#i apologize for not posting in a while...i have been so sick | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

punemy-spotted · 2 days ago

Text

The Price You Pay Chapter 8: Force Majeure

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader; Senator!Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Non-Con; Dub-Con; Workplace Sexual Harassment; Blackmail; Mentions of Murder; Dark!Steve Rogers; Soft!Dark!Andy Barber; Mafia/Political AU combination; Angst; Crying; (offscreen, minor) Character Death; Descriptions of someone with PTSD and Depression; Funerals; Gun Violence; Domestic(ish) Violence; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat; I Killed Those Doves, Lemon.

Chapter Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat; Pregnancy; Allusions to Antenatal Depression and PTSD; Discussion of a Medical Nature; Alcohol Mention; Isolation; Semi-Forced Marriage; None of this is how the law actually works.

Chapter Summary: Andy Barber keeps his promise, for better or for worse. In sickness, and in health.

Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Masterlist

Notes: So… it’s been a minute. Hiatus-ing on and off, appearing, apologizing, disappearing again. I know I’m a mess. I’ve officially left legal — for now, pray higher education holds — and I’m finally getting my horrible menty health under control. Turns out, if you take your meds properly, you can manage to recover your lost muse and update a fic you’ve barely touched since [checks calendar] 2021.

I’m so sorry.

I hope I can keep up and this resurrected-from-the-dead update doesn’t, you know, disappoint.

Thank you for sticking with me even though I’m terrible! I really have missed talking to all of you and am… trying to get over that guilt and be around again. Your faith in me means the world and, as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, even if you’re yelling at me.

Beta-read by my roommate, who is kinder to and more patient with me than I deserve. (love you, bestie. sending you this note via screenshot because you hate 2POV with a passion but it’s fine, we can still be friends.) There’s probably still typos, I’m useless.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

Senator Andy Barber’s Chief of Staff keeps a loaded gun in the glove compartment of every car he drives, a force of habit the Senator is probably grateful for right about now, even in absentia. While he pays for the final tank of gas he’ll need to get you both to where you need to go, you open it up and empty the clip, leave the bullets in the cup-holder save for the two you put back. He doesn’t bother questioning the sight of them when he returns, just glances at you briefly and proceeds to hand you a cup of watery, burnt coffee you almost immediately regret taking a sip of.

You drain the cup before the car’s back on the highway.

The road ahead is a lonely one, just the car’s headlights to cut through the snowy gloom. William “Billy” Russo barely speaks, the only driver half-insane enough to be driving through this particular stretch of the Appalachian Trail this late at night with a snowstorm raging all around the both of you.

You never picked up smoking as a habit, really — too devout then, too late now — but as the suffocating silence settles in alongside the cold in your bones, you can’t help but crave one. Just one. Just something to quiet the churning anxiety and growing dread in your belly.

You risk a glance over to Billy, take in the pale white of his knuckles deepening as his grip on the wheel shifts, his eyes catching yours when he feels the weight of your gaze on him, You getting tired?

Are you?

Exhaustion feels too far away, adrenaline still holding your eyes open, anxious twitches keeping your muscles uncomfortable in the passenger seat, unable to settle down. Even the shake of your head is too cautious to be definitive, too busy watching. Waiting. Say nothing.

Not long now, he tells you by way of an attempt at comfort, eyes back on the road, Safe house is just a few hours away.

Alaska.

Not the state — though you wouldn’t mind, all things considered. The house Billy pulls up to is… nice, if made gloomy in its snowy isolation. You almost wonder how a Senator’s newly-hired Chief of Staff even manages to have an isolated “safe house” just on the edge of the US-Canada border, with access to what seemed like a completely unmanned and unlicensed border crossing — and then you decide that question isn’t even top fifty on your list of questions you’ve had about your day.

Days, even. Days full of memories of caskets, graveside services, and Senator Andy Barber — bloody and battered — practically tackling you to the ground to remind you why you’re here, pulling up to a wood-and-brick prison rather than your palace of glass and steel.

Domain. Dungeon.

The snow outside is starting to turn into a full-bore blizzard, but the house itself is warm enough to boil your blood, fire crackling in the hearth and Billy handing you a mug of something warm and medically cleared for your consumption, I’ve got good news — he’s awake, he tells you, taking a seat in the armchair across from you with a glass of whiskey in hand, He’ll want to hear from you, make sure you’re safe.

Safe. The word feels all wrong, especially here. Especially now.

You are not safe, you will never be safe, he will find you he will always find you—

A pillar of the community has fallen.

It was a heart attack, the papers said.

This is a massacre, the television blares, traumatized reporter center stage. Here you sit, in the fallout of having been too close, far from escaping unscathed. Billy reads aloud the names of those mourners and sycophants too preoccupied with the performance of grief to notice the cracks in the foundation — tragic, tragic, couldn’t have happened soon enough.

Funerals are for the living, and amidst all this death, you might almost come alive.

Heart attacks, you know, are no more than convenient half-truths for the public to pretend, but this — this lays it all bare, exposes the rotten empire of Judge Alexander Pierce as it all comes crashing down around those who profited the most as his enemies decide to draw blood from his headstone.

And all it almost cost you was Senator Andy Barber

And all you had was Senator Andy Barber

Something rises in you at the thought, a bold of lightning through your chest as you feel yourself surge forward on that unraveling tightrope beneath your feet, teeth grinding together and muscles pulsing with the force of will it takes to keep you steady, tamp down the illness and anguish aching to pour from you the moment you open your mouth you are going to start screaming and you will never stop you will never stop you will never—the sight of Billy Russo’s concerned face blurs into practically nothing as you press down the growing pulse of both panic and pain, your stomach considering the merits of emptying itself entirely.

Are you alright?

He knows the answer to that. He knows what you’re about to say — if you could say anything at all — while you press your lips into a thin line and try not to glare too cruelly at him for daring to ask you something when opening your mouth is an impossible task.

The pulse of your jaw will have to serve as answer enough.

Still. You manage. Abdomen sore and sour and a line of tears staining your cheeks, half-crumpled back into the couch while hands that are not Andy Barber’s try to hold you up.

You’ll try not to resent Billy for the sin.

Any being mired in politics eventually understands the value of things left unsaid, a fact you have never been more grateful for until now, as the pressure on the couch beside you lifts and you catch sight of Billy Russo’s blurry figure leaving your presence — and returning shortly, not long after you manage to clear your vision, met immediately with a glass of water and a metal straw.

And then the phone rings, leaving you alone again.

Barely secretly, you’re almost glad for the interruption.

How are you feeling?

Like I just woke up from having two bullets fished out of my ribs. Andy Barber’s voice is rough, smoke and gravel tinged with pain and whatever that medical team of his pumped into him to numb it while they sewed him shut. You almost wish you had coils on this damn phone, to wind around your fingers in absentminded anxiety while you press down the waves of stomach-churning guilt you’ve been contending with since you got here — and well before then, too.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse. You know these steps too well.

I shouldn’t have asked, you manage by way of apology, listening to the strained chuckle on the other side of the line.

Better you asking than anyone else, Sunshine. How are you feeling?

Like Hell, like I can never stop, never escape, like you’ve trapped me in a cage, like the poison inside of me is going to choke me and then I’ll finally be free, free, free—

Comparatively, or just in general?

It’s a game, always. A dance. A ruse. Andy Barber shouldn’t laugh with chunks of his left side gouged out by two bullets you can’t even remember the caliber of — but the tenor of it washing over your ears is enough to set you right.

You will never be okay again.

Give me both, Sunshine. I could use the hope.

Hope. Funny thing to have when you’re laid up in a hospital bed with stitches keeping you together, but you personally — well you’re starting to get it. Just a bit.

Worried about you, mostly. Do you know when they’ll let you out? It could almost sound sweet, the way you make yourself worry — the way Andy believes you when you do — if you felt there was any sweetness left in you at all. You ought to be grateful.

You did this, you did this, you you you you you.

Liar liar liar traitor traitor traitor coward coward coward.

You almost miss it, Andy’s response, recalling just snippets as they break through your thoughts—check for sepsis… high security… not being very accommodating… stay in touch.

To be fair, I don’t think calling outside the hospital is within their protocol, you have it in you to sound like you might be teasing him, enough to feel a ghost of a smile tug at your lips when you hear another — stronger — laugh.

I’ll give them that. If they can give me the option of recovering at home, I might give them more.

You have to laugh at that, just a little.

It can’t last.

Sunshine… There it is, your laughter cut short by the shift in his voice, the smile you’d just begun feeling okay with tugging at the corners of your lips fading into nothing.

Andy, don’t—

No. Listen to me, this doesn’t change anything. I promised you I’d take care of you this time and I still mean it.

You can’t hear yourself for the blood-tide in your ears, waves of warning screaming at you to stop, to shut up, to run run run. You should not have come here. You should not believe him. You can’t trust him. You won’t. You cannot trade one cage for another, not this time.

It’s too late for that.

We’ll talk more when I see you again.

Turns out, that’s not for a while.

Still— Andy Barber keeps his promise.

You don’t mind at first, do you? It makes sense at first, doesn’t it? Billy Russo destroys your old phone before you and he have even left the hospital, erasing all its photos and memories and contact information of law school classmates you stopped reaching out to six months after you graduated, and it makes sense. Can’t be tracked this way. Be found. Be drawn back to that cage of glass and steel high above that city you’d moved to in some vain hope your past would leave you alone in that mess of people, politics, and pain.

Can’t let Steve Rogers know you’re still alive.

Can’t let him know what you’ve stolen from him.

So you don’t mind. You don’t mind the stillness — not even when the snow melts one uncharacteristically warm weekend and the woods around you feel almost devoid of life. You don’t mind the loneliness either, more than resigned to accepting your solitude as sanctions for your sins. You don’t even mind the way Billy dictates your days with careful ease — wait, no, you do mind that.

Don’t you have a Senator to look after? You question him one day, not long after your first silent and uncomfortable drive to a private clinic where you check in under the name Mrs. Barber and meet doctors and nurses whose pseudonyms you won’t bother to remember as they test your vitals and ultrasound your belly and act proud when you lie about how little nausea you’re feeling.

This is how he wants me to do that. He barely looks at you as he responds, practically rehearsed while typing away at his phone and gesturing vaguely to the stone-faced bodyguard who’s become more of a shadow to you than your actual one.

One cage for another.

This is the price.

This is your prison. Your dungeon. The life sentence you’ve won for your work. This cell of wood and brick, of double-paned and bullet-proof windows with roll-down metal shutters and bars pretending to be wrought-iron, of eyes always watching and waiting and reporting.

Andy Barber keeps his promises.

And all it costs you is everything you are.

I should do this right. He’d told you as much. I want to do this right.

You don’t ask him if this is what he defines as right when the ring shows up on your pillow after you return from yet one more heavily guarded visit to the clinic, terrified of the day you can’t hide — and deny — this reminder of Steve Rogers, all his lies and that scratched-out marble plinth in your heart upon which you’d once laid wreaths of surrender. You don’t ask him if this is what he defines as right when Billy hands you a pen and a marriage license backdated to the night you visited Andy Barber in his hotel room and almost told him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God, your witnesses Andy’s Chiefs of Staff and officiant a name you don’t bother to question.

An old law school lecture about marriages conducted in absentia and the lack of validity thereof comes back to haunt you.

Billy Russo waits.

You sign the papers.

Andy Barber shows up six weeks later.

You’ve almost lost track of time.

It is… not a very spirited homecoming. Hardly the sort of thing a Senator who’s just survived a shooting and recovered — especially when so few were privileged enough to do the same — would earn on Capitol Hill. No fanfare, no excited extended family waiting in the wings with cake and confetti to welcome him back. Just a sleek black car winding its lonely way along an isolated drive and — as it rolls to a stop in front of the house — another member of staff rushing to help him out of the back seat.

You should be down there.

You should be waiting for him the way a good wife ought, all smiles and happy kisses and gleeful adoration. Odysseus has returned home, to banish the wolves at your door, free you from this beautiful prison and give you something like hope.

After all, Sunshine — you should be grateful.

You signed a vow, sealed with a ring — in sickness and in health.

You should be down there.

Instead, you remain at your seat by the window, knees drawn up as close to your chest as your slowly swelling belly might allow, watching. Haunting the upstairs bedroom you know you are about to share with the man you are about to call your husband — out loud, at least. In person.

Instead, you watch as Billy Russo steps into the spotlight, greets his employer with enthusiasm you haven’t seen once in the almost two months since your confinement began, haven’t seen once in the almost two months you have been silently glaring at him and his staff — all outstretched hands and a too-broad smile you don’t need to see to know is on his face.

Instead, you watch as Andy Barber looks up towards your window, as if he sees you half-hidden behind the curtain, the ghost of all that you once were a year-and-a-half ago when you managed to stand up against New York’s most dangerous and — briefly, gloriously — won.

You watch the way he frowns with his whole body, familiar with the set of his shoulders and the terrifying purpose in his stride as he steps inside. Ready for battle.

Hello, Sunshine. He looks the same. Kept the same beard. The same perfect hair. The same crease in his brow as he leans against the doorway with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his tongue pressed against his teeth and jaw flexing with either disappointment or displeasure as he watches you. No different than the man who asked you to stay in his hotel room the night you tore Steve Rogers from your heart and made your choice.

The warmth of him is a sanctuary you have begun to resent as he forces the confrontation you have imagined having a thousand times in the last week alone, the honey of his voice too much of an invitation for you to tolerate as he waits. Watches. Far enough away to let you decide if you want to close the distance, a consideration you mull over as you turn away from the window and the nothing and the hate of you, reluctantly meeting his gaze, Andy. Welcome home.

There’s hurt to him. Voice warm and wounded, fresh blood spilling into the air between you, reaching for the familiarity of before. How are you feeling? A question he knows the answer to, one he also knows you will not give voice to.

You prove him right, daring to shake your head at it, I’m fine.

Liar liar liar traitor traitor traitor coward coward coward

I’m not sure you mean that, Sunshine.

Andy… It’s a warning, a plea, a confession. Ask nothing, you want to insist, want to scream and keep screaming and scream and scream and scream—

Andy Barber closes the distance.

You’ll never be used to this. To the thunder rumble of his voice rolling over you, to warm hands at your waist, to the way your name sounds so sweet on his lips while he lets one hand lift to your cheek and convinces you to look at him with the softest nudge of his fingers, Talk to me.

Let me out let me out let me out.

You shake your head, try to wrench yourself away but suddenly you are weak in more than body — unable, unwilling to pull yourself from the embrace you practically dreamt of sinking into — all your hate and resentment melting under the heat of his gaze. No, it’s—I’m—I’m just going a little stir-crazy, is all.

An apology. A concession. A plea. You are beating your wings against the bars of your cage and Andy Barber just… tightens his hold, tucks you against him, wraps you in the trapper’s net of his embrace and hides you. Tight enough you could almost drown in it, in the cedar and woodsmoke of his cologne, in the drumbeat of his steady heart as he near curls himself around you — sharp contrast to the hummingbird panic in your own chest, sternum cracking from the pressure, I know, I know, and you could almost believe in his apology too, if you could believe in anything at all.

I’m sorry, I—I shouldn’t be so—so what, you ask yourself before you can continue, dare stop yourself from apologizing for all that you shouldn’t have been in the first place.

You are more than this, more than her, she who languishes in this beautiful cell of a half-life she thinks she has earned. You are more than your cage and your broken promises and your guilt. You are—

Tired.

It sinks into your bones as easily as Andy does, so sure of himself and the choice and the life you had no say in him building for you, Don’t be, Sunshine. I can’t imagine this is easy for you.

I wasn’t the one who got shot.

That disarms him, at least, and you have an opportunity to smile as he lets out a laugh, lets you pull back enough to look at him, lets you stand on your own two feet with his hands at your waist again, watching you.

You can see the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, enough to steel you against the constant collapse of all you thought you once were. You never called me, after that, an accusation. A question.

I know. Fucked up of me, he admits it so readily it almost hurts to hear, until you see the flex of his jaw and the way his eyes slide from yours — guilt. You’ve been a lawyer long enough to know what that looks like — no matter how long it’s been since the last time you searched for it.

You wait.

I should have. Figured out some way of reaching you — but the Syndicate has more eyes looking for you than we anticipated. Rogers… Billy didn’t even want me coming out here, said it was too early, but I told him to make it work and so… here we are.

Billy. Your Chief of Staff. He orchestrated this? You fall into it so easily. The viper, the soldier, that arm of justice demanding answer and understanding and suddenly the light of your interrogation is shining on him.

He can feel it too, the sharpness of your fangs as you consider sinking them into his throat, consider tearing into him and pouring out the venom you’ve built up in your veins. The look on his face is evidence of guilt, and so you wait. Wait for him to beg and plead and justify.

Chief of Staff is his official title. Think of him more as Chief of Security. I hired him after I got the news about Alex— if he notices the way you flinch at the name, he doesn’t comment —he’s been trying to make up for the funeral since.

And this is how. Not a question. But you’ll have your answers nonetheless.

Yes. Not quite. I didn’t—I should have told you, Sunshine. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry more, not with…

Not with the baby. Might as well say it. The baby. The last reminder of Steve Rogers, the proof of all that he’d done to you, all that you’d paid to rid yourself of your pain, the newest shackle of your suffering. The baby.

Andy just ducks his head in the barest of nods, Not good for your health. You’ve got Rogers on the warpath, Sunshine—had to make myself look like the gentleman from Vermont just to get here, and Billy’s still convinced there might be a drone tracking me.

So why now? Why not wait, why not hide you forever, why not seal you away and pretend you never were?

Why do you think? I need you, Sunshine.

That stops you in your tracks, your circuit around the courtroom you’d made of this argument ceasing as you fix your gaze on him properly, Andy…

The ring. The license. Those are real, Sunshine. I’d rather have done it right but it’s not like Rogers gave me much choice — we were running out of time. If he finds out, at any point, he’d…

He trails off. You don’t need him to finish the sentence. Steve Rogers’s hands wrap themselves around your throat again, the heel of his palm at your chin, forcing you to look up, up into the cold steel of his eyes, into the hate of him, the way he made it look like love—no.

Never again.

You want to believe him, more than anything. Want to believe Andy Barber left you alone in silence for nearly two months against his will, want to believe you weren’t trapped in a prison on purpose, want to believe you can still fight back.

You don’t always get what you want — no matter how much you try.

He sees it too, the way you tense, the way your hands fall to his at your waist, the way you wonder at pulling him off you and pulling away and suddenly his fingers are pressing in a little too much, suddenly he’s dragging you in a little too fast and your hummingbird heart is racing again and the blood-tide is in your ears and, Sunshine! Hey, hey, look at me, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe, you’re safe— Andy Barber is afraid.

It is the fear you forgive him for.

You don’t remember how you got here, sitting on your bed with Andy Barber holding your hands in his, a man with his heart out of his chest. Listen to me. I’ll do anything to keep you safe. I will. But if you hate this, if you can’t forgive me for this, I’ll—I’ll make something work. Just give me long enough to… He trails off. Watches you. There’s a sheen of hurt in his eyes and it makes your own well up and you could hate him for that too, the same way you could hate him for this, the shackles he’s sentenced you to, for the jury that watches you.

But you don’t, really.

You stand at the cliffside between the devil and the deep blue sea and as you look into the stormcloud eyes so earnestly fixed on you and feel Andy Barber’s fingers squeezing your own with something like hope wrapped in the curl of them, you feel the blood-tide roar past your ears as you take one step into the nothingness and fall.

I signed the papers, Andy, you tell him, choking through sentiment with the simplicity of fact, interrupting the apologies he wants to make, watching his brow first furrow with confusion and then smooth with dawning realization, barreling forward before you can lose your nerve, If I wanted to go back to him — if I wanted there to be a chance he could find his way back to me — I wouldn’t have. I would have just managed alone, would have refused to go with Billy, would have left this house, would—

—would have gotten caught back up in it. Andy finishes speaking for you, his shoulders seeming to fall from the height he didn’t know he’d been holding them at, relief calming the tide of tears that might have drowned you both as he breathes a sigh and just…

Holds you, again. A question. An answer. A relief.

I need you to trust me, Sunshine.

And you do.

#andy barber x reader #steve rogers x reader #senator!andy barber x reader #steve rogers #andy barber #senator!andy barber #dark!steve rogers #dark!fic #dark!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #the price you pay

24 notes · View notes

zeldalizzy · 1 month ago

Note

Anything Wolfie 🥺

✨ The bestest boy ✨

thanks so much for your ask!! sorry it took so long! just a quick little doodle on this cold February day 😊🩵 i also need some doggo fluff in these trying times... hope you are well!! all the LU boys would likely not resist, except for Legend... but when he sees those puppy eyes, he'll probably just grumble and give up lol 😂

redraw of this meme

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #asks #requests #lu wolfie #myart #digital art #doggo #meme redraw #i apologize for not posting in a while...i have been so sick #and college never lets up either #i finally had time between classes to doodle and i needed some Wolfie content to heal my soul #i hope you like it!!#to all the rest of you who like me are suffering with sickness #please be comforted by Wolfie #who reminds you to sleep

339 notes · View notes

nobodybetterlookatme · 3 months ago

Text

Anyway asshole sneezed yesterday while I was driving and I nearly wrecked my car lmao

#snz kink #and he did it more than once too like excuse you #might as well have whipped his dick out smh #i didn't actually almost wreck tho I'm just being dramatic lmao #thank god he didn't bring up the fact that it's a kink again tho bc i might’ve fr wrecked ahdkalsk #but i was like 'don't do that I'm driving 😒' and he sarcastically apologized #to his credit he did try to stifle when he did it again but that was worse bc i felt bad lmao #'well don't do *that*' and then he snorted and rolled his eyes and was like 'there's no winning with you'#god he's so great to converse with even when we're playfully bickering lmao fuck #still crazy to me that I've never been into a cishet man before in my life and always thought I'd end up with a woman #just for the first person I've ever dated to be not only a cishet man #but also my fucking coworker after i said i would never date a coworker #hate this for me but also 🥰#also now I'm extra feeling some type of way about the fact that he sent me those voice messages while he was sick #like damn maybe that did do something to me ahdkkala #maybe I should listen to them again just to see 👀#nah I'm not actually gonna do that lmao I'd feel weird if i did #anyway rip to y'all who followed me for snz lmao this is basically just a simp blog these days #oh well it's my blog lmao #partner posting

12 notes · View notes

yandere-romanticaa · 4 months ago

Note

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

4K notes · View notes

bnyf · 19 days ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ#1 crush ♡

╭﹕୨୧﹒yandere male elf x female human reader ♡

┊ warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic, sexual content, noncon, kidnapping, size difference, strange dynamic.

