transmission infrastructure to help ensure our grid is reliable and resilient. This will help support nearly 1,000 miles of new transmission lines across Louisiana, Maine, Mississippi, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Texas. These lines will bring 7,100 MW of new capacity and create 9,000 good paying union jobs. Studies find to keep up with growth and meet our climate goals of carbon free energy the US will need to triple the 2020 transmission capacity by 2050. This is an important step to meeting that goal.

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #kamala harris #Politics #US politics #American Politics #climate change #climate action #carolina hurricanes #unions #longshoremen #rail #taxes

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occamstfs · 15 days ago

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Peace Together

Devon dreamed of getting out of the South, after achieving his great escape and beginning his Ivy League education he finds a new challenge in his perfect roommate, Phillip Wellington III or Lip. Never has the jock been anything but an angel to his new roommate, so why does he drive Devon mad?

Anxious nerd -> Preppy jock Bit of a self indulgent one, vaguely based on a certain American novel, which anyone who has read it will surely notice haha! Once more aided by Fred W. Kong! Hope you enjoy this tale of two longing roommates! -Occam

Devon never believed that people like Lip actually existed. Sure, superficially he looked just like any number of tormentors he knew from back home; The very ones who led him to avoid any team sports or phys ed, the ones that led him to pour everything he had into his studies and any academic extracurriculars he could find to get out of Mississippi. And so he did, and then he met Phillip. Or Lip, as he prefers to be called.

The pair came from different worlds. Devon was the sole Asian student in a southern public high school. Phillip Wellington III was the scion of a blue blooded Massachusetts clan. From the start Devon knew he would be encountering people from lives he would never understand, coming from backgrounds of such privilege he could scarcely understand.

But when he heard he would be rooming with a Wellington, Devon went almost catatonic with fear that he would be some plaything of a rich asshole. Out from the frying pan of brutish jocks and into the fire of a genuinely powerful preppy tyrant. Come to find out however, Lip was the furthest thing from a cruel snob.

At face value, one would assume Lip was handed his admission to this university on a silver platter, and true, no donor-hungry university would deny a Wellington. Devon certainly thought as much. But after learning even briefly of his new roommate’s achievements it was clear that by all accounts, Lip earned his place here. His test scores were stellar, academically he sometimes even gave Devon a run for his money. On top of his stellar intellectual pursuits though, he was an athletic star unlike any other.

Like a polyglot learns languages or a prodigy instruments, anytime Lip encountered a sport or game he had yet to play, in an hour's time he would be schooling whoever showed him the ropes. He could do it all, he did do it all. He had every right to look down on Devon. And yet ever since their first meeting Lip has been nothing but kind and respectful. He has been a beacon of warmth to Devon as he adapted to this cold, often hostile new university life.

So why does he fill Devon with such dread?

“Y’alright buddy? Dev?”

Devon shakes out of a stupor he didn’t even know he was in and finds himself staring directly at his roommate, his self-proclaimed best friend, Lip. He smiles awkwardly, as he does most things, and apologizes, “Jeez yeah- too many late nights I guess, sorry Phillip.”

Lip grins, perfect smile gleaming as he walks over to ruffle Devon’s hair. The meek man desperately tries to hide how he freezes up under the faultless man’s touch, something he’s well practiced in after their few years living together. While both are quite busy with the rigor of their course schedules, Lip even more so with his athletic and social commitments, in their free time it was rare to see one without the other.

Outside observers would be quick to pin Devon a hanger on, but in reality Lip goes out of his way to be near his roommate whenever the opportunity presents itself. Which, given Devon’s proclivity towards static study is fairly often. An entire floor of the campus’ library had become something of a popular haunt due to Devon, and by proxy Lip, frequenting it and attracting the true hangers on of the Wellington golden boy.

For the life of him, Devon can’t understand why a man that anyone in their right mind would describe as perfect would give him the time of day. Why he would care to spend time with him at all, let alone invite him on their family vacations. Since Devon stumbled into their dorm all those years ago and saw Lip hallowed by their cheap phosphorescent ceiling fan, he has done nothing but gone out of his way to ensure Devon would never feel lesser. It made the ever-antsy man feel like he was going insane.

“Man! Lost in your head again Dev? Gotta be a new record,” Devon feels the blush burning on his cheeks as he sees the same genuine smile that is almost always painted on Lip’s face. His blush is certainly not helped by the fact that Lip is halfway through changing into a flowy button up. Not that Devon’s gay of course, or whatever. He just wasn’t prepared to see his friend shirtless. Lip’s smile briefly flickers as he tilts his head before continuing, “Are you still down to head to the frat networking thing tonight?”

Devon groans for a few uninterrupted seconds. Shit- He knows he really should go, but truly nothing sounds more hellish than spending time with those money-bagged brutes. Eyes flicker and something in his chest flutters as he looks to his roommate, at least Lip will be there. The thought is buried without reflection, “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll go with you-”

“Sweet!” Lip’s smile fades for the smallest moment and he quickly goes to smell his pit before grimacing, “Oof I better hit the shower before though-” The Adonis reaches to grab his shirt by the hem and lifts it over his head with effortless grace, perfectly displaying his waist and sending a gulp down Devon’s throat. Looking down at his roommate with a wink, Lip grabs a hanging towel before rushing into the bathroom, “Be out in 30, you don’t need a shower before the thing too do ya?”

Face angled down, pointedly not looking at Lip as he unbuttons his pants Devon shakes his head and doesn’t see his roommate’s carefree shrug. Finally, when the door closes and Devon hears the shower running, he sighs and feels secure enough to raise his eyes again. With Lip away Devon feels his attention drawn to the discarded, apparently sweaty shirt. His mouth goes dry.

Try as he might to distract himself, the pull the garment has on him is all-consuming. Devon is pulled to it like a mouth to the flame, his eyes struggling to stray just as they always fail to avoid staring at the back of Lip’s head. Comforted by the drone of the shower, he allows himself to step forward and grab the ever so slightly damp shirt, all the while repeating the mantra ‘I’m not gay’ in his head.

Such thoughts are put on hold as he reaches down to grab it, finding the shirt still slightly warm from being worn by Lip. Moreover he feels his hands are sticky with sweat as he lifts it up, unsure why he is doing this or what he is to do with it next. Devon gulps as he realizes just how large it is. It’s of no surprise of course, Lip is so much larger than him. The Achilles to his Pat- er no that’s not right. All these classics classes are rotting his mind.

Devon bites his lip almost to the point of drawing blood as he feels his fingers rest on the damp left behind by Lip’s pits. Before he even knows what he’s doing he thrusts his face into the shirt and takes a deep sniff. Quicker than he can consciously think, his body reacts to this with delight more than he thought possible. In his mind he reflexively pictures his perfect roommate on the green chasing down a soccer ball, working up a sweat as he climbs trees just for the fun of it, sprinting down the university’s track to set a new high jump record.

Devon’s heart flutters as he is so easily able to recollect the man’s splendor, his success. Burned into his psyche clearer than anything, Devon sees Lip. He sees his brilliant smile, feels his rough palms, smells the memory of his sweat overpowering expensive cologne as powerfully as he smells both on the shirt clutched to his face. This is not enough, he needs more. His mouth waters as he imagines the exposed happy trail, sees a few curls extending past the edge of Lip’s sleeve, hears an echo of his loud lilting laughter. Devon needs to be him, Devon needs him.

Comforted by the sound of the shower still running, Devon loosens his white-knuckled grip on the shirt and moves to stand in front of a mirror. Throwing off the graphic tee he had on, he moves quicker than he has in years to throw on Lip’s shirt. It hangs limply from his thin shoulders and onto his flat chest, the sleeves fall well past his fingertips. He feels the cold patch of sweat about halfway down his sides where the garment apparently clung to Lip’s pits.

He pulls the placket tight to feel the shirt strain against his thin back, desperately willing the shirt to fit him. Wishing more than anything it was skin tight as it fit on Lip. Wishing he were man enough to fill it.

Staring at his reflection he sees nothing but the fool he is. The phoney he always has been. He sees his eyes begin to water as his face burns with embarrassment, with envy, with a need to be someone else. With an oppressive hunger to be more like Lip, to be Lip.

