#get the fuck over it there's no rest of the show to fix what people think is broken

[tonysbed]

Die for you (5) | OP81

Oscar Piastri x singer!reader

summary: It wasn’t oscar’s plan to be the one to fix your reputation and spice up his, yet here he is and..have your eyes always looked so..radiant and beautiful?

warnings:

not proofread

series masterlist | previous | next

-

f1gossip

f1gossip Oscar Piastri was spotted this Thursday with Pop star Yn Yln. The pair was spotted looking all cosy in a restaurant and left together. What do we think of this new possible wag?👀

user she’s such a red flag honestly

user oscars outfit??😍

user he looks so bored 💀

user that’s his normal face wydm

user so cuteee

user this confirmation that they’re together, right?

user they both live in monaco, she has shows in melbourne this weekend so no shook she’s here and they could be friends

user me on my highest delusion

user he’s gonna get fucked over so bad by her

user how would you know??

user have you seen her reputation?💀

-

The restaurant is dimly lit, the kind of upscale but cozy place that exudes exclusivity. The hum of conversation blends with soft music, and the faint scent of something rich and buttery lingers in the air.

You and Oscar are seated near the window—strategically, of course. A perfect spot for accidental public sightings. Close enough to be noticed, far enough to not look like you’re trying to be noticed.

You swirl your wine glass lazily, glancing across the table. “So, are we supposed to look deeply in love, or just casually date-night cute?”

Oscar, already picking at the breadbasket, shrugs. “Somewhere in between. We need to sell it, but I refuse to be that couple.”

You smirk. “Awww, you don’t want to stare into my eyes like I’m your whole world?”

He levels you with a flat look. “I’d rather retire early.”

You laugh, resting your chin in your hand. “Fine. So, a little effortless chemistry, a few well-timed smiles, and maybe one of those ‘we’re in our own little world’ moments?”

Oscar exhales like this conversation is slowly draining his will to live. “You put way too much thought into this.”

You grin. “You should be grateful. This is what’s keeping people interested.”

He rips off a piece of bread, eyeing you. “And here I thought they were just here for my racing skills.”

“Nah. People love a little mystery. And let’s be real—you’re not exactly known for giving the media much to work with.”

Oscar tilts his head slightly, considering that. “So what, I’m using you for entertainment value?”

You smirk, leaning in slightly. “And I’m using you for headlines. Mutual benefits, Piastri.”

He shakes his head with a small smile. “Glad we cleared that up.”

Just then, a flicker of movement catches your eye from across the restaurant. A couple of people at another table, stealing glances your way. And, just like clockwork, someone casually lifts their phone, not so subtly taking a photo.

Oscar follows your gaze, then sighs, reaching for his drink. “Here we go.”

You smirk. “Showtime.”

You lean in slightly, just enough to make it look intimate, laughing softly at something he definitely didn’t say. Oscar catches on quickly—he doesn’t move away, just holds your gaze a second longer than usual, letting a small smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

Just enough to give them something.

You pick up your wine again, taking a slow sip. “Think that was convincing?”

Oscar exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You flash him a grin. “And yet, here we are.”

-

yn

liked by oscarpiastri, zendaya, mclaren and 2m others

yn melbourne n1 you were amazing! Think you can beat them, n2?

user OSCAR WAS THERE

user mother is mothering

zendaya 😍

sabrinacarpenter marry me

yn yes 💍

sabrinacarpenter 🥹🤭🤭

user did anyone take pictures of oscar?

user @/f1gossip posted some

user thanksss

-

f1gossip

f1gossip Oscar Piastri at Yn Yln concert in Melbourne last night!! The last conformation we need is her showing up in the paddock on sunday 👀

user omggg

user no my husband 😞✋

user they could be friends, come on

user may this love find me

-

yn added to their story

-

Sunday morning in Melbourne is bright and buzzing with anticipation. The energy in the air is different—more intense, more electric. You can hear the distant sounds of the city waking up outside the hotel window as you rummage through your suitcase, trying to decide what to wear.

Oscar is sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed in his McLaren polo, scrolling through his phone like he has all the time in the world. You, on the other hand, are flipping between outfit options, holding up different combinations in front of the mirror.

“Is this too much?” you ask, holding up an orange top.

Oscar glances up, barely sparing it a second before going back to his phone. “Looks fine.”

You frown. “‘Fine’ isn’t helpful, Piastri. I need to find the balance between ‘supportive girlfriend’ and ‘effortlessly cool.’”

He exhales, finally setting his phone down. “You could show up in a trash bag, and people would still think it’s some sort of high-fashion statement.”

You grin. “So you do think I’m fashionable.”

Oscar groans. “I’m not answering that.”

You toss a hoodie at him, shaking your head. “Hopeless.”

As you go back to sorting through your options, Oscar leans back on his elbows. “So, do I get a review of my concert appearance on Friday, or are we pretending that didn’t happen?”

You smirk, glancing at him through the mirror. “Oh, you want a review?”

“Not particularly, but I feel like I’m getting one either way.”

You turn around, arms crossed. “You actually showed up. I’ll admit, I had my doubts.”

Oscar tilts his head. “You invited me.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.”

He shrugs. “Well, I did. And you weren’t terrible, so that’s a plus.”

You gasp, feigning offense. “‘Not terrible’? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Oscar smirks. “Fine. It was good. You were good. The fans screaming when they saw me? Less good.”

You laugh. “That was honestly the highlight of my night.And the plan, not to mention ”

“Of course it was and I know.“

You shake your head, finally settling on a McLaren jacket over a casual outfit. “Well, thanks for coming, anyway. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

Oscar stands, rolling his shoulders. “Right. And all you have to do is sit in a VIP section, look vaguely interested, and not start any drama.”

You smirk. “Can’t make any promises on that last one.”

He sighs. “Figured.”

You grab your phone, glancing at the time. “We should head down soon. Ready?”

Oscar gives you a once-over, then nods. “Yeah. Just—try not to be too distracting in the garage.”

You grin, tossing your hair over your shoulder dramatically. “No promises.”

As you both head for the door, you nudge him lightly. “Just don’t crash trying to impress me.”

Oscar scoffs, shaking his head. “Trust me, that is not going to be the problem.”

-

nothing to add to this part, just that I need an oscar home win 🧚 (I forgot, we move in silence) JACK HOME WIN

[svampira]

if you've seen me post this already no you did naut anyways human elias

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

I should rewatch the first season of made for love probably

[illou-sainte]

But, we friends thou? 3k+

pairings: virgin!caleb x virgin!reader

cw: unprotected sex, mentions of condoms, college au, corruption, nipple play, dry humping, messy make out, rough sex, choking, overstimulation, rubbing, loss of virginity, dom!caleb, hentai reader!caleb, cherry popping (iykyk), both are inexperienced, stomach bulge, creampie, pet names (princess, pipsqueak, pretty girl), edging, nasty sex, no penetration, squirting, mentions of blood, crying

Caleb is known for being the heartthrob of the campus. He's everything that people want--smart, handsome, athletic and was rumored to be "big" down there. A lot of girls in the campus have been gushing over your best friend. Many have been saying that he sleeps with different girls everytime--but was it true?

And of course, in your part you don't get the hype about Caleb. Yeah, he's your first kiss but so what? As his best friend, you both share secrets with each other. And one secret that you've kept about him is that....

He's a virgin himself.

As cocky as he is--of course, he'd feed into those rumors about him just to boost his ego. Little do they know, he's just a virgin otaku who reads hentai mangas on his free time. At first, it did bother you that he started reading those--but as time passed by, you got used and even shared some recommendations you've found. And started having interest of his likings.

"Have you seen the new publish?" He asked, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls. You leaned your back against your chair and crossed your arms.

"Of course, the art improved a lot" You answered, crossing your legs while Caleb shows you a panel of the erotic manga he's talking about. "You bet! It looks so realistic!" He chimed, pointing at the part where the girl was getting fucked and you can only push his phone away.

"Seriously, be glad that some of our classmates went out" You scoffed, leaning against your desk as you grab your bag and started putting your textbooks inside. "Come on, I know you agree that scene was hot!" He raised his brow to tease.

"Shush" You silenced him and he only shrug in response while you continued putting your things inside your bag. You can't lie but that scene was really hot--the way that the guy was dicking down the girl so good. Makes you wonder how would it feel like if it was you.

Your thoughts were pushed away when he interrupted. "Oh, I almost forgot" He said, grabbing his bag and reached inside of it. "I just finished the manga that you recommended me a few days ago" Grabbing the book from his bag and placed it on your desk--and you were quick to snatch it. It was embarassing the fact that the cover of the manga was a girl getting railed.

Hugging the book against your chest as you glare at Caleb and punched his shoulder, earning a grunt from him. "No need to be harsh, pipsqueak" He chuckled, as he looks at you in amusement.

You whispered curses at him while you opened your bag wider to fit the book in but something suddenly fall out.

A condom.

"Wha-" He froze, his eyes widened--looking at the packet of condom over your desk. Your eyes shifted to him as you look at him confused.

You hum, and followed where his gaze was at--making your heart drop when you saw the packet of condom over your desk, you quickly grabbed it by your hand and shove it inside your bag. "Haha- my bad...." You chuckled awkwardly while you sweatdrop, closing your bag and rested your hands over your lap--eyes glued to somewhere while you pretend nothing happened.

"I'm pretty sure that was a condom...?" Caleb thought, sweadropping also as he cleared his throat. But at the same time he wants to push your buttons--to see where you'd last.

"...an interesting thing you're carrying around...." He smiled, making you uncomfortable as you felt heat rising through your body out of embarrassment.

"It's just something I bought out of curiosity....." You answered, fixing your skirt because it was revealing a glimpse of your plushed thighs. Caleb noticed how you shift--only makes him want to push further. I mean maybe something might happen after this?

"Oh...I thought you're going to use it"

"Huh- haha no way...."

Awkwardness seeps between the both of you--while you try to not steal glances at the male. Inhaling deep as you question him.

"Do you have one, Caleb?" You asked.

"Have what?"

"Well...a condom?" You whispered, loud enough for him to hear while you toy with the ends of your skirt. Caleb blinks and looks away, leaning against his desk while fidgeting his pen.

"I don't...not like I'd have a chance to use one anyway" He joked, shaking his head lightly. You nod at his words and pursed your lips, you can't help but wonder if all of those rumors about him is true--about "big" he was. Even though you knew he's a virgin there's still apart of you that doesn't believe that.

Class ended early as you and Caleb walked together. Talking about the new mangas that were published while enjoying each other's company.

"I swear that old man should stop giving us new assignments everyday" Caleb sneers, putting his hands behind his head while walking besides you.

"He should, I swear I noticed his bald spot earlier during lecture" You snorts, making him laugh at your words as you joined.

You were glad that everything went to normal--that Caleb forgot about that condom incident earlier. You can only swear that if he brings up the topic again you would just dig your own grave out of embarrassment.

The laughters piped down and you both continued walking together--your eyes focused on your surroundings while Caleb on the other hand is urging to bring up the topic again.

"Hey"

"Hm?" You answered, eyes glued to the path.

"So, that condom talk earlier.." He spoke, looking somewhere while you paused. Cursing at yourself because you knew Caleb damn well--if something peeks his interest he wouldn't let go of it.

Inhaling deep as you face him--he puts his hands inside his pockets and gave you a sincere smile-- not that smile, you knew that he's plotting something which makes your body shiver at the sight of it.

"If someone were to ask you to 'use it' would you?" He asked, tilting his head and waits for your reply. The question makes your body heat rise as you put a hand on your nape.

Letting out a soft awkward chuckle while you look at him "That's way to sudden" You muttered, making Caleb chuckle as he puts a hand over your head--ruffling your hair.

"Like y'know, the thing I read on that manga you let me borrow" He said and your shoulders tensed up. Glaring at him as you pushed away his hand away from your head because it was messing up your hair.

"Hmp, don't bring me into your erotic fantasies" You huff, brows furrowed while you clutch onto the strap of your bag.

But the thought of it sends excitement through your body onto your clothed pussy--I mean you'd always wondered what it feels like getting fucked and would you waste this chance? But the only problem is that, Caleb.

You can't imagine seeing your childhood best friend dick you down--but the thought of it. Too consumed by your thoughts, Caleb pushed the topic further.

"So, what do you say?" He asked, making you snap back at your thoughts. You gulped as you look at him. Lowering your head while you fidget with your fingers-- hesitating if you're going to do it or not.

"We only live once, so risk it!" The voices in your head said in unison.

"I'll let him use it.."

It didn't take long for you two to arrive at Caleb's dorm. Feeling nervous, you try to calm yourself-- while Caleb on the other hand was all chill. You can't help but feel frustrated, can't even believe that you're going to loose your virginity to this man in front of you.

But what you didn't know, is that Caleb was more anxious than you. You both sat besides each other over the edge of his comfy bed as you clear your throat catching his attention.

"So what now...?"

"Right-- Uhm" Putting a hand over his nape as his usual sheepish attitude drains out of his body.

"...let's get naked first." It's rather a command than a question--Caleb nods at your words as he chuckle.

Pouting at him as your hand playfully pushed his face away from your direction "...I don't want you to look.." You confessed, face flustered making him smile as he hums.

"I'm still going to see you naked later, y'know that right?" He teased, only for you to push him away more making him give up as you face his back.

Pursing your lips as you unbutton your top-- starting from the top to the button. Your eyes trailed to the figure in front of you--Caleb removed his shirt in one go, revealing his well-built back. And what got your attention was his muscular biceps. You can't help but stare at it but you were interrupted when you heard him talk.

"Like the view?" He chuckled, making you roll your eyes as you told him to shut up. As you finished unbutton your top, you slowly removed it from your body--leaving you with your lacy bra hugging your plushed tits.

"Hey"

"Hm?" You hum. "Can I look?" Caleb asked, moving his head to the side a bit as he tried to get a glimpse of you behind. You quickly used your arms to hide your tits while glaring at him.

"You sound like a pervert"

"Come on, princess" He pleaded, your gaze focused on his back and you sighed--finally giving up as you removed your arms away from your chest. The man in front of you then quickly shifted his body to your direction--now facing you as his eyes trailed on your plushed tits. His face flushed and licked his lips-- letting out a soft chuckle while smiling.

"Wow....I couldn't tell at all that you're hiding something like these behind your clothes" He remarks, making you gulp while you sweatdrop. "Is that so..." You muttered, lowering your head while your eyes focused on him.

Don't look at him with those eyes--those innocent doe eyes of yours. Makes him want to bend you over and just fuck you on the spot.

Biting your lower lip, you both stare at each other. "Can..I touch them?" He asked, his hands clenching--eager to touch your plushed tits. You nod at his words, he had to look at you again to make sure--his hands tremble as he reached out to your tits in display.

Palm of his hands came in contact with your plushed tits as he gently massaged it--he couldn't believe it, he's finally touching a literal tits right now. His gesture made your body squirmed as you try to bit your lower lip to muffle your moans. Breathing softly as your hand reached behind your back to undo the hook of your bra. Unhooking it in one go as your bra fall from your shoulders and spills out your bare tits to the male.

His hands continued to massage your tits, thumb toying your perked nipple as you let out a moan--making him startle as he retrieved his hand.

"Ah- sorry" He apologized, you shook your head and reached out for his hand--bringing it back to your tits. "N-no...you can touch them however you like" You muttered, making Caleb gulp as he starts to feel heat gushing through his body. You're definitely putting fuel to the fire.

Caleb is anxious as he continued massaging your tits with both of his hands-- thumb rubbing circles and pinching your perked nipples earning sweet whimpers and moans from you. The sight makes his cock harden inside his pants--he can't help but feel aroused seeing you so sensitive to his touch--so needy.

Your soft moans occupied Caleb's mind-- your moans can't even compare to those erotic hentais he watched, yours is too hot-- like music to his ears. You blabber words at him but he's not listening at all--too focused on fundling your tits.

You can't help but feel satisfaction that you're able to fill his thoughts-- smirking as you look at him with your hazy eyes. "Are they your satisfaction, miste--?" Your words were cut off when Caleb suddenly lounged at you and pinned you down over his bed. Both of his palm holds your wrists at both side as his soft lips latched onto your tits earning a yelp from you while you squirmed.

"W-wait-..Caleb--!" But he doesn't budge, continuing to suck your sensitive tits as his hot tongue swirls around your perked nipple making your toes curl. His other hand lets go of your left wrist as he reached out to your thigh and places it on the side of his hip. Positioning his hardened cock against your clothed pussy.

Feeling the arousal gushing through your aching pussy as you feel him grind his hardened bulge against your wet clothed pussy. Finally removing his hand from your other wrist as it moves to your left tit and massaged it while he sucked on the other one. Your hands run through his black locks and tried to push him away from your tits--but he wouldn't, still latching on it like a hungry mad man.

"Ngh-! Too much...C-Caleb....Caleb-!" You moaned, as your hands cup his cheeks pushing his face away--he finally gives up, earning a loud 'pop' when he pulls away from your perked tits. Cupping his cheeks as you can see drool from the side of his mouth making you grunt as you noticed how he filled your tits with his saliva.

"Please..." He pleads softly, rubbing his cheek against your palm like a cat begging its owner for food. His muscular arms sneaks behind your back as he wraps it around your waist--burying his face against your tits. Where did the usual cocky Caleb go?

Letting a soft whimper as you feel him grind against your wet clothed pussy-- shamelessly. Caleb lift his head up as he looks at you with pleading eyes.

"Wanna put it in so bad....but..."

"I don't want to rush you" He exhaled, while your heart flutters in awe. Caleb always prioritize your needs other than his--he wants you comfortable, he's not the type to rush you to do things. You flutter your lashes as you lean closer-- connecting your soft lips to his, Caleb melts against your warmth as he relaxes, continuing to grind slowly against you.

His hand reached to the waistband of your skirt along with your lacy panties as he slowly pulls it down-- discarding it on the floor. Pulling back from the kiss as you both pant--your tongue sticking out as a string of saliva connects to both of your tongues. You're such a hot mess for Caleb-- it makes his cock twitch even more.

"So sensitive just for me...."

His fingers brushed away some strands of your hair from forehead-- you blink, noticing a wet patch on his gray sweats, your eyes then trailed on the visible bulge in front of you. Making your wet pussy twitch.

Caleb is not experienced--but he learned a lot from those hentai mangas he read. And of course a key to start off railing a girl aka his best friend is to penetrate their aching pussy first. He said to his mind.

While you on the other hand was eager-- already wanting to be dicked down by Caleb. Want him to stretch your virgin aching pussy so bad.

"Caleb"

"Yes, princess?"

"Please fuck me"

His brows raise in surprise as he looks at you "But, I need to penetrate you first-- it might hurt if we're going straight at it" He said, tone laced with worry. He feels like he's rushing you--he doesn't want to.

Feeling embarrassed as you looked away "It's okay...I can handle it" You whispered, cheeks flushed red. Caleb is having mixed feelings-- he never seen you so vulnerable, so submissive towards him. He can't help but want to abuse the control he has over you.

He clicks his tongue as he chuckled-- grabbing your hand and intertwined it with his, kissing the top of it as his eyes locked on yours.

"You're going to take it like a good girl." It wasn't a question-- your mind goes hazy, all you can think of is being intoxicated with the heat of both of your bodies. You flutter your eyes at him and nod-- following his order like a puppy.

He lets go of your hand and slowly pulls down his sweats-- leaving him with his boxers, you can't help but look at his visible bulge. Oh he's hard--very hard. You gulped at the sight of it, noticing a wet patch on the part where his tip is-- already oozing pre-cum.

"Don't stare at me like that" He snorts, grabbing both of your thighs-- hands gripping the plushed flesh as he placed it on the side of his hips.

Pulling down his boxer as his hardened cock bounced up hitting his pelvis-- your eyes widened when you see his cock in display.

You felt embarrassed--those rumors were indeed true. Caleb's cock is thick and long-- you can see visible veins lining while his angry red tip is already oozing pre cum.

"W-wait-!" You breathed out when you watch him position his aching cock against your hardened clit.

You both locked eyes-- his eyes were filled with love and lust while he continued on rubbing circles against your hardened clit using his tip-- using the pre cum as a lubricant to make it slippery to rub on.

"Let me take care of you..." He muttered, rubbing his tip against your wet pussy lips-- smearing his cum all over it. Earning moans from you as your toes curl, feeling his gritty cock run against your folds to your hardened clit. It sends arousal to your throbbing wet pussy.

Caleb lets out soft grunts and moans as he holds his hardened cock with his palm, pumping it up and down while pressing it against your clit-- making your body twitch with every stroke.

He fastened his pace of rutting his aching cock against your hardened clit. "F-fuck-- I haven't even got inside of you..and I'm already a mess with just rubbing it against your pussy..." He growled, continuing to rut against you making your eyes roll as you felt the bed shaking.

Breathing heavily while you endure the friction against your hardened clit to your puffy slit--a drooling mess as he mixed his pre cum and your juices together and smearing it all over your poor pussy.

Feeling the arousal rising-- you can feel your climax taking over, too overstimulated as you're eager to cum. But just right after you felt the walls of your pussy throb, ready to release--Caleb stopped rutting his angry tip against your hardened clit. Making you whine in return while you look at him with your glassy eyes.

"W-wha- why--,?" You complained, looking at him while he brushed some strands of his hair sticking out of his sweaty forehead. Panting heavily as his gaze towards you darkened. He lets out a husky chuckle while kneading the plush of your thigh with his hand.

"It'd be a waste if I'd cum outside, right? " He whispered, leaning close to you as your perked tits were pressed against his chest. Feeling his hot breathe against your skin-- making you hitch, your ears perked when you hear him reach out to your bag placed over the nightstand beside.

Even feeling intoxicated, you moved your head where his hand was reaching at--you quickly grabbed it as you pull it away from your bag. Making Caleb confused as he breathes.

"What?" He stopped reaching out to the condom inside your bag--you pulled his hand away while you guide it towards your lips. Placing kisses against his fingers with your soft lips as you look at him with your hazy eyes-- just filled with words unsaid. And for Caleb it just translates into "raw, next question"

The sight makes him aroused as he shook his head lightly. "Too impatient? Bad girls like you needs to be punished" He said-- voice low and husky as he slowly pulls away his hand from your grasp and moves it down-- tracing your chin to your neck.

You bit your lower lip-- you try to hide the fact that you're getting more hornier seeing Caleb being so dominant towards you. But your fucked up face didn't helped. You yelped when you felt his veiny hand grab your neck as his grip tightens--not in a way that you couldn't breathe.

"I'll make sure to fuck you so good-- shit, even better than the ones I've read." He chuckled, making your mouth agape as he pressed your legs against your perked tits. His other hand holds his gritty cock while he positioned it against your drooling slit.

Your heart beats faster-- too anxious and aroused at the same time, while you wonder if his cock would even fit inside your tight little pussy. Too occupied with your thoughts, you suddenly felt him push hit tip inside your tight hole-- causing your eyes to widen as you let out a grunt.

"ngh-! I-i...I don't think it will fit--! Ah!" You moaned, feeling him force his tip to stretch out your tight hole. His hand tightened more around your neck as he chuckled. "H-hah-- it's just the tip and you can't handle it?"

"F-fuck, I wonder what would it be like if I slam my whole cock inside?"