╰﹕୨୧﹒authoress note : after receiving some unwanted but much needed criticism i've tried my hand at writing a little better and fixing errors. i apologize in advance if there's any errors or gaps in my writing, i also apologize for the messed up story that this is. ik some people don't like the way i write the reader but like??? idgaf sorry anyways other than that, i hope you guys enjoy, please read the warnings and proceed with caution <3 i would also like to say that this post is kinda inspired by a very popular yandere artist on here with a male elf oc

what a treacherous fate had befallen on a vitreous soul such as yourself.

it truly is unfortunate, you're so unlucky. how could your luck have run so low? to think, this everyday mundane routine would now be your nightmarish reality was stomach wrenching. you never did anything to deserve this, this was simply some sort of faulty by the gods, right? there's no way this is your horrible ending. no way.

you sobbed and yet... he hummed and chastised you by smacking your puffy clitorous.

it's always like this, it's been like this for...? a while now apparently. you've completely lost track of time. maybe a month or so if you're playing the guessing game.

well, if it wasn't obvious already, you've been taken hostage by an insane elven prince. probably the most insanely angelic, good-looking, prettiest and sick minded male you've ever met.

he really needs professional help. something that he can more than afford considering his house is almost made of gold, his herculean physique adored and draped only with the most expensive clothes, jewels, silks, soaps and scented creams and perfumes. his perfume, so extravagant, worth more than your vital organs all put together. that was the part you admired about elven people, they are so intelligent, so ahead of humans.

but to him? therapy is cheap and free! you're the first ever human he's laid eyes on and that's all he really needs. and really, you're the one to blame for his actions. it's all you. so you should take responsibility, right?

he's sought out humans before, trying to break the barrier between the two worlds and connect with them. he was damn near obsessed with coming into contact with the human realm and ruling over them like a god despite the fact that any sort of magic that threatens to break the barrier and connect the realms or offer passage through the two realms is absolutely forbidden. this is such a serious offense that if caught violating, can lead to public execution.

but your little caregiver did not! give one flying hoot at all, nor did the rules really even apply to royals as the royals participated in a lot of magical corruption and kept it all on the low.

so what a surprise! not really that he'd succeed in his conquest. not entirely since he'd only manage to bring one human to the elven realm, but now he knows for sure he's making great progress. and not only succeed in getting a nitty gritty palms on any human, but such a cute little human female like yourself.

humans are a lot more fragile, smaller, weaker, lesser intelligent beings, almost like a sub species from elves. so that's why you must be taken care of with so much extra love and attentiveness. all this was his reasoning for treating you like a minor being, enabling you and excuses for his weird kinks.

there was no way you'd ever dream of over powering him, not when a large veiny arm wrapped so tightly around your wrists, holding it behind your back, and the other with it's slender long digits effortlessly reaching your g spot.

it was 'bath time' or whatever, which called for a thorough inspection and cleanse. or just another excuse to use your body to his likings.

his tongue lap at your folds and clit, moaning in delight and relishing in all your juices spraying him. his voice muffled by your pussy, making wet sounds as he attempts to praise your gorgeous body: all of which sounds like incohesive unhinged, obsessive rambling of course.

if you ignore this scene and focus on other small things around you maybe you can, somewhat imagine yourself having a luxurious warm bath in the tub, with flowers and scented stuff in the water, scented candles creating a relaxing atmosphere, marvelous one-sided glass view... maybe not the one-sided glass view that's actually a little too scary to think about but yeah, you're having a nice little bath.

the most relaxing bath in the most prettiest and pearliest tiled bathroom you've ever been in.

your insides contorts though and you find yourself coming again undone on those perfectly manicured fingers of his, messing up his perfect face with your essence. your voice is loud and echoes throughout the bathroom, all the way into the bedroom and closet but never enough to each anyone's ears as he's casted multiple protective barrier spells to keep your presence unknown from other elven people. you've came like 5 times already and he won't let you rest, getting high off your pussy juices.

"poor baby, you look so tired, shhh don't worry~ mama will take care of everything, just relax and be good for me, okay? it'll all be over soon, my darling ^ mama will get you all cleaned up and dressed, right after this..." you wish you had the energy to welp out an 'ewwwwww da fuck?!' right about now but you were so weak and constantly sedated. you felt helpless as his bulbous tip hits your pussy, rubbing it back and forth to coat and lubricate himself with your juices. he leisurely teases, making your hole spasm and grasp around nothing, your body reacting in a lovely manner to his advances.

he licks his lips, only putting the tip in before quickly pulling back out. taking his time cause he wants to drive you insane like him. and luckily for him, his mind games always work so well.

his precum leaking and smearing you in the process as he rubs his whole length, measuring your pelvic area with his cock length and soon putting it in to see how far it'll actually go.

you almost blacked out. even though he prepped you well for this it still stings, he's just too big. and you? way too tight, squeezing him like you want every last drop of his seed, has him shivering and grunting in the process.

"fck- you're so tight, baby ngh~"

has him seeing stars and by the time he's balls deep in you and hitting the tip of your womb, you're a drooling and moaning mess. can't even control his obsessive thoughts from spilling out his mouth, he immediately gets to work on those hips too like a wild animal, only sparing a few seconds to sloppily kiss you and slap your thick behind.

it only takes a few minutes before he breaks his load inside you and shifts you into another position, manhandling you and roughing you up like a meat toilet, all for his own enjoyment and pleasure.

his long silky hair tickling your skin. when you think about it, he's so masculine with many feminine traits too, like the perfect balance actually and it is to be expected from an elf. he always wants to be in control, always wants to take care of you like a god watching over his creation. it sorta overlaps with him calling himself your mama but it makes sense in a way. he doesn't see himself as a woman in any sort of way, he just wants unrestricted authority over you.

your tears stream down your cheeks which he licks away and kisses, it only hurts your head trying to rationalize this or even understand it, your vision goes all blurry and for the next few rounds, your in and out of consciousness while being filled.

when you're awake again, you're draped in silk half naked and powdered up, you feel your caretakers strong arms wrapped around you, spooning you as rubs circles into your skin. he's also half naked with nothing but a cloth draped around himself. you both lay on a soft layered bed with many squishy pillows and blankies. fruits, steam veggies and grilled meat laid out on a silver tray for you to enjoy, though your stomach was filled with his cum.

#yandere x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere writing #yandere x y/n #yandere blog #yandere boys #yandere elf #yandere smut #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere fantasy

2K notes · View notes

remxedmoon · 4 months ago

Text

so all you need to do right now is disappear.

HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!

no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.

i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍

okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.

while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.

isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…

isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!

i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.

all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.

once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).

also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!

i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.

#marshdoodles #isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #also for full transparency. the sadness death redraw is effectively just a trace job. i’m not super happy with it because of thag #but i think i would be Killed if i tried to redo it. i dunno. maybe ill try to change it when i do sadnesses. maybe not.#besides that GOD im really happy with how these turned out #bigfrin was a last minute addition but i think he turned out fantastic #bonnie’s special attack isn’t my Favorite but i think it turned out pretty well considering the Struggle #gggod. trying to make a heavily foreshortened pose that still feels dynamic is really hard. how did id5 do this.#also don’t. worry about the Extra custom sprites that’re in there. i’m not planning anything.#happy isatversary everyone.#i blow away in the wind #isat redraw project

3K notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 4 months ago

Note

141 What If....

You ask him to leave the uniform on? 🥵🥵🥵🥵

I am feral over this. FERAL. Literally chewing on my own arm because I need to calm down. Your prompts always get me going. I totally blame you for this. Now, I went with a little variety here. We've got Kyle in formal military dress, John coming home from deployment, Johnny returning on break for a quickie, and Simon playing out a pre discussed fantasy. Enjoy!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship, CNC, breeding, restraints, welcome home sex, quickies, formal events, semi-public sex, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), sex in a car, dirty talk, brief knifeplay, light degradation

Word Count: 3.3k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John’s return is delayed.

He was supposed to come home to you a month ago. But it wasn’t him that notified you about his postponed reunion. Someone from SAS contacted you via the post. The envelope held a singular piece of paper. No apology. Just black ink on a white sheet with an official letterhead. John has always been good about making sure you know when he’ll return. It's something you constantly worry about.

While on a mission, you won't hear from him—this you know. But whenever he is able, John makes an effort to let you know when to expect him or if he's okay.

To not hear from him is odd, and it stirs up all sorts of emotions, pushing your brain toward any number of possibilities. Each scenario appears briefly before sliding into another. They worsen—and then you’re sick, stomach twisted into a tight knot.

That piece of paper is on the kitchen counter. Untouched—but not forgotten. It said yesterday. And yesterday, John did not return.

You’re chewing on your fingernails. Pacing. Stressing.

It's the familiar squeak of the doorknob from the front door that finally stalls your racing thoughts. All that mental energy becomes physical. You're sprinting, throwing yourself at John the moment he enters.

He chuckles—the sound is pleasant and soothing to your heart.

“Didn’t think you’d be home,” he says, drawing you close.

Your answer is to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, and seize a kiss from him that says so much. You need John to know how much you’ve missed him—how worried you’ve been.

His hands on your hips tighten, squeezing slightly as he melts under your kisses. Each one is desperate. Needy. You savor him like you’ll never know this again. John's grip on you is firm, and much stronger than you can resist. He draws you away from him—not enough to create a separation—but enough to talk.

“Slow down, love. Let me look at you.” His hands move to your face, cradling your cheeks. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," you reply. You pull him close again. "Need you." Just a murmur, hardly audible, but John hears it.

He does not resist. He gives in, accepting your love, answering every kiss and touch with one of his own. Hands roam, fingers cling, and yet you're not nearly close enough. You need him on his back with you atop him.

John breaks away, breathing heavy, lips slightly puffy from kissing you. "Bedroom."

You shake your head. "Right here,” you reply, going in for another kiss. “Uniform stays on.”

The middle of John's brow scrunches slightly in confusion, but your fingers are already looping in his belt buckles, guiding him into the living room. That brief moment of confusion morphs into a sultry smirk.

John allows you to guide, allows you to push him onto his back on the sofa. His hands never leave your body, they roam constantly even as you undo the front of his pants and shimmy them down to mid-thigh.

You have him in hand instantly, coaxing him to hardness quickly. The need for him is a driving force, positioning yourself above him, ready to impale yourself.

John's hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your center. "Your—fuck." The sound of your slickness greets him and John groans.

Placing your hands on his chest, John palms the base of his cock, lining it up. You don't slowly ease down. You drop, accepting every inch of him in one go. There is a brief flare of pain from the rapid intrusion, and then it's gone, replaced with the fullness of him inside you.

With your palms splayed wide, you're able to rock your hips, moving up and down his length in a steady movement that has both of you groaning.

"I missed you," he murmurs as you come back down on him. "Fuck—I missed you."

Your thighs start to burn with every bounce. John's fingers dig into your hips, dragging downward before ascending again. With the next roll of your hips, John meets you, thrusting up. It cuts a sharp gasp from your lips.

He grips harder, taking control. You cling to the front of his uniform, fisting the fabric as John brings you down just as he thrusts upward. It is not sweet. It is brutal and desperate. Each connection drags more pleasure out of you until your head falls back and you clench around him.

With a deep groan, John sits up, and effortlessly flips you over onto your back. Pinned beneath him, there is nowhere to go. All you can do is take what he gives.

John buries his face against your neck. "Love you so much."

You hook your heels behind his legs, urging him on. "Love you," you manage to gasp.

It is all sweat and heat. John's lips graze the line of your throat and then your chin. You turn toward him, the two of you meeting as he holds his body against yours, his release flooding your pussy.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle drapes his arm over your shoulder, tugging you against him, the noise of the function receding with every step. Usually when the two of you attend a formal function together, Kyle is in a suit, but this attendance was requested by Kyle's superior officer, Captain John Price.

Instead of a suit, Kyle wears his formal military dress. The uniform is freshly steamed and free of wrinkles. His shoes are polished to perfection. Like this, he's incredibly handsome. You've been admiring him all night, resisting the urge to touch him too much around people he works with on a regular basis.

"Can't wait to take this bloody thing off," sighs Kyle, lightly tugging on the neckline of his uniform.

You rest your head against his shoulder, savoring his warmth. "I think you look rather dashing."

"Dashing?" he laughs.

As the two of you enter the parking garage, you snag his hat, placing it on your head. Kyle's smile widens. He leans in for a kiss, greedily accepting what you offer him. Removing the car keys from his pocket, Kyle hits the button to unlock the vehicle. The SUV beeps, headlights coming on.

Kyle takes his hat back, holding it with one hand instead of putting it back on his head. He offers his mouth again and you close the distance.

"Can't wait to get that dress off you, love," he murmurs against your lips. “Been thinking about it all evening.”

You place your hand against his chest. "I think I'd like it if you leave the uniform on."

Kyle nearly chokes. "What?" he draws back slightly.

With a mischievous grin, you tug Kyle around the side of the SUV. The vehicle is in a corner spot, leaving the two of you tucked between it and a cement wall. There is no camera and no light. Both of you are hidden in shadow.

No one will notice the two of you unless they come looking.

You lean in slowly, offering your mouth. Kyle places his hand on the side of your throat, thumb slowly rubbing against the front of your neck. The kiss is honey-sweet, and tinted with seductive need. You seek another, and yet another until the two of you are gasping for air.

"Not here," murmurs Kyle, drawing back slightly.

Your hand slides downward, pausing at his belt. Kyle whispers your name, but there is no fight in it. If anything, it is lustful. Fingers toying with the belt, you kiss him again, loosening the buckle and then the front of his pants.

Reaching your hand inside, you find him hard and wanting.

"Someone will see," he groans, grabbing your wrist.

"Who will see us?" you reply softly. Kyle's gaze shifts outward to the parking garage.

"No one is around." You start to descend, opening his pants further.

Kyle's attention returns to you. His pupils expand as you take him in hand, painting your bottom lip with a pearly bead of cum. You present your glossy mouth to him, and Kyle brushes the pad of his thumb across it.

You lightly nip at that thumb, and then take him into your mouth. Kyle stifles his groan, but it comes out as a muted whimper. He gently cups the back of your head as you suck him down, hollowing your cheeks when you come back up.

This is just a tease. You want his resolve to slip.

Kyle doesn't break eye contact. He is completely focused on watching you. His dick twitches in your mouth, and Kyle grunts.

"Fuck, love. Come here."

With gentle tenderness, Kyle grasps the back of your neck, easing you off him. You extended your legs, leaning into him.

His voice is slightly husky. "I can't wait until we're home."

Kyle opens the rear passenger door and helps you up into the seat. You slide backward to the other end, Kyle following. With a hand on your throat, he pushes you onto your back. These next kisses are rough and possessive. Hungry. Claiming. You open for him, wanting to consume.

His free hand is gripping your dress, shoving it upward where it collects at your hips. Your tongue meets his the moment his fingers slip between skin and underwear. It is brief, and then he's drawing back only to bury his face between your legs.

Digging your heels into Kyle's back to stabilize yourself, you give in, moaning loudly as his tongue swirls a path up and down your sex. He teases just like you teased him. But it is short-lived.

Kyle is desperate for you. He finds your clit and stays put, tongue working quickly to send you over the edge. Your body shudders, a breathy groan escaping you as the orgasm hits. Still on your back, Kyle ascends, one hand pressed to the inside of your thigh while the other finds leverage against the car door just above your head. You lift your hips slightly, presenting your pussy to him.

He takes the hint, thrusting deep.

He does not go slowly. It is skin slapping against skin. It is all low groans and desperate fingers. His body weight keeps you pinned, and if anyone were to open door they'd have a clear view of his bare ass.

"Don't stop," you beg. "Please."

Kyle's answer is to seize your mouth, to force his air into your lungs, to firmly press his body to yours and swivel his hips, pelvis grinding against clit. Your hands fall on his ass, and then he's transformed. An animal. Rutting.

Surely, the car is shaking, but you hardly care. You only want him to finish. To give you every drop of his release.

You feel his muscles tighten under your hands, and then your bodies are sealed.

There is a small pause between then and the moment he kisses you, this time tenderly.

"So much for waiting," you tease.

Kyle’s exhalation is a pleased one. "Just wait until we get home."

John "Soap" MacTavish

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

Johnny's smile is devilish. "Came to see you."

"Me?" you laugh. "You just saw me this morning."

"And it wasn't nearly enough," coos Johnny, grabbing hip and waist, tugging you against him. "Missed you the whole time. Couldn't stay away."

Before you can form a reply, Johnny is lifting you up and onto the kitchen counter. He pushes everything up and out of the way, revealing your pussy to him.

"Johnny!" you exclaim.

With one hand on your thigh, Johnny uses his other hand to remove his belt and undo the front of his pants.

"I came home to fuck my wife." You instantly feel your cheeks grow hot. With a sultry smile, Johnny leans in but doesn't close the distance. "Would you like that?"

You nod. "Yes," you reply, voice nearly a whisper. "But—"

"But what?" he asks. You gesture at him. "The uniform? That stays on, love."

Guiding you wider, Johnny circles your clit with the pad of his thumb. The touch is electric, making you shiver as he toys with your sensitivity.

"Look at that," he purrs. "Look how wet and ready you are for me."

You whimper as Johnny tests your pussy with a finger.

"I think this deserves something bigger. What do you think, love?" He inserts a second and you whimper again. "Use your words."

"I want you inside me."

"I am inside you," he teases, pumping both fingers.

You shake your head, gasping as his thumb toys with your clit. "Your dick, Johnny."

"That I can do." His fingers are gone instantly, replaced with the head of his cock. He holds himself just inside, inching slowly until you've taken him to the base. "We'll have to make this quick. Can't be late and disappoint Price."

Johnny lightly swivels his hips, and then he's holding you in place, thrusting steadily. He kisses your lips, then your cheek. Resting his forehead against your temple, Johnny boxes you in, using your pussy for himself.

"You take me so well," he says softly. "Watch. Want you to watch."

Your gaze shifts downward, locking on to where your bodies meet. Keeping one hand on the countertop to stabilize yourself, you bring the other between your legs, fingers lightly playing with your clit.

"That's it," purrs Johnny. "Come for me."

A brief swirl and you're gone, squeezing hard around Johnny. He fucks you through it, grunting as he increases his pace. With a moan that claws up his throat, Johnny seals your bodies together, and his warmth floods your pussy. He thrusts lightly and stills.

A beat of silence, and then you both burst out into laughter.

"Fucking hell," he mutters, shaking his head.

"You came all this way on a break just to have sex with me?" you laugh.

Johnny leans back, grinning sheepishly. He glances down at his watch, smile fading. "Shit."

He pulls out and steps back, fumbling with his pants.

"Are you going to be late?" you ask teasingly.

Johnny tightens his belt and then helps you off the counter. With a quick kiss to the cheek, he heads out the door.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Every light in the house is off. The blinds are closed and it's completely dark except in one particular room.

The deep red glow calls out to you like a siren song. You stride toward it, moving through the hall silently like a shadow. The bedroom door stands open, revealing the blood-tinged space. From your point of view, nothing is out of place. All is calm and as it should be.

But Simon is here somewhere. Lurking. Watching.

This is what you wanted after all. An idea you passed off to Simon with the hope that he'd indulge your fantasy. Clearly, he took it to heart.

Adrenaline spikes in your blood as your gaze focuses on the bed. Attached to each corner are wrist and ankle cuffs. To be immobile and bred at Simon's pleasure is all you asked for, and here it is.

As you step forward, a large gloved hand slides over the front of your throat, squeezing. Simon is right behind you, and you feel every inch of him. Without even having to look, you know Simon is in full tactical gear. Parts of it dig into your back.

The leather of his gloves squeak as his fingers adjust against your throat. With a little pressure, he tilts your head back and you meet his whiskey-brown eyes. It's all you can see of his face. The rest is shrouded behind a balaclava.

"Do as I say," he growls. "Or you'll make this harder on yourself."

His command sends a bolt of need straight to your clit. Already, you feel a growing slickness between your thighs.

"Answer me if you understand."

"I understand," you murmur.

Simon makes a pleased sound deep in his throat. His thumb rubs a gentle line back and forth over the same spot.

His head tilts, lips pressing against your ear through the balaclava. "Then be a good little slut and get on your back."

Using his leverage on your throat, Simon lightly shoves you toward the bed. This time you turn around, facing him completely for the first time. He's dressed in all black tactical gear. Every inch of him is covered except his eyes, and his large frame fills the doorway.

When you take a step back, he takes a step forward. The backs of your thighs hit the bed, and you push yourself up and on, reclining until you're nearly horizontal. Simon saunters, gaze predatory and observing. His gloved hands hover just above your legs, pausing there before he bends slightly, reaching for an ankle cuff.

Simon glances between it and you languidly. You're not sure what his intentions are, not until he grabs your ankle with his other hand and tugs hard. You yelp, surprised, and then you kick out, attempting but failing to free yourself as Simon attaches the cuff into place.

"You said you understood," he growls, as you sit up to swing on him.

Simon snatches your wrist right out of the air. He hops onto the bed, kneeling as he grabs one of the cuffs for your wrists. Still, you fight and still you fail as he latches it in place.

You're not immobile but you're more restrained than before, movement restricted enough that you can't fight back like you want to. Not that you want to escape.

With a fluidity that surprises, Simon removes a knife from his boot and hooks it under the hem of your shirt. A sharp tug and the fabric surrenders to the blade. Simon tears it further, removing the garment completely.

As you use your one free arm to lash out, Simon is already prepared, blocking the blow and forcing it back to the bed. He attaches the cuff and returns the knife to your clothes, splitting your pants and tossing the remains aside.

You're on your back, completely naked and cuffed to the bed.

Simon's hand wraps around your throat, the knife tip dangerously close to your face. "I was going to worship your pretty pussy," he murmurs. "But I think I'll just take what I want."

It's all a game—a scene. You want Simon to use you, to fuck you ceaselessly, to do whatever the fuck he wants because he can.

Simon flips the knife and imbeds it into the bed above your head. Slowly, he removes his belt, tossing it aside. When he opens the front of his pants and eases them down a fraction, you nearly groan at the sight of his hardness. Simon palms the base of his cock.

"I won't be gentle," he says, gloved fingers pressing against your pussy.

He rubs back and forth, easing a little more from your body before grabbing your hips and slamming home. There is a brief flare of pain from the intrusion and then nothing at all except excitement.

"Your body is mine," he growls as he fucks you. "And for the next twenty-four hours, I'm going to breed this pussy until I'm satisfied."

You are unable to move, unable to do much but take it. Simon is situated between your spread legs, and you have a clear view of his cock sliding in and out of you. If you want an orgasm, Simon will have to grant it. Begging for it won't get you anywhere. You need to be good, and then he'll reward you.

Simon grunts as he thrusts, pace increasing as he nears his end. Watching him is lovely. His groan is lust-drenched, his orgasm sending a little shudder through him that you feel in your core.

Simon's gaze shifts to between your legs where he slowly pulls out. "What a fucking sweet sight," he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

His cum pools at your entrance, threatening to drip out. Soon you'll be overly full, a mess between your legs and on the bed.

Already Simon is stroking himself back to hardness. "Think that cunt of yours needs a bit more.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

2K notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 8 days ago

Text

wildflower— nanami kento.

Your breath caught in your throat. “I—” “Do you have any idea how brilliant you are?” His voice was trembling now, thick with emotion. “You were always the smartest person in the room. You deserved to get out of here….to have everything you ever dreamed of. And instead… you stayed. You gave it all up. Why?” Tears burned the back of your eyes. “Because I didn’t have a choice, Kento.” “Yes, you did.” His voice cracked. “You could have told me. You could have called me. I would’ve—” “You would’ve what, Kento?” you choked. “Fixed my life for me? Paid my bills? Dragged me to Tokyo and pretended like I belonged in your world?” His jaw clenched. “You do belong in my world.”

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, use of she/her pronouns, romance, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt, love, fluff, humor, light-hearted, long-term relationship, marriage, loss, emotional distress, hatred, resentment, domestic, confessions, getting together, friends, slice of life, childhood friends, distress, cheating, falling out of love, toxic relationship, drama, depression, bitterness, grief, trauma, pregnancy, explicit birthing scene, illness, post-partum depression, bodily fluids, children, therapy, explicit depiction of birthing, depiction of bodily fluids, depiction of post-partum depression, mention of blood, mention of birthing, mention of bodily fluids, mention of depression, actor! nanami, housewife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 18k words

NOTE: this took a while and im a bit sick all the sudden but i realized i have to put this out so i just decided to go on and post this. anyway, i hope you enjoy this. ready the tissue for this, its a crier. i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

the good life ― masterlist.

IT WAS HARD NOT TO KNOW WHAT EVERYTHING MEANS AFTER TWENTY YEARS OF MARRIAGE. After all that time, wouldn’t you know much about the person you were married to? This moment was not an exemption, of course. You were his wife, you knew everything about him. You just had to know.

So, as you stood there, looking at him, you knew that look. That look in Kento's caramel eyes as he’s putting on his suit. The quiet resignation. The practiced ease of sliding the tie around his neck, smoothing down his shirt, adjusting the cufflinks. Like a man preparing to go to war — except it isn’t war. It’s something worse. You knew that much.

You hum softly, curled up on the couch, and watch him from across the room. He doesn’t notice you at first, too focused on making himself presentable. Like it matters. Like any of it matters. You know where he’s going. You’ve always known.

It’s something you never said out loud, not in the past twenty years, not when the nights stretched long and lonely, not when his touch began to feel like an apology instead of love. You haven’t said a word, and he hasn’t either.

But you know all about it already.

There was no need for such words.

There was no need for anything else.