Clenching his eyes shut to avoid crying outright, the sound of the running shower fades into silence as he loses himself to his memories, his obsessive recollections once more. Burned into his eyes before the sting of tears can overwhelm him he sees how the waist of the shirt hung low, almost to his knees. And then he flashes back.

It was early on in their relationship, Devon was still unpacking his things as they moved into their first dorm. He had probably spent about half a minute trying to reach something on top of their bookshelf before Lip sidled over to lend a helping hand. Guarded more than could possibly be healthy, Devon almost scoffs before grumbling out a thanks. Turning to look up at Lip, he sees his new roommate scratching the back of his head in as awkward a manner as he’s probably capable, “Sorry Devon- I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself or-”

“It’s fine! It’s whatever.”

Refusing to let it rest, and unaware that Devon’s size is obviously an insecurity, Lip continues, “How tall are you anyway?” Devon’s brow twitches into a scowl as he prepares to snap before turning to see a look of genuine care and curiosity on his new roommate’s face. Thrown for such a loop he answers as he always does, falsely, “No it’s fine I’m uh, 5’9” Lip looks the student up and down and knows he can’t be taller than five seven. Devon simply banks that no one cares enough to call him on the matter, usually a safe bet.

The deceit bothers Lip though, quickly he moves to rest a hand on Devon’s shoulder before his new roommate can flinch away. Lip looks him intently in the eyes, “You shouldn’t lie about your height Dev. You shouldn’t feel the need to.” Devon feels the hand twitch on his shoulder as Lip considers moving it into a caress or pulling him into a hug before he instead takes a step back to give him room, “You don’t need to care about what others think of you buddy.”

The conversation dogged him then almost as much as it does now. All this time later he still cannot get over how affected he was by Lip’s kindness. How much he immediately longed to help him, to be his friend. His intense stare, the warm hand perfectly resting its weight on his shoulder, if Devon focuses he swears he can feel it there now, comforting him. Ugh! It’s driving him insane.

Opening his eyes he sees himself in a mirror, just as he was before. A reflection of his playing dress-up. Shaky hands resting on the counter and then he sees it. Or no? No, the image has changed? It must be in his head, it has to be. And yet, as he stares at the mirror, he would swear the shirt seems to be fitting him better. Making an effort he goes to stand up straight and sees the button up pull a few inches higher, he feels himself take up more space in the room.

Covering his mouth with a hand, Devon gasps and poses to find himself standing at least 5’9. No. Even taller. His eyes alight with wonder, but there’s no time to question this miracle as he realizes the sound of the running shower has stopped. Then he hears the turning of a door handle and sees steam pouring out from the bathroom door opening as Lip returns, towel wrapped around his waist and sculpted body bare to the world “Don’t remember if you needed to shower too but you’re all good now Dev!”

Shaking his hair dry like a dog, only then does he notice Devon guiltily staring at him, “Oh! That my shirt buddy? Coulda just asked-” Not a hint of judgement or suspicion on his face. Though he’s stunned from shock as Devon runs over and grabs him by his arms, never has the man ever gone out of his way to touch him fully clothed. For him to even look at him while he’s basically nude must mean something is seriously amiss.

“Phillip. Do you notice anything different about me?” Lip looks him up and down with a shy smile, tightening the towel hiding his modesty as he does so, “Uhhh, not really Dev?” Devon releases his grip as he too realizes how out of character the action was, “Look! I’m clearly taller!”

Lip tilts his head and looks closely, Devon sees his furrowed brow and for a moment it seems like he’s going to agree, but then his eyes get glassy. With a grunt Lip blinks hard a couple times and then whatever confusion that lay behind his eyes is gone, his expression returned to the usual perfect smile that rests upon his face, “What do you mean buddy? We’ve always been the same height!”

Devon blanches. Looking down he realizes that as he was so honed in on Lip that he didn’t even notice as he sprouted taller once more. He feels the cool air of their dorm room on his ankles as his legs have clearly lengthened, sees his wrists peeking from the sleeves of a shirt that now seems almost too short for his lanky arms. Gasping, he almost falls back from realizing that he is currently making direct eye contact with Lip, a man who has always stood over a head taller than him. In fact he would have fallen, had his roommate not been ready to catch him.

Devon feels the man’s slightly damp arm holding him aloft, he quietly apologizes, knowing that Devon is usually touch averse. “Sorry Dev.” In the rush to catch him, their faces rest but an inch apart from each other. Both men freeze. Devon smells Lip’s minty, warm breath and is faced with a need more pressing than he’s ever felt before. Fortunately for him, Lip’s down-turned eyes and wanting mouth provide no illusion that he craves anything but the same.

It’s not clear who moves first as their mouths meet. It doesn’t matter as they both lean in and for the first time since they met, Devon feels peace. Even the hysteria of his suddenly sprouting almost half a foot taller cannot stir him from the bliss and contentment he finds in the embrace of Phillip Wellington. When he glides across the man’s brilliant teeth with his tongue and feels his counterpart do the same, Devon finally opens his eyes to see Lip's tanned face far too close for comfort, see his lashes quiver as he somehow finds similar delight in Devon’s mouth.

And he pushes away.

Devon falls to the floor, causing a clamor louder than either man expected. Scrambling on the floor he gasps deeper breaths than his thin torso should be able to manage. His vision flashes white from taking in more oxygen than he’s ever done before. Hands that moments ago were clutching and rubbing the bare muscled back of Lip now fly to his own chest as his expanding lungs burn, only to find resistance where there should be none.

Fingers inching under the borrowed shirt scrape against the bulging muscle fibers of pecs beginning to form. As Phillip reaches out a helping hand as he has done on countless occasions in the time they’ve known each other, Devon skitters away, doing everything short of smacking the hand as he struggles to push himself back using his legs alone, crying out in a voice cracking deeper, “WhAT’s happening to me PhILip!”

Lip, not used to being caught off-guard, struggles to come up with a game plan as he’s distracted watching Devon’s exposed ankles prickle with hair as hitherto non-existent calves begin to press against his pants. Staring hungrily as wider feet press against cheap tennis shoes, filling them almost to bursting as Devon tries to crawl onto his bed. Lip’s mind is torn between two worlds, just as Devon seems to be torn between two selves. He struggles to remember which Devon he knows to be real, the quiet one sheepishly sneaking peeks at him from behind a textbook, or the one that seems to be bursting forth before him.

Crying out as his vocal chords thicken and expand, Devon’s deepening grunts cover the unpleasant sounds of his back cracking as it widens to fill Lip’s shirt. Ribs pushing out and giving him a thick chest that anyone would envy, that he should envy. Memories flash through his mind from years of hungrily staring at Lip’s pecs are interrupted with just as many instances of staring at his own massive chest in gym mirrors. Posing alongside his lov- friend, flexing and playing with a meaty chest. His eye twitches as sees a clear memory of Lip sucking on his larger nipples before gasping and returning to the present moment, hands clenching his bedsheets.

Looking at them, Devon is again stunned with images forcing their way through his mind like a reel. He can’t tell what is real or imagined, he feels himself being topped by Lip. And then he sees Lip’s tanned hands pulling at the bedsheets as he clutches the man’s pecs from behind. Yanking at his blonde curls, he hears heady breaths from his deeper chest. Feels the sweat, smells the man’s natural musk.

In reality his hips reflexively rut against the bed as he cries out Lip’s name in between drooling grunts, “Lip, help-” For the first time in all their knowing each other that he opts to not use the man’s full name, breaking Lip out of his strange lull. Seeing the man quivering against his bed frame, ass suddenly filling out his pants as they begin to tear, Lip can’t help but get distracted. He’s always been drawn to his bookish er- brawny roommate, but facing the man as he grows he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to hold back.

His excitement makes itself known as under the towel barely hanging onto his own gyrating waist, there’s a clear, throbbing outline of a cock that could do with some attention. One that Devon finds precisely at eye level as he turns on the spot, “Lip. I need your grgh-,” the words dance as he has trouble controlling his still thrusting form, abs bursting onto his torso give him power enough to push off his bed with ease. Which he does, exercising his new burning strength.

Head light from vertigo, he takes his first stumbled step forward and falls once more into the arms of Lip, his face squarely pushed against the man’s dewy pecs. Looking up to find Lip staring into him with nothing short of total desire, biting his lip with a fervor, Devon struggles to not totally give in to whatever alien drive is pulling them together,“Look we- we can’t, I’m not supposed to be like this!”