Tears streamed down your cheeks while you drool. Seeing him having a hard time pushing his gritty cock inside your pussy--earning loud moans from you while you endure the way his tip is stretching your little hole.

"'ts hurt...s-so much.." You babble, as you bit your lower lip. Caleb pants, as he slowly pushed his gritty cock even more-- your tight hole finally swallowing his whole tip. Even with just the tip inside of you, makes Caleb want to cum and make a mess out of you.

"f-fuck--!"

It's so warm-- he feels like he's in bliss of ecstasy. The way the walls of your warm tight pussy is hugging his tip so good while it throbs-- is such a euphoric feeling. Shit, he can't even describe what he's feeling right now, finally having to empty his balls in a literally pussy and not with those hentai mangas he reads.

You cried out while Caleb struggles to push his whole gritty cock inside your warm tight pussy. Both of your bodies trembles, his hand finally letting go of your neck as it joins to hold both of your thighs together and pressed it against your tits. You finally exhaled and catch your breath--hands gripping the covers of the bed tightly.

"nghhhh-! Hah- 'ts hurt so much, I can't-!"

"Fuck!" You screamed, feeling his whole cock slide inside of you so quick-- tears streamed even more as you cry out, grunting while you felt the pain of his gritty cock stretching your tight pussy so good. You drool as you try to process of what happened, feeling a hot liquid oozing out of your entrance.

"S-shit, tight hole finally swallowed me whole" He chuckled, eyes looking down at your pussy sucking him. Blood dripping out of your entrance--just like what he saw on every hentai mangas he read, a cherry pop. His hand reached for your clit as he rubbed circles against it-- making your legs tremble.

"'m gonna start movin', 'kay?" He muttered, making you nod as you swallow your cries. He leans close to you-- kissing your forehead and brushed some strands of your hair away. Forehead against each other as his lips slammed to yours. Pulling you into a heated kiss--pushing his hot tongue inside your mouth, while he explored every part.

You moaned between the kiss as you feel him pump his gritty cock in and out of your tight pussy. He was only pushing a small distance inside your pussy--trying to stretch you slowly before he dicks you down for real. You swallow his cock so good, he can't help but grunt each time the walls of your warm pussy throbs--on how it hugs his fat cock so well.

Angry red tip kissing the lips of your womb as he continued on with his pace--you felt a knot forming inside while gushing an upcoming climax through your throbbing pussy.

Hot tongues dances and swirls with each other-- leaving you both in drooling mess while you suck on his tongue. This was different from the first kiss you two shared-- this isn't a small peck anymore this is one nasty heated make out.

Hot bodies against each other-- you can feel your juices oozing out of your pussy as it soaks the covers of the bed, leaving a nasty mess under.

His thumb continued on rubbing your hardened clit-- using your juices as a lubricant for it to be slippery to rub on. Your body twitches when you felt him pinch your clit, earning a soft whimper from you.

He pulls away from the kiss, smearing your drool to the side of your mouth while you pursed your lips. You feel him fastening his pace of fucking your tight pussy--making you cry, your hands reached out and wrapped around his back and dig your nails against the flesh of it-- earning a grunt from him.

"fuck-- ha- how d-does it feel? Seeing your best friend taking your virginity" He snickered, the fucking is so sloppy-- you can hear the sound of your pussy slapping against his pelvis.

"'ts so fuckin- hot- ngh-- dicking you down"

The gushing of your blood and juices mixed together as he fucks it back in-- you can feel your climax on its edge, ready to release. You babble nonsense while you cry against the crook of his neck. Sticky body against each other while he plants kisses over your face.

"cum--! Cumming-!" You screamed out, tightening your legs wrapped around his hips as Caleb continued to drill his cock inside of you relentlessly-- stretching your walls so good as his cock fills every part of it.

You bit down his neck and cried, releasing your high as it squirts against his cock and pelvis. Your pussy is definitely designed just to be a cocksleeve for his fat gritty cock.

"hah-...cum for me, pretty girl"

Poor you, your mind is occupied of Caleb's fat cock. It amuses him that you're a blabbering mess-- just letting out words like "too much, hurts, Caleb, Caleb, Caleb, cumming-, cum, Caleb" and he loves you for that. Because, it means he dicking you down so good-- it made you feel like you're in cloud 9.

Caleb grunts as he felt your hot juices against his cock-- squirting endlessly as it drips down like a waterfall. He can feel your hot breath against the crook of his neck while you sob, but he doesn't stopped there.

"d-dont be passing out-- h-hah..on me" He muttered, pulling out his whole cock out as he slams it back in-- he continues his rhythm as his fast pace remains unchanged. Fucking you like a dog in heat like there's no tomorrow.

"no more-! Ngh-! Caleb--!"

He continued drilling his fat cock inside while your mind goes hazy as you feel like passing out. Caleb's breathing unsteadies, feeling his throbbing cock twitching inside of you as he pump it in and out-- he can feel his climax building up to his tip. His thumb pushed down his bulge against your stomach as he continues fucking you-- feeling his tip hit against the walls of your stomach.

The walls of your throbbing pussy tightened around his fat cock-- preparing for another release. He felt it too, causing him to let out a hoarse grunt as he continued to rut inside. "Fuck..fuck fuck-- I-I'm cumming, pretty girl"

"w-where-" Before he could finish his sentence you replied quick.

"I-inside!"

And with that, Caleb lets out a soft whimper-- shooting loads and loads of his thick hot cum inside your tight pussy, painting the walls white as he fucks it even more inside of your womb. Following, you release your high, squirting as it drips down out of your pussy--oozing along with his cum.

Caleb hugs you against him as his body trembles still shooting more loads inside your aching pussy while it tightens around his fat cock. You hugged him back, feeling you clench around him and your mind went blank--too cockdrunk to say anything as you let him be.

Let him give you a creamy creampie on your first sex.

He collapsed over your body, face against the crook of your neck as you felt his hot breathe against your skin. You squirmed as you felt his hot cum leaking out of your tight entrance--dripping down to your legs and to the covers of the bed.

Caleb looks over you as he caress your cheek, thumb brushing your eye as you closed your eyes--melting at his warmth while you softly sigh.

But oh...he's not done yet.

"Let's....hit it from the back. Want to see your ass clap, pretty girl.."

Don't worry, you'd get used to it. After all, that's what friends do.

This isn't proofread, sorry if there are mistakes T_T

masterlist

[gravegoer]

I hear your call [P3] ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ

i actually got A LOT of asks saying i should do something with siren reader having legs ?!?! did u guys band together to make me do this... summary: sevika takes you out places you've never been and shows her gentleness also a bit of a song at the end (its so fun pls)

masterlist , 2.3k , kind of suggestive? , part 2

Eventually, you did fall asleep in Sevikas tub (really the inn's). I mean, how could you not? She somehow managed to fill it with the perfect temperature and dimmed the lights just for you, making sure you settled in perfectly.

You awoke to her flicking on the big light in the early morning, hissing at the intrusion. But your motions were halted when you looked up to see her form clad in tight shorts and an almost-all-the-way unbuttoned white shirt, the sleeves rolled up past her forearms.

It was rare to see her without her intricate straps, hat, and weapons strapped to her waist, so you definitely took in this sight while you still could.

"I need to get you back to the water. Can't stay in this tub forever," She spoke, settling her hands on her hips.

"Mmm, says who?" You closed your eyes and sank deeper into the water.

"Says my dabloons, can't afford to be stayin' another night."

You suddenly remember your previous kidnapping and Sevika's heroic work (that resulted in a lot of money being spent). You shot her an apologetic look before she laughed a hearty laugh and leaned on the sink.

"I'm joking. Just dont want you out of the sea longer than you need be. Heard it makes mer-people sick," She mumbled the last part.

"Where'd you hear that?" You cocked an eyebrow at her, who was now fixing her dark hair in the mirror.

"I read it—"

"Read it? Pirates can read?" Now it was your turn to laugh.

She got flustered and blubbered out a, "Supposing you even know what a book is."

You laughed at her statement and said, "Well, did you read I need not be in water at all?"

She shook her head, still groggy from her sleep, "Hell are you talking about?"

You tilted your head to your tail— or where it should have been.

What. The. Fuck.

Her eyes widened, and she stepped over to the tub, eyeing your knees sticking out of the water. "Where— where did it go."

You laughed before explaining how, after a while of being in regular water without salt, you were able to develop human legs. This only lasted until you made long‐term contact with salt water again.

To Sevika's shock, you stood up confidently and stumbled at the slipperiness of the tub, water making it hard to maneuver. She reached out to grab you as you yelped, grunting as she held you up, helping you out of the tub. Water dripped onto the floor, and she looked down to realize that it wasn't just legs that you had.

She grunted and looked away over your head, attempting to clear her thoughts. Her thick hand rested on your now non-scaled hip, and her metal one was placed carefully on her arm, trying to keep you as far as she could without dropping you.

"I haven't stood on legs in a while, sorry."

She nodded, "Yeah. I noticed," She commented sarcastically, "Need to get you clothed."

You felt little to no embarrassment about your unclothed state and hummed at her words, starting to walk to the door of the bathroom.

She sighed at your eagerness and kept a hand on your back as you walked, tightening her grip whenever you stumbled. Sitting you down on the bed, she pointed a finger at you as if ordering you to stay.

You obeyed and watched her shuffle through her previously worn clothes, assuming she had no other clothes. (What she is wearing right now is definitely her under clothes..) She grimaced and held up quite a large white poet shirt in your direction.

You shrugged, "That works."

She tossed it to you, and the scent of cigars and salt wafted from the shirt. You threw it on haphazardly, and it covered enough to look like a short dress. "I don't have any pants or shoes—"

She stopped mid sentence when she turned to look at you and cleared her throat, "We'll go to the markets."

You nodded, assuming the market was somewhere you could get clothes. She stepped over to you, multiple straps and belts in hand, "I'll make it look as put together as possible," she mumbled.

Her hands skillfully strapped belts around your torso, making the shirt appear as though it fit properly. She made sure it still hung low on your hips, covering the fact you lacked undergarments.

You weren't so open to the idea of going out into public when you were previously almost sold off. You feared the peoples faces and evil eyes, staring you down. The memories of the cold cage were resurfacing in your mind, but you were quickly pulled out of your thoughts by Sevika.

She now stood at the door to the hall, tilting her head questioningly. She had already gotten dressed and motioned for you to follow her, "C'mon, you can take ten steps."

You rolled your eyes and walked over to her, although like a newborn deer, you still managed. She had a hand on your lower back, supporting you down the hall and just about carrying you as you walked down the stairs.

She sensed your discomfort at the fact that you had no shoes, and the hard wood of the floor wasn't helping your inability to walk. She bent over and snatched up a pair of boots from beside a random man and tossed them into your arms.

"Hey, what the fuck?"

She turned back to glare at him, "Maybe put them on your fucking feet next time."

Her voice was horse and intimidating in the face of any man, lacking the gentleness she previously had with you.

He gritted his teeth and got up to spew his complaints to the keeper. You watched in disbelief before Sevika elbowed you gently in your back, "Lets go."

Before you could say anything else, she was pushing you out the door, boots still in your arms. "Put them on before we go further."

You eyed the rough concrete stairs that were your only option to sit on. Looking up at her, you smiled crookedly. She ran her hand down her face, realizing you didn't want your legs to make contact with the roughness. But without another word, she got on one knee, other thigh level with your knees so you could sit.

Her sword sheathe scraped the ground as she kneeled, leather boot thudding on the ground behind her. Not letting you protest she pulled you by the shirt down onto her leg, taking the boots out of your hands.

Your hands stayed in your lap as she pulled your legs out to cover your feet with the boots. Although she struggled a bit to put shoes on another person she still did so as soft as possible, feeling as if your legs were frail.

You kept your eyes on her face as she did so, eyeing the scar on her face and lip before she spoke, "It has to do for now. I'll get you out of them soon."

..

Although it was a struggle, you both made it to the market. Even though you had gotten more used to legs heavy boots, weighing down your feet and tiredness made your legs sore. But upon seeing the bright colors of the market, smelling the scent of fresh pastries and fruit, and hearing pleasing music you almost immediately perked up.

Sevika noticed your change in demeanor and smirked, "Never been here, huh?"

You nodded rapidly and almost ran to a stand that had bright and scarves with intricate patterns. The shop owner immediately started to talk you up. "This color would be so beautiful with your hair, miss." She wrapped a blue scarf around your shoulders.

Sevika walked up behind you as you looked at your reflection in the small mirror, turning this way and that. You hummed in satisfaction before starting to waltz away. Sevika grabbed you by the back of the scarf, "Nope, you gotta pay."

"Ummm.." You looked up at her with confusion.

"No money, no scarf," She took it from your shoulders and set it back on the stand, grinning.

You huffed and crossed your arms, looking around at other stalls. She grabbed your shoulder with one hand and moved your face with the other, pointing it into the direction of a far away stand. "Only the necessities."

She started in the direction, and you quickly grabbed onto her arm to trail after her. Approaching the stand with shelves that held shoes, Sevika held up a pair, as if asking if they were to your liking.

You grimaced at the style and started to look for yourself. Grabbing delicacy styled shoes, you showed them to Sevika. She smiled softly and shook her head at your choice but put down a few coins for the owner anyway.

She reluctantly would let you drag her to every stall you wanted to look at, putting up with your curiosity. She knew she wouldn't have patience like this for anyone else.

When you put on something pretty and looked to her for approval, she would give you a satisfied look. But still refused to buy you anything unnecessary.

Sevika eventually got you a long skirt that was flowy and hung almost to the ground. It almost mimicked your tail in its motions as you walked, she smiles at the reminder.

When you asked questions about the odd trinkets, she would pick them up and show you how it worked. A music box looked small and delicate in her hold, and the soft melody coming from within made you smile brightly.

You swayed a bit to the music, holding her hands up to your ear so you could hear it better. She couldn't do much but stare wide-eyed at the sight of you blissfully giggling at the music.

As you started off to another stall, she quickly dropped a few coins in front of the seller and shoved the music box in her pocket.

When it neared noon, she took you to eat at a food stand, handing you a few kabobs of different meats and veggies. You munched on them happily, sharp teeth tearing into the meat easily. (Noted.)

She definitely took you to try her favorites because all you eat is probably fish. She takes in the sight of you sighing at the flavors and shoving more into your mouth.

You guys bond over food..

It was now nearing night, the sun set far in to the west. The small amount of darkness was illuminated by candles and lanterns scattered around the area. You could see women gossiping together over some tea and bread, men slinging one another around in joke, kids chasing each other with small creatures. This was one of which a sight you'd never seen.

You gawked, never having viewed humanity in this way, only seeing people that inhabited the seas you could have never guessed how average civilians behaved. The night now no longer seemed so fierce, holding no malice like the previous night.

Sevika approached you to put a hand on your shoulder. She was proud to show you things you had never experienced. She would show you as much of the land as you wanted if you just asked.

Pulling you away from the crowd, she led you to a cliff that overlooked the ocean. Your position closely mimicking the day you met her, Sevika sat on a rock with you beside her. Her metal hand rested on your hip comfortably. You talked about your adventures of the day, the things you liked, and the people you met.

"Thank you for this, I never thought I'd be happy to reside on land."

She grunted in response and pulled a small box from her pocket, a music box. You gasped and took it from between her fingers, shocked she had really gotten it for you.

You winded the small handle before releasing it to hear the familiar melody, bringing back your memories of the day. Looking up to see Sevika, her expression was so loving and gentle, a face you've never seen on her before. Her eyes were illuminated by the dim sunset, emphasizing her contentment.

You smiled before you parted your lips, and betwixt came a song,

link to it (i highly reccomend, it sets the mood)

"Upon one summer's morning, I carefully did stray

Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay

Conversing with a young lass who seem'd to be in pain

Saying, "William, when you go, I fear you'll ne'er return again"

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold"

She listened blissfully, taking in the fact that your songs had no effect on her. Your beautiful voice hummed in her ears, and she looked into the sea, engraving this memory into her mind.

She could see her ship from where you sat, the wind blowing into the sail softly, yanking on the rope that tied it to the dock. Yes, she was going to take you anywhere you wanted to go. This much was set in stone.

After this, she dragged you to the ship with her crew and invited you to join her, obviously you said yes.

She's very happy to have someone to accompany her on her journeys. She isnt so bitter and lonely now thats for sure

And yes, you still get to swim in the water. A lot of the crew doesn't know your siren side, so Sevika tosses you into the water at night, letting the glimmer of your scales lead her ship.

During the day, you will follow alongside the ship, making sure none of the crew can see you, but Sevika does.

Sometimes, she gets distracted by you and goes off route a bit.

I like to think she can't really swim, so you try to teach her whenever you get a chance, and she always ends up clinging to you as you tease her.

She shows you mountains, forests, architecture, (bars), etc. And you love every moment of it.

Also, she replaced the mermaid on the front of her ship with a mermaid carved to look like you. And no, she didn't pay for it to be done. She did it herself.

Whilst she stood on a ladder she watched you frolic in the waves, making sure to carve every curve and detail she found beautiful.

Although, there wasn't one part of you she didn't find beautiful.

the end felt a bit rushed but im bad at endings, i might do some other side fics for this but thank you for the support on this fic! also i thought it was funny how @lovinglywriting sent me an ask about something sooo similar to what i was writing while i was mid fic lol and @slut4sevika send in a sweet ask tysm <33

taglist: @thequeenreaders @hangezoes-wife @thesecondhandwoman @lez-zuha @haboinga

[lockefanfic]

Last Chance - Part 2

Part 1.

---

Even in the lineup at an airport Starbucks, Chou Tzuyu made your heart skip a beat.

Her hair is pulled into a messy bun that lives up to the name, although the loose strands that refused to fall in with the rest of her hair do well to frame her small face in wavy strands of chocolate. She is wearing an oversized sweatshirt and a matching loose pair of sweatpants, a large tote bag slung casually over one shoulder as she scrolls blankly on her phone, waiting for her turn to exchange money for caffeine. Even in casual clothing and little makeup, she made everyone else in the lineup look like movie extras, non-player characters in a virtual world meant to fill out a crowd.

She shuffles forward as the line advances. The girl behind her, a tall girl in a blue baseball cap pulled down almost over her eyes and similarly engrossed into whatever was on her phone, follows. She bumps into Tzuyu and apologizes profusely; Tzuyu smiles sweetly at her and gives her a small bow. As she turns forward again, her eyes find yours.

At the sight of you, her eyes, though rimmed with exhaustion and a lack of sleep, regain their brightness. Her lips curl into a warm smile as she brushes back a stray lock of hair, tucking it behind her ear. She looks at you like you’re the only other person that exists amidst the hustle and bustle of the busy airport, and in that moment you feel a warmth blossom in your chest. The rest of the world seems to fade away into black and white, monotone dullness.

Her left hand re-adjusts the strap of her tote bag over her shoulder. The diamond wedding ring on her ring finger glimmers.

---

“Fuck, it’s so cold in here,” your friend Joey says, stating what had become painfully obvious in the ten minutes you’d spent in his apartment since your return to the party from Tzuyu’s place. “Of all the times for the heater to give out…”

“Yeah,” you agree, although truth be told you could have been in Antarctica at the moment and you wouldn’t have noticed. You take another sip out of the mystery concoction within the plastic red cup in your hands, but the slight burn of the alcohol is temporary and fleeting, and does little to lighten your mood.

“Bro, you good?” he asks, some indeterminate amount of time later. You weren’t sure how long you’d spent staring blankly at your cup. From the moment you’d left Tzuyu’s apartment, the entire evening had started to feel like a blur. You felt blank, numb. Even the journey back to the apartment seemed to happen in a flash, as though it didn’t really happen. You remember leaving Tzuyu’s bedroom, and the next thing you knew you were being greeted with the booming baseline of the music pumping out of your friend’s apartment.

“I’m good,” you answer, managing to flash him a smile. There’s genuine concern on his face. Joey was one of the real ones, and you were glad you dragged yourself out to his party, even despite the heartache that was putting a damper on how much you were able to enjoy it.

“Listen bud, I’m not sure what you were up to while you were away, but we’re going to get you over it. Starting with another drink. And maybe setting you up with that girl I introduced you to earlier. She’s around here somewhere.”

Joey stands, peering out into the couple dozen people who still filled his apartment, apparently unable to find the person he was looking for amidst the crowd. Even at this late hour and with a busted heater, his fifth annual Inbetween-Christmas-and-New-Years party showed no signs of ending. He pats you on the shoulder, shoots you a crooked smile, and heads off toward the kitchen to fix you a drink.

You smile weakly at him as he disappears into the crowd. Your attention returns to your cup, and the dark amber liquid it contained. Your fingers trace the rim. A sigh escapes your lips. The music goes on, the heavy beat and chatter of the partygoers a dull thump and mumble that barely registers in your ears. Your head is elsewhere.

You think about her. You remember the last moments in her apartment in flashes, in a blur, despite it happening less than an hour ago. You remember standing from the bed, pulling on your boxers and pants with an urgency that you knew now was actually hurt and heartache. The hurt and heartache that came with knowing she would be someone else’s soon, that she’d never be yours again. Tonight was the night that you’d lost her - a thought made even more bitter by the knowledge that she was never yours to begin with, that despite the years of knowing her, knowing her secrets, knowing everything there was to know about her… it was someone else she’d chosen to fall for.

You remember the feel of her on your lips, her slickness on your cock, even as you zipped up your pants and pulled your shirt on with a speed and desperation that must have surprised her. But you had to get out of there. Had to leave the stifling, oppressive heat of her apartment and the heaviness of the unspoken words that pervaded the air, making it difficult to breathe.

She said something, then.

You remember the look on her face when you turned to face her. You’d never forget what you saw there - that broken, shattered look on her face, as though she were in a pain she’d never experienced before, her palm cradling her cheek, eyes shut. It was only there for a second or two. It may as well have been forever. It certainly felt like forever, judging from the way that moment seared itself into your memory and your heart, a burden for you to carry for the rest of your life.

What did she say? You wrack your brain, doing your best to remember, to reach back into time and grasp that moment, those words, as though you could wrap your hands around them and make them real, cradle them in your palms and bring them to your ear where they could fill you with their meaning.

She told you it was nothing, that she hadn’t said anything. But even as the words left her mouth you knew she was lying.

The moment was gone now. Lost. And even if you’d asked her again she’d just lie and tell you she said nothing at all.

You take another drink, wanting to taste something, feel anything. The drink tastes like dirt in your mouth. The party continues around you, a blur of movement and bodies and sound and it all feels so far away and distant, like it was happening on a completely different plane of existence.

When your phone vibrates in your pocket you almost don’t bother fishing it out and looking at it. You sigh, pick it out of your pants, and curse whoever deemed that the right time to send you a notification.

Two messages, both from her.

Hey, reads the first message.

I’m outside. Come see me, reads the second.

---

The path from your friend’s apartment, past the press of partygoers and out into the hallway, down the elevator, and outside onto the street, is quick - quicker than it really should have been. But before you knew it, you were leaving the party, passing through the crowd, down the elevator and through the lobby, in what seemed like an instant. The world passes by you in a quick blur, as though you were viewing it through a smudged lens.

But then you reach her, standing there on the sidewalk waiting for you, and everything snaps back into clear, razor-sharp focus. 