You know because when he turns around, there’s that smile all over again. That smile you fell in love with all those years ago. It was that loving, gentle smile. Strained by the weariness, the tired, and the painfully distant bitterness that dwelled over time on his face.

And then besides that, he lies.

He always has to know how to lie.

He was an actor by trade, after all.

"I’ll be home late, baby." he says like it means nothing, like it’s any other day. His voice doesn’t crack. His eyes don’t betray him. But you see it. You always do. And it kills you a little more each time.

You know he loves you. It’s never been a question of love. It’s always been a question of truth. And the truth is, love doesn’t stop him from leaving. The truth is, love doesn’t make him stay. The truth is, he’s already gone before he’s out the door.

And sometimes you want to kill him for it. Even if you don’t want to, you think about it often. You think about wanting to just be angry and let yourself loose into the madness of it all. You wanted to go and have something for yourself. Even if that was a life, even if it was his life. After all that you had suffered and endured, don’t you deserve it? Don’t you deserve to take his life?

For the silence. For the way he pretends. For the way you let him. For the way you can’t bring yourself to break it all apart because maybe —just maybe— if you keep pretending, too, it’ll hurt less.

You don’t say a word when he leans down to kiss your temple as gently as he could, as lovingly as he could. You don’t flinch, you don’t cling. You don’t beg him to stay. You just hum again, quieter this time, and watch him leave like you have a hundred times before.

And when the door closes behind him, the sound is deafening.

You stare at the door long after he's gone. Like if you watch long enough, he'll come back. Like if you sit still enough, you'll hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway. But silence is all that answers you. Silence, and the faint hum of the clock that ticks louder with every passing second.

Your hands twitch against your lap, curling into fists before releasing again. You wonder if tonight it'll be different, if he'll come home and tell you the truth. If he'll break, just once, and tell you what you already know. That there’s someone else. That his heart no longer belongs here, with you.

But it never happens. It’s never happened.

You get up after a while, wandering through the house like a ghost. You pass by the photos on the walls. The framed moments of happiness frozen in time. His smile in those pictures looks real. Like he didn’t know back then what would become of you both. You touch one of the frames, trailing your finger down his face. It feels cruel now, looking at those captured memories.

The bed feels colder when you climb in alone. You face his side, the sheets still perfectly made, undisturbed by the weight of his body. You press your face into his pillow, breathing him in. You think, for a fleeting second, that if you cry hard enough, he might feel it from wherever he is and come home.

But you don’t cry. You’ve already wasted too many nights crying. Instead, you just wait.

Because that's all you know how to do now. Wait. And love him. And hate him a little, too.

THE STORY STARTS EVEN BEFORE THAT. You and Nanami Kento grew up together. Two kids from two very different worlds — he is filled with wealth and privilege, you were with struggle and scarcity. His parents lived in a grand, pristine house, while you lived in a cramped apartment that barely stayed warm in the winter.

His clothes were always crisp and clean, and yours were worn out and patched up. From the moment you realized just how different your lives were, you knew people like you didn’t belong in his world.

And the world didn’t hesitate to remind you of that. The neighborhood kids who ran in the same circles as Nanami never let you forget it. They whispered when you came around, made faces when you approached, and laughed when you walked away.

“Why do you let her hang around you?” they’d ask him. “She doesn't fit in with us.”

But Nanami Kento never wavered. Not once. Not ever.

“She’s my friend.” he’d say, firm and unwavering.

And that was all it took.

It didn’t matter if your shoes had holes or if your hands were rough from helping your family with chores. It didn’t matter that you didn’t have expensive toys or that you couldn’t bring lunch to school some days.

Kento always shared this with you. He always liked making sure you were as full as him. So he would go and split his neatly packed bento in half and hand you the bigger portion without a second thought.

You’d protest, of course, but he’d only shrug and say, “I wasn’t that hungry anyway.”

You knew it was a lie.

Even back then, he always lied.

And he smiles all the same.

He always did that, giving without asking for anything in return, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And you valued him more than anything because of it. But what you didn’t realize was how deeply it had settled in your bones. The way you looked at him, the way you cherished him, the way you loved him.

It wasn’t like one day you just woke up and decided to love Nanami Kento. No, it was a gradual thing. Like the warmth of the sun slowly rising over the horizon. It happened on the days he’d sneak away from his house to find you playing in the dirt, unbothered by the stares of his so-called friends.

It happened when he’d walk you home after school, insisting it was just on the way when it wasn’t. It happened when you were crying after your father came home drunk again, and Nanami held your hand quietly, letting you cry into his shoulder without a word.

It happened every time he chose you.

And because of that, because he never treated you like you were less than him, because he never made you feel like you didn’t belong — you fell in love with him. Quietly. Deeply. Hopelessly. Truthfully.

But you never said a word about it. How could you?

You were still just you. You were unimportant, rough around the edges, struggling to keep your life from falling apart. And he was Nanami Kento, brighter than the sun itself. He was polished, brilliant, and destined for a life far better than the one you could ever give him.

Loving him felt like holding sunlight in your hands.

It was beautiful, but impossible to keep.

And so you stifled it, you swallowed it down.

You smiled when he spoke of his future. Of traveling abroad, of making something of himself — and you ignored the ache in your chest. You told yourself it was enough to simply have him in your life, even if you could never have his heart. But deep down, you knew.

One day, he’d leave.

He’d outgrow this town.

He’d outgrow you.

You’d be left where you always were. You would be standing in the shadow of his light, loving him from a distance. You knew that even if he leaves, even if he doesn’t stay. You would love him all the same.

WHEN THAT DAY CAME, YOU HADN’T EXPECTED IT. You were sixteen when Nanami Kento told you he was leaving. He had gotten accepted into a prestigious school overseas. One that would guarantee him a promising future. His parents were thrilled. His friends envied him.

Everyone around him kept saying to him — You’ll do great things, Nanami. You’re destined for success.

But all you could hear was the sound of your own heart breaking. Yet you didn’t want it to be broken down out loud. So, you decided to go and smile all about it. It was better this way, you think to yourself. He, after all, deserved better than you.

He found you later that evening, sitting on the rusted swing set in the small park where you two always met. You already knew what he was going to say. You could see it in his eyes — a mixture of excitement and guilt.

“I’m leaving.” he finally said, voice quiet. “I got accepted into a school in Denmark.”

You forced a smile, ignoring the lump in your throat. “That’s… that’s amazing, Kento. Really. I’m happy for you.”

But you weren’t.

God, you weren’t.

“I’ll only be gone for a couple of years, you know.” he tried to reassure you. “I’ll visit during the holidays. And we can write letters—”

“Yeah, I know.” you cut him off, still smiling. “We’ll stay in touch. Like we used to.”

But deep down, you knew better. People like you didn’t get to stay in the lives of people like him. Nanami Kento was destined for bigger and better things, all these things that didn’t include you. And you hated yourself for thinking that way.

So instead of breaking down, instead of begging him to stay, you spent your remaining days together trying to memorize everything about him. The way his blond hair would fall over his forehead when he was deep in thought.

The sound of his laugh when you said something ridiculous. The warmth of his hand whenever it brushed against yours. You burned it all into your memory, knowing it was the closest you’d ever get to having him.

And then like the wind, that day came in a sudden push.

You didn’t cry when you said goodbye to him at the train station.

You didn’t flinch when he pulled you into a tight hug and whispered, “I’ll see you soon.”

You didn’t break down when you watched the train pull away, carrying him farther and farther from you. But that night, when you were alone in your bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling — you sobbed until your throat was raw. Because you knew.

You knew that he’s not coming back.

Maybe not intentionally, maybe he would write you a few letters, maybe he would visit during the holidays but eventually, the distance would settle in. He’d meet new people, make new friends, build a new life.

And you? You’d still be here, stuck in the same town, living the same hard life you always had. You didn’t blame him. How could you? He deserved better. Yet you told yourself that you’d get over him. That the ache in your chest would eventually fade. That you’d move on.

But you never did.

The letters came at first. Handwritten, neat, and always signed, Kento.

He’d tell you about the classes he was taking, the places he was visiting, the new friends he was making. And you’d read every word, trying to picture him in that new world of his — a world you didn’t belong to. You always write back, of course. But your letters were never as exciting. What were you supposed to say?

Hey, I’m still working two part-time jobs to help my mom make rent. Our fridge broke again last week, but it’s fine. I’ve gotten used to eating once a day.

No. Instead, you lied. You told him you were doing fine, that life was okay, that you were just happy to hear from him. But as the months went on, the letters became less frequent. And then, eventually, they stopped altogether. And that was it.

Nanami Kento became a part of your past.

He was just another thing you had to let go of.

Yet you think about it now, you should have let go.

You should have let it all be.

IT WAS QUITE A SURPRISE, NOT ONE WHICH YOU HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT. You didn’t know he became an actor. The Nanami Kento standing in front of you now. He was still quite as polished, poised, and impossibly handsome as he was.

And yet, he was a far cry from the boy you used to know. But it was still him, he was all the same. Same deep voice. Same gentle gaze. Same presence that made the world feel a little less heavy.

And yet, there was something else too. A distance.

Like he didn’t quite belong here anymore.

It was like he had outgrown this town, just as you always knew he would.

“Kento, oh wow….” you managed, trying not to let your voice shake. “I… I didn’t know you were back.”

His smile faltered slightly, like he was trying to keep his composure. “Just for a few days. I had some… time off.”

You didn’t miss the way his caramel eyes swept over you. From your wrinkled convenience store uniform to the worn-out shoes on your feet. It was subtle, but you saw it. And it made your stomach twist in shame.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, carefully. Like he was afraid of the answer.

You forced a small laugh, waving a hand. “You know… same old, same old. Nothing much has changed.”

Lie. Everything had changed. You were still here, yes. You were still in the same town, still in the same life — but it felt different now. Colder. Like the weight of the world had settled heavier on your shoulders after he left. And it didn’t escape Kento’s notice.

You were supposed to be somewhere else. He knew that. Out of everyone he’d ever known, you were the smartest. You were the sharpest, the most capable, the one who always dreamed bigger than the town could ever hold.

You used to talk about it all the time — the places you wanted to go, the life you wanted to build. You were supposed to go to college. You were supposed to do great things. And yet here you were. Stuck. In this town. Wearing a faded uniform and a name tag, working a dead-end job.

Why? Why are you still here, suffering like this?

“So, uh….” you cleared your throat, forcing a smile. “How’s Denmark? Or… wait. Are you still there?”

“No, no. I don’t live there.” he answered, his voice quieter now. “I, uh… I moved to Tokyo. For work.”

“Work?” you tilted your head.

And that’s when you saw it. The subtle shift in his stance.

Like he was bracing himself for something.

“...I’m an actor now,” he admitted, almost sheepishly.

You blinked. “Wait — like… on TV?”

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little uncomfortable. “Film, mostly. I’ve done a few series too.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’re kidding.”

He chuckled, though there was no real humor in it. “I’m not. It just… happened, I guess.”

Of course it did, you thought bitterly. Because that’s what people like him did. They left, they made something of themselves, and they became untouchable. Meanwhile, people like you stayed exactly where they were rooted in place, forgotten, ordinary.

“That’s… amazing, Kento. Really.” You smiled, even though it burned your throat. “I’m happy for you.”

But Nanami Kento couldn’t find it in himself to smile back.

Because all he could think about was how wrong this felt.

You’re supposed to be the one out there, he thought. You were always the brilliant one. You were supposed to leave this town — not me. You were supposed to make something of yourself.

Instead, you were still here in this wretched place. In a store that smelled faintly of stale bread and cleaning supplies. Ringing up snacks for high schoolers who would eventually leave you behind just like everyone else did.

“You’re still working here?” he asked softly, his voice careful.

“Yeah. Been here for a couple of years now.” You shrugged like it was nothing. “Pays the bills.”

His stomach twisted at your words all the sudden. “What about school?” he asked. “You… you were supposed to go to college, right? Didn’t you get accepted somewhere?”

You froze. For a brief moment, the smile cracked on your face. But you stitched it back together quickly. “Ah, yeah… I did. But, you know. Life happens.”

Lie, again, huh?

The truth was that you did get accepted. To a top university in Tokyo, actually. But your mom lost her job the same week you got the acceptance letter. Rent fell behind. Bills piled up. And you did what you always did — you stayed.

You got a job, dropped out before you even started, and spent the next few years trying to keep your family afloat. You did everything you could to help your family to survive. You abandoned everything to survive. But you didn’t tell Kento that. You couldn’t.

“Anyway, uh….” you deflected, forcing some cheer into your voice, “I’m sure you’ve got somewhere to be. Don’t let me keep you.”

But Nanami Kento didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

Because he couldn’t stop staring at you. He couldn’t stop thinking about how wrong this was. The person he loved most in this world, the one who deserved everything was still here, stuck, while he was out there living a dream he never even wanted in the first place.

And he hated it.

God, he hated it.

“…Have dinner with me, at least.” he blurted out suddenly.

Your head snapped up. “What?”

“Dinner. Tonight.” His voice was steadier now. “I want to catch up.”

You hesitated. “Kento, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His gaze softened. “Please.”

And maybe it was because you were too tired to argue. Or maybe it was because, despite everything, you still loved him. So you gave in. “…Okay. Yeah. Dinner sounds nice.”

And for the first time since he left, Kento felt like he could breathe again.

That night, he picked you up from your small apartment. You tried to dress nicer, but you didn’t have much to work with. It was just a worn-out dress you hadn’t touched in years. When you opened the door and saw him standing there in a tailored coat and polished shoes, you almost told him to forget it.

But Kento only smiled and said, “You look beautiful.”

And God, you hated how much you still loved him.

Dinner was… nostalgic. You talked about old memories, laughed about stupid things you did as kids. But Kento couldn’t stop noticing how guarded you were. How carefully you danced around your life now.

Never mentioning anything too personal, never hinting at how hard things really were. And when the night was over, when he walked you back to your door, he couldn’t help himself.

“…Why did you stay?” he finally asked.

You froze, your hand on the doorknob. “…What?”

“You were supposed to leave this town, you know.” he said, voice cracking slightly. “You were supposed to go to college. Travel. Do everything you always talked about. So… why didn’t you?”

You hesitated. But then you smiled soft and hollow. “Someone had to stay and take care of things.”

And before he could ask what you meant, you gave him one last smile and said. “Goodnight, Kento.”

Then you closed the door. And Kento stood there, staring at the chipped paint on your doorframe, his heart breaking all over again. Because the person he loved most in this world was still stuck in a place she was never meant to stay.

And he didn’t know how to fix it.

NOT A WINK OF SLEEP THAT NIGHT ONCE AGAIN. After you closed the door on Kento, you leaned against it, heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst out of your chest.

You could still feel the warmth of his gaze, still hear the tenderness in his voice when he said you looked beautiful. It was like he still saw you the way he did when you were kids. Like time and distance hadn’t changed a thing.

But it had. You weren’t the same girl you used to be. And he wasn’t the same boy who once shared his lunch with you. He was Nanami Kento now, an actor, a star, someone the world adored. And you? You were still here. Working a dead-end job, carrying the weight of your family’s survival on your back, and holding onto the ghost of a love you never confessed.

So why did it feel like he was still yours?

Why did it still hurt like hell to let him go?

On the other side of that door, Kento didn’t move for a long time. He just stood there, still staring at the door you closed between you two and felt his throat tighten with a kind of pain he hadn’t experienced in years.

Because no matter how much you smiled that night, no matter how light you tried to make your voice sound, he saw it. The exhaustion in your eyes. The tension in your shoulders. The carefully crafted responses designed to keep him from knowing the truth. You were struggling. And it killed him.

Because you were the smartest person he knew. You were supposed to be miles away from this town, pursuing the future you always dreamed of. You were supposed to be untouchable, unstoppable, radiant. But instead… you were here. Tired. Small. Dimming under the weight of a life that never stopped asking more from you.

And Kento couldn’t stand it. The thought of going back to Tokyo, of returning to his world of flashing cameras, scripts, and fame while you were stuck here, surviving day by day, made him physically ill.

I should have taken you with me, he thought bitterly. I never should have left you here.

And that’s when he decided — he wasn’t leaving without you this time.

He didn’t care what it took. He didn’t care if you pushed him away. He didn’t care if you convinced yourself you didn’t belong in his world anymore. He would break down every wall you built around yourself if it meant pulling you out of this life.

Because the truth was he never stopped loving you.

And he’d be damned if he lost you a second time. The next day, you were working your usual shift when the doorbell chimed and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. You felt it before you even saw him.

“…Kento.” You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “What are you doing here?”

He looked painfully out of place in the small convenience store. He was dressed in a dark coat, hair perfectly styled, standing taller and broader than you remembered. It was almost laughable. This man who graced movie screens and magazine covers standing in the middle of your dusty workplace like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Thought I’d stop by today.” he said simply. “I was hoping to see you.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. Don’t do this, Kento.

“I, uh… I’m working on the floor.” you stammered. “Can’t really chat right now.”

“I’ll wait.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“I’ll wait until your shift is over.” he said, completely serious. “Then we’ll grab dinner. My treat.”

“Kento—”

“Don’t say no.” His voice was soft, but firm. “Please.”

And God, you almost did. You almost told him no. You almost told him to leave you alone, that you didn’t want him to see you like this anymore, that you couldn’t handle standing next to him and being reminded of how far apart your lives had become.

But you didn’t. Because deep down, you still craved him.

You craved his voice, his touch, his presence.

Even if it hurts you just do it all over again.

“…Okay.”

The night air was cold, but his coat was warm. Somewhere between dinner and walking you home, Kento had shrugged off his expensive wool coat and draped it around your shoulders without hesitation. You tried to protest, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“Don’t argue with me about this, please.” he murmured, his hand lingering against your arm a little too long.

It was dangerous being this close to him again.

But you couldn’t pull away from him.

“So….” you forced lightness into your voice. “What’s it like being famous?”

He scoffed. “Overrated.”

You laughed softly. “Oh, come on. You’re on billboards now. You can’t tell me it’s not a little amazing.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” His voice was distant. “Not if you’re not there to see it.”

Your steps faltered. “…What?”

Kento stopped walking — turning to face you, his expression unreadable. “I thought about you every day.” he confessed, his voice raw.

“Kento—”

“The entire time I was gone. I kept wondering what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were happy.” His throat bobbed. “And every time I came back home, I hoped I’d see you, but you were always gone. I… I didn’t know if you wanted to see me again.”

You felt your heart crack open. “Kento…”

“Why didn’t you tell me you stayed?” His voice broke slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you never went to college?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I—”

“Do you have any idea how brilliant you are?” His voice was trembling now, thick with emotion. “You were always the smartest person in the room. You deserved to get out of here….to have everything you ever dreamed of. And instead… you stayed. You gave it all up. Why?”

Tears burned the back of your eyes. “Because I didn’t have a choice, Kento.”

“Yes, you did.” His voice cracked. “You could have told me. You could have called me. I would’ve—”

“You would’ve what, Kento?” you choked. “Fixed my life for me? Paid my bills? Dragged me to Tokyo and pretended like I belonged in your world?”

His jaw clenched. “You do belong in my world.”

“No, I don’t.” you snapped, tears finally spilling over. “Look at me. I’ve been stuck in the same place since you left. I’m still living paycheck to paycheck. I didn’t finish school. I’ve done nothing with my life. And you—” your voice cracked painfully. “You’ve become everything you were meant to be.”

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

“I didn’t want any of it.” His voice was barely a whisper.

You froze. “…What?”

Kento swallowed hard. “I didn’t want fame. The career. The spotlight. I didn’t want any of it. The only thing I ever wanted was you—and I thought… I thought if I made something of myself, you’d still be here when I came back.” His voice cracked. “But you weren’t. And I hated myself for leaving you behind.”

Your knees almost buckled.

“And now that I’m here, with you.” his voice broke. "I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Tears poured freely down your face. “Kento, don’t—”

“Come with me.” He took a step closer, his hands trembling as they cradled your face. “Come to Tokyo. Stay with me. I’ll pay for your school, I’ll—”

“No!” you sobbed, pulling away. “I’m not your responsibility, Kento—”

“You’re not a responsibility, nor a liability.” his voice cracked. “You’re the love of my life.”

Your heart shattered. And before you could protest again, his mouth was on yours. Desperate, burning, like he was trying to make up for every single day he spent without you. His hands cradled your face, his kiss messy and filled with heartbreak. When he finally pulled away, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Please.” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Let me take you away from here. Let me love you the way I always should have.”

For the first time in years, you let yourself sob in his arms.

Because despite everything, you loved him more than anything in this world.

Despite the distance, the pain, and the time lost, you never stopped loving him either.

And maybe… just maybe… he could still save you.

YOU COULD REMEMBER THE WAY IT RAINED WHEN YOU GOT MARRIED. Not a heavy storm — just a soft, steady drizzle, as if the sky itself was quietly weeping with joy. You stood in a small, intimate venue with that beautiful smile on your face.

Both of you of you surrounded by only a few close friends and family, wearing the simplest white dress you could afford because despite Kento’s insistence that he’d buy you the most extravagant gown in Tokyo, you refused.

“I don’t need anything fancy, you know.” you told him. “I just need you.”

And so there you stood with your fingers trembling, heart racing as Kento watched you walk down the aisle like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. His jaw was tight, his caramel eyes glassy with unshed tears, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. Like he couldn’t believe, after all those years apart, you were finally becoming his wife.

When you finally reached him, his hand grasped yours like a lifeline.

His thumb trembled as it brushed against your skin, and when he whispered, “You’re beautiful.” his voice cracked.

And when the officiant asked if he took you as his wife, Kento didn’t hesitate one bit as he looked at you with the warmest gazes. “I do.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I always have.”

Kento never let you go after that.

You moved into his apartment in Tokyo. It was a spacious, light-filled place with floor-to-ceiling windows and a breathtaking view of the city. It was bigger than anything you’d ever lived in, and it almost made you uncomfortable at first.

But Kento never let you feel like you didn’t belong.

“This is our home now, hm?” he told you softly one night as you stood by the window, still struggling to wrap your head around it all. “Not just mine. Ours.”

And you believed him. Because every time he came home from a shoot, tired, disheveled, and smelling like expensive cologne — the first thing he did was find you.

\Whether you were in the kitchen, the bedroom, or curled up in the living room studying, he always sought you out, kissing you like it was the first time every time.

“My wife.” he’d murmur against your lips, as if the words themselves tasted sweet. “My beautiful wife.”

And every time, your heart would ache with disbelief. Because this was real. You were really married to him. You really woke up to him every morning. His arm draped around your waist, his face buried in your neck and he really loved you like you were the most precious thing in the world. But Kento wasn’t done giving you the life you deserved.

“Tokyo University.” he said one night, casually, like it wasn’t the single most outrageous thing you’d ever heard.

You froze mid-bite. “…What?”

“I want you to apply, like you did a long time ago.” he said simply, sitting across from you at the dinner table. “You always wanted to study chemistry. Now’s your chance.”

Your throat tightened. “Kento… I can’t. I haven’t been in school for years. I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice was firm but gentle. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known. Don’t tell me you can’t do it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “But the tuition—”

“I’ll pay for it.”

Your head snapped up. “Kento, no—”

“Yes.” His gaze was unwavering. “I’ll pay for every single yen. I’ll cover your tuition, your textbooks, your lab fees. Everything. You won’t have to worry about anything.” His voice softened. “Please. Let me do this for you.”

Tears burned your eyes. “I don’t want to feel like a burden to you, Kento.”

“You’re not a burden, never will be.” he said fiercely, already pushing his chair back so he could kneel in front of you. His large hands cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “You’re my wife. Everything I have is yours. My money, my time, my life. It’s all yours. And if it means giving you the future you always dreamed of, then I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

And with that, you broke down. You sobbed into his chest, clutching him like your life depended on it, because you realized Kento meant it. Every word. Every promise. He was going to build you a life so beautiful, so far removed from the pain you endured, that you’d never have to feel unworthy again.

So the next day, you applied. And Kento wrote the check without blinking an eye.

You could still remember months later, the day you got accepted into Tokyo University, you burst into tears. You were in the kitchen when the letter arrived, your hands trembling as you tore it open and the second you saw “Congratulations, you’ve been accepted!”

You collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.