It’s unclear if Lip is even listening as he whines from the feeling of Devon’s bare skin against his own. Shaking with the effort of holding back, he allows his towel to fall to the ground, gasping as his cock bobs free, forcefully bumping into Devon’s barely contained package. Looking down to see Lip’s exposed growing rod, Devon feels his ability to keep his hardening cock and growing lust under control waning.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up. As he feels his traps bulging and arms bulking, he wonders if he even wants to anymore. There’s only a hint of lucidity behind Lip’s eyes as Devon makes his appeals, and with each needy throb of his package, every scratch of Lip’s hands against his back, every sweaty breath against his torso even that meagre show of willpower begins to fade.

“I’m not some muscle-bound hunk like you Lip! I’m just dweeb! I’m your little pet project!” Lip shakes his head slowly, and with each rotation Devon changes even more, biceps shaping up to be even larger than Lip’s. He feels them strain the shirt and grunts as he is unable to ignore the continuing changes. Lip would never call him a pet project, to Lip they were friends, just friends. Not divided by status, Lip never looked down on him.

“Okay whatever! We’re friends, right? Just friends!” Lip’s mouth falls open, wanting to take a bite, give a hickey, drink in Devon’s saliva, taste his sweat. Devon’s heart skips a beat as his chest feels a pang of need, are they just friends? His jaw squares out, shaping into something impossibly masculine, powerful and sharp. One of Lip’s hands forces itself under his shirt to rub his back as muscle continues to pack on. The other makes its way all the way up to play with Devon’s hair as it changes from the same cut he has gotten his whole life. Changing from one deliberately unassuming to a cut that heightens his masculinity, displays his status. One that looks just like Lip’s

He remembers when Lip took him to the barber shop his parents always took him to, being introduced to men that have known Phillip his whole life. He remembers being introduced as Dev, ‘my boyfr-” No. that didn’t happen, that can’t have happened. And yet he feels his haircut change to something posh and preppy. Something like that which he has always adored on Lip’s head. Oh how he adores him.

His mouth is a millimeter away from kissing his perfect man, the perfect man once more, something he knows would spell the end of life as he knew it. But as the seconds pass in the grasp of Lip, as his hands unconsciously free his cock from its captivity, he can scarcely remember which life lived is even the real one. He’s still Devon, he’s still a student who fought his way here from the south, he’s still intelligent. Still hotter than anything. His head tilts as Lip moves in for another kiss. And for the life of him he doesn’t know why a small part of him objects at all.

He allows Lip to tear the shirt off him before tackling him onto the bed, almost growling with need as they fuck like it’s the first time they ever have, despite clearly having done so innumerable times. Every burning muscle on Dev’s sweaty body feels brand new as they stretch and trust like they never have before. The bed frame creaks under the weight of both men as their twins burst together into a king size bed befitting the new titanic couple.

Their wardrobes combine as Dev finds himself far more accustomed to dressing just like Lip. Graphic tees and baggy pants vacate to make room for clothes exactly like Lip wears, if not a tad larger what for Dev’s preference to be bulkier than his, only relatively, lithe lover. Memories of cowering in the shadow of his perfect roommate totally disappear as instead he clearly recalls always standing by the nothing-but-kind man’s side. Dev and Lip are a pair as they always have been, and if they have their druthers, as they always will be.

When the third alarm goes off warning the pair to quit their fun and get ready for the impending networking event for their frat, Lip finally pushes Dev towards the shower, “C’mon now there’re gonna be associates of father there Dev, we’ve gotta look our best!” His lover rolls his eyes and laughs at Lip’s disheveled hair, “Think you might need a touch up there too Mr. Wellington-”

Forcing up Lip’s arm to get a good smell of his b.o. He smirks and mocks his boyfriend, who just like himself, smells unmistakably of sex, “Ooh man- And another shower for yourself I think?” Turning on the faucet he directs Lip in first, “two birds one stone?” Lip rolls his eyes before winking, “Never knew you were so concerned with efficiency there. As long as you’re able to control yourself so we might actually come out cleaner than we went in, you've got a deal.”

Following him in, it’s not long at all before Dev’s pressing his boner into his lover’s back. Lip just smiles and turns before pulling his head down to shampoo the massive man’s sweat-stained hair. Afterwards he grabs him by the jaw and shakes his head, playfully complaining, “You little horndog, what am I going to do with you…”

Despite Dev’s best attempts to have some fun, the pair eventually get all washed up and head out to the door only a few minutes later than planned. Dressed as well as they can be with what limited time they had, they wander off to the event hand in hand, as they almost always are. For the first time in years Dev is not burdened by his obsession, not held back by his denial. He finally allows himself to take advantage of the life he has found himself in, to feel the love of the man he has found himself with.

Lip of course never felt on anything besides equal footing with his roommate. While the Devon of the past may eventually have shed his self-conscious nature on his own, that he was blown out of his shell supernaturally is all the better for his relationship with the Wellington scion. As they catch the eyes of every guest at the party, no one can say they are not perfect for each other. Feeling his hand clasped in Phillip’s, Dev smiles as he is finally able to feel peace.

#male tf #reality change #personality change #male transformation #jockification #nerd to jock #muscle tf

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racecardilfs · 6 days ago

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lance is amazing and the hate for him stems almost entirely from ableism (whether or not hes neurodivergent) and antisemitism (whether or not people realize it) and i will DIE on this hill

guys lance is so real—

#ivy yaps #even if you didnt know he was jewish!! the rhetoric around him is as intense as it is BECAUSE he is jewish.#“hes a nepo baby! he didn't earn his seat!” he consistently scores in the top 10 despite aston being cursed (i love them but they hate me)#also practically everyone in that sport is a nepo baby #one of the few people who isnt is esteban #and the fact hes so close with lance should tell you a lot about lance too #and antisemetic rhetoric CONSISTENTLY for GENERATIONS has centered around jewish people controlling everything and being greedy #and even if you didnt know that. you are surrounded by it. and plenty of people do #the hate for lance that isnt ableism or antisemitism is either just lighthearted so you cant claim moral high ground or hypocritical #you cant hate him just for hitting your fav once or twice bc for one thats the sport for two your fav has hit ppl and for three hes human #all the f1 drivers and all athletes are humans not gladiators!!!#wow. i yapped. sorry for screaming in the tags k #yelling into the void i fear

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beatrixst0nehill · 3 months ago

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"Just making a little jab at my company. It's soooo frustrating earning a Master's just to wind up at a company that thinks all women are good for is inflating our breasts until they burst! My boss has been aggressively forcing every girl at our company to take experimental breast growth pills which have like a billion different side effects. So I was complaining to one of my coworkers that I'm depressed cause none of my old clothes fit anymore because, you know, I'm not a B-Cup anymore. I'm ...... whatever the hell this is! I don't even want to know honestly, it's too embarrassing. Probably an R-cup or S-cup.

But, well, my coworker ratted me out for complaining and because I said I was depressed I got this crazy letter at my desk saying 'Unhappy? We invite you to Lakehurst Women's Mental Wellness Center'. I cracked up laughing so hard I hard to run to the restroom. My boobs started lactating uncontrollably just because I was laughing SO hard, which they've been doing more and more lately. Hurray more side effects!

But for those not in the know, I'm not shocked Lakehurst is in my company's healthcare network, with how misogynistic my boss is. Basically you go there and they experiment on you to 'break you'. They force you to get insanely pregnant, like humiliatingly big, a dozen kids at once. You're kept naked 24/7 as male interns and students from nearby colleges are trained on you. They get to perform whatever kinky surgeries they want on girls, and fuck them, of course. Gotta make sure guys' dicks don't stay hard for more than five seconds, it's the state's number one priority! I hear they even lobotomize girls there for fun, to 'lower their IQ' if they score too high on tests. Because according to state law a high IQ for girls, or anything above 100 can be considered mental unwellness, and can legally be treated, by force if a partner or parent wants. Oh, and of course they also force you to grow giant tits, because having big boobs is good for a woman's mental health, or something.