“Hey,” she says, softly, the single syllable striking you with surprising clarity, given the dull beat of the party music and the rumble of nearby passing vehicles.

“Hey,” you answer, not knowing what else to say. You notice she’s wearing the same thing she was wearing earlier that night - that same short black and white baseball shirt, and the tiny pair of green shorts that left most of her midriff and her long, slim legs bare. Despite her scant attire, she doesn’t seem to mind the cold, which seemed even worse out here than it did in the apartment. Semi-shovelled snow lines the sidewalk and pedestrians pass by bundled up in thick wool coats and scarves; and there she was, in clothes that seemed more fit for a summer night on the beach.

“Can we… talk?” she says, softly.

“Yeah,” you answer. “My place is right around the corner.”

She smiles. It’s happy and sad at the same time, somehow. Her eyes glisten, as though on the verge of tears she wasn’t quite willing to shed. There’s a small quiver in her lip. There are words there, you think, right there on her lips, and she’s doing her best to hold on to them until the time is right.

“I’d like that,” she says, eventually. She reaches out her hand. You take it, and lead her home.

---

“I never noticed these before,” she says, gesturing toward the framed pictures sitting on a wall-mounted shelf. They’re pictures of you with friends and family. A road trip. Graduation. A photo of your beer league hockey team, having just won your championship trophy. A shot of you and your friend Joey, eyes red after a long night of drinking and related shenanigans - although the photo is blurry and out of focus, and you weren’t sure what the hell was on his head.

“You’re never here long,” you answer with a smile, handing her a cup of warm water. “We don’t usually spend much time here outside of the bedroom. And the shower, I guess.”

Tzuyu smiles to herself as she takes a sip of the water. “I’m sorry,” she says, eventually, eyes still gazing at the faces in the photos and the frozen memories they captured. “I should know more about you than I do,” she admits, although she is silent afterward, as though she had just said something out loud that she shouldn’t have.

The two of you stand there in silence, staring at the framed memories. It was only a moment, but it felt longer than it did. You wonder if there was a world where she was there in those photos with you, sharing smiles, sharing memories, a moment of your lives together captured in film and paper to adorn your shelf. You wonder if she was your girlfriend in those photos, or your fiance, or your wife. You wonder if that world was still in your reach. 

No, you remind yourself. It wasn’t, given what she’d told you about her co-worker the night before. That world was closed off to you now, the door to it slammed shut. You wonder if it was ever open to begin with.

“Tzuyu,” you begin. Even as you say her name you weren’t quite sure what to say next. 

She doesn’t look away from the photos. She cradles the cup of water in both hands, next to her lips.

“...why are you here?” you ask.

She frowns for a moment, gathering her thoughts. When she speaks, she is still facing the photos, as though afraid of what she’d find in your eyes.

“I told you I was going to call him tomorrow,” she says, softly. “That guy… that I… that I have feelings for. The guy I want to be with.” Her hand pulls her phone out of her back pocket. The screen seems ridiculously bright in the relative dimness of your living room. On its lock screen you see the time - 11:58pm.

Her eyes lift, finally finding yours. That smile again - happy and sad at the same time. There’s a small movement in her lips, as though she wants to say something, but decides against it. The unspoken words fill the space between you - heavy, oppressive. You want to pluck them out of the air and either make them real or tear them apart into nothingness; anything to get rid of the overbearing weight of them in the space between you.

You want to ask her what she could possibly want from you, given what she’d told you not even an hour ago. Another quick fuck, advice on what she should say to this guy tomorrow? Was she just bored? Lonely? Or…

Did she come here for you?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize what might be. Perhaps that world wasn’t so out of reach after all, the door not quite shut. 

Perhaps there was room on that shelf for more pictures.

The clock on her phone strikes midnight. She looks down at it for a moment, her thumb making a couple of presses on its screen. She presses the phone to her ear.

In your back pocket, your phone vibrates.

You answer her call.

“Hey,” she says.

---

It hits you all at once - the realization, the truth, the emotions. You’re moving toward her, your phones dropping from your respective hands - if they made a sound when they thumped on the floor you didn’t hear it. Her glass of water disappears too, gone from her hands and left on the shelf, or dropped and spilled on the floor - it didn’t matter. All that exists is her, and the need to touch her, kiss her.

Your lips find each other, and her arms wrap around your neck, pulling you close. The kiss is hurried, passionate. You’d kissed her more times than you could possibly count and yet this still feels unlike all the others.

“You,” she gasps, between kisses. “You. It’s you.”

You curse yourself for not picking up on the signs, for not realizing that every moment you’d spent at her apartment earlier in the night was a moment she was trying to tell you how she really felt. You curse yourself for not understanding her. For not hearing what she had to say.

But it didn’t matter anymore. None of it did. All that mattered was the here and now.

You’re so fervent, so needy with your kisses that she eventually backs up against the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up one side of your apartment. Your tongues duel. Your hands wander. 

“Tzuyu,” you manage to gasp, breathlessly. “I’m sorry,” you add, not quite sure why - but it felt like the right thing to say, somehow. “I didn’t know. I should’ve…”

You trail off, but she understands what you mean, if the small, soft nod she gives you is any indication. She looks up at you with those large, deep brown eyes of hers and in that moment you realize she understands you, all of you. She knows what you mean to say, even if you don’t actually say it. You curse yourself for the millionth time that you didn’t understand her nearly as much as she understood you.

“It’s okay,” she says, softly, so softly you could barely hear the words as they leave her lips. “It’s okay. As long as you know now. I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

“And that co-worker of yours-”

“Doesn’t fucking exist,” she says, with a smile and a scoff as she smacks you playfully on the shoulder. “I was trying to get you to finally confess your undying love for me, you big dummy,” she adds. Just as she finishes her sentence her lip quivers, as though she realizes she said something she shouldn’t have. Her eyes are glassy, tears forming at their corners. 

“You could’ve just asked me to say it,” you answer. The words leave your mouth before you knew you were saying them.

She looks up at you, eyes searching yours for something.

“Say it, then,” she says, the request seeming loud and booming in the sudden silence of the room. “Say it for me.”

The moment stretches - out into infinity - as your eyes look deep into Chou Tzuyu’s.

“I love you, Tzuyu.”

Her face suddenly becomes fragile, soft, as though your words shattered a part of her. Her lips curl into a broken, sad smile. She kisses you, and brings her lips to your ear.

“I love you too. I always have.”

You’re kissing again, your bodies finding each other in the way they had on many a lonely night, over the few years that you’d known each other. But it’s different this time, because somewhere amidst the dueling tongues and wandering hands, there is genuine affection. It mixes with the lust, turns it into something more powerful, more intoxicating and irresistible. 

Your need for more of her causes you to step forward involuntarily, and you break the kiss to look into her half-lidded eyes and pull her toward the bedroom, but she has other ideas. Her eyes never leaving yours, she takes your hand in hers and takes steps back toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that line one end of your living room.

Eventually, her back touches the window. Your arms slide around her small waist, and hers find themselves around your neck.

“Here,” she says, “where everyone can see who I want to be with. Who I chose.”

There was nowhere else in the world where you wanted to be with her more. Chou Tzuyu was yours, finally yours, and you wanted everyone to see it. Everyone to know.

Something like a sigh leaves your lips - a sigh of powerlessness, perhaps - an involuntary, wordless sound that was your only reaction to hearing words you’d never thought you would. Your lips find hers - hungry, needy for her - and your arms pull her lower body close. Her hands wind through your hair. They dig into your scalp. 

Your hands pull at her shirt, and then she’s raising her hands and she’s topless and she’s yours, finally, fucking finally, for real this time.

You hear her gasp as her naked back presses against the cold glass of the window. You see the glint of need in her lidded eyes, the quiver in her lower lip as she tucks it beneath a tooth and bites down. You see it all, feel it all, and she’s there, she’s yours. Chou Tzuyu is finally yours.

Your lips find hers again before they trace a path down her jawline to her long neck - a path you’d traced many a time before. But it’s different this time, as though she were a different girl suddenly, one you’d never been with. Every touch of your lips on hers is electric, each one sending a little jolt of pleasure up both of your spines. 

Her mouth is next to your ear and every kiss you leave on her neck and upper chest earns you a small, wordless gasp that sounds like music. You knew her voice well, had heard it sigh and moan and say all manner of filth in the throes of lust and passion; but tonight it sounds new, novel, like a song you knew well from the radio being heard live for the first time.

Your kisses reach the tops of her breasts and you’re bending your neck now, finding one of her nipples in your mouth and suckling. The gasps filling your ears turn into moans and the pinpricks her nails leave in your scalp deepen, turn into furrows as the pleasure courses through her body in greater and greater waves. Your hands find a full thigh as she wraps it around your hip and you’re half-lifting her up with your palm on your ass cheek, bringing her breast closer to your needy mouth. She arches her back, gives more of herself to you, and you take everything she has to give.

You want to devour her - suck deeply from her other breast, drop to your knees and part her thighs and drink from her - but she has other ideas, other needs, and they compete with and beat yours. She cups your face in her hands, pulls it from her breast and to her lips, where she kisses you deeply. Her hands work at your pants with practiced fingers while your lips duel and suddenly your cock is in her warm palms and it’s your turn to gasp breathlessly into her mouth.

She breaks the kiss, eyes finding yours. There’s nothing but need there, in those dark brown pools, and while you’ve seen that look before it never failed to take your breath away. Her eyes remain locked on yours even as she drops slowly, torturously to her knees, even as she bends her neck and her tongue darts out to touch the base of your cock as she swipes a long, languid lick up your length to your tip. 

Only when she slides the length of your cock into her mouth do her eyes leave yours, her eyelids fluttering closed as she takes you between her wet, slick lips. Your eyes follow suit, shutting involuntarily, as though the sight of her on her knees might be too much for your brain to handle. You reach out with a hand to steady yourself against the cold glass of the window as Tzuyu begins to take you in and out of her mouth in a slow, steady pace, her lips wrapped tight against your length, her hand pumping what she can’t take between her lips.

She knew just how to pleasure you, knew from experience in your bedrooms and movie theatres and the backseats of cars how to bring you to your peak in a matter of minutes. But this was not one of those nights, not one of those hurried, emotionless expressions of lust and need that were fleeting, temporary, empty. She takes her time, working you in and out of her wet, slick mouth, relishing every entry and exit, relishing the salty, musky taste of you on her tongue.

You stare out past your window, out at the bright lights of the city and the snow piling atop balconies and stairs and rooftops. You glance at the party across the street, the same one you’d just left, and the thought of someone there seeing you here, now, with Tzuyu - it sends a thrill up your spine, one that is only heightened when Tzuyu closes her lips around the head of your cock and swirls her tongue around your tip. All the while she is pumping your length with her fist, the slickness of her spit on it creating a delicious friction. 

You sigh deeply, and it fogs the window in front of you, blurring the image of the city. You wipe at it with your hand. You want them to see. You want everyone to see.

Tzuyu pumps her hand faster, her tongue continuing its merciless swirling around your tip. You shut your eyes involuntarily.

Your free hand finds her scalp, fingers sliding between the chocolate strands of her hair and guiding her as she continues to pleasure you. You tear your eyes open, watching her, as though somehow by doing so you could convince yourself this was all real, was really happening. 

She opens her eyes, as if sensing you watching her, and she lets your cock slip from between her lips. Her tongue darts out and she places your tip on the flat of it. Her hand continues to pump the length of your cock. You watch as her free hand finds her own naked breasts, and begins to tease and pinch her own nipple. She wants you to cum, now, on her tongue and on her face. She wants to taste you, feel you on her skin.

It was almost too much, then and there. And as pleasurable and sublime as it would have been to let go, to fill her wanting, waiting mouth with your cum you knew you never would have forgiven yourself if you’d left it at that.

Your hand reaches down, your fingers finding her hand wrapped around your cock, and she knows what it means, knows what you’re telling her. She stops pumping, her fingers leaving your length almost reluctantly. She places one last kiss on your tip before rising to her feet.

Her eyes are locked on yours as she undoes the button of those ridiculous, tiny cotton shorts she is wearing. The zipper sounds almost too loud in the silence of your apartment as she tugs it down, loosening the flimsy garment and letting it fall first to her thighs, then down her legs until it’s on the floor. She kicks it away from her.

She turns around, faces the window. The lights of the city beyond gleam around her, surrounding her like a golden, glimmering halo of white, red, and green. She places her palms flat on the cold glass and looks over her shoulder at you. She spreads her feet on the floor slightly. Her back arches, the light casting a stark relief on the curve of her spine. She reaches back with one hand, pulls a cheek of her ass to the side, presenting herself to you. The light catches on the glistening lips of her cunt.

“Like this,” she says, softly. “Fuck me like this.”

You step close. Your cock presses impatiently onto the small of her back and she gasps at the feel of it on her skin. You reach around to cup a breast, relishing the weight of it in your hand, the stiffness of her nipple against your palm.

“They’ll see,” you whisper into her ear. “Everyone will see.”

“Good,” she answers, quickly, breathlessly. “I want them to. I want them all to see who I’m with, who I chose.”

That was it, all you needed to hear. You bring the tip of your cock to her dripping opening and slide inside her, filling her to the hilt.

“It’s you, Tzuyu. You. You’re all I want,” you say, desperately, into her ear.

“I know, I know,” she responds, always knowing, always understanding you, even as you begin to slide out of her before thrusting slowly, firmly back in. “I know.”

It was the second time that night you’d been inside her and somehow it felt like the first time you’d ever been with her. Things were different now; and while you weren’t quite sure what your relationship was or where it would go from here you knew at least that much - that it was different. This was not like the other needy, lonely fucks. This was so much more.

Tzuyu is a slick, silken vice around you and your eyes shut again, your brow furrowing as you fuck her against the glass. Your hands find her hips, trace a path up her spine to her shoulder, squeeze a full, round cheek of her ass - anything to hold her in place, fix her, as you slide in and out of her warm, wet little cunt. She’s wet, so wet - her arousal and perhaps the remains of the previous load you’d left inside her earlier that evening making her so very slick around your cock. Her cunt makes wet, creamy sounds as you slide in and out and the very sound of it is enough to make your head swim.

The soft, mewling gasps that leave her lips imprint themselves in mist on the glass as every thrust into her body sends another burst of pleasure up her spine. The gasps turn into moans as you increase your pace steadily, the way she liked. 

“Fuck,” she says, “Fuck. Yes, fuck me.”

You want to respond, want to tell her with words just how tight and wet she is, how wonderful she feels wrapped around your cock - but the feel of her is too much, robbing you of the ability to form coherent thoughts, much less words. Instead you tell her with your actions, ones you knew she would understand - the tightening of your grip on her shoulder and on her hip, and the deepening of each thrust into her cunt as you give her every inch of you from tip to hilt.

Her fingers scramble on the glass, nails seeking fruitlessly for something to dig into, to ground herself amidst the steadily growing pleasure. She rocks her hips back against you, meeting you thrust for thrust. Your hand finds its way into her hair, grasping a handful of it, even as she presses her head against the glass.

“Harder,” she spits, her breath fogging the smooth pane. “Harder, please. Use me. Take me, baby.”

It means something now, that word. That name for you - that name for lovers. Because now, finally, she’s yours.

Beyond her, the lights of the city twinkle - street lamps, Christmas lights, room lights from living rooms across the street. It paints her arched back and the globes of her ass in a multitude of swirling colors and she seems surreal, a painting, a work of art, right here in your hands. You try to focus on the way the lights move on her skin, a living canvas with moving paint - anything to distract yourself from the pleasure that was building a little too fast. You try anything to make this last just one moment longer, even as you know that control is already slipping from your fingers.

Tzuyu doesn’t share your need to prolong the moment, not when the allure of the pleasure coursing through her veins and the imminent climax it promised was too strong. For a few long, wonderful seconds she throws her hips back at you, eager for more of you, more of the stretch, the stiffness, the feeling of fullness you give her with each stroke. You know you’re hitting that spot inside her, just the way she loved. Her moans reach a new pitch. Her cunt tightens, drips more of her juices onto the base of your cock and down your balls.

“Cumming,” she hisses, just a moment before the pulsating of her cunt and the trembling of her limbs tells you that she does.

You continue to thrust into her, harder, even as the silken vice of her pussy pulsates and squeezes around you. You fuck her through her orgasm, which was something you rarely did, because usually you wanted to stay there hilt-deep inside her and just relish the sight and feel of Chou Tzuyu mid-orgasm; but a part of you tonight wanted to stake your claim on her, wanted to make her yours in a way she hadn’t been before.

“Fuck,” she hisses, mid-orgasm, as you continue to fuck her against the unyielding glass. Her upper chest pressed is against it now, breasts surely pressed flat against its cold surface. She, too, wasn’t used to being fucked through an orgasm - but she couldn’t deny the way it prolonged the aftershocks of her orgasm, the way every thrust of your stiff cock lengthened the shocks of pleasure still winding their way through her body. “Fuck, don’t stop,” she spits, brain still addled with the sensations radiating from her core, still seeking any way to prolong them, get more of them.

And so you don’t. How could you? How could anyone, deep inside the most beautiful woman on earth, and with the knowledge that she was finally yours lending each movement, each feeling, each sensation a weight that simply wasn’t there before?

You feel your orgasm building in the pit of your belly, know that despite your best efforts that this moment had to end. You never wanted it to. This was a much shorter session than even any of the many quickies you’d shared together and yet somehow it meant much more than any of them.

“Cum in me please,” she hisses, turning her head to look over her shoulder at you, as though she could sense by the erratic nature of your thrusts and the quivering of your grip on her shoulder that you were nearing your peak. She knew you so well. She knew everything about you, whether you wanted her to or not. She understood you in ways you didn’t even understand yourself.

“Tzuyu,” you say, because her name is all you can say. Her name is all you know, because she is all you know.

“Cum in me,” she repeats, a solemn request that on any other night - or even earlier in this one - would have taken the form of a lustful, wanton plea. But now she whispers it, quiet and reverent, almost hopeful, less a demand and more like a solemn request. “Please, baby. Please, make me yours.”

You never wanted anything more than that.

You press yourself as deep as you can inside Chou Tzuyu’s body and suddenly you’re cumming, filling her with you. She sighs and moans softly with each pulse of your cock, knowing that each one signalled another part of you that you were leaving inside her.

Your hand slides around her quivering upper body, finding her jaw, then her chin. You gently turn her head to meet yours, and you’re kissing, passionately, softly. You give her a few small, short thrusts into her cum-filled cunt, and you relish the sighs of pleasure that leave her mouth and fill yours. After a while you stop, still hilt-deep inside her. You feel the slick wetness between your bodies, slick and sticky, binding you together.

Your lips part. For a few long moments you watch each other, eyes finding something in each other that wasn’t there even a few minutes before; something that had always been there, perhaps, in the corners of your minds. For a few years it was kept hidden by a fear of rejection. But now, here it was, out in the open.

“Baby,” she says, softly. That name, again.

“Yes?” you answer, breathless, knowing you could answer to it freely, openly, without hiding any pain behind what it meant. Her lips curl into a smile as you answer to it.

“I could use some water.”

---

You return with a glass of water - her second. You suppose she never really got the chance to finish the first one.

“Tzuyu,” you say, softly, barely at a whisper, still somehow unable to say anything more than her name, so consumed by the thought of her, the idea of her. You hand her the glass. She takes it into her hands, giving you a smile as she takes a sip. 

She’s standing in front of the shelf with the pictures again, fully dressed, which was a little odd, given you were only away for a few seconds at most. You find yourself appreciating those shorts again, and the way they hugged the curves they just barely hid behind green cotton.

“You’re wondering why I’m wearing what I’m wearing,” she says, evidently having felt your eyes on her. She knew you. “Kind of silly to be wearing a t-shirt and the world’s tiniest pair of shorts out here in the middle of winter, isn’t it?”

“A little,” you admit. “It is pretty chilly out. But-”

“You know why,” she says, with a hint of something heavy in her tone. 

You ponder her words in silence. Something in the air changes - small, almost imperceptible, but undeniable nonetheless. A slight, tiny little shift.

The moments stretch out. Something between seconds and centuries pass, but you aren’t quite sure. At the end of it, you come to a realization. You knew why. Perhaps a small part of you, from the second you returned to the party, knew why.

Nonetheless, you ask. You had to know. You had to hear it from her.

“...why, Tzuyu?”

She takes another small sip of water. She looks up at you with a sad smile. Almost nothing else in the world could have broken your heart the way that smile did. Only the words that left her mouth next could have hurt more.

“...It’s because this isn’t really happening.”

---

“...What?” you say, even as you know, in your heart of hearts, that she’s right. Perhaps a small part of you had always known. Nothing this night seemed quite right, no matter how much you wanted it to be so.

“These clothes - I’m wearing them because they’re what I wore that night. The last time we were… together. They’re the clothes you remember me wearing the most.”

“...what? Tzuyu, I don’t understand-”

There is a sharp cracking sound, like someone snapping a thick twig or branch in two. You turn to find a sharp fault line appearing in your apartment wall. You watch as it deepens and spreads, and as others appear in the corners of your room. The floor is suddenly uneven, unstable. It wobbles. Your balance is thrown off, your feet unsure. You turn your attention back to Tzuyu, as though the sight of her could ground you in a reality you were no longer sure was real.

The glass of water in her hands is gone. Her eyes are sad, crestfallen, as though she were delivering news to someone who knew already what it was but was fearing its arrival all the same.

“...It’s kind of silly that I somehow knew where your party was, isn’t it?” she continues. “Think about it: you never told me where it was or who was throwing it, but I still found you.”

Every word that left her lips is heavy, hits you hard, as though it were a physical force. The truth hurt.

Your brow furrows as your brain scrambles to make sense of it all, but your mind is foggy. You try to find excuses or explanations for the night’s events, but answers elude you. 

“I know where you live, and it’s definitely not in this neighborhood,” she continues, taking a short glance out the window that you were both pressed against just moments before. The window is open now, and you can see clearly through it, as though there was no glass there at all. Beyond the window frame you can see the neighborhood around the building - and it seems foreign, completely different from the one you lived in. “You live on the other side of town, and yet at the party, you said you live right around the corner.” 

“Tzuyu, please,” you begin, as though you were about to beg her to stop. You didn’t want her to continue. You wanted to stay here, false reality or not. You wanted to stay here, in this pretend world, where she was yours-

“That’s because this never happened,” she adds, turning back to you. “None of this happened. You just happened to see me in line at the airport, and-” 

“That… no,” you say, unwilling to believe her, even if you knew she was right. The walls of your apartment begin to flake, like dried paint from an old wall, except behind it there is nothing but black emptiness. After a while, the emptiness begins to take shape, but it looks blurry and distant - dull colors, a pale green carpet. Kiosks and baggage. Rows of seats filled with the shapes of weary travellers waiting for flights. An airport.

“You’re not… you’re crazy, Tzuyu. This is real, this is happening. You said- you said I was the one, the one you wanted to be with!” you say, suddenly angry, suddenly upset at having this sweet, perfect world torn away from you, right when it was finally yours. Right when she was finally yours. Your hands ball into fists. Your brow furrows, and your teeth clench. Something like rage courses through your veins. Behind your eyes, tears form, although whether from sadness or anger, you weren’t quite sure.