“Kento, Kento!” you choked, clutching the letter like it was your lifeline. “I got in! Oh god…. I got in!”

Kento was on you in seconds, kneeling beside you, his face crumpling with pride. “I told you. I told you, baby!” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I told you you could do it.”

And that night, he took you out to dinner, something extravagant, something you never would have been able to afford on your own. When the waiter congratulated you, Kento beamed like he was the one who got accepted.

“Her, it was her who got in.” he told the waiter proudly. “That’s my wife. She’s going to Tokyo University for chemistry. Smartest woman I’ve ever met.”

And when you glanced at him, with those eyes glassy, heart full, you realized he wasn’t just proud. He was in awe of you. Like he always had been.

And for a while, it was perfect.

Life slipped into something sweet and steady. You were a university student again, just like you’d always dreamed. You spent your days attending lectures, taking meticulous notes, and spending long afternoons in the library surrounded by textbooks and the faint smell of old paper. You were learning again. Living again. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you.

And Kento? God, he was your biggest cheerleader.

Every morning before you left for class, he kissed you on the forehead and said, “Knock ‘em dead, love.”

Every night when you came home, exhausted but fulfilled, he had dinner ready and waiting. When you showed him your test scores, perfect marks, one after another. Your husband would beam with pride like he was the one who’d aced the exam.

When you complained about a difficult professor or a tedious lab experiment, he’d listen intently, rubbing circles into your back, and say, “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

And every night, when you fell asleep beside him, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope. But then —slowly, quietly— the loneliness crept in. Because Kento wasn’t home most of the time.

At first, you didn’t notice. You were busy, after all. You were drowning in lab reports, study sessions, and back-to-back classes. But then you started realizing how quiet the apartment felt when you got home. You’d unlock the door, expecting to hear the hum of the television or Kento’s soft humming in the kitchen but it was always silent. Always empty.

You told yourself it was fine. That was just how it was going to be sometimes. Your Kento was working hard, just like you were. It was only temporary. But weeks passed. Then months. And Kento started coming home later and later.

At first, it was 8 PM. Then 9. Then 10. And soon, there were nights where he didn’t come home at all, just a brief, apologetic text. “Late meeting. Don’t wait for me. Love you.”

And you tried to be understanding. You tried. After all, Kento was the one supporting you. He was paying your tuition, your textbooks, your transportation — everything. He was shouldering the entire financial weight of your dream without a single complaint. The least you could do was be patient.

But good god, it was so lonely.

You’d eat dinner alone most nights, your plate growing cold as you stared at the empty seat across from you. You’d do your assignments at the kitchen table, hoping to hear the jingle of his keys at the door but it never came. You started sleeping alone more often than not, his side of the bed cold and untouched.

And worst of all you missed him.

You missed Kento. You missed the man who used to laugh with you until your stomach hurt.

The man who used to kiss you breathless in the middle of the kitchen just because he could.

The man who used to touch your belly every night and whisper. “I can’t wait to meet our baby.”

The man who promised you. “I’ll always put you first.”

But now? You were starting to feel like you’d lost him. And then came the night that broke you.

It was well past midnight, and you were curled up on the couch, your textbooks sprawled around you. You told yourself you wouldn’t wait up for him, but you did. You always did. Hours passed, and still — no sign of him. Finally, at 1:27 AM, you heard the door unlock.

“Kento?” you called, your voice cracking.

He didn’t answer right away. When he finally stepped into the living room, his tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the exhaustion in his eyes was so deep it made your chest ache.

“Hey.” he murmured, already walking past you toward the bedroom.

And something in you snapped.

“Seriously?” you blurted. “That’s all you have to say?”

Kento froze, his hand still on the doorframe. “…What?”

You stood, your heart pounding. “You’ve been gone all day again. And you just walk in like I don’t even exist?”

He turned to you, confused. “I—I’m sorry. Work ran late—”

“It always runs late, Kento!” your voice cracked, hot tears stinging your eyes. “Every night, I sit here alone. I eat alone. I sleep alone. Do you even realize how lonely it is to come home to an empty apartment every single day?”

Pain flickered across his face. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m doing this for you, love. I’m working so you can go to school—”

“I never asked you to do that!” you shouted, and the second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

Kento blinked, stunned. “…What?”

Your chest heaved. “I never asked you to throw your entire life away for me, Kento! I never asked you to quit your project, or work insane hours, or pay for everything. You just did it. And now it’s like I don’t even have a husband anymore. I just have this… ghost who comes home at 2 AM and leaves before I wake up!”

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

Kento’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. “…You think I want this?”

You froze. “…What?”

“You think I like working sixteen-hour days?” his voice cracked, raw and strained. “You think I enjoy being away from you? Missing dinner, missing sleep, missing everything…..you think any of this is what I wanted?”

Your throat tightened. “Kento—”

“I did it for you, you know that.” he said bitterly. “I did it so you wouldn’t have to worry about money. I did it so you could chase your dream without worrying about bills or tuition. I did it because I thought it would make you happy.” His voice cracked. “But you’re not, are you?”

Tears blurred your vision. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” he laughed hollowly, running a hand down his face. “I work until I can’t see straight just to keep everything together and you still think I’m not doing enough.”

“That’s not true at all!”

“Then what do you want from me, love?” his voice finally broke, desperate and shattered. “Tell me. Please. What do you want?”

And the answer was so painfully simple, it tore you apart.

I just want you.

But you couldn’t say it. Because how could you ask that of him when he’d already given you everything? When he was breaking his back just to keep you afloat? When he’d already sacrificed his career, his sleep, his time, his life for you?

So instead, you just cried and cried.

And for the first time in your marriage, Kento didn’t comfort you.

He just turned away, defeated, and said, “I’m going to bed.”

And you realized somewhere along the way, you and Kento had become strangers for the first time.

And it hurts like hell to live with that thought.

But of course, it wouldn’t be the last time.

THINGS DID NOT GET BETTER. If anything, they got worse. You were pregnant. And everything was hurting. It was a different kind of pain now, not just the crushing weight of your depression, but something more physical, more suffocating.

Your body aches constantly. Your back screamed from the weight of your growing belly. Your feet were perpetually swollen. Your nights were restless, spent tossing and turning as the baby kicked relentlessly inside you, reminding you always reminding you — that there was no way out of this life you didn’t want. And it was killing you.

You thought hitting rock bottom would come with some kind of clarity. Like one day, you’d cry hard enough or sleep long enough or starve yourself numb enough that your body would finally break through the darkness. You thought there would be some moment, some visceral breaking point that would force you to finally start healing.

But it never came.

Instead, you just… sank.

Deeper and deeper, like trying to breathe underwater with lungs already half-filled. Every day you woke up was a fresh kind of misery. You couldn’t get out of bed without feeling like your bones were made of lead.

You couldn’t stomach food without wanting to throw it all up later. You couldn’t look in the mirror without despising the reflection. You see a bloated, pale, hollowed out, a shell of the woman you used to be.

And the baby never stopped kicking.

You hated it.

God, you hated it.

You hated the way it never let you sleep. You hated the way your body no longer felt like yours. You hated the constant, suffocating reminder that soon, almost all too soon, you would be responsible for a life you never asked for. A life you were already failing before it even arrived.

But the worst part?

You hated yourself for hating it.

Because what kind of mother resented her own baby before it was even born? What kind of woman laid in bed, day after day, clutching her belly and wishing god, please just make this stop instead of feeling love? What kind of wife watched her husband sacrifice everything for her and still felt nothing but numb, bitter emptiness?

And Kento.

God, Kento.

You couldn’t even look at him anymore without feeling like the most wretched person alive. He was still trying — still holding everything together, still waking up every morning and kissing your forehead, still whispering, “I love you. I’m here.”

But you could see it now — the slow, painful unraveling of the man you loved. The exhaustion in his eyes, no longer just from work but from you. The hesitation in his touch, like he was afraid you’d pull away — and sometimes, you did.

The way his voice cracked when he said, “How are you feeling today, love?” and your answer was always “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine.

And Kento knew it.

You could see it every night when he crawled into bed beside you and held you close. The way his hand cradles your stomach, his thumb tracing soft circles over your skin. You could feel it in the way his touch, once so warm and electric, now felt like a desperate attempt to keep you here. Like if he let go for even a second, you’d slip through his fingers entirely.

And you hated that too.

Because you knew you were killing him. Slowly. Quietly. Without even trying. You could see it in his slumped shoulders, in the way his voice grew quieter, in the way he looked at you like he was losing you and didn’t know how to stop it.

And you wanted to scream — Stop loving me. Stop trying to save me. I’m already gone.

But you didn’t.

Because how could you say that to the man who dropped his entire career for you? The man who worked twenty-hour days just to pay for your tuition, your food, your life? The man who still kissed you goodbye every morning and told you, “I love you, always.”

So you did the only thing you could.

You kept shrinking.

You stopped eating. Barely touched your dinner when Kento brought it to you. The smell made you nauseous anyway, and even when it didn’t, you could barely stomach the idea of keeping yourself alive, let alone another human growing inside you.

You stopped leaving the house. Your classes had already been dropped; you told Kento it was temporary, just until you felt better. But deep down, you knew you weren’t going back. Tokyo University had suddenly become a distant dream once again, like a life that belonged to someone else entirely. And you were too far gone now to reach for it again.

You stopped responding to your friends. They texted you constantly, trying to check on you. You know they mean well. You know they just want to be there for you. And that they were excited. But you were having a hard time accepting their well wishes.

“How’s the baby? How’s school? We miss you!”

But the thought of replying made your stomach churn. What were you supposed to say, that wouldn’t come out as a horrible thing?

“I’m miserable. I don’t want this baby. I don’t want this life.”

Would have that gotten you some mercy?

So you ignored them. Deleted their messages. Let your phone die and don't bother charging it. And then you stopped talking to Kento. Not entirely. But enough.

Later on, Kento halted the work on his upcoming project the day after you broke down. No warning. No hesitation. One phone call to his manager, another to his agency, and it was done. His voice was steady, almost unnervingly calm when he said: “I’m taking a break for now. My wife needs me.”

And that was it. He dropped it all like it meant nothing. A project he had poured months of his life into, had gone in seconds. You tried to protest when you found out, but he wouldn’t hear it. His mind was made up before you could even form the words —“Don’t do this for me.”

And then he stayed.

Every single day, he stayed. Morning turned to night, and there he was. Bringing you water when you couldn’t stomach food. Sitting on the edge of the bed while you stared blankly at the ceiling. Holding you through the nights when your body trembled from crying, or worse, the nights when you didn’t cry at all, just lay there like a ghost in your own skin.

He was patient. Devoted. Unwavering.

But it didn’t fix anything.

Because the damage was already done.

You could feel it in the way his touch, once so warm and electric, now felt like a desperate attempt to tether you to the earth. In the way his voice, soft, pleading, loving had seemed to echo against the walls of your hollowed-out chest, never quite reaching you.

In this way you could still feel the crushing weight of your own failure suffocating you, no matter how many times he whispered “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

And the worst part?

You wanted him to leave.

Because it hurt too much to see him like this. Abandoning his career, his life, his future, for someone who couldn’t even muster the strength to get out of bed. You resented the way he sacrificed everything for you.

You hated how the look in his eyes shifted from affection to concern, from admiration to pity. You despised yourself for being the reason his world was crumbling alongside yours. And deep down, you knew. Kento could stay forever, and it still wouldn’t fix what was already broken.

And after that, you stopped going to school.

At first, you told Kento it was temporary, just a leave of absence until you felt better. But weeks turned into months, and soon your professors were emailing you: “If you do not return, you will have to re-enroll next semester.”

You didn’t respond.

Because the truth was, you didn’t care anymore.

Your stomach was huge now. You could barely walk up the stairs without losing your breath. Your back ached. Your feet were swollen. You couldn’t sleep through the night because the baby was always kicking, and every morning you woke up with the same suffocating thought.

"I don’t want this life."

And the guilt ate you alive.

Because you loved Kento. You loved your baby. But you hated your life. You hated what it had become. You hated the fact that you were no longer a student at Tokyo University. You were just a pregnant woman, a pregnant housewife. You hated the fact that you no longer had a future — you just had motherhood. You just had this house, his status as a wife.

And Kento saw it. He saw how you’d spend hours just sitting in the nursery, staring at the crib with dead eyes. He saw how you stopped studying, stopped watching TV, stopped doing anything. It was like you were fading away.

And it killed him.

You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged a little more each day, as if the weight of watching you deteriorate was slowly crushing him. In the way he tried to hide the bags under his eyes from sleepless nights spent worrying about you.

In this way his voice would crack, just barely, when he’d sit next to you and say, “Talk to me, love. Please.”

But you had nothing to say. What were you supposed to tell him? That you hated the life you were about to bring into the world? That you regretted everything — the pregnancy, the wedding, the choices that led you here? That sometimes, when you laid in bed at night, you imagined what it would be like if you just… didn’t wake up?

So you said nothing. Nothing at all.

And Kento tried to be strong for both of you. God, he tried.

He started cooking your favorite meals, hoping that if he made something delicious enough, you’d actually eat. He read parenting books late into the night, convinced that if he just learned enough, he could do this whole thing for the both of you, carry the weight, make up for the pieces of you that were falling apart. He took you on walks when he could get you out of bed, holding your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to hope.

But it was never enough.

It was never going to be enough.

Because the truth was — you weren’t just sad.

You were grieving everything that had come to pass.

You were grieving the life you lost, the person you used to be. You were grieving the dreams you once held so fiercely. Finishing university, traveling, building a career as a chemist on the international level. All of it now reduced to a hazy memory of a different girl. A girl you didn’t even recognize anymore. A girl you resented for being so foolish, for thinking she could have it all.

And you were grieving the love between you and Kento — or rather, the version of it that existed before the pregnancy. Before everything became tainted by your guilt, your depression, your ever-growing resentment for the life you didn’t want.

You knew that Kento saw it too.

He saw how you flinched when he touched your stomach, not out of pain, but because it reminded you of what you were trapped in. He saw how your kisses grew colder, how you turned your head when he tried to kiss you goodnight. He saw how you stopped saying your i love yous first — how sometimes, you didn’t say it at all.

And still, he stayed by your side. But it was breaking him whole.

You could hear it in the way his voice cracked one night when he thought you were asleep.

He sat beside you in bed, his hand resting gently on your belly, and you heard him whisper back to you. “I don’t know how to fix this.” His voice trembled. “I don’t know how to help you.”

And that was when you realized — you weren’t the only one grieving. Kento was grieving too. He was grieving the wife he used to know. The one who laughed too loud at his jokes, who kissed him in the morning just because, who fell asleep on the couch with a textbook still in her lap.

He was grieving the life you both dreamed of late nights studying, early mornings rushing to class, careers that would take you far. He was grieving the love that used to be effortless, the kind that didn’t require whispered prayers in the middle of the night, hoping that tomorrow would hurt less than today.

And the worst part?

You were the one who did this to him.

At least that’s how you saw it all now.

You were the one who dragged him down into this suffocating darkness with you. You were the one who made him abandon his project, his career, his life. All for a woman who could barely look at herself in the mirror without breaking.

And every day he stayed, every day he kissed your forehead and said “I’m here”, you hated yourself a little more.

You hated yourself so much that you started to wonder if maybe — just maybe — Kento would be better off without you.

And that thought never really left.

Even when he painted the nursery walls soft yellow and smiled like he wasn’t dying inside.

Even when he held your hand in the middle of the night and promised, “We’ll get through this. I swear we will.”

Even when he looked at you with a love so devastatingly pure, it only made you ache more.

Because you couldn’t shake the feeling. That Kento deserved a better wife. And your baby deserved a better mother. And you? You didn’t deserve them at all. Around your seventh month, you completely broke.

Kento found you in the bathroom at 3 AM all alone as you were sitting in the empty bathtub, knees pulled to your chest, sobbing silently. You looked miserable with your hair disheveled and your face contorted into this look, full of grief and suffering.

“Baby?” His voice cracked. “Oh my god, baby, what’s wrong?”

And you just shook your head. “I hate this so much.” you gasped through your tears. “I hate my life. I hate my body. I hate everything. I don’t want to do this anymore, Kento. I can’t…..I can’t breathe.”

And Kento completely fell apart at the sight of your tears, falling over and over again. “Baby, no— no, no, no.” he dropped to his knees beside the tub, his hands shaking. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. I’m here now. I’ll fix it. I’ll make it better, so—”

“You can’t!” you screamed, your voice raw and cracked. “You can’t fix this, Kento! I’m already ruined! My life is already ruined!”

And Kento? Kento completely broke. Because he realized you weren’t talking about the pregnancy. You were talking about yourself. And you were gone. All there was left now was the shell, that shell he didn’t recognize.

“I should’ve never gotten pregnant, Kento.” you sobbed, your body shaking. “I should’ve never gotten married. I should’ve stayed in school. I should’ve never left the countryside. I should’ve……I should’ve never let this happen.”

And Kento completely lost it. “Don’t say that.” he begged, his voice cracking.

He climbed into the bathtub with you, fully clothed, and wrapped his arms around you. “Don’t say that, baby, please— please don’t say that. You’re not ruined. I swear to god, I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything. Just don’t give up on me. Please don’t give up on me.”

And you just sobbed.

Because deep down, you already had.

You were right to feel that way.

It was only a matter of time when the labor came early.

You had never expected it — not this soon, not like this.

It was just around thirty-five weeks then. The baby wasn’t supposed to come yet. You still had time. Weeks. You weren’t ready. Your hospital bag wasn’t packed. The nursery still smelled like fresh paint. You hadn’t even washed the baby’s clothes yet. You weren’t supposed to go into labor yet.

But the universe didn’t care.

Your water broke in the middle of the night — and you knew instantly that something was wrong. The pain hit fast and hard, unlike anything you’d ever felt. Sharp, blinding contractions ripped through your abdomen, so intense that it stole the breath from your lungs.

You barely managed to shake Kento awake, your voice cracked and choked, “Kento — my water……it broke—”

And the moment he saw the panic in your eyes, he moved. Kento didn’t even ask questions. He sprang out of bed, grabbing his phone with one hand and you with the other, already calling for an ambulance.

His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the terror behind it. “Yes, my wife is thirty-five weeks pregnant. Her water just broke — she’s in pain — please send someone—”

But the contractions were coming too fast. One after the other, barely a minute in between, and by the time Kento helped you into the back of the ambulance, you knew. The baby was coming now. And the baby would have no mercy on you.

“No, no, no!” you sobbed, clutching your belly as another contraction ripped through you, your body already beginning to push despite your desperate attempts to stop it. “It’s too soon — it’s too soon—”

Kento was right there beside you, his hand in yours, his voice cracked and desperate. “You’re okay, love. You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”

But you didn’t feel okay. You felt like you were dying. And by the time you reached the hospital, you were already fully dilated. The doctors barely had time to wheel you into labor and delivery before you were screaming through another contraction, your body forcing you to push despite your terror.

And Kento was there. The entire time — he was there. His hand never left yours, his voice never stopped murmuring reassurances in your ear. “You can do this, love. I know you can. Just a little longer. Just hold on for me.”

But you couldn’t.

Because something was wrong.

You could feel it in your bones. In the way your body fought itself with every push, in the way your vision kept blurring, in the way you couldn’t seem to catch your breath no matter how hard you tried. And then, in the middle of a push — you felt it.

A sudden, hot gush between your legs. But it wasn’t amniotic fluid this time. It was warm. And sticky. And you didn’t have to look down to know. You were bleeding. A lot. You could feel how it echoes down, heavy and brutish.

“Kento—” your voice cracked, raw with pain. “Something’s— something’s wrong—”

And then you heard it.

The doctor’s voice, sharp and urgent.

“She’s hemorrhaging. We’re losing her.”

And that’s when Kento lost his fucking mind.

“What?” His voice snapped, pure, raw panic flooding his face. His grip on your hand tightened like a vice. “What do you mean you’re losing her?!”

“Her blood pressure is dropping! Massive uterine hemorrhage. Doctor, she’s losing too much blood—”

“No — no, no, no—” Kento stumbled forward, his voice cracking as his hands shook. “Do something! Save her! Save them both!”

“We need to get the baby out now or we’re going to lose them both, Mr. Nanami!”

And suddenly it was chaos. Nurses shouting. Machines beeping. Someone calling for blood transfusions. And you — fading. You could feel it. Your body was giving out, your vision was growing dim, and the only thing you could focus on was Kento.

“Kento.” you rasped, your voice so faint, so weak. Your body felt like it was drifting. “I—I love you—”

“No!” Kento screamed. He screamed like something inside him was tearing apart. His hands clawed at the hospital bed, his body lunging toward you as the doctors tried to pull him away. “No, stay with me! Stay with me, love! Don’t you fucking do this—Don’t you dare leave me!”

But you were already slipping.

The last thing you heard was his voice, raw and broken.

“I can’t do this without you. Please! Please don’t leave me. Please—”

And then, darkness.

HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. Nanami Kento couldn’t do anything but collapse in the hallway. The moment they pulled him out of the delivery room. The moment the words the doctor said, all of that rang in his ears like a death sentence. He was sure that something inside him snapped.

And when the door slammed shut behind him, separating him from you, Kento’s knees buckled. He hit the floor hard. Hands splayed out against the cold tile, chest heaving, throat raw from screaming. He didn’t even realize he was still screaming until two nurses rushed toward him, trying to pull him up, trying to calm him down, but it was useless.

Because he could still hear it. The frantic shouts of the doctors. The horrifying words “Massive hemorrhage. We’re losing her.” The sound of your screams cutting off too abruptly. And worst of all — the unbearable silence that followed.

“No—” Kento howled, his voice breaking like glass. His hands clawed at his hair, his entire body wracked with violent, gut-wrenching sobs. “No, no, no— I killed her. I fucking killed her—”

“Sir, Mr. Nanami.” one of the nurses knelt beside him, reaching out. “You have to breathe, you’re hyperventilating—”

But Kento didn’t hear her.

He couldn’t hear anything.

He didn’t care to hear whatever that was.

All he could think about, all he could see was you. Your face twisted in pain. The absolute terror in your eyes when you realized something was wrong. The way you sobbed I don’t want this, Kento, I’m not ready. And he did this. He did this to you.

His body convulsed with the force of his grief, his head slamming against the tile as his sobs tore from his chest like a wounded animal. “I killed her. I killed her. I made her hate her life and now she’s gone. She’s gone—”

“Sir—” The nurse was trying to hold him down now, his entire body thrashing against the floor as he screamed. “Sir, please, you’re going to hurt yourself—”

“LET ME GO!” Kento roared, his voice so raw it barely sounded human. “She’s dying in there. Do you understand me?! She’s fucking dying in there and I……”

Another contraction of sobs wracked his chest, and his fists slammed into the floor so hard that his knuckles split. Blood smeared against the tile, but he didn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything.

“I made her hate her life.” his voice cracked, his chest seizing with suffocating grief. His hands curled into his hair again, yanking hard as if trying to punish himself. “I did this to her. I made her want to die. And now she’s gone and I’m still here. ”

“Stop, please.” the nurse’s voice broke, her own eyes glassy as she tried to steady him. “She’s not gone. They’re trying to save her in there, with the baby.”

“No.” Kento’s head snapped up, his face twisted in a horrifying mix of rage and agony. His eyes were bloodshot, glassy, utterly devastated. “You don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it.” His voice cracked so sharply it sounded like it physically hurt him to speak.

“She wanted to die, to be free of that misery. Don’t you see?” he choked. “She hated her life. And it’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault—”

And then his body gave out.

His chest collapsed onto the cold tile floor, his forehead pressed into it as his entire body shook. Choked, gasping sobs clawed from his throat, so violent that he could barely breathe. His lungs were burning, his vision was spinning, and he was sure, so fucking sure, that this was it. That they were going to come out and tell him you were dead.

And it was his fault.

All of it was his fault.

Because he saw it.

He saw it every single day. The way you sat in the nursery with dead eyes. The way you stopped smiling. The way you couldn’t even say I’m excited without your voice cracking. The way your love for him was slowly being choked out by the sheer weight of your depression.