Sooooo, I got my stupid letter and now I'm not gonna complain anymore. I just shut my mouth like a good girl and grow these monster tits for my pervy boss, who literally just sits in his office and jerks off all day, very loudly, to porn or he has us go in and strip, 'shake' and 'jiggle' our massive breasts for him so he can cum all over them, which we're not allowed to clean up the whole day if he does. There are already girls on our floor who have boobs so big they carry them in these trendy wheelbarrows or carts. I'm gonna buy one this weekend after I get paid because I'm kind of jealous, they are just soooo stylish and cute, and it'll make walking around so much easier, until they get so big I can't lift them up anymore. Godddd I can't believe I have to grow these stupid things, I hope my future husband really, really likes massive boobs. He's gonna have to get used to taking care of me real quick!"

#body modification kink #breast expansion #be #forced breast inflation #breast inflation #lactating kink #pregnant kink #forced body modification

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rafecameronssl4t · 3 months ago

Text

Centre court || Tennis player!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron shines at the Australian Open, drawing strength from his girlfriend’s support, a heartfelt moment that captivates the crowd and fuels his victory.

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1,392

A/n: the last time I wrote tennis player!rafe was early on when I first started this acc 🥲 and if you guys didn’t already know, I’m from Australia and in in honour of the Aus Open coming up (CANT WAIT) I wrote this :)

MASTERLIST

The Melbourne sun was merciless, casting a blazing glow over the Rod Laver Arena as thousands of fans packed the stands, eagerly anticipating the quarterfinal match between Rafe Cameron and his opponent, a seasoned and formidable Spaniard. The crowd buzzed with excitement, a palpable energy rippling through the stadium as both players warmed up on the court.

You sat in the player’s box, perched beside Rafe’s coach, a seasoned man with an intense focus, and his small team. Clad in a flora dress that fluttered in the occasional breeze and oversized sunglasses, you exuded effortless grace. Your presence was impossible to ignore, but you kept your attention solely on Rafe.

His golden hair was damp with sweat under his cap, and his sharp, determined expression made your heart swell with pride. This was Rafe’s moment. You could see the fire in his blue eyes, his posture taut with focus and ambition. As the match began, Rafe dominated the first set, his serves slicing through the air with precision.

You clapped politely after every point he scored, your smile soft yet brimming with pride. When he glanced up at his box after an impressive ace, you gave him a subtle nod, silently cheering him on. He didn’t smile, his game face unbroken, but you knew the gesture was his way of acknowledging you.

The second set was harder. His opponent, known for his relentless stamina, began to claw his way back into the game, chasing every ball with tireless energy. The crowd grew louder with each rally, their cheers and groans echoing through the arena. You leaned forward in your seat, gripping the armrest, willing Rafe to push through.

You couldn’t help but admire the raw power in his strokes and the elegance of his movements. He played with a passion that was magnetic, and it reminded you why you’d fallen for him in the first place—not just because he was talented, but because of his unwavering determination. Then, it happened.

During a crucial rally, Rafe hit a forehand that kissed the baseline, winning the point and earning a roar from the crowd. But as he walked back to the baseline to serve, the camera operators made a choice that would change the mood of the match entirely. The stadium’s giant screen cut to you, sitting poised and radiant, your gaze locked on Rafe with a mix of love, pride, and awe.

You weren’t even aware of the camera; your expression was natural, your emotions written all over your face. The crowd erupted. Cheers and whistles filled the air, loud and relentless, causing even the players on court to pause in confusion. Rafe stopped mid-serve, glancing around with furrowed brows. His opponent looked equally baffled, exchanging a look with the umpire, who leaned forward to figure out what had caused the commotion.

It wasn’t until Rafe turned his eyes to the big screen that he understood. There you were, larger than life, your every detail captured in high definition. The way the sun danced off your hair, the curve of your lips as you smiled slightly, the love in your eyes—it was enough to leave the crowd in awe. Rafe’s expression softened, his confusion melting into something else entirely.

His lips curved into the faintest smile, a rare crack in his composed demeanour. The crowd’s cheers only grew louder at his reaction, and even his opponent chuckled, shaking his head as if to say, Lucky guy. You finally noticed the screen and gasped, your cheeks flushing a deep pink. You turned to Rafe’s coach in embarrassment, but he laughed, patting your hand.

“Seems like you’ve stolen the show,” he teased. Rafe, ever the professional, quickly refocused, shaking his head and smirking before stepping back to serve again. But you noticed the slight extra spring in his step, the way he glanced your way more often, as though he drew strength from knowing you were there, proud and supportive.

The match ended in a nail-biting tiebreaker, with Rafe securing the final point with an overhead smash. The crowd exploded in celebration as Rafe dropped his racquet, throwing his arms into the air in victory. As he approached the net to shake his opponent’s hand, his eyes flickered up to you once more. This time, he didn’t hide his grin.

When he walked off the court, the first thing he did was head straight to you. Ignoring the cameras and the crowd, he leaned over the railing, cupped your face in his sweaty palms, and kissed you deeply. “For good luck,” he murmured, his voice husky and low. The crowd roared again, and you laughed against his lips, knowing you’d never hear the end of it.

The post-match interview was conducted on the court, just minutes after Rafe’s victory. He stood in front of the camera, towel draped over his shoulders, his hair damp with sweat, and his signature stoic expression softened by the occasional grin. The crowd, still buzzing with energy, cheered wildly as the interviewer, a seasoned Australian sports journalist, approached him with a microphone.

“Rafe, congratulations on an incredible match!” the interviewer began, her voice amplified through the speakers. “That was a hard-fought battle, and you showed tremendous resilience out there. How are you feeling right now?” Rafe nodded, wiping his face with the towel before speaking into the mic. “Yeah, it was a tough one,” he said, his Southern accent drawing attention.

“Credit to my opponent—he made me work for every point. But I stayed focused, trusted my game, and just tried to take it one point at a time. Feels good to come out on top.” The crowd applauded his humility, and Rafe glanced up at the stands where you were seated. You caught his gaze, smiling softly, and he looked away quickly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

The interviewer chuckled, clearly picking up on the crowd’s excitement. “Now, I have to ask—there was a moment during the second set that had everyone buzzing. The camera panned to someone special in the player’s box, and the crowd went absolutely crazy. Did you notice?”Rafe laughed lightly, his head dipping for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he admitted, his grin widening. “At first, I wasn’t sure what was going on. Thought maybe something happened in the stands or something. But then I saw her on the screen, and…” He paused, glancing toward you again. “…I mean, can’t say I blame them.” The crowd erupted in cheers and whistles, their enthusiasm filling the arena.

You buried your face in your hands, both flattered and mortified, Rafe’s coach teasingly nudging you while Rafe smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction. “She’s been with me through everything,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost tender. “Always supporting me, no matter how tough things get. It means a lot to have her here, especially on a stage like this.”

The interviewer smiled warmly. “Well, I think we can all agree she stole the show for a moment there! But back to the match—this win puts you into the semifinals of the Australian Open. How are you preparing for the next challenge?” Rafe straightened, his game face returning. “Same way I prepare for every match,” he said confidently. “Rest, recovery, and working with my team. I know it only gets tougher from here, but I’m ready for it. This is what I train for.”

“Before we let you go,” the interviewer added, “do you have a message for your fans? The support here has been incredible.” Rafe looked out at the crowd, his expression softening again. “Yeah, I just want to say thank you,” he said sincerely. “Y’all are amazing, and your energy out here makes all the difference. Can’t wait to see you all in the semis.”

The arena erupted into applause as Rafe handed the microphone back and waved to the crowd. But before he walked off, he glanced up at you one last time, giving you a subtle wink that sent the audience into yet another frenzy. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you clapped for him. This was his moment, and he owned it.

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natsaffection · 8 months ago

Note

OKAY SO LIKE I WAS JUS ON TIKTOK N LIKE THOSE SONG ACCS POPPED UP N IT WAS PLAYING “why’d you only call me when you’re high” i havent heard this song in a WHILE

n it jus like sparked my next greatest idea😇 SO imagine football player! nat n cheerleader!reader, they’re both insanely popular. But they’re in separate friend groups. And readers bestfriends also happens to be the one and only playboy, Tony Stark, with player Bucky Barnes in second place. And Reader had her eye on Natasha for quite a while and actually finds herself asking out Natasha one day.

BUT unbeknownst to her, Natasha had a plan in her mind. Natasha assumed Reader was like Tony and Bucky and that she was trying to get a hit on her so she decided to “play along.” then breaking reader’s heart first.