The shelf with your framed pictures falls off the wall, down into the darkness, and along with it any chance of her ever having a place amongst them.

“She’s waiting for you,” she says, looking upward at the wide cracks in the ceiling, at the hazy airport terminal taking shape just outside the walls. She sees something or someone only she can see, and the corners of her lips curl into a sad smile. “You can hear her calling, can’t you?”

“Who?”

“Her,” she answers. You can hear it now - a female voice, one that sounded both familiar and strange. It’s repeating a single word, two syllables. It’s a name, but not yours. A pet name for lovers. One that Tzuyu used for you, even if it hurt you to hear it.

The floor has begun to shake, back and forth, as though some giant was shaking the building gently. The woman’s voice continues to call for you.

“I hear it,” you admit. The shaking intensifies slightly. The walls tighten, as though the giant’s grip was tightening on your apartment. “Who is she?”

 “The girl you met at the party. This same night. The one that you’ll-”

“Tzuyu,” you say, again, desperate now that you knew what this was, what was happening, even if you wished with every part of your heart that it weren’t so. Time was running out. This world, this vision, this dream, whatever it was - it was falling apart. “Please. Tell me. I need to know.”

“What?” she asks. The floor has begun to fall away, leaving only small patches of unconnected carpet. You’re standing on separate islands now.

“That night. I need to know what you said. What you said before I left. Please.”

She smiles. You would call it sad, her smile, but you knew that no words could possibly capture the depth of the emotion that you saw there. It’s the same one she had that night, when you left her apartment, when she said those words. That face was etched in your memory, engraved on your heart, and here it was again, a painful wound reopened.

“Tzuyu!” you shout, “-please. If… if I’d stayed that night, would we still be together? Would we… please, what did you say?”

Her lips part.

The world shatters. The last of the apartment falls away into nothingness. You’re suddenly falling.

---

You hear a voice, initially dull and far away, but rapidly increasing in volume, as though its source was coming closer and closer to you.

“Baby,” the voice says - female, sweet, but concerned. “Baby, are you okay?”

The words are loud, almost intrusive, and for a moment you want whoever is speaking them to stop, to leave, to let you fall further into the abyss, into a pit of loneliness and regret.

But then you remember who the voice belongs to. The memory brings you back. 

“Hey,” she says, and you feel her hand on your forearm. Her grip is firm, but familiar, as though she were someone you knew.

Your eyes open. The artificial, fluorescent light of the airport is almost painful to your tired, weary eyes. It’s not a dream. It’s reality, and for a few moments, reality hurts, in more ways than just the physical.

“Hey,” she repeats, and you turn to look at her. She seems blurry, her features indistinct.

“Baby,” she says, that word, that name that only she called you. It meant more in that moment than she would ever know, because in that moment it is all you needed to hear - a lifeline that you hold on to and grasp, one that brings you back to the real world. You hold on to it. Her voice is a talisman. A candle in the window, guiding you home.

Her face becomes clear, the blur disappearing and revealing a face you’d come to know, come to love. Her name forms on your lips, and you whisper it like a prayer.

“Kazuha.” 

“I’m right here, baby,” she says, worried. “What’s wrong? You looked like you were having a nightmare.”

Nightmare was one way to put it. You close your eyes, bring your hand to your forehead in an attempt to rub away the small sparks of pain and discomfort lingering behind your eyes as they re-adjust to reality. Beside you, Nakamura Kazuha reaches to stroke the back of your head, worry clear in her soft features.

“I’m okay, Zuha,” you say, even if you didn’t fully believe it yet. You return to using her nickname - you only ever used her full name in serious situations, which likely contributed to her concern. Your eyes find hers and you find comfort there, and strength, and more than a little relief. “I was just… I just had a dream.”

“About what?” she says, genuine concern in her eyes. She turns the blue baseball cap she wore around on her head, allowing you a deeper look at the worry on her delicate features. She looks tired and exhausted from the previous night, but even without an ounce of makeup and with a worried look on her face she’s still beautiful, still radiant amidst the dull grayness of the airport and the travellers within it.

“Nothing,” you say, with a weak smile. “I was… dreaming about the night we met.”

Satisfied that you were okay, Kazuha lets a small scoff escape her lips before they curl into a nostalgic smile. “It was a pretty crazy night,” she responds. “I mean, as far as Inbetween-Christmas-and-New-Years parties go.”

“It really was,” you agree, more than she would ever know.

“Who throws a party between Christmas and New Years, anyway?” she continues. “Everyone’s too fat on Christmas food and running on empty social batteries. Those days are for staying at home and living off of chocolate and cheese until the New Year.”

You chuckle. She squeezes your hand in hers. A thoughtful look finds its way onto her face. She hands you one of the two drinks she’d bought from the nearby Starbucks that she’d spent far too long in the lineup for. You take a sip, suddenly realizing how thirsty you were. You would’ve killed for a large bottle of cold water, but you supposed the coffee was good too. All of the drinks from the night before had left you dehydrated - people just wouldn’t stop pushing shots into your hands the whole night. Poor Joey ended up taking a lot of them for you, but such was the duty of the best man, and he took them all like a champ - even if he was likely paying for it now.

“I’m not sure if I ever told you this, but I almost didn’t go to that party,” she continues. “My friend needed someone to go with her, and she dragged me along.”

“Thank god you did,” you say, genuinely.

“Thank god I did,” she repeats, warm smile on her lips. “I wasn’t planning to stay for long. Maybe a drink or two before an Irish goodbye. I was just about to head out when I saw you come back to the party.”

“So you were into me from the start, huh?”

“Maybe,” she admits with a shy smile. “I was going to find you to talk to you more after your friend introduced us, but you disappeared for a bit. Good thing you came back, or who knows where you’d be right now?”

You smile. Behind your eyes, in a place she can’t see, tears form.

“We were meant to be,” you say, voice shakier than you’d anticipated.

“Meant to be,” she repeats, softly. 

The smile on her lips warms your heart, chases away the cold. Your hand finds hers. Your fingers intertwine. 

Your thumb brushes over the wedding band on her ring finger.

An announcement goes out over the airport’s PA system. Kazuha gives your hand another squeeze before rising to her feet, pulling you along with her.

“That’s us,” she says, suddenly joyful. There is a happiness in her eyes and in the smile on her lips that you want to keep forever, want to make into a patch to place over the scars the past has left on your heart. “Come on, baby. Let’s go rock this honeymoon. Maybe we can discuss consummating this marriage while we’re on the plane, because I’m not sure if I can wait until we get to the hotel room,” she adds, with a playful wink.

You smile - she always knew how to make you smile. In that moment you appreciate her, love her more than she will ever know. Your lip quivers with emotion as you look at her. She pulls you to your feet and toward the growing lineup by the airport gate.

You glance one last time at the coffee lineup - the last place you would ever see her. You learned later from a mutual friend that she’d married someone she worked with, and moved overseas. You’d never see her again.

Kazuha follows your gaze. “What’s wrong?” she asks. “See someone you know?”

You take a moment to think, to feel. You feel it all - the past, heavy and difficult with emotion about a path never taken, words never heard. It hits all at once, the events of a night years in the past, a night you’d thought you’d moved beyond and left behind. You see the dream now for what it is - that small part of your soul that asks, might always ask, what might have been.

You take a deep breath, letting the thoughts and emotions of that night swirl one last time around you. 

And then you leave it there, in the past, where it belongs.

“No,” you answer, the word filled with a conviction that you didn’t know you possessed until that moment. You look down at your new wife, and find the future in her eyes. “Only you, Kazuha.”

She smiles at you, and it burns away the last of the lingering pain and sadness. It melts from your heart like winter snow before a new spring morning, leaving only the warmth of your love for her. She’s all that matters now, all that ever will.

Some hours later, you join her on a beach, her hand in yours, the sand between your toes and the sea breeze light in your hair.

The day is warm.

---

Author’s Note: Love lost was still love.

[satorusugurugurl]

JJK Men: Accidentally Finding Your Private Photos

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, AFAB!Reader

Warnings: language, smut, unprotected, sex, cream, pies, oral sex, photography,, consensual photography, minions of nudes

Word Count: 4,861

A/N: I finally finished one of the pool from so long ago! I have to be at work in the next six hours so I’m only gonna get about two hours of sleep, but it was well worth getting this written. Geto’s nearly took me out but Nanami’s MGBBGHBJNCRGHG yummy

Gojo Satoru:

“Oh wait! Wait until you see these pictures of Megumi!” Gojo laughed out loud, smacking his thigh as you both sat in your living room. “The kid got messed up!”

“You're such an ass sometimes.” you laughed, glancing over at his phone. “It was a grade two curse.” Gojo waved a hand before you as he flipped through his photo gallery. You grimaced, feeling nothing but pure sympathy for the young boy, while your best friend snickered. “Yikes, poor kid.”

Gojo put his phone down with a content sigh. “Shoko fixed him up; he's sleeping it off.”

“Maybe he wouldn't have needed to sleep it off if you weren't too busy grabbing kikufuku.”

You felt the couch shift as Gojo dropped one of his long arms around you. “Someone's just upset she didn't get any!” He pursed his lips together, bringing his other hand up to poke you in the cheek. “I ate them all on the bullet train home~!”

You could feel your cheeks flush as you shut your eyes tight, trying to make it seem as though you were pissed off by his childish teasing when in reality, you were resisting the urge to rub your thighs together as the smell of his cologne overwhelmed you. Gojo Satoru might be your best friend and boyfriend, but he was annoying and overly confident, which left most people with a sour taste when forced to be around him. But you liked that about him.

He was an egotistical little shit, but he was your egotistical shit.

“Hey, I'm sorry; I promise to get you a bag next time.” Gojo squeezed you against his side, allowing you to feel the warmth of his body.

“Whatever, I don't care, not when I went to that new sweet shop without you when you were gone.”

The gasp that left Gojo’s mouth was soap opera-worthy—as if you had just told him his twin brother, who had fallen down an elevator shaft, was still alive. There was something almost satisfying in how he reeled back, his eyebrows furrowing underneath his blindfold.

“You promised me that we would go together!”

“Yeah? Well, I promised the second year that if they could successfully make a talisman that could prevent me from crossing a line, I would take them out for ice cream. And I was promised kikufuku! So it looks like we both broke our word!”

“You Little shit! I can’t believe you went without me!”

“Yeah, I did, and guess what?”

Gojo leaned down, his eyebrows twitching under his blindfold. “What?”

“It was fucking delicious!” you watched with satisfaction as your boyfriend slumped forward, dropping his head down.

“You’re so cruel.”

“I wouldn’t have had to brag if some gluttonous idiot didn’t forget to bring me kikufuku to share as he promised!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Oh, you’re sorry?”

“No, not really?”

You scoffed as you scrolled through your photos. “Oh, you’re going to be sorry.” Before your boyfriend could question what you were doing, you turned your camera to him and showed him the photos of the different desserts you had ordered in the second year.

“Stop!” he slowly licked his lips. “What is that, and why can I taste it?!”

You zoomed in on the banana pudding Maki had ordered. “Southern banana pudding with vanilla wafer and whipped cream topping..” before you could flip through the rest of the photos, your phone was plucked out of your hands.

“I hate you.” snarled them, moving through your photos in your gallery. “ I hate you so much that I’m taking you back to that same café after work, and I’m not gonna buy you anything, and I’m gonna make you watch me eat the banana—” his words were abruptly cut off as he scrolled to another photo—one that wasn’t of pastries and cake but if you.

You were nothing but a sheer black Lacey bra and matching thong. The camera was pointed above you, getting a great shot of your beautiful body. The curves and dips were so gorgeous that the swells of your breasts caught his attention. He could see your nipples through the fabric, making his mouth and anticipation of a different kind of treat.

“Toru?” the snapping fingers drew his attention away from your phone screen. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m starving.” His voice was deeper than normal, and a certain tone behind it caused heat to pool between his legs.

“W-Well,” you cleared your throat. Do you know what you’re hungry for? Did you see anything else you liked from the café besides the banana pudding?”

“Oh, I saw something I liked but wasn’t from the café.”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to ask him what he wants. Instead, he turns the phone to you, much to your shock. There are no pastries on the screen. It is the photo you took the night before and the new set you bought at the store for tonight. You gasped, reaching for your phone only to have your boyfriend hold it up above his freakishly tall head.

“Oh my God! Why did you scroll that far!?”

“Why didn’t you send these to me last night?”

“I just wanted to see what it looks like on me!” hands grabbed your hips, pulling you back against your boyfriend's sturdy form.

His lips slowly trailed over your neck as he pulled you down one of the dark alleyways of the school, somewhere away from fellow sorcerers or students. “Do you want to know what I think of that pretty little set?” Gojo listened to you. I think you look delicious in it, and I just so happen to be starving.” His head tilted slightly, grinning so wide the dimple in his cheek deepened. So are you going to let me devour you?”

Both of you breathe heavily, your eyes roaming over his face breath, brushing over your bottom lip. The tension was so thick before you snapped, grabbing his face and both your hands smashing your lips against his as he growled, kissing you back with as much passion. That kiss shifted into something that most people would write as NC-17. Gojo was able to control him himself, but when he found out you were wearing the same set from the picture, he suddenly wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground, pinning you against the wall. Your skirt was pushed up to your hips while your pretty panties were pulled to the side. His mouth pressed against your neck, muffling his moans. Your moans muffled as his right hand pressed firmly against your mouth.

“Shit baby, you’re so fucking wet for me, sweetheart.” his left hand massaged your thigh, easing the ache that accompanied the burning sensation of you trying to keep your legs wrapped firmly around his waist as he pushed himself deeper inside of you, slamming you against the concrete wall.

“Mm~!! Mmm~!”

Your sweet, muffled moans against your boyfriend’s palm only had him moving faster to draw more out. “God, I’m so lucky to have a girlfriend is fucking sexy and stunning as you. Anything you wear looks fucking fantastic on you.” he snarled against your neck. “I want you constantly so fucking bad.” your legs tightened around him, giving him a gentle squeeze as your walls constricted around him, drawing out a louder groan from Gojo. “Oooh fuck, fuck, fuck~!!” you could feel him twitching inside of you. His little grunts and whines against your skin had your walls, stomach, and heart fluttering at the sound of his voice. “Fucck~ baby—haaah fuck yeah, keep squeezing me like that! Just like that!”

The head of his cock presses perfectly against your g-spot, making your eyes roll back, a telling sign that you are close. Gojo was thankful for this because he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to last any longer. He sped up his movements, slamming into you, making you scream into the palm of his hand. That erotic sound pushed him further, making him move faster, harder, fucking you with all of his strength, and being the strongest allowed him to lose all his control. He was fucking you so good. The literal wall behind you shook under the force of his thrusts.

The combination of his monstrous thrusts had cock you squirting as you cried out against his hand. Your orgasm had soaked his uniform shirt and boxers with your release. Feeling you cum so hard left Gojo growling as he bucked even harder. Thick ropes of cum filled you, and he didn’t stop there. He kept going, fucking his cum further into you, pushing it as deep as it would go until he finally stopped. His breath tingled over your skin as he slowly pulled away, smiling drunkenly at you.

“Fuck sweetheart that— sweetie? Babe?” he chuckled as your head fell forward, hitting his shoulder. “You good there?”

“I-If I knew you finding my nudes would lead to you fucking me like that, I would’ve shown them to you sooner.”

“Them—?” his voice was very soft, but his cock twitched hard inside of you. “You have more of them?” the instant Gojo found out about the whole hidden album that was on your phone full of your nudes and private videos. He dropped the veil and teleported you back to the apartment. Seeing all your pictures and videos would be worth the lecture he’d be getting from Yaga the following day.

Geto Suguru:

The days that Geto got home early from a mission or some of his favorite days. These were the days he got to take a hot shower, sleep in his bed, and see you again. Whenever he was away from you from your home, he felt like a part of him was missing

When he walked into your shared apartment, he felt all the tension in his shoulders melt away. The familiar smell of homemade aches and pains vanished as if Shoko had healed him. God, he’d love getting home early. What would have made coming home even better would have been if you had been here with him. But from the side of your slippers by the door, it was apparent that you were still stuck at work.

Suguru had about three hours before you gave him more than enough time to shower, take a nap, and do the laundry. That way, whenever you did get home tonight, all you would need to worry about was cuddling with him on the couch. Geto did everything in that exact order, and by the time the last load had been folded, you texted him that you were on your way home with dinner.

Knowing that you would be coming home soon, I encouraged Suguru to move faster, hang up the laundry, and throw his boxers in his drawer before opening yours to put your folded panties inside. He was putting away your bras when an envelope underneath the lacy fabric caught his gaze. He had put your clothes away multiple times, but he had never seen that shoved there before.

Was it wrong to look at the contents hidden at the bottom of your underwear drawer? Maybe. Was it going to stop him from looking? No way in hell.

When he freed the trap envelope from under your flimsy sets, he was pleased to see his name written over it in your handwriting. It seems as though you wanted him to find this. Plop down on the edge of the bed, open it, seeing photos inside. They were Polaroids from small squares with black backs, white frames, and a glossy finish. Flipping them over, Suguru tried to think if you both owned the Polaroid, but all those thoughts went tumbling out the window as he stared at the pictures in his hand. Whether you owned the Polaroid camera or not didn’t matter to him.

All he cared about was the nude photos of you; he held his hands.

You were in different positions in the show, sprawled out on the bed, the blanket doing nothing to cover you. Well, other photos are arranged from you sitting on your knees, back slightly arched, pushing your breasts out to you facing down on the bed, the camera pointing at your face. Seeing you so naked, looking at the camera with a sultry expression, had all of the blood from Geto’s head went rushing to the head of his cock.

Why the hell were you hiding this from him? Was this a little treat for him after a mission, or did you want to get him all riled up?

Suguru didn’t have to wait for the answer because the front door opened as soon as he put the pictures down on the bed. “Sugu, I’m home!” You barely managed to put your keys in the bowl near the front door when your boyfriend rushed out of the room, his dark hair flowing behind him. “Welcome back; I picked up your favorite Zaru Soba good—aggh!!” Suguru scooped you up, putting you over his shoulder before rushing back to the bedroom.

Your boyfriend didn’t say anything as he threw you onto the mattress. You swallowed hard, sitting up on your elbows, only to have him reach down, ripping open your uniform jacket. Buttons went flying across the room as you fell back against the mattress. Your perfect breasts bounced the confines of your shirt, making your horny boyfriend feral.

“S-Sugu!”

“Found your pictures—”

Was all he said before tugging your shirt over your head, his hands frantically pushing down your pants as he worked at his gray sweatpants. “Fuck you look so pretty in them.” Pictures? Oh God, you found the images you had taken for your anniversary with him?! You found yourself wishing that the mattress would open up and swallow you whole so you could avoid the embarrassment that was itching at the back of your skull.

“T-Th—ahh~” his lips moved expertly over your collarbone while his hands gently squeezed your breasts, pushing your shirt up enough that allowed him to tag your bra down, freeing them. “S-Sugu—those—w-were—”

“Exactly what I needed.”

Your photos may have been what he needed to get his motors going. Or maybe you were the stress relief he needed after a very annoying mission. Your pictures were the fuel that he needed to destroy you.

Drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth as Suguru grabbed a handful of your hair, forcing your face down into the mattress as he fucked you from behind. Your back was arched, ass sticking up, allowing him to slide in deep. You loved this position; it felt so good to be manhandled like this.

His long, thick fingers dug into your hair, pulling you up just an inch and allowing you to take a deep breath before your face shoved back into the comforter. You cried your hips against his cock, forcing him deeper inside of you. As you did, the other sounds besides the slapping of skin, your moans and his, the clicking of the Polaroid camera he held in his hands.

“Fuuck~ yeah~ fuck yourself. Rock your hips back against my cock Princess.” Suguru watched as your weekly whimpered, rocking your hips back pathetically slow and allowing him to snap a few pictures. “Ooh fuck.” he hissed through his teeth, grabbing the developing film, shaking it before his hips picked up his pace again, slamming into you, forcing your face back into the bedding. “Gonna keep that one in my wallet.”

“S-Sugu~! Haaah fuck!”

“Yeah, do you like the idea of that? Me having a nasty photo of you in my wallet?” He pulled back an inch, taking another photo of his cock wet with your arousal, the tip still buried inside of your wet cunt. “ only you know that was in there. And you would be the only one to know that when I’m on a mission and at a hotel alone. You’re pretty pictures are what I’m stroking my cock to at night.”

“Hnngh!” You sobbed, fingers digging into the sheets, as you tried your best to rock back against him, chasing your orgasm that was coiling deep in your abdomen. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum!”

“Yeah, do it~ cum all over this fat fucking cock, baby~ make a mess.”

The orgasm snapped like a rubber band deep in your tummy. Your toes curled as you screamed as loud as your lungs would allow into your pillow. Suguru sucked in a breath, Following your body that collapsed on the bed, his hips still frantically moving against the fat of your ass, chasing his release that came just as fast and hard.

“Fuck~ oooh fuck yes baby! Cumming~ cummin’!”

Geto continued fucking you, not once slowing down, until he fully pulled out of you, loud pop echoing off the walls. You weakly protested as he repositioned your back arched ass out, you already knew what he was doing, but your body just wanted to slump back onto the mattress and fall asleep. But this was what your boyfriend wanted to do, and seeing that your pictures were the reason for his horny desires, let him do what he wanted if you listen to several clicks from the Polaroid behind you.

“Fuck—” Suguru whispered, shaking the photo as he set the camera aside, pulling you onto his chest. “This is Playboy material, babes.” he had the picture between his pointer and middle finger, turning it for you to see the photo he had captured of his cum running out of your pussy.

Seeing such an intimate photo of yourself like that didn’t leave you feeling dirty or embarrassed in any way, shape, or form. Instead, it had you feeling the returning burning desire in your stomach. And while your boyfriend, the pictures he had taken, adding to your collection. Suguru was so entranced he nearly missed the sensation of your soft kisses trailing down his stomach.

“Excuse me,” he scoffed, setting the pictures to the side. Just what do you think you’re doing there, princess?”

“Cleaning up my mess~ get the camera ready. I want you to take a lot of pictures. That way, I can reference what I have to do to improve my technique.” Suguru wanted to chuckle, but when you dragged your tongue over the underside of his cock, his eyes rolled back as he weakly searched for the camera that was on the side of his bed. He loved coming home early.

Nanami Kento

“Ken! Baby, I think something is wrong with my laptop!” you say before dramatically hitting the keyboard.“It’s banging for me to put it out of its misery. I think it’s finally time that I retire this guy.”

“Huh, it’s not that old model.” You pouted as your husband took your laptop from before you and plopped it down on his lap as he began typing at the computer. He looked as though he was some hacker from one of those cheesy nineties movies. “If you would keep it up-to-date like I’ve told you to do multiple times, you wouldn’t have this issue every time you opened it.”

“I hate waiting—”

“You need patience in your life; it can make things go a lot smoother for you in the long run.”

You puffed out your cheeks, knowing very well that your husband had always been right. You needed to take more time to find solace in your life. Maybe one of these days you would be able to do that. Today was not one of those days, though. You need to get on your laptop and finish the report, or your boss will surely give you an earful the following day.