And he didn’t stop any of it. Instead, he told you to keep going. He told you to hold on. He let you suffer in silence because he thought that’s what you needed but you didn’t. You needed help. You needed saving. And instead, he trapped you in a life you never wanted.

And now you are dying.

All because of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Kento sobbed, his forehead slamming against the tile again, his blood smearing across the floor. “I’m so fucking sorry. Please….please, I’ll do anything. Just let her live. Please.”

And that was the first time in his life that Kento Nanami prayed. He prayed like a man possessed. Like a man who had nothing left to lose. His bloody fists clawed at the tile, his nails cracking against it as he begged.

“Take me,please.” he sobbed, his voice mutilated from screaming. “Please….just take me instead. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. Just…. Please don’t take her. Don’t take my wife. Don’t take my baby. I’ll do anything.”

But the silence stretched on.

And he was certain that you were already gone.

Hours continued to make mockery of him.

Agonizing, torturous hours passed — and Kento was still on the floor.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe right. Didn’t think. His body was stuck in that same position. Still face down, forehead pressed against the cold tile, hands trembling as he clenched them into bloody fists. His chest was heaving in short, sharp gasps, his entire body quaking as he sobbed.

He was certain you were dead. He felt it. He felt the moment your soul left the room. He felt the moment the light in his life snapped off like a switch.

He was convinced that at any second, the doctor was going to come out, look him in the eyes, and say, “I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. We couldn’t save her.”

And he would never forgive himself.

Because he killed you.

His fault. His fault. His fucking fault.

He was still gasping, still clawing at the ground, still praying like a desperate man when he finally heard the door open. Kento’s head snapped up. His bloodshot, swollen eyes immediately locked onto the doctor walking toward him, his scrubs covered in blood — your blood — and Kento’s entire body seized.

“Mr. Nanami—”

“Where is she?” Kento screamed. His voice cracked, broke, his entire body lunging toward the doctor like a caged animal. His hands fisted the man’s scrubs, yanking him forward. “Is my wife alive? Tell me, damn it? Is she alive?”

The doctor barely had a chance to respond before Kento screamed again. “Tell me you saved her, goddamn you!”

And the doctor’s mouth opened — and Kento swore the entire universe stopped spinning when he finally said, “…She’s alive.”

Kento’s entire body collapsed. His legs gave out. His grip on the doctor’s scrubs slipped. And then he didn’t realize that he had hit the floor. A gasping, broken sob ripped from his throat. The kind of sob that came from a man who was seconds away from losing everything and his entire body convulsed as he wept.

“Oh my god…..” Kento choked, his hands flying to his face, clawing at his own skin like he was trying to ground himself. “Oh my god. She’s alive. She’s alive!”

“Her condition is critical, Mr. Nanami.” the doctor warned, his voice low but steady. “We had to perform an emergency c-section and a hysterectomy to stop the bleeding. She lost over forty percent of her blood volume. We had to resuscitate her twice on the table—”

“Resuscitate?” he gasped, his vision swimming. His stomach lurched. “You mean she….she died?”

“Clinically, yes. Twice.” The doctor’s face softened with pity. “But we got her back. She’s stable now — unconscious, but alive.”

And that was all Kento needed to hear.

He ran. He didn’t even think. His legs moved before his brain could catch up, his entire body sprinting down the hall, his bloody knuckles slamming into every door he passed until he finally found your room.

The second he stepped inside, he broke.

Because there you were.

Unconscious.

Your body was completely limp, hooked up to a ventilator, your skin so pale it looked blue. Tubes were coming out of everywhere. From your arm, your nose, your mouth and there were fresh surgical dressings covering your abdomen where they had cut you open to get the baby out.

Kento couldn’t breathe. A strangled, animalistic sound tore from his throat like something between a sob and a scream and then he collapsed beside your bed. His hand shot out, desperately clutching yours, his entire body wracked with gut-wrenching sobs as he shook.

“I’m so sorry…..oh my god, I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” Kento’s voice shattered, his head dropping onto your hand as his body convulsed. His chest was heaving so violently that he was on the verge of hyperventilating. “I did this. I did this to you and I….”

He couldn’t stop sobbing. His forehead pressed against your limp hand, his body rocking as he cried like a child. ��I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry….” he choked. “I made you hate your life and I trapped you. I killed you…. oh my god, I killed you….”

And the guilt hit him like a sledgehammer.

Because it was true. All of it.

He saw the way you suffered. The way you faded every single day. The way you stopped smiling. The way you stopped living. And instead of saving you, he kept telling you to hold on. Just a little longer, love. We’re almost there. Just a little longer.

But you weren’t okay. And Kento didn’t listen. And now you were lying there. Pale, lifeless, barely hanging on. All because of him. And the weight of it crushed him whole. He felt like Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders.

And then finally, you woke up.

“…Kento?” your voice cracked.

“Baby.” he sobbed, grabbing your face, pressing desperate kisses all over your skin. “Oh my baby…..you’re awake. You’re awake. I thought I lost you. I thought….”

“…Where’s the baby?”

And Kento completely broke. “The baby’s fine, don’t worry.” he choked. “She’s perfect. She’s beautiful. But you….you scared the shit out of me, baby. Please don’t ever do that again.”

And when they finally brought your baby girl in and you held her for the first time — you did something you didn’t expect. You cried. And then you sobbed. Because for the first time in nine months — you finally felt something coherent. Something good.

“…She’s beautiful.” you gasped. “I didn’t think I’d love her. But I do. I love her so much.”

Kento just collapsed against your hospital bed, sobbing. “I knew you would. I knew you would.”

But things are like the weather.

They were bound to change.

You should have known.

THE FIRST MONTH WAS HARD, BUT AS TIME WENT ON, IT GOT WORSE. You came home from the hospital physically intact but mentally, you were gone. You still didn’t go back to school. You didn’t touch your textbooks. You didn’t even mention chemistry. The once-brilliant student who dreamed of working in a lab was now just… a mother. And you hated it.

Every single day felt like a fog. You were exhausted but it wasn’t the baby’s fault. You knew that much. It was you that was malfunctioning. You didn’t know how to connect with her. Every time she cried, you felt nothing.

Every time she smiled, you felt nothing. Every time Kento handed her to you and said something to praise your beautiful daughter, you didn’t know how to react. You just nodded and let it go. And Kento noticed. God, he noticed.

Kento stayed home for a month. He refused to leave your side. He didn’t take calls, he didn’t attend meetings. He just stayed home. But his contract required him to go back to work eventually. And you… you told him to go.

“Go, you have to.” you whispered, your voice dead. “You have to work, Kento. We have bills. You already missed so much.”

But Kento didn’t want to.

“Baby— no. I don’t give a shit about work. I’m not leaving you like this.”

And you forced a smile. “I’m fine, Kento.”

But you weren’t.

You weren’t.

And Kento knew it.

But eventually, he had to go. He had no choice. His manager was calling nonstop. His agency was threatening breach of contract. He had a new film that needed him and Kento was the lead role. So he left. And the guilt burned a hole in his chest.

The first day he was back on set, he couldn’t focus. His co-stars were talking to him, the director was giving him instructions but all he could think about was you. Home. Alone. With a baby you didn’t love. Kento hated himself.

He was filming a scene when his phone buzzed in his pocket — and when he saw your name pop up, he immediately froze.

“CUT!” the director barked. “Kento, you okay?”

“…Yeah, director.” he croaked. “I just— I need five minutes.”

And then he ran.

He ran behind the trailer, shaking, and picked up the phone. “Baby?” he gasped, panic echoing in his voice. “What’s wrong? Is the baby okay? Are you okay?”

Silence. “…I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

And Kento’s heart completely shattered.

“Baby…..” his voice cracked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…..” you gasped, voice shaking. “I mean I can’t do this. I can’t be a mom. I don’t love her, Kento. I don’t—I don’t feel anything for her. I just feel empty. And I know she deserves better. I know you deserve better. I think….I….I just….”

Your voice cracked. “I think I ruined my life.”

Kento collapsed. “No, baby. No. Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” He was crying now, gasping into the phone. “You didn’t ruin your life. You didn’t. I promise I’ll fix this. I’ll come home right now—”

“No, you won’t.”

Kento completely broke. “Baby, please.”

“No, Kento. You have to work. We need the money. We need—”

“I don’t care about the fucking money!” Kento sobbed, clutching his hair. “I care about you! I care about our family! Please don’t give up on me, baby. Please don’t give up on her.”

But you just hung up.

Kento completely lost it.

He didn’t go back on set. He stayed behind the trailer, sobbing into his hands, shaking, thinking: “I ruined her life. I did this to her. She was supposed to be in college — not stuck at home with a baby.”

And that thought ate him alive. The next few weeks were worse. Kento was dying. Not physically but mentally, emotionally and spiritually, he was. Every single day he walked onto set, it felt like he was leaving you behind. And it was killing him.

Because all he could think about was you. Alone. Depressed. Hollowed out. Not wanting the baby. And he wasn’t there. He was never there. Every single time he put on that suit, stepped in front of the cameras, smiled for his co-stars. He was dying.

Because he knew. He knew the second he came home, you would be worse. Every day it got worse. Every fucking day.

At first, it was subtle. You were tired. Distant. Quiet. But then the days started stretching into weeks, and suddenly you weren’t just tired, you were empty. Your smiles were forced. Your voice was flat. You didn’t ask about his day anymore. You didn’t kiss him when he got home.

And Kento tried to justify it. It’s just the hormones. She’s overwhelmed. She’ll come back to me soon. She’ll come back to me.

But you didn’t.

And Kento broke down again.

Because the more days that passed, the less of you he saw.

You stopped eating dinner with him. You stopped holding the baby. You stopped getting out of bed. You wouldn’t look at him. And the worst part? You didn’t even cry. You just… stared. Blank. Numb. And Kento couldn’t handle it.

He fucking hated himself. Every single day he drove to set, his stomach would turn. He’d clench his jaw the entire time, his hands shaking as he held the steering wheel because he knew. You were at home. Alone. With a baby you didn’t love. And he wasn’t there. And the guilt was going to fucking eat him alive.

One night, Kento came home early. He couldn’t do it anymore. He was on set, trying to read his lines, but his hands were shaking. His mouth felt dry. His mind kept screaming to him: She’s alone. She’s not okay. She’s not okay. She’s not okay. Go home right now.

So he left. He didn’t even tell his manager. He just ripped off his mic and drove home. And when he walked through the door….You were just… sitting there. On the couch. Completely catatonic. Your body was slumped forward. Your eyes were glazed over, completely hollow. You weren’t blinking. You weren’t moving. You weren’t alive.

Baby?” His voice shattered.

Nothing. Kento’s heart slammed into his throat. He dropped his keys, his coat, everything, and sprinted toward you, falling to his knees in front of the couch.

“Baby, please….” his voice cracked. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs trembling as they brushed over your cheeks. “Please talk to me. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

But you didn’t blink.

You didn’t look at him.

You just… stared at the wall.

Kento’s stomach lurched.

His throat closed.

And then you finally spoke.

In a voice so dead, so hollow, that it didn’t even sound like you anymore. “…I don’t want to be a mom anymore.”

“Baby,” his voice broke. He practically collapsed against you, his forehead pressing to your lap as his hands clutched yours. “Please don’t say that. Please, god—”

“I don’t.” you said flatly. Your voice didn’t even crack. It was just… dead. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want her. I don’t want anything.”

Kento’s entire body convulsed.

“Baby, no.” His voice split down the middle. His hands squeezed yours so tight his knuckles went white. “Please don’t talk like that. I know it’s hard. I know you feel alone. But I love you. I love our baby. We can fix this, baby. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything.”

But you didn’t believe him.

Because the truth was — you didn’t want him to fix it.

You didn’t want help. You didn’t want therapy. You didn’t want him to stay home from work. You didn’t want him to coddle you or tell you it would get better.

You just wanted your old life back. You wanted school. You wanted chemistry. You wanted the future you spent years building. But instead, you were just Keiko’s mother. And you fucking hated yourself for it.

“I never wanted this.” you whispered numbly, your eyes glazed over. “I didn’t want to have a baby. I didn’t want to give up school. I didn’t want this life. And now it’s all I have.”

Kento couldn’t breathe. His chest split open. His hands shook violently as he tried to pull you closer, his head buried in your lap. “Please, baby….” his voice splintered. “Please don’t talk like that. I need you. Our baby needs you. We love you.”

But you didn’t respond.

You just kept staring.

Kento sobbed heavily.

His entire body convulsed. His shoulders shook. His throat ripped open as gut-wrenching sobs tore out of him. “I’m so sorry.” he gasped. His face buried into your lap, his tears soaking your clothes. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

And you didn’t comfort him. You didn’t hold him. You didn’t wipe his tears. You didn’t say anything. Because deep down, you hated him, too. You hated that he got to have a life. You hated that he still had his career. You hated that he still had a future.

And you, who you once knew?

You were just a mom.

You were trapped.

And you resented him for it.

YOU WENT AWAY FOR A LITTLE WHILE. It was a shut-in therapy. Somewhere far. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere that felt detached from the life you had been drowning in. Kento made the arrangements. You didn’t ask him to but he just did it. One night, after finding you curled up in the corner of the nursery, crying so hard you couldn’t breathe, he made the decision himself.

You don’t even remember how it happened — one moment you were screaming I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this life anymore, and the next, your husband Kento was quietly helping you with packing your bags.

“Baby….” his voice cracked, his hands trembling as he folded your clothes into a suitcase. “You need help. You need real help. And I can’t—” his throat choked up. “I can’t keep watching you like this. I can’t keep coming home to you like this. I need you to get better, baby. I need you.”

You didn’t fight him.

Because deep down, you knew.

You needed help.

And when you left, Kento didn’t cry. He didn’t break down. He didn’t beg you to stay. He just kissed your forehead, buckled you into the passenger seat, and drove you there himself. The drive was silent. But when you arrived and it came time for him to leave, you felt him break.

Kento clutched your hands so hard you thought he might shatter them. His forehead pressed to yours, his voice splintering as he begged. “Please come back to me. Please get better. Please..... I don’t care how long it takes, just please don’t give up on us.”

And then he left.

And you stayed.

And the first few weeks were hell.

You fought everything. The therapy. The group sessions. The self-reflection. The constant “how are you feeling?” The exposure therapy to bond with your baby. The “you’re not alone” pep talks from strangers who did not know you.

And every single night, you thought about calling Kento. You thought about screaming into the receiver I’m done, come get me, I can’t do this anymore, please just let me go home.

But you didn’t.

Because somewhere deep, deep, deep down, you wanted to get better. And slowly you did. It wasn’t linear. Some days were good. Some days were awful. Some days you held your baby in your arms and felt nothing. Some days you sobbed so hard that you thought you’d vomit. Some days you sat in the therapy circle, refusing to speak, refusing to participate, refusing to care.

But then some days, you looked at your baby and felt something. Not love. Not joy. But something. A tinge of warmth in your chest. A pang of protectiveness. And slowly, slowly, something began to grow. And then six months later, you came home. Kento was there, waiting for you.

The second you stepped through the door, his entire body crashed into you. His arms crushed you against him, his hands cradling the back of your head, his chest heaving as he sobbed harder than you had ever seen him cry.

“Baby!” he gasped into your hair, his voice cracking. “God, I missed you….I missed you so fucking much! I thought you’d never come back to me and Keiko.”

And you sobbed too.

Because you missed him. God, you missed him.

And that night, when you walked into the nursery and you saw your baby again for the first time in months. You cried harder than you ever had in your life. Because for the first time in a long while, you wanted her. And you didn’t hate her anymore.

But… the thing was, your relationship with Kento. It was never the same. You wanted it to be. You tried so hard. Kento tried, too. He was so patient. So gentle. So loving. But something between you both felt… off.

You had a hard time touching him. Being intimate with him. You couldn’t explain why but every time Kento kissed you, really kissed you, or ran his hands down your waist, or tried to pull you into his lap, your body would freeze.

Kento noticed. But he never pushed. He never said a word. He just waited. God, he waited. But the truth was you didn’t know how to give him that part of you anymore. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him. You did. You loved him so much. You adored him. You cherished him. You owed him your life.

But every time you tried to make love to him, it felt like you were reopening the wound. It felt like you were back there again. Heavily pregnant, crying yourself to sleep, suffocating in a life you didn’t want. And you hated it. You hated that your body betrayed you. You hated that you wanted to be with Kento, but the second he kissed you, you’d tense and apologize and turn away.

One night, he finally brought it up.

It was subtle. Careful.

“Baby…..” he murmured as you both laid in bed, his fingers brushing over your bare shoulder. “Do you… not want me anymore?”

And your heart dropped. “What?”

Kento swallowed thickly, his voice small. “You never touch me anymore. You never kiss me first. You… you flinch when I touch you sometimes. And I just…. I don’t know if it’s me or if you just… don’t want me anymore.”

“No — no, Kento, I do.” you sobbed, immediately turning to clutch his face in your hands. “I love you. I love you so much. I just…..I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to….. to be close to you. I want to. I really do. I just….”

Kento shook his head. “Baby, no.” his voice splintered. “It’s not your fault. God, it’s not your fault.”

But you still hated yourself for it.

Because every time Kento looked at you with that softness, that adoration, that undying love — all you could feel was guilt. Guilt for what you put him through. Guilt for resenting him. Guilt for pushing him away. And the fullness of the intimacy, it never really came back.

You tried.You forced yourself sometimes, letting him kiss you, letting him touch you — but it felt wrong. Not because of him. But because your body wouldn’t let you have it. Your body still remembers the trauma. Kento never blamed you.

But it killed him. Because every night he’d roll over in bed, aching for you but he wouldn’t touch you. He wouldn’t dare. He knew if he tried, you’d flinch. You’d shut down. And he couldn’t handle that. So, instead all he could do was just… love you from afar.

But how has that ever been enough?

THE FIRST TIME YOU FOUND OUT ABOUT KENTO’S CHEATING, IT WAS PURELY BY ACCIDENT. It must have been years later. After the therapy, after the recovery, after you slowly started piecing your life back together. Your daughter Keiko was already walking, already talking. You had gone back to school part-time, slowly finishing your chemistry degree.

And your intimacy with Kento? It had started to come back. Well, not fully. Not like it used to be. But you were trying your hardest with everything. You wanted to make sure that you could do it again. Your husband was waiting, and he deserved it. He deserved your love so much more than anyone.

You started off small. You started to hold hands and then you started kissing him again. You started letting him touch you again. You even started making love again. Though it still wasn’t what it once was. You didn’t initiate it. You didn’t crave it. You just… let it happen. Because you wanted to be close to him. You wanted to fix what was broken.

Yet, Kento was still distant. Not in the obvious way, no. Kento still loved you. Fiercely. Deeply. His hands were still gentle when he brushed your hair behind your ear. His voice was still soft when he murmured his devotions to you every morning. His kisses were still warm when he kissed you goodbye.

But in his eyes, you could see his eyes so clearly. His eyes always looked starved. Like he was still reaching for something you wouldn’t give him. Like no matter how hard you tried, it would never be enough. And deep down, you knew. You would never be able to give that to him ever again.

You saw it. Every night when he rolled over, half-hard in bed, but he wouldn’t touch you. Every morning when he’d linger in the shower, his back to you, his hand clenched into a fist. Every time you let him inside you, and you could feel the heartbreak in his touch, like he was still waiting for you to love him the way you used to.

And you hated yourself for it.

But you never thought…….

You never thought he’d cheat.

Until one day, you saw the message.

You were on his phone. It wasn’t intentional. His phone was sitting on the coffee table while he was in the shower, and it buzzed. You didn’t think much of it at first — just a glance, a mindless reflex. But then you saw the notification. A text message. From a number you didn’t recognize.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was married.”

And your blood ran cold instantly.

You froze as your pupils dilated.

Your hand shook as you unlocked his phone. His password was your anniversary, for fuck’s sake and when you opened the message thread… It was all there. The proof.

It was from months ago. At least half a year. Some random woman. The messages were fragmented. But clearly, Kento had deleted most of them. But there was enough. Enough to piece it together.

The first message was from her. “Hey, I had fun last night :) Let me know if you ever want to do it again.”

And then his response — curt. “I can’t continue on with this. I’m married. I love my wife. And….I have a daughter.”

Then her response. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again.”

And that was it. But it didn’t fucking matter. Because the implication was there. The truth was there. Kento had slept with her. He had fucked her. He had cheated on you. He decided to go on with this, swallowed by the need and by lust.

And you just… You just sat there. Staring at the message. Feeling like the ground was ripped from beneath you. And the thing that destroyed you most was that you weren’t even surprised. Because you knew. You always knew.

You saw it in his eyes every single day. That hunger. That emptiness. That quiet, unspoken need for something you weren’t giving him. And you thought you were fixing it. You thought you were trying. But clearly… clearly it wasn’t enough.

You didn’t confront him immediately. You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry. You didn’t throw his phone at him the second he walked out of the bathroom. You didn’t do anything. You just… sat there. And thought about it.

And the longer you thought about it, the more it made sense.

Of course he cheated.

Of course he did.

You deprived him for years. You denied him your body. You made him watch you suffer, made him sleep beside you every night knowing he couldn’t touch you, made him ache for you in ways you never fulfilled. That’s the worst part. You understood. You understood why he did it. That was the part that made you nauseous.

Because the truth was you had already broken his heart long before he ever stepped out of your marriage. You had pushed him away for so long, turned cold for so long, denied him for so long — that at some point, he just stopped waiting.

And you didn’t blame him.

You hated him. God, you hated him.

But you understood. And you still loved him.

What a foolish game for a wallflower to grow on.

And when he finally came out of the bathroom, his hair still damp, towel slung over his shoulder, flashing you that soft, tired smile. You didn’t say a word. You just kissed him. Hard. Desperate. Like you hadn’t just been crushed to death by your heartbreak.

You grabbed his face, pulled him down, crushed your mouth to his like you were trying to rewrite history. Trying to pretend like you didn’t know what you knew. Trying to convince yourself that he was still yours. Kento froze for half a second, shocked by your sudden affection but then his hands snapped around your waist and he melted into you.

“Baby….” he gasped against your mouth, his voice needy, aching. “Fuck….. what’s gotten into you?”

You don’t say a word to him. Instead, you just clung to him. Like if you held him tight enough, like you could somehow undo the fact that he had already been touched by someone else. You let him take you that night. Hard. Rough. Desperate.

You let him fuck you like he hadn’t been able to for years, you let him do as he pleased. You let him crumble into you. His mouth on your neck, his hands fisting your hair, his voice breaking as he gasped over and over —“I love you. God, I love you.”

And you let him. Because in some fucked up way, you felt like you owed it to him, after making him suffer for so long. You spent years starving him, depriving him of life. So it was only fair that he found his comfort somewhere else.…Right?

Yet you stayed up after all that love making, alone.

No, you knew the correct answer all along.

But you were just too much of a fool to say it out loud.

AND JUST LIKE THAT, IT HAPPENS ALL OVER AGAIN. Once again, you were pregnant with your second child. It wasn’t planned. You never wanted any more children, after all that had happened. But it happened. Yet it wasn’t that surprising. In some ways, this was the only way you could find yourself taking revenge against him. To make him just as miserable as you again.

Just weeks after you found out about his cheating, after you spent night after night letting him have you in every way he wanted, desperately trying to reclaim him, trying to erase the touch of another woman from his skin. You found yourself standing in the bathroom again, clutching a positive pregnancy test. And your stomach dropped.

Because the second those two pink lines stared back at you, you knew. The cycle was about to repeat. The suffocating weight of motherhood. The slow erosion of your identity. The same cold distance that once consumed your marriage was about to happen all over again. And the worst part was that you couldn’t even blame anyone but yourself.

Because you let him touch you again. You wanted to feel wanted, and to take revenge. You wanted to erase every part of every other woman’s palm on his. You opened your legs for him, night after night, desperate to keep him anchored to you, desperate to make him forget about the other woman and now, you were paying the price.

And when you told Kento, he broke. But not in the same way he did the first time. Not with pure, unfiltered joy. Not with a beaming smile and hopeful eyes. No, this time, Kento’s face crumpled. Yet you know that look on his face. It was just like the first time.

“Baby—” his voice cracked. “You’re….. oh my god, you’re pregnant again?”