ANGSTYYYY, and a fluffy ending

-💋

Whatever it takes. | N.R

FootballPlayer!Natasha x Cheerleader!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! G!P Natasha, fingering, blowjob, Y/n smacking everyone, Break Up, Angstt

Word Count: 6,4 k

A/N: OKAYYY...I got very inspired by the song that Girl - olly murs, Also..Again a very good and creative Idea, dear Anon! Thank you for that. 🙂‍↕️

The Field buzzed with electric energy as the crowd gathered for the highly anticipated Football game. Natasha Romanoff, the star player, was at the center of attention, her presence dominating the field with an aura of confidence and undeniable skill. Her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, her eyes focused and determined. She was a force to be reckoned with, admired and respected by both her teammates and opponents.

Natasha's journey to becoming a football player had been anything but easy. Growing up in a rough neighborhood, she found solace in sports. Her natural talent and relentless drive caught the attention of her high school coach, who took her under his wing. Despite numerous obstacles, Natasha's hard work and dedication paid off, earning her a spot on the college team and a scholarship. Her teammates became her second family, and the field her sanctuary. Over time, she learned to be wary of those who wanted to get close to her for the wrong reasons and to guard her heart carefully.

On the sidelines, the cheerleading squad prepared for their routine, each member wearing their immaculate uniforms, complete with shimmering pom poms. Among them stood you, a popular cheerleader known for your vibrant spirit and radiant smile. You moved with grace and precision, each action a testament to the countless hours of practice and dedication you had put into your craft.

Your journey was different but equally challenging. You had always been passionate about dancing and cheerleading, but your parents initially disapproved, insisting you focus on school. Undeterred, you managed to excel at both, proving you could handle the demands of school and cheerleading. Your determination and positive attitude earned you the respect of your peers and a leadership position on the team.

The cheerleaders took their positions on the sidelines, ready to kick off the game with an energizing routine. You led the team with a brilliant smile, your movements perfectly synchronized with the beat of the music. The crowd responded with cheers, their excitement palpable. As the routine reached its climax, you executed a flawless backflip and landed gracefully, drawing applause from the audience.

As the game began, you found yourself glancing repeatedly at Natasha. You had always admired her athleticism and fighting spirit, but today was different. Something about the way Natasha moved, the sheer determination in her eyes, captivated your attention in a way you couldn't quite explain.

Throughout the first half of the game, your eyes followed Natasha's every move. She was in her element, effortlessly slipping past defenders. She intercepted passes, set up plays, and scored with a precision that left the crowd in awe. Each time Natasha scored or made a significant play, you felt a tingle in your chest, an inexplicable warmth spreading through you.

During a brief pause in the game, you took a moment to catch your breath. You looked over at your fellow cheerleaders, who were engrossed in their own conversations and preparations. Your best friend Kate noticed your distraction and nudged you playfully.

"Earth to Y/n! You seem a bit out of it today. Everything okay?" Kate asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. You laughed softly and shook your head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just watching the game."

Kate raised an eyebrow and glanced at the field, where Natasha was discussing strategy with her teammates. "Or watching someone in particular on the field?"

Your cheeks flushed slightly. "Is it that obvious?" Kate giggled and gave you a knowing look. "Only to those who know you well. You've had your eyes on Natasha the entire game. Do you like her?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. You had never really thought about it. Sure, you admired Natasha, but could it be more? The realization hit you like a ton of bricks..you had a crush on Natasha Romanoff.

"I... I think I do.." you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd. Kate grinned, her excitement evident. "Well, it's about time you realized it! I think you should talk to her after the game."

Your mind raced, your nerves tingling with excitement and fear. You nodded slowly, your gaze drifting back to Natasha. As the game resumed, you cheered louder, your movements more energetic than ever as you kept your eyes on Natasha.

When the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game, the crowd erupted in cheers. Natasha's team had won, and she was quickly surrounded by teammates and fans congratulating her on her outstanding performance. You watched from the sidelines, your heart pounding as you contemplated your next move.

"Hey, Romanoff! Looks like you have an admirer!" teased one of her teammates, nudging her towards the sidelines where you stood. "Yeah, don't let the hot cheerleader get away," added another with a grin.

"Bet she'd love to give you a private cheer.." joked another teammate, prompting a round of laughter. Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. The teasing comments from her teammates gave her the push she needed, despite her attempts to maintain a cool facade.

"Careful, Romanoff, she might be too much for you in the bedroom.." joked yet another teammate, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Nah, I'd love to know what it's like under her pom poms." and another one, eliciting another round of laughter.

Natasha's cheeks reddened slightly, but she held your gaze. She couldn't deny the magnetic pull, despite her reservations. She had seen it before, people wanting to get close to her for the wrong reasons, to bask in her glow rather than genuinely care about her.

"Guys, seriously, tone it down." Natasha said firmly, her voice cutting through their laughter. As the team headed towards the locker room, they had to pass by the cheerleaders. You saw them coming, and your courage wavered. You felt a wave of shyness as the team approached, and despite your previous determination, you couldn't find the words you wanted to say.

Natasha kept her gaze forward, the laughter of her teammates fading into the background as she passed by the cheerleaders. She briefly met your gaze, but the moment passed quickly, and she continued on her way without saying a word.

You stood there silently, frustrated with yourself for not having the courage to speak up, for missing the chance to connect with Natasha. You watched as Natasha disappeared into the locker room with her team, a mix of admiration and frustration welling up inside you.

"Come on, you can't tell me you're not interested." teased a teammate as they entered the locker room. Natasha sighed and shook her head slightly. "Just drop it now, okay?"

The days flew by, filled with classes, homework, and extracurricular activities. You found yourself constantly reminded of Natasha, whether through classmates discussing the latest soccer game or seeing Natasha in the school hallways. The memory of your brief interaction after the game lingered in your mind, making your heart race every time you thought about it.

One afternoon, you sat with Kate at your usual table in the school cafeteria. The bustling chatter of students talking and eating surrounded you, but your attention was focused on Natasha's table at the other end of the room. Natasha was deep in conversation with some of her mates, her laughter standing out above the general hum of voices.

"She really does look good.." Kate remarked, noticing your distracted gaze. You sighed, resting your chin on your hand. "Yeah.. I just can't get her out of my head. It's like everywhere I go, something or someone reminds me of her." Kate smiled understandingly. "Maybe it's a sign. You should talk to her, Y/n. You never know what might happen."

Before you could respond, the cafeteria door swung open, and Tony strolled in with his usual confident swagger. Tony was known for his charm and playboy reputation, always confident and seemingly able to get any girl he wanted. He spotted the two of you and made his way directly to your table.

"Ladies, how's it going?" Tony greeted with a grin, taking a seat in an empty chair. "Hey, Tony.." Kate responded lightly. "Y/n here is just crushing on someone."

Tony raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. "Oh? Do tell." You rolled your eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed. "It's really nothing. There's just this girl I like, but I don't know how to approach her."

Tony's grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Well, you're talking to the master at getting the girl. Who's the lucky lady?"

You hesitated, casting a nervous glance towards Natasha's table. "It's... Natasha."

Tony's eyes widened briefly in surprise before a mischievous smile spread across his face. "Natasha, huh? She's a tough nut to crack, but I think you've got a chance. You just need a little push." You frowned, uncertain. "I don't know, Tony.. She's so... out of my league."

"Nonsense." Tony said dismissively. "You're great, Y/n. You just need to show her that. Come on, I'll help you out." Kate looked intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"

Tony's grin turned sly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Simple. You're going to go over there and ask Natasha out." Your eyes widened in panic. "What? No way. I can't do that!"

"Yes, you can," Tony insisted, leaning forward. "Just be confident. What's the worst that could happen? She says no? No big deal. At least you'll know you tried."

You glanced at Kate, who nodded encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, you stood up, your legs feeling wobbly. Tony gave you a reassuring pat on the back. "Go get her, tiger," Tony said with a wink.

You made your way across the cafeteria to Natasha's table, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the eyes of other students on you, adding to your nerves. As you approached Natasha's table, you cleared your throat and tried to steady your voice.

"Uh, hi.." you said, your voice trembling slightly. Natasha looked up, surprise flickering in her eyes. "Hi."

You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the curious stares of Natasha's teammates. "I was wondering if... if you'd like to go out with me? Maybe we could grab a coffee or something?"