“Yaga will kill me if I don’t get this report to him by the end of the day. Kento baby, what am I going to do? I’m too fragile to go up against, Yaga!”

Kento laughs, looking at you over the bridge of his glasses. “You and I both know you are more than capable of taking them out. Give yourself more credit, Love.” You appreciated your husband's honesty, but that didn’t help you with your current situation.

“Kento, that’s not gonna help me with my report.”

“Love of my life, it’s an easy fix. Just use my laptop while I try to get this up-to-date for you.”

Nanami rolled his eyes as you smothered kisses alongside his cheek. “Oh my god, thank you! I love you so much!” You grabbed your husband’s laptop and went to work on your report. Well, he clicked and tapped more gently at your keyboard than you had before.

He was able to update your system. The wheel constantly turned on your screen while he sipped on his wine. Nanami made a mental note to show you how to do this yourself once your report was submitted to Yaga; as your screen returned to life, it didn’t open on your lock screen, which was usually a picture of the two of you on your wedding day. Your laptop had decided to open up right where you had left it two nights before.

It was still a picture of you, but it was from your boudoir photo shoot for your wedding. Nanami choked on his wine as he stared at the screen, his cheeks flushing, and all the tips of his ears burned as he stared at the most intimate pictures he had ever seen. Pictures you had yet to show him after three months of being married.

The intimate photos of you are done so tastefully. Most range from different positions, like lying on a couch in your robe with your veil on. While the other was of you slipping your wedding dress on the backs, nagging against the fat of your ass, showing off the pretty lacy white underwear you had been wearing. But the photo that had Nanami choking was of you on your knees, your wedding veil falling over the swells of your bare breasts as your hands covered your nipples. Your eyes narrowed, staring at the camera while your lips parted slightly. Seeing you like that made him try to inhale his wine, which ended poorly for him.

“Oh! Did it go down the wrong pipe?” You asked, putting his laptop down. “At least it's white wine and not red. Red wine stains are bitch to get out of the carpet.” You stood up from your spot, stretching your arms above your head. “I'll go get you rag quick.”

You barely moved two steps before your husband was following after you. “Why didn’t you show me the pictures from your boudoir photo shoot?”

“Oh! Well, I didn’t care for how some of them came out, so I decided to pick through my favorites before I showed you. Why do you ask?”

Nanami didn’t need to answer your question because you got your answer the second your eyes darted toward your laptop. And, of course, he was looking at one of the pictures you even had a chance to look through. You just stared at the photo of yourself before running a hand down your face.

“They’re terrible, I know. I should’ve never let Shoko convince me to do it.”

Nanami gently took your hand, leading to the front of his pants. He placed your fingers over the hard bulge that was throbbing. You swallowed hard, glancing up at your husband, who was blushing just as much as you, and his very physical reaction twitched, letting you know that your husband liked the photos from your sexy photo shoot.

“I like them; I like them a lot.”

“I can tell,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over his erection through his pants. “Ken, you're so hard.”

“T-Th-hhngh photo.” he jerked his head toward your laptop, “really caught my attention.”

“Oh, it did?”

“Yes.”

Looking back at your screen, you truly took in the side of your photo. Your photographer had shot the picture in black-and-white, giving it a certain elegance despite the horny look in your eyes. You remembered asking for that specific pose for your husband. But in reality, it was for you.

You pushed Nanami back against the bed with a smirk. “Is there a reason why that picture cut your attention?” He huffed a sigh, blushing a darker shade as he watched you rub your cheek over the bulge.

“I like it because I love it when you’re on your knees for me, sucking my cock.”

Your fingers wrapped around his buckle, unfastening it. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” Nanami nodded, growling as you tucked his pants down. “That’s why I asked for her to take that specific picture. Because I know how much you love me on my knees for you.” You pressed kisses along his shaft from the base to the tip, your tongue ding over the pre-cum that was seeping through the fabric

“O-Oh—”

“Let me demonstrate.”

Your demonstration continued for what seemed like an eternity in heaven. Nanami gently stroked your hair as you slid your lips up and down, taking his cock further into your mouth. "Ohh fuck yes, those photos of you looked so good, baby girl. Makes me wanna devour you~" Kento gently grabbed the top of your head, pulling you forward until his cock slid across your tongue, hitting the back of your throat.

You hummed around him, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock before bobbing your head slowly up and down over him. Staring into the sea of lust, your eyes looked like how they had at done with the camera during your photo shoot. That submissive pose, the faux innocence in your eyes, was precisely what Nanami loved about this position.

"Ohh fuck. Perfect little mouth just for me, huh?”

You moaned in approval as you bobbed your head. Nanami was the perfect husband. If he was going to praise the photo of you, he felt like you didn’t look good, and he would get a treat. He was so kind, sweet, and considerate to you, so if you were able to spoil him once in a while as a thank you for all of his sweet words and for providing for you, you would not hesitate at the chance to do so.

Kento pushed you back by your forehead, groaning softly. "Fuck, you look so pretty~" He growled before thrusting into your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin. You whined around him, looking up at him into his eyes as he fucked your mouth. You could feel yourself getting wet on every ball of your head. He moaned low in his chest, looking back into your eyes. "Oh. I know that look~ You want me to make love to don't you honey?” Your eyes snapped wide as you blushed deeply. “Good girl~ Once I use your throat, then I'll fuck you like you need, darling~" Kento groaned, speeding up his hips.

Your eyes watered, streams of black trailing down your cheeks as he fucked your throat slowly. Watching him slowly lose control made your finger twitch as you slowly reached down, rubbing yourself. God, you loved him, and you loved how he made you feel!

"Ah-ah. What did I just say, Love. let me cum down your throat firat, then your pussy can feel good. I want to spoil you for being—ah—such a good girl.” He purred, speeding up slightly before stiffening as your tongue wrapped expertly around him, massaging his shaft in time with the bobbing of your head. “F-Fuck! Yes, j-just l-like t-th-hhngh! Haa! Fuck!” Kento snarled before cumming in your mouths, face fucking you through it.

With each spurt that filled your mouth, you eagerly swallowed it, only pulling off of him when Kemto was whimpering from the overstimulation. As you sat on your knees, licking your lips, Nanami watched you through half-lidded eyes. His lips slightly parted as he did something he had never done before. He pulled his cell phone out and held it directly in front of your face.

“Ken?”

“Stick your tongue out. Show me how you swallowed it all.” without arguing, you did as your husband asked, sticking your tongue out. As you did, he snapped a few pictures before growling and zooming in on each. “Fuck you're so beautiful.” He sighed, admiring his photos for one other second before he placed his phone down on the couch before yanking you up onto the sofa and flinging your panties off.

“Ah! K-Kento, what are you doing??!”

“You being on your knees in front of me might be one of your favorite positions.” He growled as he nipped and sucked on your inner thighs. “Well, one of my favorite positions is right here, between your thighs so sit back and relax, my love. I’ll take very good care of you.” You squealed as his tongue ran over your sensitive clit, before arching you back, eagerly bucking across his mouth.

Note to self: Get Shoko a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of wine for booking the boudoir photographer for you!

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

[solvisun]

122524. i keep thinking about how tsukishima kei is perceptive but is awe-struck when he meets you because you’re worse. because you’re far more understanding and painfully receptive to harsh truths. you’re sharper but much more softer. and when you meet him, that awe-struck would slowly turn into something unsettling because of how casually intimate you are with your friends—with him.

you pat him in the back. or just rest your hand there. give him a look, a half-smile and eyes wholly meeting his. i’m here. “look, it’s your favorite,” or “you sound like this song.” you eat lunch with him, he doesn’t know if you’ve purposely situated yourself by his side but he dares not ask. you include him in your book shoppings, and you’re not fazed when your friends cancel in the last minute. you say he should bring his friends—he could only scoff at you and shake his head no.

and even though you give so easily—even though tsukishima kei holds no such attachment to miniscule gestures, or trinkets, the ones you would slide or plant in his palm not as a gift but just a normal thing to do as friends— it still feels weird. feels…nice. there’s warmth in it, a genuineness he can’t find in the common.

your definition of friends is blurry to some. thus, people would think you’re flirting with them. and they fall for you in the process. everytime this happens, he’s already prepping for midnight snacks & creative witty jokes as your name shows up on his screen. calling him. he’ll listen to everything: how you hate it when people think they’re special just because you gave them your undivided attention, how they think you owe them when they’ve showered you enough affections, for you to reciprocate them, for you to feel something over such trivial things.

that’s not how you operate, he knows. you give and give and give. you only take what your hands can carry, but it’s ironic, how you can receive harsh truths over someone’s heart ready to take care of you. how you’ll choose to have this casualness than to think about a love for a lifetime’s worth.

you deserve it, though. a love for a lifetime’s worth. to meet your gentle hands and knowing gazes and easy laughs. a love that doesn’t feel like a chore, just a normal thing to do, a habit—like you and your trinkets that you save.

in the distant, kei thinks you’re afraid of a few harsh truths. if there’s a light in your kindness, there’s a dark and hollowness that comes with you, too. your big heart means a bigger pill to fucking swallow.

you’re his harsh truth. but one he doesn’t choke on. only aching in some vague, hidden way.

and kei knows he’s a fool for it.

for letting himself get tangled in the ache. for leaning into the quiet way you fill the room—not with noise, but with presence, with weight. the kind that sneaks up on him when he’s least prepared, the faint murmur of your voice pulling him out of his head, or your hand always resting somewhere on him; on his shoulder or his back or even atop his hand at random.

you don’t try to fix him, and maybe that’s what draws him closer, what keeps him tethered to you despite the sharp edges you unknowingly press against his ribs. you see through people too easily, yet never pry. you offer but never push, even when he knows you should.

that hollow kindness of yours, the dark undertone of it, really perplexes him. there’s a careful distance you keep, no matter how much you give. you’re too soft with the world and too harsh with yourself, like you’ve already decided there’s a limit to how much you’re allowed to take. somehow, kei becomes part of that equation—close enough to feel the warmth of your light but never bold enough to reach out and hold it.

he tells himself it’s better this way. that your strange intimacy is manageable only because it’s casual. that you’d pull back if he ever pushed.

but the truth—the harsh, undeniable truth—is that he doesn’t know how to navigate this thing you’ve become to him.

it’s not friendship, not really. friendship doesn’t taste like the bitter pang of jealousy when someone else claims your attention. it doesn’t feel like this quiet, bone-deep longing to hold onto every piece of you before it slips away.

and kei is perceptive enough to know that it will slip away. that one day, your hands will stop reaching for him, your laughter will echo somewhere he can’t follow, and all he’ll have left is the memory of trinkets he didn’t think to keep.

but not yet.

for now, he lets you be his harsh truth. the ache that he doesn’t choke on, the weight he doesn’t know how to carry but refuses to put down. because for all the hollowness you carry, you’ve filled something in him he didn’t even realize was empty.

and that’s enough.

for now, at least, to have you so casually is enough.

it’s better than losing you completely. to sit with you in the silence, in this limbo he doesn’t want to name.

he won’t pry if it means keeping you close.

what a strange, cruel truth to admit—that he loves you only for an inch, not ready to take the mile.

i dont have the spiritual writing energy to expand this all im feeling rn is yearning 😆 i’ll reblog this if i find the time to write the whole version. merry christmas! 🎁

[reidrum]

two millimeters | s.r

a/n: this was literally born bc i saw reid lying on the couch in the jet at the end of demons and thought ‘i would literally sit against that wall to watch over him on the way back’ so i wrote it

summary: spencer gets hurt and you’re not leaving his side

cw: season 9 finale spoilers for angels & demons, cm violence, hurt/comfort, unestablished relationship

wc: 0.6k

___________________________________________

two millimeters to the right, and it would’ve hit his carotid.

the sentence replays in your head like a cursed mantra, rendering your other senses useless. you couldn’t hear the doctor say you could see him now, or feel penny tug your arm towards the room. and you certainly couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw spencer reid in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines and iv drips, with a big fucking gauze dressage on the side of his neck.

you knew your line of work was dangerous, being a federal agent who hunts down serial killers should be enough to prove that. but it never surprised you seeing the panic that overtook all of you when one of your own was hurt.

the pure terror you felt in this moment though, was something without parallel.

two millimeters. two millimeters. two millimeters.

you’re not even sure how it happened. they were on the way to tell the preacher he was innocent, and instead he opens fire on federal agents? it was a cruel twist of fate, spencer doing what he could to protect his people and pushing blake out of the way but getting hit himself. it wasn’t anyone’s fault either, the preacher had military grade machine guns, and spencer would have done what he did for anyone. you made sure to tell blake that.

but your spencer was hurt. and all you wanted to do was take away his pain somehow, and toss it in a river to never be seen again.

two millimeters. two millimeters. two millimeters.

“hey,” you hear a voice pull you out of your head. looking up you’re met with tired soft brown eyes lying down on the jet’s couch, “i’m okay, honey. please go sit on a chair.”

if spencer had all his strength he would lecture you on the dangers of not being properly restrained on an aircraft and the statistics of plane related injuries. but that was the problem, he didn’t have all his strength. and you were not going to let him out of your sight.

which is why you are sitting on the floor of the jet, perched in front of the couch where spencer laid, resting your head on the cushion his head was on, body leaning against couch’s frame. and you planned to stay right there until you landed back in quantico.

“looks like this flight is overbooked,” your section unit chief teased upon seeing you on the ground, “hopefully the brass sees our good work and gives us a bigger jet next year.”

morgan, hotch, even jj offered you their seats to at least get some rest, something you hadn’t had in days.

“i’m fine right here.” you spoke softly.

jj and penny looked at you in concern, but knew you wouldn’t be swayed to move anyway. your stubbornness always acted as a curse and a blessing.

spencer moved his hand to graze your cheek gently, “the doctors fixed me up really good, i promise i’m okay.”

you move your hand to rest on top of his, slowly rubbing your thumb into the curve of his palm, “and i promise i’m okay right here. i’m not moving.”

two millimeters. two millimeters. two millimeters.

two millimeters would haunt you for many years to come, but maybe right now you could use it to measure how much closer you can get to spencer till there’s only two millimeters between you.

spencer knew this was a war he was not winning, and let his hand intertwine with yours. if you weren’t so close to him you might’ve missed the faintest “thank you” escape from his lips. the jet takes off and the two of you are lulled to sleep almost immediately. the rest of the team unspokenly watched over you both, making sure you weren’t rattling around or spencer rolling around too much. and penny couldn’t help but take a few pics to show you later.

[januaryembrs]

I CAN SEE YOU | Spencer Reid x FBI!Reader

Request: Congrats on 2k!!! Could you write something based off of ‘I can see you’ by Taylor Swift with Spencer please?

Description: Spencer may or may not have a little thing for the desk jockey on the floor below, and she may or may not have a thing for their silent elevator rides together.

Length: 1.2k

Warnings: fluff?? Season one Spencer in mind when I wrote this (my sweetest boy)

He passed through the lobby at the exact same time every day. Usually with his head dug in an obnoxiously thick book, or fiddling with the strap on his satchel bag, or flicking his long curls out of his sweet, hazelnut eyes. Sometimes with thick round glasses perched on his slender nose, sometimes nothing but a thoughtful, musing frown. 

Not that she was obsessed with him. 

But it wasn’t hard to acknowledge that whoever the guy on the sixth floor was that seemed to stick to an incredibly tight schedule had the face of a god. 

Though she supposed he could say the same about her schedule seeing as they seemed to enter the elevator at nearly the exact same time every single day, never saying a word, a brief nod of hello was about the extent of their interaction. One time he had pressed the button for her floor, number five, for her, and she hadn’t stopped smiling the rest of the day. 

Of course there were times he and his team would be away on a case, in which she wouldn’t see him for days on end, while she went to her lonely desk in forensics no matter what case had come up.

In the grand scheme of things, she was a desk jockey, inputting numbers and data and figures, organising files and sheets and loading ink into the printer. She was a nobody and he was part of the BAU. 

No one would even notice if she didn’t show up for the day. At least that was what she hoped as she sped walked out of the cab, her hair soaking down her back, her lungs puffing in a crackling wheeze, frantically tucking her tight shirt into her dogtooth pants, limping on her ankle that she’d rolled racing out her apartment building into the raging storm that had overcome Virginia in a matter of hours. 

She felt socks wet through as she squelched her way into the elevator, barely noticing the usual passenger that was tracing a bony finger down the page of Pride and Prejudice, quickly flicking over the page in a matter of five seconds. 

He looked up when she hopped in beside him, squeezing in as a handful of other people followed her. Trying desperately to even her hair out in the large mirror behind them, it was only then she realised her mascara had smudged down her cheeks entirely, making her look like she’d slept in a pile of charcoal. 

“Fuck,” She said loudly, her hand slapping over her mouth when she realise the deadly silent elevator full of federal agents turned to look at her, and she felt her cheeks heat as if her makeup condundrum hadn’t been embarrassing enough, “S-sorry,” She muttered, turning her head to the ground as she frantically wiped beneath her lids with her cardigan sleeve. 

Turning to see if he had noticed, she caught him staring right at her, and she could have sworn the heat on her face blazed even harder when she saw he was smiling into his book in amusement. 

Fuck. She repeated in her head this time, taking a small sigh of relief when the doors opened on the first floor and half the passengers trickled out onto the finance floor. 

She was still fixing her hair by the time they got to the second floor, communications, and even more people got out. By the end of the third floor, it was just the two of them left. 

“Bad morning?” He broke the silence, and it was the first time she’d ever actually heard his voice. He was even dreamier than she’d thought, in a boyish kind of way.

“Car battery died, and the bus was full,” She murmured, fiddling with the hem of her sleeves that were entirely sodden, “And then apparently someone up there hates to see pretty girls get to work looking dry and respectable,” 

He chuckled properly, and she swore it soothed the ache of the cold rain just the smallest bit. 

“Don’t we all,” He mused, though his eyes went back to his book, flicking over the words faster than she figured would be possible. 

She figured he didn’t want to be bothered by the drowned rat looking woman that had all but thrown herself into the lift beside him, interrupting his reading with her curses and pitiful glances. 

It was only when they reached the fourth floor that he quickly rooted around his bag for something, likely a bookmark since he didn’t seem the type to dog-ear a perfectly neat page. It wasn’t until a soft, moss green sweater was thrust in her face she snapped out of her self loathing daze.

Looking at him wide eyed, he nudged it towards her hands, and it was like Spencer only just realised that offering a stranger your clothes was perhaps not normal, but he didn’t feel like they were strangers.

She was the first person he’d ever met in the building besides Gideon. He remembered the two of them stepping into the elevator, the bashful woman already flicking through files, her lanyard hanging low over her chest as she chirped good morning to Gideon and he did the same, wishing her a good day when she stepped out onto floor five. 

He couldn’t help if he was so perceptive he’d clocked her name and position written on her ID, couldn’t help it if he was a huge fan of routine and repetition, that he purposely walked into the lobby at the same time every day knowing she was going to be right behind him just for an excuse to see her. 

No, they certainly weren’t strangers, Spencer tried to reason, yet he wasn’t even sure she knew his name.

“T-take it,” He stuttered, watching the doors close and the lift jolt as it ascended to her floor, “You can just bring it back tomorrow,” 

“That’s- I couldn’t,” She reasoned, her eyes fretful, “It’s yours,”

“I’m not using it, you must be freezing,” Spencer reiterated it with another nudge towards her, and he saw the longing glance she gave at the promise of warmth. 

Number five dinged above them, and the doors slid open. 

“Just take it, please,” He said, and it seemed like that was the magic word as she cautiously took it out of his hand, and melted when she realised it was softer than she’d thought, like it was made to feel like a giant hug. 

“Thankyou…” She said, heading for the doors with slow steps; she didn’t want to leave whatever moment he’d caught her in. 

“Spencer,” He replied, smiling at her with a shy cadence. 

“Thankyou, Spencer,” She said, and gave him her own name back. But he already knew it, and he realised he would sound like a complete creepy stalker if he’d said so. So he just nodded, a small wave off as she headed for her office and the doors closed behind her. 

He loved how she said his name, he thought blissfully, but he loved even more showing up to work day after to see her waiting by the elevator, his sweater washed and ironed, pressed neatly in her hands and still warm from where she’d tumble dried it. 

She handed it back to him with a sheepish smile, and he took it gracefully, catching a whiff of her fabric softener and felt fuzzy inside right there and then. 

“Good morning, Spencer,” She said sweetly, and he swore he wanted to kiss her the minute it left her lips, glossed with something rouge and shiny. 

But he didn’t, he just said it back, loving how her name rolled over his tongue. 

[starmapz]

all of my work is listed below! thanks for your support ♡ see also my kinktober 2024 masterlist !

→ SERIES ✰

⋆ what you know - sukuna x f!reader [fluff, smut & angst] [college au] [ongoing] ❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

⋆ shame on me - gojo x vessel f!reader [fluff, smut & angst] [complete ✓] ❝ gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong? ❞

⋆ love & company - sukuna x f!reader [fluff, smut & angst] [non-curse au] [ongoing series of oneshots & etc] ❝ you're beginning to lose hope of ever fixing your bike as the moon rises over the horizon when a man built like a brick wall and covered in tattoos stops to help you out. he's standoffish and his words are cold - but as it turns out the version of him you see is soft. who knew this man could ever become your best friend, let alone something more? ❞

⋆ six degrees of separation - geto x sorcerer gn!reader [angst] [complete ✓ series of oneshots] ❝ life isn't easy on sorcerers, but in the case of suguru geto there stood something beyond being a sorcerer. he could never have imagined the way he would drag you down even in his best effort to keep the both of you afloat. ❞ or- a series of 4 oneshots spanning the length of your complicated relationship with suguru geto.

→ ONESHOTS ✰

⋆ wolf in sheep's clothing - gojo x f!reader [fluff, angst & smut] [werewolf & monster hunter au] ❝ most parents tell their children stories of fake monsters to scare them into staying in bed at night. your father told you stories of real monsters to train you for your career hunting them. it's that career that brings you to a small town reporting disembodied limbs and missing people. it's here that you spend your days flirting with the cute coffee shop owner with stunning blue eyes during the day, while your nights are spent setting traps and preparing silver bullets. of course, life has a funny way of making things complicated, as your day life and night life begin to collide unexpectedly. ❞

⋆ rest in the mourning - heian true form sukuna x f!reader [angst] ❝ sukuna is a god among men, untouchable by mortals. or so you had both thought. as he fades quietly in your arms, sukuna wonders if curses die with regrets. ❞

⋆ worship - toji fushiguro x f!reader [smut] ❝ after a day out you admit an insecurity to your husband and he has every intention of proving to you just how much you have no need to be insecure. he has no shame in just how willing he is to fuck that thought straight out of your head. ❞

⋆ changing of the seasons - shy!nanami x gn!reader [fluff] [college au] ❝ nanami is a man of habit, so when he doesn't show up to class, it worries you. when he changes his style drastically, you're worried, and- wait, is his sweatshirt from the store you were raving about having nice clothes the other day? ❞

→ DRABBLES ✰

⋆ comfort in you - gojo x f!reader [fluff] ❝ in which satoru gojo subconsciously seeks your comfort ❞

⋆ cold floors - gojo x f!reader [fluff] ❝ in which satoru gojo steals your blankets on his birthday ❞

⋆ celebrations - heian true form sukuna x gn!reader [fluff] ❝ in which ryomen sukuna surprises you on your birthday ❞

⋆ intrusive thoughts - heian true form sukuna x gn!reader [fluff] ❝ in which ryomen sukuna lets the intrusive thoughts win ❞

⋆ a soft moment - heian true form sukuna x gn!reader [fluff] ❝ in which ryomen sukuna comforts his queen through anxiety ❞

⋆ itchy - heian true form sukuna x gn!reader [fluff] ❝ in which ryomen sukuna is itchy ❞

⋆ "never" - toji x gn!reader [fluff] ❝ in which toji reconsiders his thoughts on marriage ❞

⋆ soulmates - nanami x gn!reader [fluff] ❝ in which yuji asks nanami how he knew you were soulmates ❞

⋆ to have and to hold - nanami x gn!reader [fluff] ❝ in which your husband nanami finds you asleep at your desk ❞

⋆ bad guy - choso x gn!reader [fluff] ❝ in which choso asks if you think he's a good person ❞

→ HEADCANONS ✰

⋆ divorce lawyer!higuruma - higuruma x f!reader [fluff & smut]

⋆ cheesy boyfriend!gojo - gojo x f!reader [fluff & smut]

art, format & dividers by starmapz. do not repost/translate/copy.