And the heartbreak in his voice killed you. Because you knew. You knew exactly what he was thinking. He was thinking we’re not ready. He was thinking not again. He was thinking I just got her back. And now, it is happening again. Yet, you just knew in the back of his mind, he was thinking this was his punishment. This is what he gets for being the worst man on the earth.

The sleepless nights. Postpartum depression. The intimacy issues. The slow unraveling of your marriage. And you could see it, the fear in his eyes. Yet, your husband Kento pushed it down. Because he was Kento fucking Nanami. He was a husband. A father. A provider. And regardless of how horrified he was, he refused to let you see it.

So he smiled.

Or at least, he tried to.

Yet you both knew the truth.

That smile felt like the biggest lie.

“That’s amazing, baby.” he choked, his voice strained. “Another baby. That’s… that’s incredible.”

And then he kissed you, soft and hesitant, like he was forcing himself to be happy. And you felt it. You felt the hesitation. The dread. The underlying regret. But you didn’t say anything. Because you were the one who let it happen. And just like that, the cycle began again.

Kento started working more. He said it was to provide for the baby, but you knew better. You knew it was because he was terrified. Because he was already bracing himself for what was about to come for you to spiral again, for you to shut down again, for you to stop loving him again.

You tried not to fall into the same pit you did last time. You tried to stay upbeat. You tried to keep loving Kento — loving him hard enough to make up for the fact that he once touched another woman. You tried to be a good wife. You tried to be excited about the baby.

But slowly… it just happened again.

The nausea. The fatigue. The aching loneliness when Kento came home late. The bitterness when you saw happy women on campus who still had their futures. The slow, creeping resentment every time you looked at your growing belly and thought I didn’t want this.

And worst of all, you started pulling away from Kento again. Not on purpose. But your body remembered. Your body associated pregnancy with trauma, with pain, with suffering and so it shut down. You couldn’t help it. Every time Kento touched you, your skin crawled. Every time he kissed you, you flinched. Every time he tried to make love to you, you just froze.

Kento felt it.

He felt you slipping away.

He felt your body turning cold again.

He felt the weight of your touchless nights,

He felt your silent dinners, your empty stares again.

And you knew.

You knew it was happening all over again.

But this time — it was worse.

Now you couldn’t stop thinking about her. The woman he had slept with. The one he turned to when you couldn’t love him the way he needed. And every time Kento touched you, you couldn’t help but lay there and wonder over and over again.

Did she feel warmer than you?

Did she kiss him like she wanted him?

Did she make him feel loved in a way you never could?

Kento could see it.

He could see the way you recoiled when he reached for you. He could see the distance growing between you again. He could see the guilt burning you alive. And he hated himself. Because the truth was, he never stopped loving you.

Even when he cheated. Even when he fucked another woman. It was never about love. It was never about you. It was about the ache. The desperation. The years of feeling like he was losing you and just needing something to hold onto. Now he felt like he was losing you again.

And deep down, he knew.

You were never coming back to him.

Not fully. Not the way you used to.

And Kento was slowly breaking under the weight of it.

Because no matter how much he loved you, it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough to keep you from falling out of love with him.

This is the world you gave birth to Nanami Kenshin.

LIFE GOES ON AS THEY USED TO SAY. Twenty five years, two whole decades and a half of that since you and Kento had first stepped into this chaotic life together. And somehow, despite everything, you made it.

You had raised two kids, a boy and a girl. Your Keiko and your Kenshin. They were both smart, both stubborn, both carrying that unmistakable sharpness in their eyes that mirrored your husband as much as their compassion had been garnered from your heart.

In all that agony you had come to know in your life, the pair kept you busy with almost everything they could think of. Troublemaking, homework, soccer games, dance recitals, late-night fevers. Everything about it is the messy, beautiful chaos of parenting that somehow keeps you moving forward.

And then there was Kento’s career, near thirty years as a veteran in the industry. He had gone from being the promising newcomer to a household name. Red carpets. Magazine covers. Award ceremonies where his face shone on giant screens as he walked up to accept yet another trophy. The world adored him. Respected him. Envied him.

And you were right there beside him for all of it.

The photographers always wanted you in the frame. His beautiful wife, standing gracefully at his side, draped in sleek designer dresses and glittering jewelry. They loved the way you smiled for the cameras, how your hand always rested delicately on his arm, how you played the part of the elegant, unwavering woman who had supported her husband through it all.

And for a while, you convinced yourself that this was enough.

That this life, this carefully curated image of family perfection, was what happiness was.

You learned to smile in interviews, to talk about Kento’s dedication as a father and how proud you were of him. You learned to navigate the world of high society — dinner parties with producers, mingling with other industry wives, slipping into that role of effortless charm and poise.

But behind all the glitz and glamour, it was lonely.

With two kids to raise, and a husband to care for, there was little for you.

There was no room for you to be the woman you are.

Kento was rarely home. Always on set, always in meetings, always flying across the country for some event or another. And when he was home, he was exhausted. Conversations grew shorter. His kisses felt rushed. The intimacy you’d once fought so hard to reclaim began to fade again — not because you didn’t want him, but because he was never there.

You kept yourself busy. Raising the kids. Managing the house.

Smiling at galas, posing for cameras, over and over again.

Playing the part of the perfect wife in a perfect marriage.

But sometimes, when the house was dark and the kids were asleep, you’d sit alone in the living room clutching an old photograph from years ago, back when Kento’s hair was still short and his smile still reached his eyes and wonder if this was all there was left.

And maybe it wasn’t enough.

But you told yourself it had to be.

Because you had already sacrificed too much to turn back now.

So, you didn’t think of anything when it broke out in the headlines.

Kento Nanami, the beloved actor, devoted husband, father of two had allegedly been caught cheating again after nearly twenty five years of marriage.

You sat at the kitchen table, having breakfast like normal. The morning sun spilled through the windows, the smell of eggs and coffee filling the air, and the faint sound of the television humming in the background.

“Sources say the woman in question is a production assistant from his latest drama series—”

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t look up.

You just kept stirring your coffee, like the words meant absolutely nothing to you. Kento, on the other hand, was frozen. Fork halfway to his mouth. Face pale. Chest rising and falling like he was trying not to hyperventilate. And then, slowly, ever so carefully, he turned his head and looked at you.

“…Are you alright?” His voice cracked.

And that’s when you smiled.

You smiled, soft and easy. Like none of it mattered. Like you weren’t currently listening to the entire nation gossip about your husband’s infidelity. Like you weren’t being branded the foolish, pathetic wife who stayed after her husband cheated twice. Like you weren’t dying inside.

And with a voice far too calm, you said, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kento’s entire face crumpled.

Because he knew.

He fucking knew.

That wasn’t real. That smile.

That sweetness. That unbothered facade.

It was performative.

It was the same smile you gave him after your first child was born, when you were drowning in postpartum depression but still told him “I’m fine” over and over again.

It was the same smile you gave him one hundred times when he told you he was going to be late at home tonight, when he didn’t have to be.

And now, now you are doing it all over again. Feigning nonchalance. Feigning strength. Feigning normalcy. And it destroyed him to bits beyond what he could stand.

“…Baby.” his voice cracked, his fork clattering against his plate. “You don’t have to…. I mean, we can talk about it if you want. I’ll….I’ll explain everything. I swear to god, it’s not what they’re saying—”

You laughed so heartily.

A soft, almost amused laugh.

And you took a sip of your coffee, still smiling. “I don’t need you to explain anything, Kento.”

His stomach dropped. “Wh–what?”

You met his gaze and your smile never wavered. “It’s not the first time, is it?”

And fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Kento’s mouth fell open. “Baby….no. It’s not like that….I swear I—”

“It’s alright.” You cut him off smoothly. Calmly. Almost too calmly. “Really. I don’t want an explanation.”

Kento visibly flinched. His heart was hammering so loud he swore you could hear it. “…You don’t?”

You shook your head, taking another bite of your eggs. “No. I’m just glad you had fun.”

And Kento lost it.

“Baby….” His voice cracked violently, his chair scraping against the floor as he immediately dropped to his knees beside you, clutching your thigh like his life depended on it. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out again. Please, baby. Please yell at me. Cry. Scream. Break things. Just…. don’t act like you don’t care. Please. Please, baby, I know you care—”

You laughed again.

But this time — it was hollow.

“I don’t.” you said plainly, popping a piece of toast into your mouth.

And that broke Kento completely, you were sure.

“No, no, that’s not true.” his voice shattered, his grip on your thigh desperate. “You love me. I know you do. You still love me. Please don’t….don’t act like you don’t….. I’ll fix it, baby. I swear to god, I’ll fix it, I’ll—”

“Fix it?” you echoed, your voice soft. Curious. “Like you did the first time?”

Kento fucking froze. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Because you never talked about it. Ever. After his first affair, you never once brought it up. You forgave him in the silence. Or at least, you pretended to. You shoved it down, pretended it never happened, and let Kento crawl back into your arms without consequence.

Now you were smiling at him like he was nothing more than a pitiful stranger. “Your ears work fine, don’t they?”

“…I don’t know what to say.” he choked. His hands were shaking. His throat constricted. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please….please just tell me what to do. I’ll fix it. I’ll do anything. Just please don’t—”

“Don’t what?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

The look in your eyes killed him.

“Don’t leave you?” you continued, your voice sickly sweet. “Don’t abandon you like you abandoned me when I needed you the most? Don’t make you feel like I loved someone else the way you made me feel for years?”

Tears burned his eyes. “Baby, please—”

“It’s fine, Kento.” You smiled again. “Really. I’m not mad.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You sipped your coffee. “I’m not anything.”

And Kento completely unraveled.

Because he could see it.

The way you looked at him now. Like he was just a man. Not your husband. Not your Kento. Not the love of your life. Just a man who happened to share your bed, your house, and your children. And it killed him.

“Do you still love me?” he finally choked out, his voice so small.

And you froze.

Just for a second.

But then you smiled again.

Just as soft, sweet, cold as before.

“Of course, I do.”

And that was the sick part, wasn’t it?

You did. You still loved him. You loved him with your entire fucking soul. You loved him so much that it hurt. You loved him and you hated him with equal intensity. It was two sides of the same coin and it was tearing you apart.

And yet even if you do love him, you know what should be.

Kento didn’t deserve that love anymore.

And even if you have to act like you don’t love him, so be it.

Let him suffer the amount of suffering you had over that time.

So you kissed his forehead, brushed his hair back, and whispered. “You should finish your breakfast. You have work later.”

And then you stood up from your seat, cigarette on your lips.

And left him sobbing on the kitchen floor, lamenting.

You had errands left to run, after all.

A wife has too much to do, you know?

999 notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 8 months ago

Text

Part 5 of Mister(s) Steal Your Girl

Long awaited, but no Johnny smut just yet. Soon, I promise. (And Kyle will be back. It's been so long since he's gotten to smooch our dear reader.)

Also! A little reminder than you can check the queue to see what I plan to post for next. I try to update it often as the worms wiggle. Next I plan to do the final chapter of Greater Bad. (Unless I get my not-so-secret, no-longer-a-surprise oneshot out first)

Lastly! Please note that I wrote the "posts" from his perspective. So inconsistencies with the actual story and any grammar/spelling errors were purposeful or for "authenticity".

Content: Brandon.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ I asked my fiancé for an open relationship before marriage. It worked. A while ago I posted on r/adultery about the affairs (yes, multiple) I was having behind my then-gf’s back. We’d already been dating for ~4 years and I was seeing one of my coworkers (my “work wife”) regularly and one of her coworkers on and off. People on my other post were critical and called me all sorts of things like selfish and pig. I know it’s not traditional, but I genuinely don’t think I could ever be satisfied by one woman. My work wife (Rachel) and fiance’s coworker (Lucy) provide things my fiancé just can’t but I still love my fiancé. She’s the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. When I posted on r/adultery I was trying to figure out how to propose without her finding out. I knew she’d expect me to help with stuff and possibly want to look at my phone more often. It would have been harder to sneak off to meet up with Lucy or Rachel with wedding planning and I was sick of being stressed she would find out. Some nicer people on the post suggested I ask for an open relationship. I took their advice and sat her down to sell the idea. It’s a good thing I’m so good at sales (top 3% in my company for 5 years in a row) because she agreed. Yes, actually agreed. At first she got kind of pale and her eyes got really big and blank. I thought for sure she was about to start crying and run off. Maybe even kick me out. She doesn’t really get angry but she gets upset and it freaks me out. After I explained everything about how good it would be for us though, she agreed. This is my official unlimited hallpass. I’ve been seeing Rachel on weekends and Lucy once or twice during the week for drinks. Tonight I’m going to sign up for every dating site I can. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge. If anyone has other suggestions, I’ll check those out too. Fiance has been kind of off but I think it’s just an adjustment period. Sometimes I can tell she’s been crying but she hasn’t come to me about it so she’s probably just being emotional about all the changes. At least she’s got our house to focus on while she gets used to things. I feel a little bad about running out every night but she’s just so mopey and sad all the time and it’s not enjoyable to be around. I know she probably feels like I’m abandoning her a little but once she starts getting back to normal I’ll spend time with her again. You really can have your cake (all the cakes heh) and eat them too. Edit: no, I never told her that I already had Lucy and Rachel and I’m not going to. What good would it do? She’s already agreed to an open relationship and telling her that I didn’t have permission first would just hurt her for no reason.

Kyle’s been gone for two (long, lonely) weeks when he finally gets a chance to call. So far, he’s only been able to send scattered texts at odd hours. Always something sweet – telling you he’s alright, or that he’s thinking of you. Sometimes you even catch him for a brief exchange before he apologizes and “goes dark” again.

Not that you begrudge it. This is part and parcel of dating him and you knew that going in. You’re not complaining when he’s putting his life on the line so that the public can live in blissful peace.

That doesn’t stop you from missing him though. His hugs, his smile. Getting his voice - even roughened by distance - is a nice compromise though.

“How have you been holding up, chickadee?” he asks after the initial reassurance that he’s whole and hale.

“Easier this time!” you answer proudly. “I know what to expect with you gone and Johnny’s good company.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding pleased.

You can just imagine him now, leaning his hip against the nearest surface, arms crossed over his broad chest. He tends to duck his head when he smiles, and you unintentionally grin to yourself, thinking of him hiding into his phone. God, you miss him.

“Mhmm! We found a board game bar that you’re going to love. Oh, and we’re going to the Hay Festival this weekend.”

He hums. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to take you, luv, but I knew Johnny would be good to you.”

More than good to you, really. There’s not been a day he doesn’t call to check up on you - if he doesn’t see you in person, that is. Dinner, movies, coffee. He’s somehow both a gentleman and an incorrigible flirt, but only with you. He’s nothing more than polite to anyone else, keeping his focus on you and whatever the two of you are doing.

You don’t know what to do with the undivided attention. If you didn’t know better…

“You two are getting close,” Kyle observes.

“I think so,” you admit, then hesitate. “Is… that okay?”

“‘Course, luv. I’m glad.”

You blink. “You are?”

“He’s my best mate and you’re my best girl.”

An odd pang of anxiety pierces your chest. Johnny calls you that too. His “best girl.” You love hearing it - but maybe you shouldn’t?

“It… doesn’t bother you? That we’re spending so much time together.”

He snorts softly, but it’s not derisive. It’s a noise he makes whenever he thinks you’re being silly, but his voice comes out soft and warm. Not an ounce of condescension.

“No, baby, I’m not fussed. You spend your time with whoever you want, however you want. Yeah?”

Your chest floods with warmth. “Okay.”

“There’s a love. I’ve got a brief, so I have to go. I’ll call soon as I can.”

“Be safe, Ky.”

“Do my best. Give Soap a smooch for us, aye?”

You blink as he hangs up. That’s a new one.

You ponder over it while packing on Thursday night. Was it just a joke? A tease at the little crush you’ve developed for Johnny?

Because it is a crush, you know it is. It’s impossible not to be attracted to him. Not with that smile, that laugh, the goofy humor and sweet mannerisms. He still sends you flowers every few weeks - just as the previous ones are about to die. It’s so thoughtful; you’ve started feeling a bit warm every time you look at them.

But you feel greedy, being even remotely interested in anyone else. You have Kyle and Brandon (even if you two are going through a… patch) and that should be enough for you. Shouldn’t it? You’ve never been with more than one person at a time before; it took you weeks to shake the compulsory guilt when you first met Kyle. It feels almost unforgivably audacious to want Johnny too, especially since he’s Kyle’s best mate.

Still… Kyle’s not a jealous or passive-aggressive guy. You’ve been with him long enough now that you know he’d just tell you outright if he was unhappy about something. And he’s been with you long enough that he can surely tell you’re more than a bit fond of Johnny.

Maybe that’s why he made the joke about “smooching” him.

Regardless, you want to talk to him about it. Things always make sense when you think out loud to him. His levelheaded and practical approach to difficult topics always straightens your panic spirals out into neat lines.

Plus, it’s not as comforting to hold your own hand. (God, when is he getting back?)

“Where are you going?”

You blink up at Brandon, folded pajamas in hand.

“The Hay Festival,” you answer.

Speaking of - you slip past him into the bathroom. He doesn’t follow, rooted to the spot spinning his phone around in his hands.

“Alone?”

You snort. “Of course not, I’m going with a friend.”

The allergy pills are at the bottom of the medicine basket beneath the sink. You really need to organize it the next time Johnny’s too busy to hang out. There’s no way you need three bottles of paracetamol.

“I need that suitcase.”

You toss the bottle in and pivot for the dresser. “What for?”

He shifts, eyes sliding away. “An… overnight.”

Ah. That’s what he’s calling it now?

You snatch a few (too many) pairs of underwear from the dresser.

“Just bring them here,” you say over your shoulder.

There’s a long, tense beat of silence but you’re too busy rummaging for socks to break it first. Will it be too warm for thigh-highs? Eh, you’ll go with the sheer ones; the little lace roses match one of your dresses anyway.

“Bring who here?” Brandon asks slowly.

When you turn, he looks paler than usual. You shrug, trying to project casual comfort.

This is a totally normal and reasonable conversation to have. Just a couple in an open relationship, discussing a stranger coming to the house for a shag. Nothing to make a fuss over.

“Whoever you need the suitcase for? I know you’ve had people over before anyway, and I’ll be gone all weekend.”

He stutters, color returning to his face in bright pink blooms. “Why do you think I’ve had people over before?”

You arch an eyebrow. “I do the laundry, remember? And there was lipstick on one of the wine glasses.”

That had sent you into a tizzy at the time, disgusted that some stranger was in your bed, with your fiancé. You washed the sheets twice on the hottest setting and tossed in a bit of bleach for good measure. Hadn’t been able to look at him the whole week - not that he was there much to not look at.

Now, though, you seem to have adjusted to the idea, even if you’re still not thrilled. Brandon can have his… whoever over, and you’ll goof around with Johnny in Wales.

“Just toss the bedding in the wash afterwards,” you add.

“I thought you do the laundry,” he sniffs.

“I’m not traveling all day just to do chores when I get home,” you answer. He does a double take like you’ve started speaking a new language. “You’ll be here all weekend, I’m sure you’ll have time.”

He opens his mouth, and you can tell already that he’s about to argue - though you don’t really know what about. It’s not like he can’t do laundry or dishes, after all. He lived alone before you moved in together.

Thankfully, his phone distracts him before he can form the words. He spins away to tap at the screen and shuffles out of the room, shoulders till tense. You go back to packing and teasing Johnny about the amount of hair gel he’ll bring.

Friday afternoon can’t come fast enough. Even though you’ve taken a half day from work, the few hours seem to drag. You’re practically daydreaming about the food and drinks, music and activities. There’s a baker’s dozen art stalls you want to check out as well, and a gift to pick out for Kyle…

“Hope yer thinkin’ o’ me when ye make tha’ face.”

Your head snaps around so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. Johnny grins down at you in all his casually handsome glory – ripped jeans, green tee, and brown boots. Angels are singing somewhere, you think. Or maybe that’s just your nosy coworkers ogling from their own cubicles.

The reality of him sinks in a moment later and you leap up from your cushy chair – and right into his arms. He’s like a furnace compared to the cool, conditioned air of your office, a welcome source of warmth for your chilly fingers.

“What are you doing here?” you giggle. “Who let a rowdy guy like you in?”

He smells like bergamot and pine. It takes active thought to resist pressing your face into the crook of his neck. It looks cozy there.

As always, he squeezes you a bit tighter just before letting go.

“Hey now, Marcy’s a discerning lady. She knows a fine gentleman when she sees one.”

You snort, belied by the smile curling your lips. “She may need new glass then.”

“Och, don’t go talkin’ poor about my second-best gal now.”

“Is it that easy to get in your good graces?” you scoff, glancing at the time on your computer. It’s later than you expected; no wonder he came up to retrieve you. You spent so long daydreaming that you’ve lost track of time.

“Aw don’ be green, dove, you’re still my number one. Send ye flowers ‘n all.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, and now I’m wondering just how special that is.”

He stands close, proclaiming his case for how obviously special you are while you shut everything down for the weekend. You’re only half listening to the bit, admittedly. Mostly just basking in your excitement for the mini road trip and the weekend to come. You have no doubt that it’s going to be fun, even if it would be better with Kyle along too.

“Where are you headed off to?” Lucy asks.

“Hay Festival,” you answer shortly.

You’ve never been a big fan of Lucy, but lately she’s been insufferable. Talking over you during meetings, leaving you out of emails, throwing away papers at the printer. (Okay, you haven’t seen her do that last one, but you know.) Worst of all, she can help but make backhanded comments about every flower delivery.

“You’re not taking Brandon?” she simpers. “Something wrong?”

“He’s hanging out with a friend this weekend too,” you correct, “and he doesn’t like hay.”

“Shame that,” Johnny adds, sounding like it’s not a shame at all.

You haven’t told him much about Brandon – but you’re sure that Kyle has. From the face Johnny makes the rare times your fiancé comes up in conversation, he doesn’t think much of Brandon.

“Have fun you two!” your manager, Selene, calls.

You wave and shoot Lucy one last, unimpressed glance before stepping onto the elevator with Johnny.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ My fiancé is going on a weekend getaway with another man. I’ve posted in r/adultery and r/cakeeater before. I’m not looking for judgement or insults here. I really just want advice.

A little context: my fiancé and I are in an open relationship and it’s been like this for a few months now. I originally asked her to ope the relationship and for a while she was weird about it but lately she’s been getting sbetter. I thought she was finally getting used to me going out with other women and things were getting back to normal.

A few weeks ago, I noticed she was on her phone more. Like, all the time. Even at dinner when she used to be really picky about phones at the table. One day I came home from work and she was talking on the phone to someone. Giggling and laughing. When I turned the corner she was kind of blushing too. It kind of bothered me but I figured she was talking to a friend and just hot from cooking or something.

Lucy texted me pissed off one day, asking why I was sending my fiancé flowers but not her. I told her I hadn’t sent any flowers. I think they’re way too expensive for how long they realistically last and that they take up a lot of unnecessary space. But I thought it was weird that someone was sending my fiancé flowers and got kind of uncomfortable. That’s a pretty romantic gesture and her family isn’t the type to randomly send flowers either.

I tried taking her out on a date but she was all mopey again and turned her phone to ‘do not disturb’ so I wouldn’t even see if she was texting someone. We don’t have much to talk about now. I love her but she’s not a good storyteller or into very interesting things. All her ‘funny stories’ are just mundane things that happen during the day. We’ve run out of interesting topics about because we’ve been together so long. (That’s why I like having more than one partner.)

Yesterday she randomly started packing for a trip. I don’t even think she was planning to tell me until I asked her. She was packing a bunch of cute clothes too. Like dresses and tights and things like that. Stuff she only used to wear on our dates. I asked who she was going with and she just said ‘a friend’ which is weird because she would usually say the name of someone even if I don’t remember who they are.

Well today Lucy sent me a picture of my fiancé leaving her job with some guy. I couldn’t see his face because he was turned away, but I could see the side of my fiancé’s face and she was smiling at him. I got this awful sinking feeling in my chest like it was hard to breathe. It took me a few minutes to process that she’s going away for a weekend with a complete stranger.

Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is? Where did she even meet this guy? They’ll be gone all weekend so are they sharing a room? A bed? I nearly threw up thinking all these things as I called her.

I asked her to cancel her plans and come home. She seemed confused and reminded me that her plans were with someone else and it would be rude to ditch last minute. I told her I wanted to spend the weekend with her and that I’d been missing her. She seemed surprised and said that she’d see me on Sunday night, but she was looking forward to the festival with her ‘friend’ and wanted to go. As a last ditch effort I asked if her friend was more important than me, nearly begging at that point. She must have heard the desperation in my voice, but she just told me that she was already on the road and it was too late.

My fiancé doesn’t like lying but it’s hard to believe this guy was just a friend. Even if she sees him as a friend I know how men think and I doubt he sees her the same way.

She said some other weird stuff before she left about having someone over while she was gone. I don’t get it. How could she just casually invite someone else into our house like that? Has she had other people over? Is she dating now?

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like that she put this trip over me. Should I talk to her about how bad this makes me feel? Should I call again and tell her to come home more forcefully? Am I blowing all of this out of proportion?

Edit: she doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing Lucy. I haven’t told my fiancé about any of the women I’ve been seeing. (mostly just Lucy and Rachel. I’ve done a lot of texting through apps and gone on a bunch of first place, but most women don’t put out right away and I usually can’t be bothered to get to know them better). Even then, I wouldn’t tell her about lucy. They don’t get along and never have. It would cause a lot of unnecessary drama.

First | Previous | TBC... Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #kyle gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #healthy polyamory #brandon the crash dummy

2K notes · View notes

mrgoldmc26 · 1 month ago

Text

Wonyoung's Wild Night

Tags: Gangbang, blowbang, interracial sex, airtight, anal sex, dirty talk, lots of facials, honestly just Wonyoung getting passed around like a slut by 5 BBC's

Word Count: 10.1k

A/N: This was the first chapter of my K-Pop Sluts series that I have on AO3. I wrote it months ago, and as you are about to see, it has lots of pictures. I really like including pictures in my stories because I just think it gives a nice visualizer...plus, who doesn't like to look at Wonyoung?

With that being said, I do realize that it's a little bit too many pictures...Like I said at the start, I wrote it months ago, and I have been including less and fewer pictures in my chapters (you can notice this on my Lisa chapter), but I didn't feel like removing any from this one because it's how I wrote it months ago. But yes, you will see fewer pictures in my chapters going forward. For crying out loud, I found out that the pic limit is 30 per post...I had 31 in my AO3 chapter, lmao.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

It was a dark, chilly night under the sky of San Francisco, California, with the moon dipping in and out of the clouds. Wonyoung, fresh off her concert with IVE in Oakland, was hoping to have a nice time at a party, alongside her friend, Steven. He was this friend, that she has been seeing for a while now, and has been inviting him for her shows, but she has really never done anything intimate with him, mainly because he was too shy, and always seemed to cut off any advances Wonyoung attempted on him.

She was hoping that it would all change tonight by getting him loose. They arrived at the compound, where the party was already in full swing. Loud music everywhere, people dancing and drinking, and having a good time.

"Gosh, these songs suck. They should be playing our songs. They are much better."

"I'm not sure your songs are appropriate for a party like this, Wony."

"Really? You are not taking my side, Steven?"

"I'm sorry. You're right. They should definitely be putting your songs."

"Good. Go fetch me a drink. And grab one for yourself too."

"Wony, I don't really like to drink alcohol. And I also don't think you should be drinking alcohol too. Something could happen. It's bad for your health."

"Are you actually fucking serious???"

"I'm sorry, but yes, Wony. An idol like you shouldn't be drinking alcohol."

"Listen to what I fucking told you, and go bring me a fucking drink. NOW!"

"And don't forget yours too, Steven...Ughhh. I'm going to sit down by the pool. Don't take too long. I'm thirsty."

"Yes, Wony. Is there anything you want, in particular?"

"Surprise me...for once in your life..."

Wonyoung walked towards the pool, and sat on a couch nearby. She looked in front and saw millions of city lights and the dark, cloudy sky just above them. She decided to step up her game, in order to finally bag Steven, and so she removed her jacket, exposing her skinny arms.

After a few minutes of waiting, Steven finally came back with the drinks.

"Ughhh, what took you so long?"

"I'm sorry, Wony. I couldn't really decide once I got there."

"Goshhhh, why do you apologize after everything I say."

"I'm so..." Steven was about to say, but a sharp look from Wonyoung stopped him midway. She took the drink from his hand and started sipping it away.

"You know, Wony...you shouldn't really be without your jacket on a cold night like this. You might get sick."

"Reallyyy??? Goshhh, stop being concerned for me all of the fucking time."

"I'm sorry, Wony. I can't help it." Steven said, making Wonyoung angry in the process.

"Also, people could look at you and take photos of you. You shouldn't let people see you like this...drinking and showing off your skin."

"What if I want them to see me like this? What if I want you to see me like this?"

"I...I don't really know what to say, Wony."

"That's your problem...you never know what to say."

"I think we should leave this place. I don't like it in here. It's also getting late."

"You can't actually be serious. We literally just arrived..."

"Yeah, but I'm kinda getting sleepy."

"That's it. I've had enough. You want to go? Go!"

"Wony...I...I'm sor.."

"Don't you fucking dare say you're sorry."

"Just leave alone, Steven. I don't really care anymore."

"But I'm your ride."

"I'll call an Uber. Stop fucking worrying about me all of the time."

"You should really stop swearing, Wony. People could catch you, and it would be all over the internet."

"Steven...honestly...go fuck yourself. Leave me alone."

"But..."

"GO AWAY!!!" Wonyoung loudly told him, making him slowly turn away, as he walked out of the compound and went into his car.

"Fucking dumbass...why do I have such a shitty taste in guys." She thought to herself.

Wonyoung put her hands around the side of her head and just stayed like that for minutes, looking down at the pool and the reflex of the moon on the water. She was almost ready to get up and leave when she was suddenly approached by a group of 5 black guys.

"Oh, great....just what I needed...let me guess...you are all fans and want my autograph. Did I get it right?"

"Oh, wait...maybe you all want a photo with me, so you can show it to all your friends. Is that it?"

"Damn Wonyoung...never would've guessed you were this bitchy. I thought you were more sweet and kind, but I guess we were all wrong. We are indeed all fans of you, but we didn't come here to ask you for anything."

"I...ughhhh...I've just had a rough couple of minutes."

"We saw what happened from a distance, and it looked like you were arguing with a guy. We just wanted to ask you if you are doing alright."

"Not really, to be honest." Wonyoung responded.

"Who was that guy anyway?"

"Steven. He's...was....was a friend. A lame friend that was simply a little bitch that never made a move on me."

"Really? I don't believe that. I bet you get hit everywhere you go."

"I do...but not by him...not once."

"Am I not attractive enough?"

"Of course you are, girl. You are the most beautiful woman on the planet."

"It was a rhetorical question, guys...of course I'm hot...I mean...look at me!!!"

"Steven is probably gay, or something like that." A dude said.

"Yeah...maybe. Fuckkkk. What a shity night." Wony said.

"Do you guys have any idea how hard it is to be an idol?"

"I barely get any chances to have fun, and the one time I finally can have some fun and maybe a little action, he acts like a fucking overprotecting wimp."

"I mean...the night is still young...you can still have some fun..." One of the guys said, with a smirk on his face. It was only at that point that Wonyoung started connecting the dots, and understood what they really wanted, and the real reason they were talking to her in the first place.

"Fun...you say?" Wonyoung asked, slightly tilting her head up with curiosity.

"Yes. You can have a great time with us."

"Yeah? What would you guys do to make sure I have some fun?" Wonyoung asked, as she put her hands on the thighs of the guys' sitting right next to her and slowly started caressing them.

"Well, we would definitely hit on you, unlike that other loser."

"I would love that. I love when guys hit on me. When they drool all over me, because they can't handle how hot I am."

"What else? What else would you do to me?" She asked, as she looked at them and their strong arms coming out of their shirts. They were all so hot, and they acted completely differently towards Wonyoung, than Steven did.

"We would make you feel so good. Like, no one has ever made you feel before."

"Oh...really? Do tell." Wonyoung said, as she kept massaging the guys' thighs and moving her hands closer and closer to their crotches.

"We would start by kissing you and touching your body, and then we would slowly remove your clothes." One of them said, as the two guys sitting next to her started touching her thighs.

"Hmmmm....and then?" Wonyound asked, biting her lips.

"Then we would put you on your knees, and feed you all of our cocks, until you choked on every single one of them." Another guy said, as Wonyoung felt his hands going up her dress, and touching her pussy over her panties.

"Oh, fuckkkk...continue please." She said, moaning at every word they said.

"After taking our cocks down your throat, we would take turns fucking every single one of your precious tight little holes, over and over again."

"I need that!...I need it so much! Keep going, daddy!" Wonyoung begged, as the words that they were saying were almost as pleasurable as the fingers that were now inside her.

"And finally we would cum all over that pretty face of yours."

"Oh my god, I want it so badly. I want all of your cum on my faceeeeee."

"Please fuck me. Right now!!!"

"Is that what you want, Wony?"

"Yes...I want all of you guys to be my daddy."

"We can be your daddy for the night, if you promise to be our little cumslut."

"I promise! I will be your little cumslut!!!"

"I'll be your personal cumdumpster."

"I just really want all of your cocks and all of your cum on my face."

"I can't believe an idol like you is this desperate for cocks."

"I'll gladly show you just how desperate I am, daddy. Show me the way to the bedroom."

The guy in front of her smiled, before picking her up from the couch and putting her on his shoulder, as he proceeded to walk inside the house, walking past several large crowds of people with Wonyoung on his shoulders, and the other 4 guys walking just behind them. Anyone could've so easily recognized Wonyoung, and everyone they walked past easily understood what was about to happen to Wonyoung.

As soon as they got upstairs and into a room, the guy carrying her threw Wonyoung onto the bed, and she quickly got on her knees and started taking off her clothes, until all she had left was her bra and her panties. The guys also started taking off their clothes, including their shirts and their pants.

"Take those pants off, daddies. I'm waiting for your cocks. Show me what you have in there." Wonyoung told them, as they removed the belts holding their pants, and then took them off. She was now facing their massive bulges in their underwear, and she was already licking her lips.

"Mmmm, I bet you guys have the biggest cocks I've ever seen."

"I don't think you're ready to see our sizes, Wony..."

"Probably not, but I really need it. I want it."

"I'm so fucking horny for your cocks."

She could see the five black guys staring at her, and their crotches were getting bigger and bigger, the more Wonyoung used her mouth and words to tease them.

The guys dropped their boxers, revealing their hard, big, veiny, throbbing, long black cocks, that made Wonyoung drool, as she stared at them with her mouth agape.

"You like what you see?"

"Uh huh." Wony said, unable to not only come up with something to say, but also unable to take her eyes away from their big black cocks.

"Do you want our cocks, baby?"

"Yes daddy! I want them all in my mouth."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! C'mon...give it to me!"

"Ok. But only if you beg for it."

"Please give me your cocks, daddy. I'll do anything for them." Wonyoung begged, as they hopped on the bed, and surrounded Wonyoung. Their massive, throbbing, veiny cocks just a few inches away from her face.

"Show us how desperate you are."

"Put them all on my face, and I'll show you how desperate I am for your black cocks."

"I want these massive black cocks all over my face."

The guys did what she asked for, and started rubbing their cocks all over Wonyoung's face. Rubbing their precum all over her cheeks, and their cocks over her lips. Wonyoung couldn't help but giggle, as the tips of their cocks touched her skin.

"Fuck yes...this is soooo hot. More...keep doing this." Wonyoung demanded, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue.

They did as she said, and continued smacking her face with their hard cocks. Slapping her with their cockheads and rubbing them over her lips.

"More, please! Rub your big dicks all over my face."

"Rub them harder. Make them leak precum all over my pretty face." Wony said, as she felt one guy rub his balls all over her lips and her nose.

"Yes, daddy...that's it. Use me like a slut. Like a worthless cumslut."

"That's exactly what you are. Nobody likes you for your singing or your dancing. They all like you because you look like a perfect doll."

"People only like you because you are hot. That's why all those fans scream for you."

"That's true. Everything you guys are saying is true. I would be nowhere if I didn't look like this."

"They wish they could be here, using your naked body for their pleasure, but instead we are the ones who get to do that."

"I bet none of them have bigger cocks than you guys, so I'm happy that you are the ones that will use my body tonight." Wony said, as she started kissing the tips of their black cocks, one by one, as she also used her hands to massage their balls.

"You want that, don't you, Wony?"

"Yessssss...I want to be used like a fuckdoll by your big black cocks."

"I'm the hottest female idol in the world, and I need to be treated like the hot slut I am."

"Tell us how much you want our big black cocks, and we will treat you like the naughty little slut you are."

"Yesssss, I want your cocks. I want them all. I want them in my mouth. In my pussy. In my ass. All over my face."

"Tell us, what a slut you are!!!" One guy, said, slapping her ass with immense strength, leaving a big red mark.

"OH MY GOD, FUCKKK...I'm a little slutty idol, daddy."

"I'm a dirty, desperate little slut for black cocks."

"My mouth is open. Please put your cocks inside my mouth, daddy." Wony said, opening her mouth as wide as she could, waiting for any black guy to slide his cock inside her mouth and down her throat.

One guy grabbed her by her hair, and started ramming his cock down her throat. Wonyoung could not believe the size of the cock that was in her mouth. Wony tried her best to fit all of his huge cock in her small mouth, whilst she reached behind her back and took off her bra.

"Damn, Wony. Those are some nice titties you have."

"I thought they would be smaller."

They weren't big or anything remotely close to that, but they were a pretty decent size, considering her body type.

Wony smiled with her lips still wrapped around a huge black cock, as she finally started using her hands to pleasure more guys at the same time. She put her hands around two cocks and started stroking them.

"Your hands are so tiny compared to my cock."

"Mmmm hmmm." Wony nodded, as she started deepthroating the first guy's dick.

"Oh fuckkkk. Damn. Your mouth feels so good." The guy groaned, as he kept shoving his dick down her throat.

"Fuck, daddy...your cock is so good." Wony said, when the guy eventually pulled his dick out of her mouth.

One guy put his hand on her chin and made her look up at him, before slapping her in the face with his dick, making her moan.

"Damn...you are such a naughty little slut, aren't you?"

"You want this dick, Wony? You wanna taste my cock?"

"I want your black cock inside my mouth, daddy. Let me taste it." Wony begged, and the guy slid his cock between her lips, until he was fully inside her mouth. He didn't stop until his entire black cock was deep down her throat, making her gag and cough.

"That's right, Wony. Deepthroat my cock, you fucking slut." He said, as he started furiously ramming his cock down her throat, making her spit saliva everywhere, even with her lips sealed tight around his dick.

"You want another one, Wony?" Another guy asked.

"Hmmm, hmmm" Wonyoung replied with her lips still around a thick, throbbing, black cock. He let her go after a couple more thrusts to the back of her mouth, and Wony got in a quick breather.

"Give me your cock, daddy. Let me taste it." She begged, before another cock was shoved down her throat.

"Fucckkk, I can't believe I'm having my cock sucked by Wonyoung."

"She's a really good cocksucking slut."

"You are, aren't you?"

"Hmmmm, hmmm." Wonyoung moaned in response.

"I'll bet a slutty bitch like you loves tasting black cock, don't you?"

"Yes, daddy. I love it."

"Good. Keep sucking it then, slut." He said, and Wony did just that, as she kept sucking every guy for a lengthy amount of time, before moving to the next big black cock that was put right in front of her pretty little face.

After every guy got their long turn with Wonyoung, the guys started taking quick turns with her mouth, sliding their big black cocks past Wonyoung's luscious lips, and fucking her tight, warm throat over and over again, for a couple of seconds, before swapping between themselves.

"You like that, Wony? You like being passed around like a slut?"

"Mmmm, hmmm. I love it. This is what I wanted. I love sucking your black cocks." Wonyoung said, looking at the guy who just had his dick in her mouth, as she gave his shaft a nice lick, before moving her lips on the side of his dick, and leaving a trail of saliva.

"Good. Now keep sucking them like the naughty little cumslut you are."

"Yes, daddy." Wonyoung said, as she proceeded to grab one of the cocks in front of her and started sucking it, bobbing her head up and down, while also moving her tongue around it.

"You look so hot with a cock in your mouth."

"Mmmm...it tastes so good." Wony said, as she started licking the tip, before going back down again.

"This is so hot. I love sucking big dicks." She said, in between sucks.

"You are doing a great job. Keep going, Wony."

"You guys have no idea how long it's been since I had cocks down my throat." She said, as stopped sucking his cock, and instead started stroking two dicks at the same time for a couple seconds, before moving on to the other guys' cocks, always trying to give the same amount of time to each one.

"A woman like me should be getting dicked on a daily basis, and not a single day should go by without having a cock in my mouth."

"Yeah? And what about the rest of your body?"

"It should be used as a toy for cocks. For the pleasure of the lucky guys I deem worthy of fucking me and my tight holes."

"And what about cum, Wony?"

"Oh my god, cum is like, my favourite thing in the whole world. I love feeling it inside me, and all over me."

"I need it. I crave it."

"If I could survive on cum, I would be the happiest girl in the world."

"My life would be so much better if I used cum as a replacement for my mascara."

"My face would look even prettier. Trust me, guys. I look amazing with cum on my face."

"Well, we'll see it later, won't we, Wony?"

"Of course, daddy. I can't wait to have all of your loads all over my face."

"Gosh, just thinking about it...it's making me so fucking wet. I need a cock inside me, right now!" Wonyoung said, as she stopped stroking their cocks for a moment, and quickly removed her panties and spread her legs, showing her perfect shaved pussy. She put two of her fingers on her slit and started rubbing it.

"That's right. Rub that tight little pussy for us."

Wonyoung put on an absolute show for the guys, as she moved her fingers around her pussy, spreading her lips open and letting the guys see the inside of her cunt, before she went back to playing with her clit, while also licking her lips as she couldn't stop staring at the 5 big black cocks in front of her, just hanging in the air. They looked so perfect and big, and Wonyoung tried to guess which one would be inside her first, which one would cause her to moan the loudest, and which one would give her the biggest load.

"Taste yourself, Wony."

"Mmmm...yes, daddy." She said, as she quickly removed the hand she was using to play with herself, and placed it in front of her mouth, as she started licking and sucking her own juices off her fingers.

"You really are a nasty little slut." One guy said.

"And sluts deserve to get fucked." Another one added.

"That's exactly what I want."

"I want to get fucked like the little slut I am."

"Yeah, Wony? How do you want it?"

"I want to get fucked on the bed, daddy. I want to get spitroasted."

"I want you guys to take turns and use me like your personal fuckdoll."

"And then I want you guys to fuck my pussy and ass at the same time, whilst someone is fucking my mouth."

"Anything else, princess?"

"Just daddy's cum, all over my face at the end." Wonyoung said, with a huge smile on her face.

"Alright, then. Let's get to it." One guy said, as he placed himself behind Wonyoung and immediately put his left hand on the back of her neck, pushing it down onto the mattress, alongside her head, as the other guys climbed off the bed and formed a line right in front of the edge of the bed, where her head was, and waited for their turn.

Wonyoung was on her knees, with her tits not only pressed against her knees, but also squished against the mattress, as both guys pressed their cocks against her holes.

"You ready, Wony?"

"Yes, daddy. Just feed me your cocks and pound me already." She said, before opening her mouth wide, as the guys didn't even waste one second, and pushed their cocks inside her mouth and her pussy, and started fucking her, not holding back at all.

"Oh fuckkkk...Wony..."

"Oh my fucking god...you guys need to try this pussy. She's so fucking tight." He moaned, as he kept pounding away at her.

"Really bro?" The guy fucking Wonyoung's mouth asked.

"Yes. It's incredible. She has the tightest pussy I have ever fucked." He said, before he started to fuck her much faster than before, as he felt his cock get squeezed by her pussy, which was dripping with juices.

Wonyoung kept moaning, even with a cock buried deep down her throat, as she felt her tight pussy get stretched by the girth and length of the dick, and her throat being filled by another huge dick.

"I bet this is what your fans want, isn't it? To fuck you however they want, and for you to be their perfect little slut."

"That's why they pay hundreds of dollars for a single concert ticket, just in the hope that somehow, someway, they get a chance to fuck you."

"Actually...no. All of your fans are shy, weak and pathetic, just like Steven. Your fans would probably rather see us destroy you and your tight holes with our big black cocks than them with their tiny dicks."

All Wonyoung could do, was stay there, in an uncomfortable, yet pleasurable position, taking their big black cocks over and over again, feeling her holes being used by the biggest cocks she had ever seen in her life.

"Fuck, I need to swap right now, or else I'm going to cum inside her pussy. This shit is way too fucking tight for my dick." He said, massively slowing down his thrusts so that he didn't blow his load so soon, but he still kept his cock inside, slowly pushing it back and forth, as he still wanted to feel her tight pussy, and the warmth that surrounded his cock.

"Damn, dude. Then I think I'll take her pussy next. Just let me fuck her mouth a little bit longer." One guy said, as he grabbed a fistful of her hair, and started furiously facefucking Wonyoung, not giving a single care in the world.

"Fuck, your mouth feels amazing, but I think it's time I stretch that sweet pussy of yours." He groaned, before slowly pulling his dick out and making his way around her, and towards her pussy. As soon as he got there, the guy that was fucking her pussy pulled out, but not before slapping her ass harshly, leaving yet another red mark on her cute little butt.

"Have fun. This pussy is fucking great." He said, as he joined the 3 other guys that were in front of Wony's face, going to the back of the line as he awaited his time to fuck her throat.

"Ahhhhh fuck. That was amazing, you guys."

"I loved having both your cocks sliding in and out of my mouth and my pussy."

"Can't wait for the rest of you guys." She said, licking her lips in anticipation, whilst looking at the massive black cock right in front of her face.

"C'mon. Put your dicks inside me already. I get cold when I don't have cocks inside me. I need them to warm me up." Wonyoung said, as the guy in front of her pressed his cocks against her lips, and she gladly opened her mouth and let him slip his dick inside her, and start fucking her mouth, while the guy behind her slammed his dick into her cunt, and started thrusting away, making Wonyoung moan around the dick in her mouth.

"I can't believe this is happening."

"Wonyoung is getting spitroasted by us and our big black cocks."

"FUCKING HELL...you were not kidding when you said her pussy was the tightest you had ever fucked." The guy behind her said, as he tried his best to keep thrusting his cock in and out, as his dick was being squeezed by her pussy.

"Fuck her harder. I want her to moan around my cock."

The guy behind her complied and started thrusting as hard and as fast as he could, feeling her tight pussy getting stretched and fucked, whilst also hearing her muffled moans around his friend's cock, as he fucked her mouth, going faster and deeper, with each passing second.

"Oh, fuckkkk...that's it, Wony. You look so fucking sexy, moaning with my cock in your mouth."

"I wanna hear how she moans when I fuck her as deep as I can go."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just stop for a sec."

"Alright bro." He said, as he removed his cock from Wonyoung's mouth, and started stroking it in front of her face, whilst the guy behind her started ramming his cock as deep and as hard as he could, causing Wonyoung's moans to fill the room.

"Fuck...daddy...your cock is so fucking good inside me."

"Good girl. Take it. Take this fucking cock, you nasty little slut." He groaned, as he kept pounding her, his hips crashing into her ass, making it jiggle every time.

"Mmmm, that's right, daddy. I'm a nasty little slut for your cock."

"I'm a cumslut for all of your black cocks."

"Just keep fucking my tight little pussy, daddy."

"And you...I want you to slide that cock back inside my mouth. I want to slurp on it, until it's ready to go inside my pussy." Wonyoung said, before opening her mouth once again.

The guy in front of her slapped his cock on her tongue a couple of times, before pushing his dick past her lips, as Wony went right to work on his meaty cock, whilst his friend kept pounding her pussy with his cock.

"Ahhhhh fuckkk. So good."

"Your lips were made to be wrapped around my cock, Wony."