There was a moment of silence, and it felt like the world had stopped. Natasha's expression was unreadable, and your heart sank, fearing the worst. Then, a small smile tugged at the corners of Natasha's lips. "Sure. I'd like that." You blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," Natasha said, her smile growing. "Why not? It could be fun." Relief and joy flooded through you, and you couldn't help but grin. "Great! Um, I'll see you after school?"

"Sounds good " Natasha replied with a nod. As you turned and walked back to your table, you felt like you were walking on air. Tony and Kate greeted you with cheers and high-fives.

"See? I told you it would work." Tony said, looking quite pleased with himself. "Thanks, Tony. I owe you one.." you said, your smile not fading.

"Just have fun." Tony replied with a wink. "And don't forget to tell me all about it."

Natasha watched you, even as her teammates' conversations drew her back in. The cafeteria was bustling with life, but her thoughts remained on the unexpected encounter with you. Natasha's smile faded slightly as she continued to think.

She glanced over at your table, where Tony was animatedly talking with you and Kate. Natasha squinted slightly. Tony Stark and his buddy Bucky Barnes were notorious at school for their playboy antics, always bragging about their latest conquests. Natasha had seen too many girls left heartbroken by them and wasn't about to let herself become one of their pawns.

She knew better than to trust appearances, especially when Stark and his crew were involved. Steve and Sam exchanged looks but said nothing further. They knew Natasha well enough to understand that once she made up her mind, nothing could change it.

As her teammates turned back to their meals, Natasha's resolve grew stronger. She wouldn't be another notch on someone's belt. If you thought you could play her, you had another thing coming. Natasha would play along, but on her terms. She would teach you a lesson and be the one to walk away first.

Later, as the cafeteria began to empty, Natasha found herself glancing over at your table again. Tony had left, probably off to charm someone else, and you were deep in conversation with Kate. For a brief moment, you looked up, and your eyes met. Natasha gave a slight nod in greeting, and you smiled shyly before quickly looking away.

"Hey, Nat, you coming?" Sam called, breaking her train of thought. "Yeah, I'm coming." Natasha replied, grabbing her things and casting you one last glance before following her teammates out of the cafeteria.

As Natasha walked through the school halls with her teammates, she couldn't help but feel a sense of determination. She had been played before and had learned from those experiences. This time, she would be in control. This time, Natasha would be the one to break a heart first.

Later that evening, Natasha found herself getting ready for the coffee date with you. She dressed casually but made sure she looked good. After all, she had to maintain the appearance. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she reminded herself of her plan. She would make you think you had a chance, play the role of the interested one, but always with her guard up.

When she arrived at the café, she saw you already there, nervously fiddling with your phone. She took a deep breath, put on her best smile, and walked over to you. "Hey," she greeted you, sitting down across from you. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

You looked up, and your face lit up with a smile. "No, not at all. I'm just glad you came." Natasha returned the smile, but her mind was already at work. She would play the game, but this time, she would win.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, smiling at you. "So, tell me a bit about yourself. What do you do besides cheerleading?" You smiled and relaxed a little. "Well, I'm really into dance. I've been dancing since I was a kid. It's a big part of my life. What about you? How did you get into football?"

Natasha shrugged casually, but couldn't suppress a hint of nostalgia. "I've always been into sports. Growing up, it was a way to escape everything else. Soccer just became my passion." You nodded, your eyes reflecting genuine interest. "That's amazing. Watching you play is incredible."

"Thanks." Natasha replied, appreciating the compliment but reminding herself, "What do you want to do after school?"

"I'm thinking about studying dance and maybe becoming a choreographer.." you said, your eyes lighting up. "It's a long shot, but it's my dream." Natasha smiled, feeling a small connection despite her intentions. "That's the right attitude. You should go for it."

They continued talking, the conversation flowing easily. You shared stories about your family and friends, and Natasha found herself laughing at some of your anecdotes. Despite her initial skepticism, she found herself enjoying your company. You were warm and engaging, and Natasha began to wonder if she had misjudged you.

As the evening progressed, they finished their coffee and walked out of the café together. The night air was cool, and they strolled slowly, talking about everything and anything.

"That was really nice.." you said softly, looking at her. "Yeah, it was." Natasha agreed, feeling a twinge of doubt about her plan. But she quickly pushed it aside. "Maybe we could do this again sometime?" you asked hopefully. Natasha smiled, but kept her emotions in check. "Sure, I'd like that."

They said their goodbyes, and Natasha watched as you walked away, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She had to remind herself of her plan. This was about teaching a lesson, not getting involved.

In the following days, Natasha found herself thinking about you more often than she cared to admit. They saw each other at school, exchanged smiles, and even had a few brief conversations. Natasha's teammates noticed and made some teasing comments, but she brushed them off, determined to stay focused.

One afternoon, Natasha was in the gym working out when Tony and Bucky walked in. They were laughing and talking, as usual, about their latest conquests. "Hey, Romanoff, heard you're spending time with Y/n." Tony said, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't think you were her type."

Natasha gave him a cool look. "We're just hanging out, Stark. Why do you care?" Bucky grinned. "Just don't let her wrap you around her finger, Nat. Girls like her are dangerous."

Natasha clenched her jaw, her resolve hardening. "I know exactly what I'm doing." Tony shrugged, a sly smile on his face. "Just looking out for her. If you need tips on handling her, you know where to find me."

Natasha rolled her eyes and returned to her workout, but their words echoed in her mind. She had to stay focused. She couldn't let you get too close.

A few days later, Natasha and you were sitting together on the school steps, enjoying a rare moment of calm between classes. They talked about their weekend plans, laughing and sharing stories. "So, I was thinking.." you began, a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Maybe we could go to the movies this weekend?" Natasha hesitated, her plan and growing feelings clashing in her mind. She forced a smile. "Yeah, that sounds like fun."

As you beamed with excitement, Natasha's thoughts raced. She had to be careful. She couldn't let you get too close. She would go to the movies, keep up the charade, but always remember why she was doing this. But as they continued talking, Natasha couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she was still the one being played. You seemed so genuine, so different from the others. Natasha's resolve wavered, but she quickly pushed those thoughts aside. She had a lesson to teach, and she wouldn't be the one getting hurt.

Days passed, and their bond grew stronger. They spent almost every day together, finding comfort in each other's company. Natasha couldn't deny the feelings blossoming inside her, even as she kept reminding herself of her original plan.

One evening, they were at Natasha's house, sitting on the couch and watching a movie. Natasha's arm was around your shoulders, and you were snuggled close to her. The movie played in the background, but Natasha's attention was entirely on the girl beside her.

You leaned in and caught Natasha's lips in a tender kiss. This time, the kiss deepened, filled with a longing and passion neither could deny. Natasha's hands tangled in your hair as she pulled you closer, their bodies pressing together.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless. Your eyes searched Natasha's eyes, filled with a mix of desire and affection. "Natasha, I want to be with you. Completely.." Natasha's heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She wanted this more than she had wanted anything in a long time. But the nagging reminder of why she had started all of this lingered. Fuck it, just this one time. She pushed those thoughts aside and nodded. "I want that too."

They went into Natasha's bedroom, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. As they kissed and undressed each other, the outside world faded, leaving only the here and now. Natasha's hands roamed over your body, her touch gentle yet demanding. You responded in kind, your fingers tracing the contours of Natasha's skin, eliciting shivers and soft sighs.

Natasha took the lead, her movements confident and assured. She guided you to the bed and gently laid you down. Natasha's eyes glided over your body, appreciating every curve and contour. "You're so beautiful.." she whispered, her voice husky with desire. You blushed, your breath hitching as Natasha's hands caressed you. "Natasha..."

"Shh.." Natasha murmured, leaning down to kiss you deeply. "Let me take care of you." Her lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of soft kisses and gentle nibbles. You arched your back, your hands gripping the sheets as Natasha's mouth explored your body. When Natasha's lips reached a sensitive spot, a gasp escaped you, your fingers tangling in her hair.

"S-Shit, please..." you breathed, your voice trembling with need. Natasha looked up, her eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I need you." Natasha smiled, her hands gliding over your body, exploring every inch of you. She took her time, savoring every reaction, every gasp and moan that escaped your lips. When Natasha's fingers found your most sensitive spot, she teased you gently, drawing out the pleasure.