[pandapetals]

Freckles

Logan kisses your freckles.

logan howlett x fem!reader - pure fluff, logan kisses reader’s freckles, reader is insecure about freckles, think that’s it…

a/n: This is very self indulgent…i have freckles…like a fucking lot so this is just something i needed because i was on my period.

You sat perched on the windowsill, knees tucked beneath you, the fading sunlight painting soft golden streaks across your skin. The amber glow caught every curve and hollow, bathing you in a kind of light that Logan swore was reserved for celestial beings. But you weren’t paying attention to that; your gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the sky blushed in shades of peach and lavender.

Logan sat at the edge of the windowsill, one booted foot braced against the floor, the other swinging idly. He watched you—had been watching you for a while. His expression was a curious mix of softness and intensity, his lips pulled into that familiar smirk that always made your stomach flutter.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the look. “What?” you asked, your voice tinged with suspicion but softened by the faint blush already blooming across your cheeks.

Logan shook his head and leaned forward, resting his forearm on his knee. His rough fingers toyed absently with the seam of his jeans. “Nothin’, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “Just… lookin’ at you.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, turning your head fully to face him. “Well, stop it. You’re making it weird.”

“Can’t help it,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. His eyes traveled across your face, lingering on the delicate constellation of freckles scattered over your nose and cheeks, then down to where they dusted your collarbones and arms like splashes of sun. He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up into something softer. “You ever notice how the sun loves you?”

You blinked at him, startled by the sudden poetic shift in his tone. “The sun… loves me?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, leaning back slightly to get a better view of you. “It paints you gold every time it touches you like it’s tryin’ to show the world just how damn gorgeous you are.” His voice was quieter now, but it held an edge of conviction that made your stomach twist.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a dry laugh, trying to play it off. “Oh, please. The freckles…are ugly. People have told me my whole life how they make me look like I’ve been splattered with mud or something.”

Logan’s brows drew together, and his smirk faded into something sterner, almost disbelieving. “Mud?” he repeated, like the word itself offended him. “Sweetheart, whoever told you that’s a damn fool. Freckles are… hell, they’re like a map of all the places the universe kissed you.”

You stared at him, your mouth parting slightly. For once, you had no clever retort. He grinned at your silence, the look in his eyes turning playful but still achingly tender.

“I’m serious,” he added, leaning closer. His hand reached out, rough fingertips brushing along your forearm, tracing a patch of freckles there like he was committing their placement to memory. “And if you can’t see it yet, well…” He met your gaze, his grin tilting into something mischievous. “Guess I’ll just have to kiss every single one of ‘em till you believe me.”

You blinked at him, the weight of his words sinking in just a second too late. “You wouldn’t—”

Your protest was cut off by the gentle press of his lips against your cheek, right beside your nose where the freckles were darkest. You froze, heat rushing to your face as he pulled back just enough to meet your wide-eyed stare. He grinned, boyish and smug, then leaned in again, this time brushing a kiss to the bridge of your nose.

“Logan,” you murmured, half-laughing, half-protesting, though your heart was racing in a way that betrayed your words.

“Shh, gorgeous,” he said, his lips quirking against your skin as he kissed the corner of your jaw, then another freckle just beneath your ear. “Told you. Every. Single. One.”

Your laughter bubbled up despite yourself, a sweet sound that only encouraged him. He took his time, pressing soft, reverent kisses to your freckles like they were precious things that deserved to be worshipped.

You tried to protest again, your lips parting to say anything, but the words faltered before they could form. Logan’s lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss just below your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. Slowly, like a tide pulling back from the shore, the tension in your body began to melt away, leaving you pliant and helpless against the quiet reverence of his touch.

“Told you I’m not stoppin’ till I’ve kissed ‘em all. You’ll just have to sit there and take it,” he whispered, his voice low and tender as his lips trailed to the curve of your neck, brushing against another freckle as if it were his life’s purpose.

You tried to scoff, tried to summon some shred of your usual wit, but all that came out was a soft laugh. Your hand drifted to his shoulder, not to push him away but to anchor yourself against the dizzying wave of emotion threatening to pull you under. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though it sounded more like a fond confession than a complaint.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a crooked grin, his lips curving against your collarbone. “But you’re the one who’s worth it.”

His words made your chest tighten in that sweet, aching way that left you feeling like your heart was too big for your ribcage. You could barely breathe as he continued his slow pilgrimage across your skin, his kisses impossibly gentle.

“Okay, okay,” you said finally, your voice trembling with laughter as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “I believe you. The freckles are… beautiful, or whatever. You win.”

Logan pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, one brow arching in a way that was both smug and impossibly charming. “Or whatever?” he repeated, clearly unimpressed with your halfhearted concession.

You rolled your eyes, but the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you. “Fine. They’re beautiful. I’m beautiful. Happy now?”

He studied you for a moment, his hazel eyes warm and searching, and for a second you thought he might finally relent. But then, just as quickly, that mischievous glint returned to his gaze. “Not yet,” he said, his voice rich with affection as he leaned back in. “I’ve still got a few more to go.”

Before you could protest, his lips were on your shoulder, kissing the freckles scattered there, one after another, slow and deliberate. His hands, warm and calloused, skimmed along your arms as if the intensity of what he was doing wasn’t already enough to make your head spin.

“You don’t have to keep going,” you said softly, though your body betrayed you by leaning into him, the warmth of his presence chasing away every doubt that had ever lingered in your mind about the way you looked.

“Yeah, I do,” Logan replied, his voice rough but filled with a tenderness that made your throat tighten. He shifted slightly, his lips finding a patch of freckles near your shoulder blade. “Been wantin’ to do this for a long time, darlin’. You just gave me an excuse.”

Your laugh came out shaky, almost disbelieving. “You’re unbelievable.”

“That I am,” he said with a low chuckle, his lips curving against your skin. “But so are you. And if I’ve gotta kiss every last freckle to make you see that, well…” His lips brushed along your arm now, following the path of freckles that led to your wrist. “Guess I’m not stoppin’ anytime soon.”

You felt your cheeks heat again, but this time you didn’t try to fight it. Instead, you let your eyes drift closed, letting his love wash over you. It wasn’t just the way he kissed you, slow and patient, or the way his touch felt like home—it was the way he saw you. All of you. Every little thing you’d ever hated about yourself, he adored like it was some kind of treasure.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice catching on the weight of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

“I know, darlin’,” he murmured against your wrist, pressing one last kiss to the freckles scattered there before lifting his head to meet your gaze. His grin was soft now, edged with something deeper. “But I ain’t done yet.”

Before you could argue, his lips found yours, stealing the last of your protests and replacing them with a warmth that spread through your entire body, from the freckles on your skin to the deepest corners of your soul.

[gay-dorito-dust]

could you do a lil drabble for each of the batboys with a ghost!reader who haunts the mansion? like the ghost is super nice and chill, and they help out in minor ways (help finding small items, cleaning up places, fixing someone’s clothes).

All the boys at some point knew the mansion was haunted, but not by the ghosts of Thomas and Martha Wayne, no but instead of a different person entirely who had no ties what so ever to the manner but thankfully you’re rather helpful and chill in comparison to how movies tends to stereotype ghosts as…something you take full offence to…

Jason

Ironically he reacted the least to you when you showed up in front of him one day, his red helmet in hand.

‘You’ve got to stop dropping this dude, it can only take a couple more drops before you break the fucking thing completely.’ You tell him as you set the helmet aside on his bedside desk.

Jason only looks at you with intrigue. ‘How did you get in the manor?’ He asks. You crossed your arms over your chest. ‘I’m a ghost, there is no getting in when I’ve been here for a little over a couple months.’ You replied

‘How?’ He asks.

You shrugged. ‘Dunno, I died a few feet from this manor and yet I got stuck here regardless, it sounds like the start of a shitty horror movie.’ Jason chuckled as he sits back on his bed. ‘Yeah it really does but aren’t you ghosts meant to be, you know…vengeful towards the living?’ He teases and you shot him a look.

‘First of all those ghosts are old cunts who are have a thing for killing young people and kids for the sake of enforcing their hatred towards the newer generation. I on the other hand don’t fucking care because what purpose does it serve me to frighten people into paranoia? None and besides you lot are a messy bunch that don’t know the first thing of keeping your stuff in your own rooms, you and dick are the worst for that.’

Jason raised his hands in defence. ‘Guilty as charged but they always seem to come back to our rooms regardless, so I’m assuming that’s you?’

You hummed.

‘Why?’

You shrugged again. ‘I’m bored and got too much time stuck here doing fuck all. So now I clean up after you lot to pass the infinite time I’m now cursed with.’

‘Must suck.’ Jason said as he looked at you. ‘Being dead and I should know but unlike you I was brought back against my will.’ You waved a hand at him as you sat next to him. ‘It’s not all bad being dead but I think coming back to live is an even worse fate to have.’ You then look at him with concern for his wellbeing. ‘How do you do it?’

Jason stayed silent as his steely gaze locked onto the wall in front of him. ‘I’m still trying.’ Was all he said and you decided they your time here was over as you walked over to his doorway but looked back at Jason before leaving. ‘Talk to your brothers, before you regret not doing so later…I know I regret not saying anything to my family before…you know.’ You tell him with a weak smile.

Jason was left mulling over your words that night.

Dick

He fainted the moment you handed him his weapons to him. This wasn’t the first time he did it either.

You weren’t amused as you sighed. ‘Okay big guy, let’s get you back to bed.’ You settled aside his weapons on the kitchen counter where you found him, before focusing all your effort and energy into lifting him up and carrying him back to bed, tucked in tight like a baby that he was when it came to horror movies.

You often left dick’s stuff in places he frequently visited or in his room rather then stay long for him to see you, all in the hope of not having to hear him scream and potentially faint on the spot, for in all honestly after the first few times it was beyond ridiculous, and you couldn’t be bothered to make an attempt to ease his anxiety about you if he wasn’t even conscious for you to do so.

He was the one you interacted the least but would keep an eye on from afar like you did with the rest of the boys.

So when he finds himself in his bed, he’s confused, he thought he was in the training room before but then he remembered that his encounter with you sent him into unconsciousness. He wasn’t the biggest fan of horror movies and ever since his first one, his fears and worries towards ghosts has grown since his siblings love horror movie nights, much to his dismay.

There was a ghost in the manor���but you didn’t seem hostile or as angry and violent as the ones he saw in movies, if anything you were the exact opposite but still his worries that this was all just a ruse was enough to have him on edge whenever he heard a creak in the floorboards or shutting of a random door.

‘Christ you’re hopeless boy wonder.’ You say out of instinct and dick, who had gotten out of bed at this point and wandered down the hallway, straightened up and looked over at you with wide eyes.

‘You!’

‘Me!’ You replied sarcastically. ‘Now before you faint on me, your weapons are in the training area where you fainted before I had to drag your ass back to bed, if not ask Tim as I left him the responsibility to tell you where they are.’ You add and within a matter of minutes, dick fainted and you sighed once more as you were forced to carry the man back to bed, more then ready to do this all over again should he cross your path once more.

Tim

Didn’t fully encounter you until he was on a hunt to find his missing computer charger, growing ever more annoyed when he couldn’t find it, only to hear someone from his doorway say;

‘Looking for this?’

Tim looks up to find your translucent hand hold out his charger, it almost looked as though it was floating in midair in front of him as though it was the carrot on the stick and he was the donkey, destined to be lured by the illusion of one day eating the carrot only to always be mere inches away from that reality but never getting any closer then those mere inches.

‘What the-‘ he begins but you raised your other hand.

‘Don’t freak out dude, I’m just a ghost who’s trying to help you find a charger, no need to reach for the phone and get a fake medium, nor call that John Constantine dude Christ.’ You said as you threw his computer charger onto his bed. Tim was still very much in a state of surprise at how you could intersect with objects, for as he was aware ghosts had to be able to muster the anger to do so, but here you were doing what other ghosts couldn’t so effortlessly and easily as breathing.

‘Thanks?’ He then says and you shrugged your shoulders.

‘No problem, also when dick comes and ask you where his combat sticks are, they’re in the kitchen…where he left them the night before, I would do it but I’m pretty sure he fainted when I held them t to him.’ You told Tim but before he could say anything else, you disappeared through the wall across his room and it left him with a cold sensation travelling through his body upon witnessing it.

He’s now going to sleep with one eye open in the instance you came back to watch over him like a sleep paralysis demon. That and he found out your death with a quick search.

Damian

Didn’t believe in ghosts until he caught you sorting out his art supplies in a neat and orderly manner.

‘Hey!’ He’d bark.

‘At least arrange your paint brushes from thickest to thinnest,’ you groaned, ignoring his bark, ‘it’s a pain in the ass to keep cleaning after you and keep the art desk clean also.’

Damian faltered and his anger subsided to confusion. ‘You’re the one who’s been doing that?’ He asks. You looked at his as though he grew another head. ‘Duh, of course I do. Also don’t wear anything that can get into acrylic paint, it doesn’t come out, like at all that shit ruins any good shirt you have forever see!’ You then showed him your paint covered sleeves with a smile.

‘How did you get in here without setting off the alarms?’ Damian questioned and you then sighed as you balled up a fist and threw a punch that went straight through the set desk, you leave it there for Damian to realise what your situation was before pulling it out. ‘You’re a ghost.’

‘In the flesh! Well flesh for you not me as I’m dead and all-‘

‘Yes I get that but-‘

‘Damian.’ Dick’s voice could heard through the door as the pair of you froze. ‘Who are you talking to?’ Damian was about to answer but when he looked over at where you stood, you were gone as though you had never existed and slowly Damian closed his mouth. ‘No one.’ He replied as he looked over at his art desk to see that you had cleaned his paintbrushes, organised them from height order and even brought a fresh canvas out for him too.

Something told him that this won’t be the last time that he saw you.

Congratulations you’ve gained his interest.

[princesssmars]

desert eagle

another rodeo!abby x reader | p.i

seeing the star of the rodeo secretly in the night has been fun, but things start to get tense from miscommunication. but it’s amateur bull night down at the cow belle, and you’ve still got a few tricks up your sleeve.

wc : 2.619

contains : fluff. reader is hard headed. jealousy? fxf smut. strap on sorry to the people sick of it </3

a/n : you thought it was over ahaaaaa. wdym part one was in APRIL i suck at this. why are all of the desert eagle position pictures slightly different its pissing me off.

truly, everything currently going wrong was all abby anderson's fault.

it's a humid saturday night at the cow belle, and you're pouting while nursing a beer as your friends chatter around you. they'd taken you out to your favorite spot to try to brighten your spirits after noticing your sour mood, hoping some alcohol, dancing, and flirting would fix you right up.

but it was hopeless, for a dark cloud seemed to be hanging over your head the whole night. an annoying, sweet-talking, six-foot, blonde braided cloud.

it was established after your first extremely hot and extremely long night together with abby a few weeks ago that you both had an understanding. no strings, no attachments, no labels. you weren't gonna let a big beautiful woman butter you up only to leave you in a ditch, not after the last time. you'd go to the other's house, have rough messy sex, and maybe have some nice conversation, before heading your own way and repeating it the next week. no more and no less.

but god, you should've known it wouldn't last. ever since that first night when her silky smooth drawl convinced you to stay just a bit longer, to sleep in her bed with her shirt on! you might as well have woken up and cooked her breakfast in bed with a 'good morning, honey.'

who could blame you really? ever since you'd set eyes on abby anderson you knew she was something else, a beautiful force of nature that wouldn't budge until she wrecked you so thoroughly. at the time you were as horny as a coyote in may and saw that as just what you needed, a prized golden notch on your belt. a completely different way from what you do now.

right now you were trying to telepathically burn holes into the back of her beautiful head as she flirted with that hussy donna mayfair, an admittedly gorgeous girl with a big personality, big hair, and big...well, y'know. you look down at your chest and slightly straighten your back before roughly shaking your head after realizing this damn woman has you comparing yourself to a mayfair! of all people! the thought only upsets you more and you down the nearest drink to you, ignoring your friend's whine at the loss of her whiskey.

the small and reasonable part of your brain knows you have no right to be upset. after all, it was you who just a week ago insisted to a blushing abby that you truly did want to just keep things casual. you felt bad a little bit, she'd shown up to your hookup flushed and high off of another rodeo win with a tiny bouquet of your favorite flowers, explaining when you asked how she knew that she noticed them on the motif of your favorite pair of figure-hugging jeans. the bastard.

the relaxed but downcast look she wore after your rejection is a stark contrast to how she looks now, pearly whites showing when she throws her head back at some joke donna told, a large hand coming to rest on the redhead's waist. you can see her preening, foot nearly popping up as she swoons over the female goliath giving her all of her attention. it's enough to make you throw up. or maybe it was drinking all that busch light. whatever.

you must not have been very discreet with your glances because suddenly blue eyes are lifting up and focusing on yours, the shock of being caught forcing you still as your finger circles the rim of your next glass. you try to keep normal 'we're two normal people and definitely not recently gone sour fuck buddies' eye contact, but your body betrays you when your eyes flick down to her hand still on donna's waist. when you look at her again the corner of her lip is quirked up, never looking away as she pulls the redhead in closer and whispers something in her ear, the girl visibly going weak in the knees while abby licks her lips-

"well slap my ass and call me sally, come over here hon!" your darling charlize breaks you out of your..whatever that was and picks you up from your stool to drag you over to the event area, a few people drinking while gathered around the brand new bucking machine as one of the bar hands tinkers with the controls.

"what about it char, 'm really not in the mood..."

"oh don't be such a sourpuss, jus look at this!" she gently grips your chin and tilts your head to a nearby wall, a small white poster detailing a month-long mechanical bull contest as soon as the thing was completed, and each winner would get free drinks and $500 cash prize.

"jeez, since when did the belle bring in bucks like that?"

"doesn't matter. in one weeks time you're gonna put on a hot little outfit and win us those free drinks. and hopefully the cash takes your mind off of your situationship."

"oh yeah? and what makes you think I'm gonna be the one to win?"

"honey, ive seen the most hardass women look at you like well-trained pups. you've gotta be the best ride i know.”

so a week later you’re back in the same spot, hair pulled up and donned in your cropped and tied plaid shirt and your cutest pair of daisy dukes as you wrote your name down on the sheet of others trying to win the prize.

your friends are gathered around you, ever the voices of support as they fuss over you and give you words of encouragement. and while you do smile and laugh with them you can’t help from occasionally looking at abby, back with donna as her group hangs around the edge of the bull area.

“y’know i’ve never heard of someone bagging a hot ass woman, rejecting a relationship with said woman, and then pining over and trying to make that same woman jealous.” savannah fixes your hair while judging you, making sure it won’t get in your face so you can see what you’re doing while up there.

“stop questioning me, i’ve already been doing that myself.” your mumble makes the girls laugh before one of the workers comes to tell you that you’re up after the next person. you give them a nod before walking over to the small gate that leads to the bill, right next to-

“hey, looks like our little buckle bunny is gonna ride an actual bull! make sure to give us a nice show, huh bonita?”

you can’t help but smile when manny comes up beside you to throw an arm over your shoulder, nudging your body with his. the rest of his friends are here of course, including she who shall not be named with her new beau at her side.

“you’re gonna ride the new bull? well i hope you know what you’re doing, don’t want you to end up getting hurt now.” donna asks, grasping your hand in hers with a genuinely worried look on her face. damn it, now you were starting to feel bad.

“now don’t you worry, hon. i’ve got quite a bit of experience in riding.” you throw a wink her way before looking at abby next to her, not noticing the flustered look on donna when all you can do is revel in how you caught abby staring at your exposed stomach. before you can try to tease her about it your name is being called up and you're heading into the pit.

you graciously accept one of the workers' help to get you up on the bull, ignoring some of the catcalls that ring out when your shorts ride up an inch or two. you make sure to do everything you've seen others do (and maybe you watched a certain someone's videos to prepare yourself), steadying your dominant hand on the saddle while your free hand is raised above your head.

the experience is fast and hard just like you like it, the bull spinning and bucking so fast its almost enough to make you dizzy. as much as the cheers of fellow patrons make you want to look up and revel in it, you know you need to watch the bulls head to prepare for each time it turns, thighs tightly squeezing its sides. it's only when you hear the timer start to count down from ten that you look at everyone again, blowing a quick kiss to the blonde that's staring you down.

once the machine stops moving you are helped off and guided back to your incredibly loud friends, all happy to hype you up and start planning how much of the expensive high shelf drinks they wanna get. when you're announced as the winner only a few minutes later the night quickly becomes one filled with dancing and laughter.

you wave goodbye to your friends as their truck speeds away from your street, blowing you kisses as they yell for you to have a good night's sleep. you can't help but smile as you place your bag down in your kitchen, ready to wash the sweat from dancing off your body before sleeping through the night. unfortunately, some absolute boar decided now would be a good time to come knocking at your door."

"alright alright, im comin'!" your shouts do nothing to dissuade the steady banging against your door, nearly slipping on your hardwood floors as you rush to undo the locks and see who it is. "i really hope i owe you some money or else i'll"

"or else you'll what?" the sound of abbys voice makes you freeze, the woman resting against the doorway with one hand in her pocket and the other above your head. you need to blink away your surprise at not only her being here but the fact she is now only a few inches from you, close enough that you can smell her signature scent of pine-

"can i come in? or are you gonna keep teasing me like you did at the bar?"

"i did no such thing, you must have me confused with one of your many other flings." you flippantly address her as you turn around back into your home, hearing her quickly trail behind you and lock your door.

"ohh you'd like that, wouldn't you? gives you a reason to be so difficult for no damn reason."

you ignore her words as you head into your kitchen and retrieve yourself a glass from the cabinet, pouring yourself some water and downing it in a few gulps. jesus it's hot, is she hot? she doesn't seem so, minus the fact the sleeves of her shirt are rolled up and straining against her arms.

"no, i was in fact celebrating my win if you didn't notice. although I'm pretty sure you did, it'd be hard to miss my brilliant technique. maybe i can give you a few tips, i watched some of your shows and honestly hon, you're a bit sloppy."

you try to keep your tone cool while she moves closer and closer to you, eventually taking your empty glass and setting it down before placing both of her arms on either side of you, caging you into the counter, and blue eyes darting between yours and your lips while you speak.

"so you've been watchin my videos, huh? i'd invite you to actually come watch me, like I've already done before, but that would require you to stop ignoring me."

"you had donna mayfair to keep you company, i really doubt you noticed i was gone-"

she kisses you to shut you up, and you really wish you could've said you resisted her for long, that you didn't throw your arms around her neck and wrapped your legs around her waist as soon as she set her palms on your ass. you don't have the time to be embarrassed when shes carries you to your bedroom, removes your clothes before she does the same to her own, and reveals the strap she'd been wearing for who knows how long.

"yeah, not so mouthy now, are you?" abby smiles from above you, admiring how fast she's got you fucked out beneath her while you erratically lift your hips up to meet her short and shallow thrusts. the crooks of her elbows are helping to hold your legs in the air, your hands gripping your thighs to help give her easier access as she pounds into you.

"ab's, fuck, please."

"please what? use your words, beautiful."

"please, 'm sorry i won't ignore you again just- just do something, anything."

she puts on a sickly sweet lovestruck smile, and whispers a small 'god, you're lucky you're cute," before starting to fuck you exactly how she knows you like it. it's fast and hard, yes, but there's a hint of something more in the way she stares at you, how you lift your head for a kiss and she gives it to you without a second thought.

your hands start to claw at her waist, gripping the muscle to try to bring her impossibly closer every time her hips meet yours and her strap presses into that spot that makes your eyes damn near cross.

before you know it your orgasm is creeping up fast, unable to say it but of course, abby can tell regardless, how the resistance between your legs steadily increases and how your moans turn into desperate little whimpers.

"c'mon, you can do it. cum for me sweet girl."

all you can do is shake in her arms like a petal on a leaf, moaning and mewling up to the high heavens as abby pushes you through your orgasm, not stopping her thrusts until you weakly push at her arms to signal her to stop.

you fade in and out of consciousness while she takes care of you, the feeling of a rag cleaning your skin and more water being guided to your mouth all seeming to happen in a few seconds. when she finishes you blink your eyes open at her, admiring just how pretty she always seems to look after taking away your ability to walk.

you stare at each other for a moment, her palm coming to fix a few stray hairs on your face before you reach up to grab it and pull her into bed beside you. you pull the covers above the both of you, ignoring her raised eyebrows and know it all smirk.

"well, im not rude enough to send you home after all of that. might as well make yourself comfortable."

she chuckles, reaching over to turn off your bedside lamp before cuddling you from behind, her soft skin like its own blanket against yours.

"whatever you say, bunny."

when you wake up in the morning it's from the gentle rays of the sun peeking through your curtain and into your eyes, the smell of coffee and bacon quickly filling your nostrils when you notice your...partner, isn't in bed with you.

quickly throwing on a robe and padding your way into the kitchen, you can't help the warm feeling that grows inside of you at a shirtless abby pouring two cups of coffee while two plates of a small breakfast are already plated on your table.

you come up behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder when she slightly jumps at the surprise.

"mmm let me guess, you remember how i like my coffee too?"

"i'll remember whatever you want me to, sweet thing."

and right about now that didnt sound too bad.

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (10/???)

You are getting caught in this web, and you can't even imagine what awaits you ahead...

Enjoy it <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: The day of the exhibition arrives and your expectations for receiving your prize increase

Art I

The big day had finally arrived.

Rio’s exhibition was more than just an art showcase—it was a challenge. The theme? Rebirth. Bold reinventions of world-renowned paintings.

She was taking a risk, and she knew it. Tampering with tradition, subverting the original, deconstructing the classic, and redefining its meaning was like playing with fire. The conservative art critics could easily turn her audacity into controversy. But that was exactly what she wanted.

To shock.

To stir up a frenzy. To make experts pore over her work, tirelessly searching for a flaw, a mistake, a reason to question her genius. But they would never find one.

Because Rio Vidal was perfection itself.

The playful woman who filled hallways with her easy laughter, who teased Agatha just to see her roll her eyes, was now cutting through the air with sharp orders, demanding absolute perfection.

She paced back and forth across the living room, her steps quick and impatient, nearly carving a groove into the floor. Her soft cheeks were puffed with irritation, her eyes blazing. One hand pressed a phone against her ear while the other gestured aggressively in the air.

“I don’t want excuses, I want results. This should’ve been fixed yesterday!” Her frustration left no room for negotiation.

You had never seen her like this before. Never seen her be so harsh, so impatient. With you, Rio had always been a refuge. Warm, welcoming, sometimes even childish in the way she played with you. But now, she was a storm ready to tear through everything in her path.

Your gaze slid toward Agatha, who lounged on the couch with pure delight. Legs stretched out, elbow resting against the armrest, long fingers lazily massaging her own scalp. A small smirk played on her lips, and her blue-gray eyes gleamed with amusement as if she were watching a private performance.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer and perching on the edge of the sofa’s armrest. The second you did, Agatha’s free arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer with an effortless, almost casual possessiveness.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice soft but curious.

“Oh, honey.” She murmured, eyes still on Rio, watching her like one would observe a caged wild animal. “She’s having fun.”

“Fun?” you repeated, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Yes.” Agatha sighed dramatically, tilting her head against the couch. “Some people do yoga, others read… and Rio? She terrorizes unprepared employees.”

You bit your lip, stifling a chuckle as you watched Rio, who now looked on the verge of a meltdown.

“I’m surrounded by incompetence!” the artist fumed, running a frustrated hand through her hair. “How is it possible that no one noticed the main hall’s lighting is completely off?! Do you want my paintings to be seen as if they’re hanging in a mall parking lot?!”

On the other end of the call, the response was evidently unsatisfactory because Rio let out an almost feral sound of frustration.

Agatha drummed her fingers lightly against your waist, a silent “See? Told you so.”

“Should we help her?” you murmured, half-concerned.

“We?” Agatha chuckled. “And miss the show? Never, darling.”

Before you could protest, Rio ended the call with one final huff of indignation.

“Fantastic.” She slammed her phone onto the table. “Absolutely brilliant. They couldn’t fix it.”

She grabbed the blazer draped over an armchair and adjusted it over her shoulders, eyes burning with determination.

“Fuck this. I’ll handle it myself.”

And with that, she stormed out of the room, her heels echoing against the marble floor, exuding the fury of someone about to instill fear in half the lighting crew.

You looked at Agatha, who simply smiled.

“This,” she said, pointing toward the door, her index finger moving back and forth for emphasis, “is why I married her.”

[...]

Hours later, you were in your room, brushing through Lucky’s sleek black fur as he let out a series of grumbling meows, clearly displeased with the grooming session.

“Stop complaining,” you muttered, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest.

You weren’t going to the exhibition. It made no sense. To the world, to the media, to anyone looking from the outside, you were nothing more than one of Agatha’s employees. Being there, standing beside them, wouldn’t just be strange—it would be risky.

You had accepted that.

Or at least, you thought you had.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway caught your attention. You looked up just as Agatha appeared in the doorway, holding a small black box in her hands.

“Are you busy, little one?” Her voice was warm, designed to melt you.

Your heart wavered.

“No…” you answered hesitantly, watching as she stepped inside with the familiarity of someone who knew this space belonged to her.

Agatha sat beside you on the bed, placing the box between you. Lucky seized the opportunity to escape your grasp, the soft jingle of his collar announcing his exit through the door, leaving you alone with Agatha.

“I hope you picked out something appropriate for tonight,” she commented casually, as if discussing the weather.

Her gaze lingered on the doorway, where Lucky had just disappeared.

You frowned.

“What?”

“Your dress.” She tilted her head, eyes roaming your face with quiet intrigue, like she was tasting a rare wine, analyzing its notes. “What did you choose to wear to the exhibition?”

The air grew heavier.

“I… didn’t pick anything,” you admitted. “Because I’m not going.”

Agatha said nothing.

She just looked at you. And for the first time since you had met her, she seemed… pensive. You could almost see the thoughts stacking up behind those intense blue eyes, a whirlwind she rarely let show.

She parted her lips to speak, but stopped. Closed them again. Tapped her fingers against the small box between you.

You swallowed hard, your hands clammy from the weight of her silence.

So, you tried to justify yourself again.

“It doesn’t make sense, and it’s not appropriate,” you reasoned, keeping your tone measured.

Agatha looked at you once more, those sharp blue eyes scanning you, assessing you—searching for something.

Then, after a pause, she took a slow breath, crossed her arms over her chest, and said:

“Indeed.” Her voice was colder now. Rational. A mirror of your own. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for us to be seen together.”

The words sliced through the air between you. Like a precise, unforgiving blade.

Your chest tightened, a weight settling deep where it shouldn’t have.

Of course, you knew. You had always known. This was forbidden, irrational, a mistake from the start.

But hearing it out loud—from her—was different. It hurt like a punch to the gut.

It wasn’t about logic. Or the risks. It was about being their dirty little secret. About not being good enough to stand beside them under the spotlight.

You were something to be hidden. Kept behind the curtains.

Bile rose in your throat, and you tried to ignore the bitter heat washing over you.

But Agatha didn’t give you time to process it.

Slowly, she leaned in. Her warmth pressed closer to yours. Her breath ghosted over your skin.

Mature fingers traced down your shoulders, gliding along your forearm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“But you’ll behave, won’t you?” The question came in a whisper, low, laced with a quiet, velvety threat. You swallowed hard. “You’ll stay out of… curious eyes.”

She dragged out her words with surgical precision, almost savoring the effect they had on you. A shiver ran through your body, and you hated the way you reacted to her.

"Or did you forget we’re not done rewarding you yet?"

The world felt smaller. The air, heavier.

Her scent wrapped around you, and then—the touch. Light. Intentional. Cold fingers grazing your skin, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear with an absurdly intimate gesture.

Then she fisted those same fingers into your hair, tugging hard, forcing you toward her until she could whisper in your ear.

"Don’t you want it, pet? To be rewarded?"

Her voice was coaxing, as if you were actually considering denying her. You almost laughed—you couldn’t say no to her.

"Fuck," you groaned again, but the word was swallowed by her mouth in a kiss that felt less like affection and more like punishment.

Her lips moved with the precision of someone who knew every single one of your weaknesses, every point of entry. When she finally pulled away, a silver thread of saliva still connected you, shamefully illuminated by the soft lamplight.

"You will," she commanded, not as a suggestion, but as a truth carved into stone. "You’ll wear the dress I picked. You’ll smile when I smile. You’ll shut your mouth when I tell you to."

Her hand trailed down your neck, fingers tracing the invisible collar that had always been there. "And if anyone asks…" Her blue eyes gleamed with malice. "You’re my assistant. Got it?"

You tried to pull back, but the bed was against your spine, and Agatha advanced, caging you in with her arms.

"Got it?"

"Yes," the word left you in a shattered whisper.

"Yes, what?"

Her fingers tightened around your throat—not enough to steal your breath, just enough to remind you.

"Yes… Mommy."

Her smile was slow. Wicked. "My good girl." She pulled a black box onto her lap, opening it with a soft click.

The black box sat there like a secret waiting to be revealed. Her fingers slid over the lid, lifting it open with a quiet snap that echoed in the silent room. Inside, nestled in black velvet, was the object—small, discreet, but heavy with intent.

A vibrator.

Not just any vibrator. It was sleek, almost minimalist, its metallic finish catching the light hypnotically.

Agatha picked it up with the careful precision of someone handling a loaded weapon. "Rio thought you needed a… reminder," she said, her voice silk spun over razor blades. "Something to keep you in line when we’re not around."

Your heartbeat stuttered, but you forced yourself to keep your hands from shaking. "I don’t need that."

"Oh?" Agatha tilted her head, her blue eyes burning with something dark. "Then why did you suggest something like this for Rio at the café?"

The question hit like a bomb. And then you remembered—Urth Caffé, where you had just lost your job, desperate, reckless. How could you have forgotten?

The words from that day pulsed in your mind.

"Then test me."

"Test you?"

"I’m a smart girl."

"Good."

"I… I didn’t think she’d take it seriously," you murmured weakly, clutching at the hem of your worn-out Radiohead shirt.

"Rio takes everything seriously," Agatha replied, running her thumb over the vibrator like she was petting something obedient. "Especially when it involves control."

Her fingers found the power button, and the toy hummed to life—a low, almost imperceptible vibration. The sound alone settled deep in your chest, like it was already inside you.

"It’s Bluetooth-controlled," she continued, eyes never leaving yours. "Rio loved the idea. It'll be fun testing your limits in… public."

The word dripped with promise, and heat flushed through your skin. "This is insane."

"Insane?" Agatha laughed, a low, throaty sound that made your stomach coil. She shook her head, as if you had missed the point entirely.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. No… this is trust, pet. You trust us, don’t you?"

It was a trap, and you knew it. But when your gaze met hers, the answer was already waiting on your lips.

"Yes."

And fuck everything, it was true.

It was insane how quickly they had wrapped around you, how much they had done for you in such a short time. They had invested time in you, seduced you, worshipped you. So maybe it wasn’t insane at all, how fast you were falling for them.

It felt… inevitable.

"Yes, what?"

You whimpered, squirming under her gaze, that word becoming a craving.

"Yes… Mommy."

Her smirk was slow, satisfied. "Mmm, that’s right, little girl. Your test starts now."

Then she leaned in again, and you sighed, thinking she would kiss you. Agatha noticed—and grinned. That exact reaction from you was too delicious to resist.

Instead, she pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and pulled back.

"Be ready by 7 PM. Don’t be late."

[…]

The hot water cascaded over your body, washing away any lingering hesitation. Steam filled the bathroom, wrapping around you like a warm embrace, preparing you for what was coming.

Your fingers traced the soap over your skin, lathering up as your mind drifted back to Agatha. Her voice. Her eyes carving into your soul. The quiet promise in the kiss she left on your forehead.

They had chosen you.

That truth pulsed in your chest, hotter than the water.

You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing it in.

When you stepped out of the shower, your skin was warm, soft, renewed. You toweled off, fingers lingering over your own reflection in the mirror before turning to the piece of fabric waiting for you on the bed.

The dress.

It was a masterpiece.

Slate blue—a perfect fusion of green and violet—the color shifted subtly under the light, as if it held a secret. Boning sculpted the bodice, extending from the bust to the waist, hugging your figure with surgical precision. The back laced up delicately, demanding patient hands to adjust it.

And the details…

The embroidery looked like the work of a meticulous artisan, tiny strokes of sophistication woven into the fabric, like silent spells meant to enchant anyone who dared to look.

You stepped into it, letting the softness glide over your skin. The lacing was a challenge, but with some effort, you managed to tighten it until the dress molded perfectly to your shape.

The neckline left your collarbones bare.

Except for one thing.

You picked up the choker, feeling the weight of the padlock pendant in your palm.

Not just an accessory.

Your collar.

Clasping it around your throat sent a shiver through you, something deep and unshakable.

You lifted your gaze to the mirror.

And smiled.

The reflection staring back wasn’t just you. It was a piece of them.

Pride gleamed in your eyes.

Being theirs. Belonging to them. It was intoxicating.

You touched the padlock, drinking in every detail of yourself. Strong. Beautiful. Exactly what they wanted you to be.

And then—the final piece.

The vibrator.

Your fingers hovered over the object before picking it up. You hesitated for only a moment, but to your own surprise, it wasn’t difficult. In fact… the thought of having it there, in public, knowing they could play with you whenever they wanted—

That… That got you.

A shiver ran down your spine, and you let out a long sigh as you adjusted to his presence.

A silent game had already begun.

You smoothed out the skirt of your dress, letting it fall gracefully around your body, and glanced at the clock.

It was only a few minutes until seven.

You were ready.

When you stepped into the room, the air was as tangible as the choker around your neck. But it wasn’t just any choker.

It wasn’t merely an accessory, an aesthetic detail completing the dress Agatha had chosen. It was a symbol. A seal. An inescapable reminder of whom you belonged to.

Rio's eyes were the first to devour you, raw hunger in them, shameless and unfiltered.It was the kind of gaze that burned, consuming every inch of your skin without her even having to reach out.

The tension in your shoulders shifted into something warm and intoxicating, like stepping into a trap you had, somehow, always wanted.

She tilted her head to the side, her hair lazily falling over her shoulder, fingers tapping against her thigh in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"Just look at this..."

Her voice was husky, laced with a silent pleasure that seemed to deepen with every second she spent watching you.

Agatha, on the other hand, remained still for a moment, her analytical gaze sliding over you with no rush, as if savoring the sight before her.

Unlike Rio, who devoured, Agatha absorbed.

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly—an almost-smile carrying a world of approval and control.

A soft hum escaped her lips—that characteristic, low tune of hers—a small gesture, yet it made you feel as if you had just passed an invisible test.

"Perfect," she murmured, her gaze finally locking onto yours.

"Exactly as you should be."

The pride that blossomed in your chest was warm, addictive.

You grasped the pendant of your choker between your fingers, feeling the shape of the lock press lightly against your skin.

The weight of the jewelry was almost as significant as its meaning.

You were theirs. There was no doubt about it anymore.

It was Rio who broke the space between you, gripping your waist with her hands.

Her gaze traveled down your body as if searching for something specific, and when it returned to yours, a mischievous glint danced in her dark eyes.

"You have it on, don’t you?"

The air grew heavier.

You hesitated for a second, your heart skipping a beat before you swallowed hard and nodded.

Rio was not a woman who accepted timid answers.

Her gaze narrowed, and before you could process the movement, she was already on you. Strong, firm hands gripped your waist without hesitation, fingers tracing every curve before sliding down and squeezing your ass with enough force to draw a gasp from you.

You barely had time to react before she pulled you closer, forcing you to straddle her thigh.

The vibrator switched on the moment you felt the pressure of the fabric against your center.

It was an ambush.

And you had walked right into it.

The moan that spilled from your lips was loud, involuntary, impossible to contain.

Your head tilted back as your breathing turned suddenly erratic, and Rio only smiled, satisfied, as if she had just confirmed something she already knew.

"I didn’t hear you," Rio's fingers slid to the back of your neck in a possessive grip, tugging lightly at the hair at your nape, forcing you to arch back.

"Y-yes, mama. I have it on." Your response was shaky, lost in the pulsing sensation inside you.

Before you realized it, your hips were grinding against her thigh.

"You better have some self-control," she teased, her teeth grazing your jaw before trailing up to your ear, her voice low and sinful enough to make you tremble.

But she didn’t give you a chance to recover.

The kiss came as a surprise—rough, dominating, with no regard for the carefully applied makeup. It was the kind of kiss that completely disarmed you, that made you clutch at her shoulders just to keep from collapsing.

Rio was demanding, hungry, and the way her tongue moved against yours, as if she wanted to take everything you could offer, made your body melt even further into hers.

She tasted warm, intoxicating, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but this.

"That’s enough."

Agatha’s voice cut through the room like a sharp blade, cold and unwavering.

Rio hesitated, still savoring your lips, before finally pulling away.

The look she shot at Agatha was defiant, a rebellious spark burning in her gaze.

But Agatha didn’t waver. She never did.

You, on the other hand, were breathless, trembling, your chest rising and falling erratically as your body still reeled from what had just happened.

Agatha studied you for a moment, then her eyes dropped to your neck, where the collar gleamed under the room’s light.

Her blue gaze softened slightly.

But there was no tenderness in it. Only possession.

"Compose yourself."

The words came with the ease of someone who already knew she would be obeyed.

Rio, however, didn’t seem entirely satisfied just yet. She licked her lips, eyes still locked on you, and a lazy smirk curled at her mouth.

"You heard Mommy. Compose yourself." She winked at you before walking away.

You followed their steps, watching as they entered the car.

Ralph was already in place, his suit and posture impeccable.

You greeted him with a polite nod, which he returned in kind.

The ride was calm—too calm, a stark contrast to the storm within your mind and heart. The women looked flawless, untouched. They avoided looking at you as much as possible—and perhaps that was for the best. You felt that if they did, you might completely fall apart.

When the engine stopped, Agatha turned to you. "Step out first. We’ll follow in a few minutes."

Swallowing hard, you obeyed, stepping out with unsteady legs. There were a few paparazzi around, but none paid much attention to you.

The moment you crossed the entrance of the event, the sensation was overwhelming. For an instant, you felt ripped from reality, as if you had stepped through an invisible portal into another era. The 15th century? 16th?

It was 1500, yet it was also today.

The gallery had been transformed into something that defied time.

The polished marble gleamed under the warm glow of immense golden chandeliers, towering above like they had been plucked straight from Versailles.

The walls were covered in luxurious tapestries, embroidered with scenes that seemed taken from Renaissance paintings—but with a disturbing detail.

The classic and the modern clashed in a grotesque and brilliant way.

In one corner of the gallery, a monumental painting stood, drawing both silence and nervous murmurs.

It was a bold reinterpretation of The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa—but instead of the saint, there were two nuns.

Their veils still covered their heads, but their habits were parted, exposing pale skin in a contrast that felt almost sacrilegious against the celestial background.

The Baroque gold of the original painting remained, but now, it wrapped around the two women’s bodies like a profane halo.

One of them held a rosary between her teeth, while the other pressed her lips to her neck, fingers delicately tangled in the fabric of the cassock.

Scattered across the floor, open Bibles lay strewn, but their texts had been altered—passages on chastity crossed out, replaced with verses of love, forbidden and intense.

And at the top of the canvas, a male figure, dressed as a cardinal, watched from a distance, hands hidden inside his robe. His eyes, heavy with condemnation, also burned with desire.

The plaque beside the painting bore its title:

"Temptation and Hypocrisy."

No one dared to speak too loudly in front of her. But the lingering stares—the ones that flicked away too quickly—said everything.

A modern Last Supper.

Christ, at the center of the table, held not a chalice, but a bottle of whiskey. His disciples wore tailored suits and dark sunglasses, each clutching something that defined their era: a fraudulent contract, a wad of dirty cash. Judas, by his side, offered a kiss while sliding a contract forward, as a security camera loomed from above—watching, always watching.

Betrayal was no longer spiritual. It was contractual.

The guests around you were transfixed, whispering behind their champagne glasses—equal parts horrified and seduced.

That was how Rio created.

She didn't just paint. She exposed.

Without mercy.

You stood before one of the smaller canvases, your breath caught in your throat. The painting wasn't large, but every detail was a knife. A white lamb, with golden fur and almond-shaped eyes, lay beneath the paws of two wolves—one black as pitch, the other streaked with silver. Their jaws were buried in its throat, but the lamb’s expression was not one of agony. Its lips curved ever so slightly.

Was the lamb suffering... or surrendering?

Pain or pleasure?

Perhaps you were supposed to decide.

You leaned in, your fingertips hovering close to the paint. Hidden among the dark grass, tucked into the petals of a single black flower, you spotted the initials: R.V.—so small, they were practically criminal.

"Disturbing, isn't it?"

The voice slid behind you—soft, like venom.

You turned, your heart lurching, to find Wanda Maximoff standing close—too close—in a deep wine-red dress that seemed to bleed at the hem. Her blue eyes gleamed with something sharp, something curious.

"Wanda... hi..."