Natasha kissed her way back up to your lips, capturing them in a passionate kiss. "You feel so good." she murmured against your lips. "I want more of you."

Your breath hitched as Natasha's fingers grew more intense, your body trembling with pleasure. "Natasha... I'm so close..."

"Let go." Natasha whispered, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "I've got you." With Natasha's words and touch guiding you, you let go, your body shuddering with the intensity of your climax. Natasha held you close, her lips pressing gentle kisses to your skin, murmuring soothing words.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, you clung to Natasha, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You lay entwined, your bodies warm and satisfied. Natasha's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, and you sighed contentedly.

"I'm falling in love with you.." you murmured, your voice soft and content. Natasha's heart was full of emotions, but the nagging voice in the back of her mind doesn't stop. She kissed your head, holding you close. "I'm falling for you too.."

Natasha's breath caught as you kissed her again. Slowly, you began to kiss your way down Natasha's body, your lips leaving a trail of fire. Natasha's skin tingled with every kiss, her breath growing uneven as you moved lower. When your lips reached Natasha's erect member, a soft moan escaped her, her hands gripping the sheets. "Fuck...you don't have to..."

Natasha's body responded eagerly as your mouth closed around her shaft, your tongue moving in gentle circles. Natasha gasped, her hips bucking instinctively. "Oh God, Y/n..." Her grip in your hair tightened, guiding your movements. "Take it... d-deeper.." she commanded, her voice husky with desire.

Your hands held Natasha's thighs steady as you took her deeper, your mouth moving up and down with growing intensity. Natasha's breath came in ragged gasps, her hands tangling in your hair as the pleasure built. "Y/n..don't stop..." Natasha panted, her body trembling with need.

Your lips and tongue moved with expert precision, driving Natasha closer to the edge with each stroke. Natasha felt the pleasure rising to an unbearable peak, her body arching off the bed. "Fuck, I'm so close..." Her grip in your hair tightened, holding you in place. "I want to fill your mouth.." she whispered, her voice commanding and intense.

With your encouragement and skilled movements, Natasha finally let go, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her body shuddered with the intensity, her moans filling the room as she found her release. You held her close, your mouth and hands not stopping, prolonging the pleasure until Natasha was completely spent, and you swallowing every drop.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Natasha lay back, her breath coming in ragged bursts. You crawled back up to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. Natasha pulled you close, holding you tight. "You're incredible.." she said, her voice filled with emotion.

They lay together, their bodies entwined, and Natasha couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Despite the nagging voice in the back of her mind, she couldn't deny the feelings that had blossomed between them. And that was dangerous. So, she made a note to end things in the coming days. It was always best to stop while things were still good, right?

A few days later, during one of Natasha's games, you were on the field with the cheerleading team, cheering loudly with the rest of the crowd. Your eyes followed Natasha's every move, your heart swelling with pride and affection. Natasha was in her element, moving with grace and power, leading her team with confidence.

At one point during the game, Natasha was tackled hard and hit the ground with a dull thud. Your heart skipped a beat, concern flooding you as you saw Natasha lying motionless before she slowly got up. "Come on, Natasha.." you whispered to yourself, your hands clutching your pom poms tightly.

Natasha shook off the tackle, waved away her concerned teammates, and signaled to the coach that she was fine. She caught your worried look from the sideline and gave you a reassuring nod. You breathed a sigh of relief, not realizing you had been holding your breath.

The game continued, and Natasha's team eventually won, the crowd erupting in cheers. As the team headed towards the locker room, you pushed through the crowd, your worry still evident on your face. You reached Natasha just as she was about to enter the locker room. "Are you okay?" you asked, your voice full of concern.

Natasha looked at you, a smirk playing on her lips. "I'm fine. It was just a tackle." You frowned, not entirely convinced. "Are you sure? That looked really bad." Natasha laughed, the sound cold and distant. "Trust me, I've been through worse." You nodded, but the unease didn't leave you. "Okay, if you say so. Just be careful, okay?"

"Of course," Natasha replied, her tone almost mocking. "See you later." You watched her go, a nagging feeling that something was wrong gnawing at you. You shook your head, trying to brush it off, and returned to your team.

Days passed, and Natasha and you still continued to spend time together, your bond seeming to grow stronger. You laughed more, shared more secrets, and your connection felt unbreakable. But Natasha knew it was time to execute the final part of her plan.

One afternoon, Natasha asked you to meet her at the park where you had shared your first kiss. You arrived with a smile, which quickly faded when you saw the cold, distant expression on Natasha's face. "Natasha, what's wrong?" you asked, concern creeping into your voice.

Natasha took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "We need to talk." Your eyes widened, your heart sinking. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

Natasha looked away, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "I think we need to end this. Us." The words hung heavy and painful in the air. Your face contorted, tears welling up in your eyes. "W-What, why? Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, come on. Do you really think I didn't see through your little game? You and Tony trying to play me? I know all about your plans." Your face twisted in confusion and pain. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb.." Natasha said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You and Tony thought you could manipulate me, get into my head. Well, guess what? I was the one playing you. How does it feel, Y/n?"

Your eyes widened in shock. "N-No..Natasha! you misunderstood... I never-" Natasha laughed, the sound harsh and unkind. "Did you really think I meant any of it? You were just a game. I got close to you to show you how it feels like, when you get crushed."

Your sobs grew louder, your body trembling with heartbreak. "Please, Natasha. I don't understand... We were happy! Y-You said you loved me..?"

Natasha's smile widened, finding twisted pleasure in your pain. "Oh, that's rich. Love? You're really naive. This was never about love. It was about teaching you a lesson. You have no right to mess with me or anyone else with your kind!" You couldn't take it anymore. You turned and ran, your sobs echoing through the park. Natasha watched you go, feeling a cruel satisfaction. She had fulfilled her plan, proving she had control.

But as days passed, Natasha found herself constantly revisiting your conversations, reliving the memories of your shared moments. The photos, the laughter, the intimate moments haunted her. Every message, every smile in the photos brought a sting of regret and doubt.

She noticed a change in the people around her. Tony, who was usually so friendly and outgoing, seemed to avoid her. The usual camaraderie felt strained, and Natasha's frustration grew. One day, unable to bear it any longer, Natasha confronted him. "Hey, Stark, what's your problem?"

Tony's face darkened with anger. "My problem? What's your problem, Natasha? Why did you hurt Y/n so badly?" Natasha's anger flared. "What are you talking about? You and Y/n must find someone else for your games. I'm done being your pawn."

Tony's eyes blazed with fury. "Games? What are you talking about? Y/n never played games! She was in love with you, and you broke her heart for no reason!"

Natasha felt a chill run down her spine. "What?" Tony stepped closer, his voice trembling with anger. "You heard me. She loved you, Natasha. She was head over heels for you. Why would you think otherwise?!"

Natasha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. "But...No! You both scheme against everyone!"

Tony's eyes widened with realization. "Natasha, you got it all wrong.. Y/n is sincere. Have you ever heard anything negative from her? Do you think someone like her would betray anyone? Come on! She’s been devastated since the breakup."

Natasha's breath caught as Tony's words sank in. The pieces fell into place, and she realized the truth. Your tears, your heartbreak, your love..it had all been real.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her voice trembling. "What have I done?" Tony looked at her with a mix of pity and disappointment. "You messed up, Natasha. Big time."

Natasha's mind raced, guilt and regret overwhelming her. She had been so blinded by her own insecurities and assumptions that she had destroyed the one real thing she had. Now she had to find a way to fix it.

One afternoon, she saw you walking with Kate outside the school. Natasha hurried after you, calling your name. "Y/n! Wait, please!" You stopped, your face hardening as you saw Natasha approaching. Kate looked between you, sensing the tension. "What do you want, Natasha?" Kate asked, her voice icy.

"Kate, please stay out of this. I need to talk to her!" Natasha said, desperation in her voice.But Kate tried to protect you. "I think you've said enough. Leave her alone."

Natasha's eyes flashed with determination. She gently but firmly pushed Kate aside and stepped closer to you. Your eyes filled with tears. "There's nothing to talk about. You made it very clear how you feel."

"No, you don't understand!" Natasha pleaded, her heart aching. "I was wrong.. I thought you and Tony were playing me..Like hes doing with everyone. I was stupid and paranoid."

Your tears began to flow, your voice shaking. "You were wrong? You hurt me, Natasha. You made me feel like I was worthless."

"I'm so sorry.." Natasha said, her voice breaking. "I know I hurt you, and I regret it every second. Please, Y/n, give me a chance to make it right." Your face contorted with pain and anger. "Make it right? You think you can just apologize, and everything will be okay? You humiliated me, Natasha! You laughed at my pain!!"

Natasha tried to take your hand, but you slapped it away. "Don't touch me!" you spat, your voice raw with emotion. "You can't just walk back into my life like nothing happened!"

"Please, Y/n. " Natasha whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I love you." Your face twisted in pain and disbelief. "You don't know what love is." you said, your voice breaking.

Natasha's heart shattered at your words. "I was wrong. I didn't mean any of it. I was just scared...Please..." You shook your head, more tears streaming down your cheeks. "No, Natasha. You can't undo what you've done. You hurt me more than anyone else ever has."

"Y/n-" Your face hardened as you raised your hand and slapped Natasha across the face. "Stay away from me." you sobbed. Natasha stood there, stunned and devastated, as you walked away with Kate. She watched you go, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. She had hoped for a chance to make things right, but now she was faced with the harsh reality of her actions.

Days passed, and Natasha found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything. She was a wreck at her games, her usual confidence and precision gone. She kept looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but you were never there. Your absence was a constant reminder of her mistake, gnawing at her every day. Her teammates noticed the change, but Natasha couldn't bring herself to explain. She went through the motions, but her heart wasn't in it. She missed you more than she could express, and the guilt gnawed at her relentlessly.

She replayed the memories in her mind over and over again, the laughter, the kisses, the moments of pure bliss. She went through her old messages, the photos they had taken together, each one a stab to her heart. She had lost something precious, something real, and she didn't know how to live with it.

Her teammates tried to reach out to her, but she pushed them away, unable to face their sympathy. She felt she didn't deserve their pity. She deserved nothing but the pain she felt. Every day was a struggle, and every night she lay awake, her thoughts tormented by you. The guilt was unbearable, and the loneliness suffocating. She had made the worst mistake of her life, and now she had to pay the price.

One day, Natasha sat alone in the locker room after another disappointing game. She knew she needed a plan, something that would prove her sincerity and dedication. An idea began to form in her mind. It was risky and would require a lot of effort, but she was determined. She would plan something special, something that would show you how much you meant to her.

Meanwhile, you tried to move on. Kate and Tony had been supporting you, but your heart was still broken. You avoided places where you might encounter Natasha, but the memories of your time together haunted you. You missed Natasha, but the pain of betrayal was still fresh. One day, as you walked through the schoolyard, you saw Tony flirting with a girl. The familiar sight of Tony's flirtatious behavior made your stomach turn. You knew what he was doing, just proving his conquest list again. Anger boiled inside you, and you marched up to him.

"Tony!" you called, drawing his attention to you. He turned around, surprised to see you. "Hey, Y/n. What's up-" Without warning, you slapped him hard. "This is all your fault! Because of you, Natasha thought I was just playing with her!"

The girl Tony was talking to looked shocked and quickly walked away. Tony rubbed his cheek, wincing in pain. "Y/N, what the hell?!"

Your eyes filled with tears. "You and Bucky have such a terrible reputation, and it cost me the only person who really mattered to me. Natasha thought I was just like you because of your stupid games!" Tony's face softened as he saw the pain in your eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"Just stay away from me," you hissed, turning to walk away, leaving Tony feeling guilty.

More days passed, and you continued to avoid Natasha. You ignored the countless messages she sent you, each one a plea for a chance to explain, to make things right. Your phone buzzed constantly with new texts:

"Y/n, please, talk to me."

"I was wrong, and I'm so sorry."

"I miss you..."

"Please don't shut me out."

Your resolve weakened with each message, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond. You were too hurt, too confused. One afternoon, someone convinced you to attend one of Natasha's games. "Just see for yourself how much she's struggling."

Reluctantly, you agreed. You sat in the stands, trying to keep your emotions in check as you watched the game. When you saw Natasha take the field, a sharp pain shot through your chest. The sight of everyone cheering for Natasha, unaware of the turmoil between you, made your wounds ache even more.

It was clear that Natasha wasn't her usual confident self. She made mistakes, seemed distracted, and looked miserable. Her coach was furious, yelling at her from the sidelines. "Romanoff! What the hell!! Focus now!" he shouted. The situation worsened when Natasha was tackled hard, causing the crowd to gasp in shock. She lay on the ground for a moment before getting up and trudging off the field, leaving her team behind.

She sat alone in the room, her head in her hands again. She felt empty and lost, completely broken. She went through the motions, showering off the sweat and dirt from the game, but the hot water couldn't wash away the guilt clinging to her. As she stepped out of the shower, her phone buzzed with a new message. You had finally responded:

"Fine. Let's talk. But don't expect much."

Natasha's heart leaped with hope. She quickly dried off, her fingers trembling as she replied, setting a time and place for your meeting.

When you arrived at the park, you were surprised to see that it had been decorated with fairy lights and flowers. Natasha stood there looking nervous and hopeful. "Hi." Natasha began, her voice trembling. "Thank you for coming."

Yoy crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check. "What is this?"

"This is me trying to make things right.." Natasha said, stepping closer. "I know I hurt you, and i know I don't deserve another chance, but I'm begging you to hear me out."

Your eyes were wary, but you nodded for Natasha to continue You crossed your arms, your expression guarded. "You have five minutes." Natasha took a deep breath. "I know I messed everything up. I let my fears and insecurities take control. Tony's and Bucky's reputation made me paranoid, and I thought you were playing me just like they would. I was so wrong, and I'm so, so sorry."

Your eyes softened slightly, but you remained cautious. "I understand why you were wary because of Tony and Bucky, but that doesn't give you the right to treat me the same way."

"I know!" Natasha said quickly, her voice full of remorse. "I should have trusted you. I should have known you were different. I'm so sorry.." You took a deep breath, your emotions swirling. "You broke my heart, Natasha. How can I trust you again?"

"I know it will take time," Natasha said, pleading. "But I'm willing to wait. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. Please, Y/n, give me a chance..please.."

You looked into Natasha's eyes, searching for signs of dishonesty. All you saw was genuine remorse and.. love. You stepped closer, your resolve softening. "This doesn't mean everything is okay. It will take time, and you have to prove yourself."

Natasha nodded, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, of course. I'll do anything! Whatever it takes.." You glanced around the park, how much love Natasha put in it. "We'll start slow. Step by step."

A wave of relief and hope washed over Natasha as she held your hand. "Thank you, Y/n. I won't let you down. Thank you."

In the following weeks, Natasha worked hard to rebuild your relationship. She showed up for you in every possible way, being patient and understanding. You spent time together, talked through your issues, and began to heal slowly. It wasn't easy, and there were many ups and downs, but Natasha's sincerity and dedication shone through. You began to trust her again, and your bond grew stronger than before.

One day, as Natasha walked you home after school, she held your hand and smiled at you. "I have a surprise for you." she said with a mysterious smile. "What is it?" you asked, curiosity piqued, your heart beating faster.

"You'll see.." Natasha replied, leading you to a small dance studio nearby. "I know how important dancing is to you, and I wanted to do something special."

She opened the door to reveal the room reserved just for the two of you. The studio was softly lit, and gentle music played in the corner. You were speechless, overwhelmed with surprise and emotion. "Natasha... This is... How did you do this?"

"Someone owed me something.." Natasha said gently. "I thought we could dance together... Even though I don't really know how."

You couldn't help but laugh, and you spent the evening dancing together. Natasha might not have been the best dancer, but she tried, and you could see the sincerity and love in every movement. You laughed, stumbled, and simply enjoyed the time together.

After the dance, you sat down, Natasha holding your hand and looking deep into your eyes. "Y/n, I know I hurt you, but I promise I will never disappoint you again. I love you more than anything."

You smiled and squeezed her hand. "I love you too, Natasha. Thank you for never giving up." With time, trust, and patience, Natasha and you rebuilt your relationship stronger than ever. You both learned from your mistakes, grew together, and created a bond that nothing could break. The pain of the past slowly faded, replaced by a love that was real.

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