Your voice came out in a breathless whisper, as if she'd caught you in a lie—and maybe she had. The heat of the possibility curled inside you, sticky and unwelcome. Your palms began to sweat.

"What a surprise to see an... intern at the biggest exhibition of the year."

Her gaze dragged over you slowly—too slowly—and settled on the choker wrapped around your throat.

You shifted on your heels, gripping the strap of your clutch tighter, where the vibrator sat dormant.

"Agatha sent me... as her assistant," you lied—too fast, too defensive.

Wanda’s brow arched in that patient, practiced way.

"Oh, really?" She crossed her arms, the silk of her dress sighing against her skin. "She needs another assistant now?"

Your stomach twisted.

There was something in her voice—something playful, but edged. The way her gaze swept over your body, lingering a second too long on the choker...

She knew.

Or she suspected.

You opened your mouth to respond—

The vibration started.

A single pulse. Low. Deep.

Your knees nearly buckled.

You clenched your teeth, blinking rapidly, trying to school your expression into something neutral. Wanda's eyes narrowed slightly—like a cat scenting something just out of reach.

"The Willing Sacrifice," she murmured, turning back to the plaque beside the painting. "By Rio Vidal." A pause. Then her gaze flicked back to you, sharp as glass. "You identify with the lamb, I see."

The vibration pulsed again—two short bursts.

A warning.

Get away.

"It's just art," you managed, sweat slicking along your lower back.

Wanda smiled slowly, a predator savoring the chase.

"Art is never just art, darling. It's always a confession." Her finger traced the tiny hill painted around the lamb’s ankle. "Rio loves symbols... but I suppose you're still learning to read them."

The vibration surged higher.

Your breath caught.

The wetness between your thighs was undeniable now—sticky and hot beneath the silk of your panties. Your body betrayed you with every pulse.

"Are you alright, dear?" Wanda tilted her head, her eyes glinting with polite concern.

Three vibrations. Long.

Danger.

"I—I need to check the schedule," you stammered, stepping back.

Wanda's hand shot out, curling around your wrist—her nails digging lightly into your skin.

"Wait." Her voice was softer now. Lower. "I still don't understand..." She leaned in until her breath ghosted over your cheek. "...why you're really here."

You wrenched your arm free, heart hammering.

"Agatha's waiting."

You fled.

The vibrator thrummed relentlessly with every step, forcing you to clench your thighs as you navigated through the crowd—smiling too brightly at passing guests, your pulse loud in your ears.

The bathroom.

You stumbled inside the first empty stall, locking the door behind you. Your fingers dug into your thighs, trying to ground yourself—trying to hold it off—

But it was no use.

The orgasm was coming—unstoppable—hot and humiliating. You bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, swallowing every sound as your body convulsed against the cold metal wall.

Just when you thought you couldn't take it—

The vibrations stopped.

The absence was a slap.

You gasped, sweat dripping down your temples. Your thighs were shaking, the ache between them throbbing, unsatisfied.

It was cruel.

They were cruel.

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes as you slammed your fist against the stall door, frustration knotting in your chest.

You needed—

God, you needed—

The door creaked open.

You froze.

Rio leaned against the marble sink, watching you through the mirror with that slow, lazy smile—the kind that promised ruin.

"Running away is ugly, pet."

You swallowed hard.

"You... you stopped."

Her smile stretched wider, all teeth.

"Stopped?" She tapped her thumb against the phone in her palm. "That was just a warm-up."

The vibrator buzzed back to life inside you—low, steady.

You whimpered before you could stop yourself, clutching the edge of the sink as your knees threatened to give out.

Rio sauntered closer, pressing into your back. The scent of wine and mint wrapped around you as her hands slid over your hips—possessive, patient.

"You think that's fair?" she whispered against your neck. "Leaving me out there—incapable of breathing without thinking about you?"

Her heat was overwhelming. You felt the dampness through the fabric, the flush of Rio’s skin pulsing against your thigh. She rolled her hips—slow, deliberate—and you moaned loudly, fingers burying themselves in her dark hair.

“This is what you do to me, little gem,” Rio growled, biting your lower lip until it bled. The taste of iron mixed with her lipstick, a clandestine mark.

The vibrator suddenly switched on, the buzz ripping through your body like an electric shock, stealing your breath and clouding your mind. Your body trembled, the sensation pulsing from the inside out, claiming every nerve as if it had been made for you—as if Rio knew exactly how to unravel you like this.

You arched your back, a gasp caught in your throat, but Rio tightened her grip around your neck, nails digging into your pulse. Your body begged, your mind crumbled, that overwhelming, blinding sensation consuming everything, leaving you weak, lost—nothing but the instinct to follow the rhythm she set. You were nothing but this—the wanting, the needing, the desperate urge to be pushed to the edge.

“Fuck—” you moaned, feeling your legs tremble, nearly buckling beneath Rio.

Her grip on your throat tightened, bringing tears to your eyes, blurring your vision, blurring your mind, blurring everything except the suffocating need.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Cum, little tramp,” she ordered, each word punctuated by a sharp grind against your leg. Her eyes were wild, flawless makeup beginning to smear in black streaks down her face, turning into a mess.

She tugged at your choker, not hard, just enough to make you choke on surprise.

“This is mine. Only mine.”

You tried to stammer something, but she silenced you with a fierce kiss, her tongue invading your mouth like a starving intruder. The vibrator intensified, and you felt your orgasm creeping up, a wave ready to crash—until Rio let out a ragged moan, her hips shuddering violently.

She came against your leg, body trembling like a taut string snapping under pressure. And just like that, the vibrator turned off, leaving you stranded on the edge, dry and frustrated.

A sob tore through your chest, your body still pulsing with unbearable need. “No… please.” Tears spilled down your face, smudging it even further.

Rio smiled. She cupped your face, wiping away the salty streaks with her thumbs before pulling you against her chest. “Shh… remember your reward, pet,” she murmured, her lips ghosting against your forehead. “It’ll all be worth it.”

Then she pulled away, leaving you to feel the cold absence of her arms. “Just five minutes until the speech, darling. Wipe your face and be pretty for mama.” She swiped her thumb over your cheek, emphasizing the command.

When she left, you caught your reflection.

Wild. Disheveled. Just the way she wanted.

Grabbing a few wet wipes from your bag, you cleaned the tear stains and smudged lipstick, trying to regain some composure. But nothing could erase the feverish gleam in your eyes.

With one last breath, you stepped out into the hall. Your legs were still shaking, each step a reminder of what had just happened.

The crowd had started gathering in front of the stage. You followed, a shiver running through you as you passed the painting of the lamb again. The animal’s eyes seemed to smile now.

Pleasure, you decided.

Always pleasure.

On stage, Rio held the microphone with the confidence of a queen. The room fell into absolute silence. Then, she began:

“Art must be a cruel mirror. A distortion. A reflection that forces those who look into it to see themselves without masks. Painting, sculpture, performance—all must provoke, must transgress. Because if it does not shock, it does not transform.”

Her voice was both an invitation and a threat. Every word dripped slow, as if she was savoring the audience’s reactions. You watched Rio, the way she commanded the space effortlessly, her eyes burning like embers.

But then—a touch at your waist made your body stiffen.

You knew that scent of jasmine and cinnamon before you even felt the warmth of her breath near your ear.

“Don’t drink so fast, darling.” Agatha’s voice was low, but sharp as silk-wrapped steel.

Her hands gripped your waist. Not to hold you. To warn you.

You forced yourself to swallow, keeping your gaze fixed on the stage, but your body already belonged to another universe—one where only Agatha existed, and you were nothing but a delicate thread between her fingers.

On stage, Rio continued:

“We live in an era where truth is buried under algorithms, where our desires are shaped by invisible hands. But here… here, in this space, in this temple of creation, no one can hide.”

The world around you faded as Agatha’s hand slid over the curve of your dress, her fingers tracing a lazy, dangerously intentional path.

You wanted to close your eyes, but you knew that would be a mistake. Rio was on stage, but Rio was also watching. You could feel it. Feel it in the shivers crawling up your spine, in the heat flooding your veins.

“I want you to feel.”

The vibrator turned on.

Subtle. Almost imperceptible. A low, deep hum that echoed through your bones.

You took a slow, steady breath, trying not to falter, trying not to let a single sound slip past your lips.

Agatha smiled against your skin, satisfied.

She pressed closer against your back, her warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. Her breath—hot and laced with red wine—burned against your ear.

“Spread your legs. Slowly.”

You obeyed, your heels trembling, and felt her hand slip down your thigh, sharp red nails grazing your skin until they found the damp lace of your panties.

She pulled the fabric aside, exposing you to the cold gallery air.

Her middle finger found your swollen clit, circling it with surgical precision.

You choked, fingers gripping the cold marble, but she tightened her grip on your chin, forcing your face toward the stage.

"Look at her. Look."

On stage, Rio paused. Her eyes hovered over you. Just for an instant, but long enough to knock the air from your lungs. Long enough for the vibrator to intensify. You had to grip the table beside you to keep from collapsing onto your own knees.

“I want you to look at the pieces and see yourselves.”

Agatha’s hand slid over your hip, up your abdomen, her long, firm fingers branding your body with her presence. Her face was too close, and when she brushed the tip of her nose against your cheek, your lips parted in an involuntary gasp.

“The purest… and the filthiest parts of you.”

Rio was immersed in her performance, her dark eyes sweeping over the audience like fire consuming dry grass. But when her gaze landed on you, she froze. She knew. She knew Agatha was there, touching you, and she smiled—a sharp, toothy smile.

"Look at her. She loves seeing you like this… broken," Agatha whispered, her finger sliding inside you in one smooth motion. You arched, a moan caught in your throat, but Agatha clamped her palm over your mouth, her lips pressing against your nape.

"You don’t want the others to see, do you?"

Agatha’s fingers moved faster, her thumb pressing against your clit with calculated force. Your body betrayed you, hips moving against your will, seeking more. She let out a breathless laugh, her posture almost dazed, disbelieving. The vibrator pulsed in sync with her rhythm.

"Fuck!—You get so damn wet when you put on a show."

The double stimulation made your knees give out. Agatha tightened her grip on your waist, keeping you upright as the buzzing of the vibrator blended with Rio’s voice.

"Because if it doesn’t shock… it doesn’t transform!"

The audience erupted in applause. You moaned, tears slipping down your cheeks, but Agatha yanked your hair back, exposing your sweaty neck. She bit down, making you scream.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your voice swallowed by the ecstatic crowd. "—Fuck."

The vibrator hit its highest setting. You choked, muscles clenching in spasms, dragging you to the edge.

"P-please, Mommy… Oh, fuck. Fuck. Please." You whimpered, leaning your head back against her shoulder, no longer caring if others saw—and strangely, neither did Agatha, who was looking at you with wild eyes.

You wanted to leave. Wanted your reward. Wanted to be touched until you forgot everything.

"You’re a little teaser. Behave." Agatha growled through her teeth, her thumb pressing against your swollen, needy clit.

"I-I… Mommy, I can’t. Fuck. Fuck. Please!" Your eyes rolled back from sheer pleasure, hips grinding against her hand. Trying to reach. Trying to get there.

You were close. Too close.

Agatha felt it. Of course she did. And as if reading your mind, her lips brushed against your ear.

"No."

The vibrator switched off abruptly.

The shock slammed into you like dry thunder. Your knees buckled for a second, your heart hammering against your ribs. You wanted to scream. To beg. But all you could do was gasp softly, biting your lip until you almost tasted blood.

Rio smiled on stage. Small. Lethal.

"Because art does not ask for permission."

Agatha gripped your face, tilting it back just enough for your eyes to meet hers. You felt the pressure of her fingers against your jaw, her touch heavy with promises. Your chest rose and fell too fast.

"It takes."

The applause exploded, a storm of clapping hands and ecstatic murmurs. You closed your eyes for a second, but the noise ricocheted inside your skull, amplifying your frustration, your shame, your anger. A thick knot burned inside your chest—something primal, something you couldn’t name.

You wanted to leave.

You wanted to rip that damn toy out of you, wanted to scream in Rio’s face, wanted to sink your teeth into Agatha’s pale skin, wanted to run and, at the same time, crawl back to them. You were teetering on the edge of an emotional abyss, and the only thing keeping you tethered was Agatha’s firm voice, her hand slipping from your jaw to your waist in a warning grip.

"Wait there. We’ll go home soon."

It was an order.

As always. As everything.

You swallowed hard, eyes wet, legs trembling. Every cell in your body was charged with an energy that had nowhere to go. So you stepped away, not looking back, weaving through people, champagne glasses, and curious glances skimming over you. You knew you were flushed, you knew you were a mess, you knew—somehow—that Rio and Agatha had done this on purpose.

You collapsed onto a velvet couch in a more secluded corner of the gallery, fists clenched against your thighs. You were breathing hard, but the air wasn’t enough. Frustration was a wild animal inside you, clawing to get out. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to pull yourself together, trying to swallow the despair threatening to spill over.

And then you heard a familiar voice.

“Sis!”

Your body went rigid in an instant.

Josh appeared in front of you, immaculate in an expensive suit. The bowtie contrasted with his carefree expression, his high cheekbones illuminated by the gallery’s soft glow. He looked radiant. No dark circles. No marks. No trace of the pain you had carried together for so long.

Your stomach twisted.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture, forcing a smile.

“Josh! You look… great!” your voice came out a little too high-pitched, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Right?” Josh pulled a smug expression.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head, half in disbelief.

Josh had always been like this—flashy, talkative, expressive. More sensitive than your other brothers. How had you never realized how much you missed that?

"Mrs. Vidal is absolutely incredible. And her wife? Did you see her? I need the number of her dermatologist. That skin is unreal."

The genuine surprise in his voice was enough to pull a real laugh from you—probably the first of the night.

"Oh my God, Josh…" You covered your face with your hand for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

But then he stopped, narrowing his eyes at you with a look that was far too perceptive for your liking.

“But… how come you seem so close to them? What’s your relationship with those women?”

The laughter died on your lips.

Your stomach flipped, and you averted your gaze, stalling, searching for an answer.

"I… work for Agatha." You said it simply, controlled.

Josh raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied.

"Oh, sure. You work for Agatha." He repeated, dripping with sarcasm. "And I’m the president of France."

You scoffed. "I’m serious."

"Uh-huh." He tilted his head, crossing his arms. "And does your job include sitting here trembling on a couch like you’ve seen a ghost?"

Your jaw tensed. You swallowed hard, trying not to show your discomfort.

"Josh, I—"

"Where are you living?"

The question hit like a punch.

You blinked a few times, feeling the ground tilt slightly beneath you.

Where were you living?

In their house. In their bedroom. In their world. At their feet.

But saying that would be signing a confession.

Your silence lasted a second too long. Just long enough for Josh’s frown to deepen.

"Oh, so it’s a secret too?" He crossed his arms, looking at you as if he had just uncovered something suspicious. "Were you kidnapped? Owe money to the mafia? Blink twice if you need rescue."

You rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t entirely joking.

And before you could string together enough words for a convincing excuse, something shifted in the air.

A shiver ran down your spine.

It was subtle, but you knew.

Josh stopped talking. You saw it in his eyes—he felt it too.

That’s when the presence materialized beside you.

Agatha.

She didn’t arrive with a flourish, nor did she interrupt with words.

She was simply there. As if she had been from the very beginning. Like a feline with watchful eyes, circling the scene from a distance, waiting for the right moment to step in.

Josh’s gaze slowly moved to her, and you could see the exact moment he realized the sheer presence of the woman before him.

And Agatha…

She only smiled.

"Oh, don’t stop on my account, kids."

The air between them crackled.

Josh, always expansive, always commanding interactions with his warmth, held his ground. But something in his posture shifted—subtle, almost imperceptible. Like a dog sniffing out something unseen.

Agatha extended her hand first, a polished gesture, rehearsed, meticulously calculated.

"Agatha Harkness." Her voice came out low, husky, laden with a weight you couldn’t name.

Josh hesitated a fraction longer than necessary before accepting the handshake.

"Oh. Believe me, I know." He gripped her hand firmly, his eyes narrowing with recognition. "Josh. The most amazing brother she’s ever had."

You wanted to roll your eyes.

Agatha chuckled—short, restrained, a sound of amusement that revealed nothing beyond what she intended.

"Pleasure to meet you, Josh."

They let go of each other’s hands, but something lingered in the air. An unspoken tension, an invisible power play in which you seemed to be the only one without access to the rules.

Josh furrowed his brow for a moment before his eyes widened with sudden realization.

"Wait a second. You directed Nocturne! Holy shit, I LOVE that movie!" His voice pitched slightly higher, excitement breaking through his usual nonchalance. "The mirror scene? Iconic. I was obsessed—I had to watch it three times just to catch all the details."

You saw Agatha’s lips curl slightly, a smirk that felt almost predatory.

"I’m glad you enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed? I almost got a quote from that script tattooed!" Josh laughed, animated, then pointed at you. "And you, missy, working for one of the best directors alive? Since when?"

Before you could answer, Agatha smoothly took control of the conversation.

"She’s exceptional at what she does. Impossible not to notice."

Josh crossed his arms, examining you with a satisfied smile.

"Well, that I’ve always known. Always smart, always going after what she wanted. I knew you’d make it in life."

The silence that followed carried weight, something lingering between the three of you that you couldn’t name. But then, a new voice cut through the tension behind Josh.

"Are you her personal security detail now, Josh?"

His jump was immediate, his body twisting with an awkward reflex.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell!" His hand shot to his chest, dramatizing the scare. He blinked a few times, his brain finally catching up to who was standing before him. "Mrs. Vidal. My God. Hi."

Rio smiled. A lazy smile, toeing the line between charm and veiled threat.

"Hi."

Josh cleared his throat, straightening his posture, trying to regain composure.

"I was just… you know… checking."

Rio tilted her head slightly, a feline studying its prey before deciding if the attack was worth it.

"Leave."

Josh exhaled sharply, still shaken from the scare.

"Ah. Yes, ma’am."

He stepped away, but not before discreetly making a phone gesture at you and whispering, "Call me," before disappearing into the crowd.

You remained there, alone with the two women.

Agatha leaned in slightly toward you, as if savoring the heavy energy left in the air.

"Your brother is…"

"Eccentric." Rio finished, letting out an easy laugh.

You crossed your arms tightly against your chest, making no effort to hide your irritation. Your jaw clenched, brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

You were exhausted, frustrated, still simmering with the fire of earlier humiliation, and now? Now you had to deal with Josh showing up out of nowhere, asking questions, exposing you, reminding you that outside this bubble of lust and control, there was still a world expecting answers from you.

And Agatha and Rio?

They were amused.

Rio shifted her weight to one leg, tilting her head as she studied you. A teasing smirk played on her lips, as if she was entertained by your little tantrum.

Agatha, on the other hand, let out a small sigh. Slow. Deep. The kind that made your spine tingle for no apparent reason.

"What a precious thing." She murmured, her fingertips barely brushing your chin before trailing down to the pendant shaped like a lock, as if testing its durability. You didn’t pull away, but you didn’t yield either.

Your eyes lifted, meeting hers with defiance.

Rio chuckled softly, the sound curling around you like a caress.

"She’s pouting, love."

"So angry…" Agatha agreed, her voice low, velvety.

You clenched your fists, feeling your nails dig into your palms.

"I’m tired." Your voice came out sulky but also thick with that latent electricity you couldn’t control around them.

"Oh, my dear…" Agatha sighed, her fingers tracing a lazy path from your chin to the curve of your neck. "This isn’t just exhaustion."

Rio moved closer behind you, and you smelled her perfume before her body even brushed yours. Her fingertips ghosted over your waist, testing your patience. As if saying, You can resist if you want, but we know you’ll give in.

You gritted your teeth.

"But she’s right," Agatha twirled a lock of your hair around her fingers, "Let’s go home."

Rio exhaled a laugh against your nape. "Time to reward our good girl, isn’t it, love?"

That word clung to your skin like a warm secret. You blinked, feeling your body waver just slightly, even against your will.

Agatha noticed. Of course she did.

She smirked, blue eyes darkening as they slowly traveled over you.

"Yes… And I want to enjoy every second of it."

~*~

Uff! What a long chapter, huh?! Saturday has more!!

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[bloomzone]

2025 : #6 FAILURE IS THE GREATEST TEACHER

failure is not your enemy. In fact, failure is the best teacher you will ever have. It’s raw, unforgiving, and humbling. And you know what? That’s exactly why it’s necessary.

✒️..Think about this: every success story you’ve ever heard started with failure. Thomas Edison failed over a thousand times before inventing the light bulb. Oprah Winfrey was fired from her first television job because she was "unfit for TV." Steve Jobs was kicked out of the company he founded. The difference between these people and the rest? They didn’t let failure define them. They let it refine them.

WHY DO WE FEAR FAILURE?

We fear failure because we’re conditioned to. From a young age, we’re taught that mistakes are bad. The red marks on our homework, the scolding for falling short, the shame when we didn’t measure up. Society drills this fear into us, and we carry it into adulthood like a weight on our shoulders. But YOU can’t avoid failure. You will fail, repeatedly. The question is, will you let it break you, or will you let it build you?Failure taps into our deepest insecurities. It makes us feel like frauds.. like we’re not good enough. But here’s what most people don’t understand: failure is neutral. It’s not good or bad. It’s just feedback. It’s information telling you what didn’t work so you can figure out what will.The problem arises when we attach meaning to failure—when we let it dictate our self-worth. One failed business doesn’t mean you’re a bad entrepreneur. One bad grade doesn’t mean you’re dumb..one failed relationship doesn’t mean you’re unlovable...

How to Handle Failure

1. Own It

Stop blaming circumstances, other people, or bad luck. Take responsibility. When you own your failure, you gain control over it. You’re no longer a victim of your mistakes—you’re the master of your lessons.

2. Analyze It

Every failure is a goldmine of information. What went wrong? What could you have done differently? Be brutally honest with yourself. Failure is wasted if you don’t learn from it. THERE IS NO FUCKING PROBLEM IN IT

3. Detach Emotionally

It’s easy to take failure personally, but it’s not about you. It’s about the process. Detach your self-worth from the outcome. Just because you failed doesn’t mean you are a failure.

4. Get Back Up

This is where most people falter. They stay down. They let the sting of failure paralyze them BUT the only way to overcome failure is to keep moving. Adjust your strategy, try again, and keep going.

The Benefits of Failure

It Builds Resilience: Every time you fail and get back up, you become stronger.

It Fuels Growth: Failure pushes you out of your comfort zone and forces you to adapt.

It Clarifies Your Goals: Sometimes, failing shows you what truly matters and helps you realign your focus.

It Humbles You: Success without failure breeds arrogance. Failure keeps you grounded and hungry.

You think failure is the end? No, failure is the beginning. It’s the brutal teacher that shows you exactly what you’re made of. So get up. Stop wasting time feeling sorry for yourself. Stop blaming the world for your mistakes. Own it. Fix it. And then move forward. You’re going to fail again, and again, and again. But the question is, are you going to let it break you, or are you going to let it build you? Because the truth is NO one is coming to save you. It’s on you. So pick up the pieces, put your head down, and get back to work. Failure is a lesson—use it, or stay stuck. The choice is yours.

@bloomzone 📇