"Yes, they were. Your cock tastes so fucking good, daddy." Wonyoung said, whilst she stroked him for a couple of seconds, before she put his dick back in her mouth."

The guy put his hands on both sides of her face, and started facefucking her, his cock going in and out of her throat, as her mouth was basically a hole for him to fuck.

He then pinched her nose with his left hand, and used his right hand to hold her head, so that her head couldn't move, as he just started slamming his cock deep down her throat, going balls deep, and not stopping at all. Wony started struggling for air, but couldn't really move, and all she could feel was a cock lodged down her throat, and another one rapidly going in and out of her pussy.

After a couple of seconds Wonyoung started gagging, and the guy released his grip and let her go, as she took a couple of deep breaths.

"Ahhhh...ahhhh...do it...do it again, please. I want your cock deep down my throat again."

"I'm afraid if I do that again, I will cum down your throat, and if I remember correctly, you want my cum on your face, isn't that right?"

"Yes, daddy. I would love to swallow your load, but I do really want your cum on my face."

"That's what I thought. Well, I guess it's time for me to find out just how tight your pussy is."

"So tight. I want you to stretch it, daddy. Can you do that for me?" Wony asked, whilst biting her lip.

The guy didn't bother to respond, grinning instead as he made his way behind her, and waited for the guy that was fucking her pussy to stop and hop off the bed, giving him the "keys" to her tight little precious pussy.

"Beg for it, slut. Beg for my fucking cock, Wonyoung."

"Please, daddy. Please give me your cock."

"Give me your big black cock. I need it inside me."

"Stretch my tight little pussy, daddy."

He grinned once again, before he pushed his dick deep inside her, and started pounding away, fucking her tight pussy, making her scream in pleasure, as her eyes rolled in the back of her head, while her hands gripped the sheets as hard as she could, and the guys in front of her watched, and awaited their turn to not only fuck her mouth, but also her pussy.

"Daddy...ohhhh, yes...daddy...keep fucking me...your cock feels so good..." Wony moaned, whilst her breasts were being squished against the mattress, due to the force of the guy behind her, who kept ramming his cock deep and fast into her cunt.

"Ahhhhh...fuck...daddy...keep going. I'm so close."

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, you filthy little slut?"

"Yessss, daddy. Keep fucking me, just like that. Make me cum all over your big black cock."

"Then cum, Wony. Cum on this big fucking cock."

"Ahhhhhh...oh fuuuckkk."

"Oh my fucking god...you're making me cum. I'm cumming, daddy..." Wony screamed, as she started shaking and squirming, whilst the guy kept pounding her, making her cum on his cock.

"Such a good girl, cumming on daddy's cock."

Wonyoung didn't even have time to recover or respond to him, because the guy in front of the line grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her forward, before pressing his dick against her lips and sliding it into her mouth.

"You like that, Wony? Being passed around all 5 of us?" He asked, as Wonyoung used her tongue to massage the underside of his shaft, whilst he kept slowly sliding it in and out of her throat.

"Yes, daddy. I love being a slut for all of your big black cocks." Wonyoung said in between sucks, as she felt the guy who had just given Wony her first orgasm of the night start slamming his cock once again into her wet, warm and tight pussy, making her moan even more, sending vibrations onto the cock in her mouth.

"You are so fucking pretty, Wony."

"So beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

"I know I look pretty with a dick in my mouth, but I also know I look even better when it's a long, hard black cock." Wonyoung said, before taking his dick deep in her mouth once again.

"Fuck...I love that dirty mouth of yours, Wony."

"Talk dirty to us, Wony."

"Tell us what a filthy little slut you are."

"Tell us how much you love getting fucked by our black cocks." He said, as Wonyoung let go of the dick, and gave him the nastiest, sexiest smile, ever.

"I love your black cocks. I'm addicted to them." Wonyoung said, as she started stroking his dick.

"I wish I could bring all of you to our tour, so that you guys could pass me around after each concert."

"I would love for you guys to fuck every single one of my holes after each concert and then dump your warm cum all over my body, my face and my tits." She said, squeezing her boobs with her arms.

"I would love if you guys fucked me just before a concert and for me to go out there and perform in front of thousands of fans with your cum dripping out of my pussy and my asshole."

"Yeah, I bet you would love that, wouldn't you?" He asked.

"Such a naughty little slut, you are." He added.

"I'm daddy's perfect slut."

"Gosh, keep stroking that cock, Wony, fuckkk...I can't wait to cum all over your face."

"It makes me so wet, just knowing that I'm about to be a cumdumpster for 5 huge black cocks. It turns me on so much."

"Fuckkk, Wony. You're the one who is turning me on, girl. I need to smash that pussy of yours right now."

"Hmmm...since you haven't been inside me yet, how about I let you fuck my ass instead?"

"Is it tighter?"

"Well, considering I have had 3 big black cocks stretching my pussy already, and 0 inside my ass, I would say so."

"I've never taken one so big in there, but I really want to try it, daddy. So please...put your cock in my ass, and fuck me as hard as you can."

"Alright girl. I'm going to destroy this little cute ass of yours." He said, reaching forward and smacking her ass, leaving another red mark on it.

"HEY? WHAT ABOUT ME, MAN? I HAVEN'T FUCKED YOU EITHER!" The guy right behind him yelled, as he joined him by his side, and now had Wonyoung right in front of him as well.

"That is right, you haven't." Wony said, as she reached out for both of their cocks and started stroking them.

"Like I said earlier, I want to get my ass and my pussy fucked at the same time, so how about I ride that cock of yours whilst he fucks my tiny little asshole?" She added, as she took his cock into her mouth, awaiting his answer.

"Oh fuck, girl...you don't have to ask me twice..." He moaned, letting Wonyoung suck his dick, whilst her hand was stroking the other, until she decided to switch and started sucking the other one.

"Hmmm, yummy. You two taste so good." Wonyoung said, licking her lips, before putting his cock in her mouth, and the other guy's cock in her hand, stroking him as fast as she could, whilst she bobbed her head up and down the cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, tasting every inch of him.

"Ahhhh, fuckkkk...shit, Wony...you're too good at this."

"Mhmmm, I know." Wonyoung hummed, before deepthroating him and gagging around his cock for a couple of seconds, before releasing his dick, and stroking him, whilst she began deepthroating the other guy.

"Ohhhh shit, Wony. Just like that, girl. Just like that."

"Ohhhh fuckkk. I love going back and forth between your cocks."

"It feels...so...fucking...good. I love taking turns sucking both of them." She said, as she kept going back and forth, sucking and slurping on their cocks, and making the 2 guys moan in pleasure.

"I think they are ready to go inside my holes." Wony added, kissing both of their tips, before moving slightly backwards, so that one of the guys in front of her could lay down where she was previously.

He laid down, and Wonyoung got on top of him. She reached behind her and grabbed his dick, before guiding it towards her pussy. She then lowered her body, and his dick slid into her pussy, making her moan, whilst she slowly went down, and took all of his size into her cunt.

Wonyoung didn't even give a chance for the guy behind her to stick it in her ass, because she immediately started bouncing up and down on the dick inside her pussy, feeling it going deeper and deeper, and also brushing past her g spot, making her scream and moan like crazy.

"OH MY GOD, THAT FEELS SO GOOD. KEEP FUCKING ME, DADDY."

"I fucking love bouncing on your big black cock."

No words came out of his mouth, and instead he just reached his hands forward, and started playing with her tits, pinching her nipple and squeezing her soft breasts whilst she bounced up and down his shaft, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her wet pussy every time, stretching it even further, and causing her to scream and moan loudly, her cries of pleasure filling the room.

"Ayo...Wony...just stop for a sec. I want to put it in your ass." The other guy said.

"I'm sorry, daddy. I just got too excited. His cock is filling me so well, I just couldn't resist bouncing on it for a bit."

"It's alright...you're just a cumslut addicted to our cocks. I get it." He said, putting a hand on her face before kissing her luscious lips."

"I am, daddy. I'm so addicted to all of your cocks. I want them all."

"Beg for it, Wonyoung."

"Please, stick it in. Shove that big dick up my ass, daddy."

"I want you to destroy my ass, daddy. Please."

"Huuuuuh, boys...what do you say? I can't say no to our little slut, can't I?

"Fuck her ass, man."

"Fuck her as hard as you can."

"Make her our fucking anal slut."

He smiled, hearing the answers coming from his friends, before lining his cock with Wonyoung's tight little asshole, and slowly shoving his dick inside her.

"Ahhhh fuck. That feels soooo goooood." Wonyoung moaned, feeling both her holes being stuffed by their big dicks, whilst they were both inside her, as the one underneath her was also balls deep inside her pussy.

"You were not lying, Wony. This really is a tight little asshole."

"I need you to stretch it, please. I want it to be stretched as wide as possible."

"I can't wait for you to start fucking it."

"I want to be your anal slut, daddy."

"Fuck me hard, daddy. Pound my tight little asshole, please."

"Fuck, man. I don't know how tight that asshole is, but let me tell you something...this pussy is TIGHT! Didn't the three of them stretch it?" He said, trying his best to look backwards with Wony on top of him.

Wonyoung was so lost in the pleasure of having both of her holes stuffed at the same time, that she almost completely forgot about the three other guys that had already gotten their turns with not only her mouth, but also her pussy. She saw them slowly stroking their cocks, as they kept watching Wonyoung get pounded by their friends.

"C'mon guys...don't be shy. I know you're not shy...come here."

"I was starting to wonder if our little slut had forgotten about us, guys."

"Me? Never...I couldn't ever possibly forget about these big black cocks." She said, with a smile on her face, as she put her hands around two of their cocks and started stroking them.

"You guys like that? Like having your cocks stroked by me whilst watching your friends fuck me?"

"Yessss, baby. Fuck, your hands are so soft."

"Yeah, and the way you stroke them, it's fucking amazing."

"Keep talking dirty to us, Wony. Keep telling us what a slut you are."

"Ohhhh fuck. I am a slut. I'm a filthy fucking slut."

"I'm daddy's filthy little slut."

"Mmmmmm yeah, and this is exactly what filthy little sluts like me do. We take their daddy's big black cocks, and let them stretch our tight little holes, just like they are doing right now."

"And we like to get spitroasted, and double penetrated, and have their cum all over our faces, just like you guys will do with me, later." Wonyoung said, already fantasizing about having the guys' cum on her face.

"And you..." Wonyoung said, looking up to the right in front of her.

"I don't think I need to tell you what to do." She added, as she opened her mouth.

"No, you don't, girl." He said, as he slowly put his cock past her lips and gave full control to Wonyoung, letting her suck his dick at the pace she wanted.

The room was filled with moans and grunts from all the guys, as Wonyoung was pleasuring all 5 of them at the same time. The sounds of her cheeks getting clapped every time the guy behind her thrust his dick inside her ass, mixed with the sound of his friend's dick slamming in and out of her pussy, were not only echoing across the room, but that feeling, of their cocks going in and out of her holes was making Wonyoung moan loudly, which was obviously muffled, thanks to the cock in her mouth. All whilst she had her hands wrapped around the 2 last remaining cocks.

Wonyoung was impressed with herself. Not only from the way she was handling all 5 cocks at once, which was something completely new to her, but also how quickly she managed to turn around her horrible start to the night. She was almost laughing around the cock inside her throat, just thinking that had the night gone a different way, she would probably have her lips wrapped around Steven's tiny gay cock. But thankfully for her, it didn't. She was quite easily having the best night of her life, being passed around these 5 strong and hot black guys who were making her their personal cumslut.

"Fucking hell...will this pussy ever get a little bit more loose? Been fucking it for like 10 minutes now...I can't believe how tight you still are."

"Sorry, daddy. That's just how I was built..."

"I was made to take cocks, and I guess that, if you want your cock to feel less suffocated by my pussy, you're just gonna have to stretch me out."

"Fuck me harder, daddy. Make me take your big black cock."

The guy complied and started thrusting faster and harder into her, making her bounce on his cock, his pelvis smacking against her butt, her moans filling the room. Not wanting to be left behind, the guy fucking her ass also began going harder and deeper inside her, his hands tightly gripping her waist, as he was drilling her with his long hard dick.

"OH MY GOD...fuck me, daddies. Use me. Please, pound my holes harder." Wonyoung begged, as she started moving her hips, making sure to slam them backwards whenever a cock was going forward, thus meeting each other half-way and creating a much stronger impact.

"Just keep fucking me. I don't care how hard, just give it to me, daddy."

"You guys are so good. My holes are yours. Use them however you want."

"Do whatever you want with me. Just please make me cum again."

"Is that what our cumslut princess wants?"

"Yes, daddy. Make me cum on your big black cocks, ple..." Wony said, before being interrupted by a cock entering her mouth and her throat, making her gag around his length.

"Sorry, Wony...but your mouth is just too fucking sexy. I can't take it anymore."

Wonyoung just rolled her eyes back and smiled, before wrapping her tongue around his dick and bobbing her head up and down.

"You like that, baby? You like sucking daddy's big black dick, whilst your pussy and ass get destroyed?"

"Mhmm, hmmmm..." She hummed, nodding her head and sending vibrations throughout his body, making him groan and grip her hair tightly.

"I bet you can't go anywhere without dropping to your knees and sucking dicks. It's why you always have bruises on your knees, isn't it?"

"Hmmmm, hmmm..." Wony moaned around his dick, which was lodged in her throat.

"Whose dicks are you sucking, huh? Producers? Directors? Dancers? Sponsors? Fans? Which one is it, you fucking slut?" He asked, giving one final hard thrust to the back of her throat before releasing the grip on her head, letting her talk.

"All of the above, daddy. I suck any and every cock I come across."

"That's what I thought, you nasty fucking slut. How many of them have you sucked?"

"Too many to count, daddy. All you need to know is that your cocks are all way bigger than any of them." Wonyoung said, as she was still getting pounded as hard and fast as the 2 guys could, their cocks slamming in and out of her tight pussy and tight asshole, which were now stretched and loosened, allowing their dicks to slide in and out easily, but not any less pleasurable.

"You're such a good little whore for us, Wony. So good."

"Such a tight little body. So fuckable."

"Oh, yes...fuck yes...right there, guys. Don't stop. Give it to me harder."

Wony's eyes rolled up as she was being drilled from behind, her ass getting pounded by a massive cock, and her pussy getting fucked by a thick black cock.

"You guys are gonna make me cum again, soon."

"So fucking tight. Fuck, girl. You're squeezing my dick so hard, it's gonna be difficult for me not to cum inside you." The guy fucking her pussy said.

"I don't care. Fuck me however you want, but that load is ending on my face."

"Alright, Wony. Damn...such a spoiled little brat, aren't you?"

"Yes. I always get what I want, and right now, what I want is for you to keep fucking me until I cum, and then for you to cum on my face. Are we understood?" Wony asked, looking right into his eyes, with a very threatening look on her face. At least, the best one her cute, perfect face could make.

"Loud and clear, Wony. Now shut up and start bouncing on this cock." He replied, with a smirk on his face, as Wonyoung did exactly that, and started riding the guy, with the other still fucking her tight little ass. As her hands were free, she reached for the two cocks on either side of her and started jerking them off. She kept going at a fast pace, making sure their cocks were nice and ready for when their turn came to shoot their loads on her face.

Suddenly, the guy fucking her pussy started pinching her nipples, and before she could even react to it, she felt a hard cock slapping her across the face.

"Mmmmmm, oh my god, yes. Slap me, daddy. Hit me with your big fat black cock." She said, as he did just that, hitting her over and over again with his hard dick.

"You're not slapping me hard enough, daddy. Give it to me hard. Show me what a filthy fucking slut I am."

"Hit me like the naughty whore I am." Wony begged, before opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out, just as the guy's cock hit her in the face once more.

"Oh, shit...that's it. Right there, daddy. That's how you slap a bitch. Give it to me again. Hit me harder."

Wony's cheek stung after being hit, but that only made her hornier. The guy in front of her slapped her with his cock another couple of times, before he grabbed her chin and shoved his dick past her lips. Wonyoung was still being drilled from behind, whilst she was now choking on the guy's cock, as he was fucking her throat at a fast pace.

She had never done anything remotely close to what she was currently doing. It was the most intense and crazy thing she had ever done. The fact that she was letting herself be used and dominated by 5 big black guys, and letting them use her body as their personal sex doll, was not only turning her on, but making her feel more confident than ever. The way they were calling her names and degrading her was driving her wild, and she could feel herself getting closer and closer to another orgasm, with their huge dicks going in and out of her body.

It was too much pleasure to handle all at the same time for Wonyoung, and so she closed her eyes, and let herself go, cumming on the guys' dicks for the second time that night.

"Ah, she's cumming on my dick. I can feel her pussy clenching around my cock."

"That's it, Wony...keep cumming for us, baby."

"She's not the only one. Fuck, I'm close." The guy with fucking her mouth said, as he released the grip he had on her head, and started furiously stroking his cock right in front of her face.

"Oh fuck...daddy, yessss. Give me your cum."

"Paint my face, please!!!"

"Cum all over my face, daddy."

"Fuckkk, take it, Wony. Take all my fucking cum." He said, as Wonyoung stuck her tongue out, and felt multiple ropes of cum land across her face.

"Ahhhhh, yessss. Keep cumming on my face." Wony said, he shot the last droplets of cum towards her face, with the majority landing on her tongue.

"So fucking good...I love it. I want more of your delicious cum on my face, though."

"We will all give it to you, slut. You don't have to worry about it." The guy who had just cum all over her face said, before grabbing both of her hands, and pulling her off the dicks that were inside her holes.

"Damn, look at that gape. Come take a look at this." One guy said, appreciating the work he had done on Wony's ass.

"Now that's a nice little asshole. So wide open. Good job, man. I also did a great number on her pussy."

The guy put Wonyoung on her knees in front of him and the 2 guys that were already jerking off, and they were shortly joined by the 2 guys that had just fucked Wony's tight holes, as these 2 began stroking their shafts.

"Hmmm, keep stroking those big black cocks, boys." Wony said, looking towards the 5 of them, with a huge smile on her face, and her eyes rolling back, thanks to the feeling of having cum dripping down her gorgeous face.

"1 down, 4 to go, Wony. Whose cum do you want next?"

"Does it matter? I'm gonna end up taking all 5 loads on my face either way, so just come here and shoot your cum on my face, and make my pretty little face even prettier."

"Oh fuck, Wony...you're such a fucking cumslut for us, aren't you?" One of them said, stepping closer to Wonyoung, as he kept stroking his cock.

"Hmmmmm, yes. A cumslut for big black cocks and loads."

"Stroke that cock faster, daddy. Stroke it until you cum all over my face."

"Beg for it, Wonyoung. Beg for my fucking cum."

"Please, daddy. Give me your cum. Please cum on my pretty little face, daddy."

"Shoot your cum all over my face. I need it so badly!"

"I want to be drenched in all of daddy's cum."

"Fuck, Wony. Stop talking, and open your mouth." He said, as he grabbed Wony's head, and pulled her in, before pushing his cock down her throat and fucking her mouth for a good amount of time.

Wonyoung gagged on his cock, before he pulled it out, only to start jerking himself off once more, right in front of her face.

"You like being a good little whore for us, huh? You liked having us pass you around and use you as a fucktoy, didn't you?"

"Yes, daddy. I loved being used like a cumslut by you. By all of you."

"Wony....fuck, I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna fucking cum...oh, fuck, I'm cumming!!!" He said, just before he started shooting his cum all over Wonyoung's face, covering her skin with white streaks of his thick load.

"Thank you, daddy. Mmmm, that feels so good. I love being covered in your warm cum."

"So fucking sexy." The guy said, as he was now slowly stroking his cock, with the tip barely touching Wonyoung's face, the excess amount of cum slowly falling out of his dick, and on Wonyoung's lips and chin.

"C'mon...who's next? Who's painting my face with their delicious cum next?"

"Me, bitch. I'm so fucking close, slut." One guy said, as he stepped closer and started jerking off his hard cock right in front of her, as the other 2 were doing the same.

"C'mon...cum on my face, daddy. Let me have your cum, please."

"I need the cum that comes out of that big black cock all over my pretty little face, daddy."

"I want to be covered in cum!!!" Wony begged, before she quickly opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, after she saw the first ropes of cum flying towards her face, catching her by surprise.

"Take my fucking cum, you cumslut."

"Yes, daddy. Keep cumming all over my face." Wony said, closing her eyes as the cum kept flying towards her, landing on her lips and mouth, some even hitting her eyelids, nose and forehead.

Wonyoung was almost completely covered in cum at this point, with only several small spots left to be filled. She grabbed the last 2 remaining cocks and started stroking them off as fast as she could.

"I'm so close, baby. Fuckkkk, keep going, Wony."

"Stroke those cocks for us, Wony."

"I'm gonna stroke them so well, until they explode all over me."

"You're doing such a great job, Wony."

"Thank you, daddy. I'm gonna milk these cocks dry, and make them cum all over me."

"Do it, baby. Please."

"I wanna see your cute face covered in my cum, baby."

"Yes, please. Cum all over my face, daddy."

"Fuck me, I can't hold it anymore. Close your eyes, Wonyoung. I'm gonna cum."

"Yesssssssssss, shower me with your warm cum!!!" She said, feeling the first few droplets of cum falling on her face, as the guy kept shooting his load all over her face, giving her multiple layers of cum. Wonyoung had so much cum on her face, that it was mostly dripping down her chin and falling on her tits and stomach.

"Oh, fuck me. That feels so good, daddy. I love it."

"Thank you, daddy. Your cum is so warm and sticky. It feels so good on my skin."

"Your welcome, slut." He said, slapping his cock on her tongue, before walking backwards a bit, leaving Wonyoung alone with the last guy.

"Well, well, well...looks like it's just the two of us..."

"You look so pretty with our cum all over you."

"Thanks, daddy. Now I think I deserve another taste of this thick black cock." She said, wrapping her lips around the tip of his dick and sucking on it, while both her hands were working the rest of his long shaft.

"Mmmmmm, you guys are all so big. And you taste so good. I bet I could suck you guys for hours, without getting bored."

"Yeah? I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Hmmmmm, yeah...I would even let you cum inside me."

"You're so fucking sexy, Wony. Such a fucking slut."

"Yes, I'm a slut. Your personal little cumdumpster." Wony replied, as she started rubbing her clit with her left hand.

"You like watching me finger my pussy whilst I jerk your big black cock, daddy?"

"Yes, Wony. I love it."

"Then give me your warm, delicious cum."

"Give it to me, daddy. Spray that thick white cum all over me."

"I've been such a good slut for you guys...I deserve one final big load of cum all over my face."

"Fuckkk me, Wony...I'm gonna cum soon. Keep going, girl." He said, as he took his cock of her hand and aimed his cock directly in front of her face, just before he started stroking his shaft, his hand moving incredibly fast, trying to reach his orgasm as quickly as possible.

"Yes, daddy. Keep jerking your big cock and cum for me. I want it, please."

"Stroke it faster, daddy."

"I love watching you stroke your big cock back and forth for me."

"Paint my face, daddy."

"I want to be covered in your cum."

"Don't you want to cum all over my face? I know you want to..."

"Keep stroking that hard cock for me, daddy."

"C'mon daddy. Cum for me. Give me your cum. Make me your cumslut." Wonyoung said, as she saw the guy's legs twitching and his knees weakening.

"Fuuuuckkk, Wony...here it comes...I'm cumming!!!" He said, just as Wonyoung opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, hoping she would be able to catch at least a few drops of cum, before he began shooting multiple ropes of cum all over her, giving Wonyoung the thickest load she had received so far, making sure to cover any spots on her face that hadn't already been covered.

"Oh god...fuck...thank you, daddy. Mmmmm, so yummy. I love having all of your delicious cum on my face."

Wonyoung's face was a complete mess. She had, easily, two or three layers of cum, coating her entire face, and she absolutely loved it. Her hair was all messed up, and the room reeked of sex.

Wonyoung licked her cum covered lips and tasted the cum that guys' had shot on her mouth, before she brought her hands towards her face and wiped off the cum that was on her eyelids and nose, licking her fingers and moaning at the taste of the thick cum, before she got back on her feet.

"Well...thank you guys. This was so much fun."

"Yeah? Did you enjoy it?" One of them asked, knowing full well what her answer was going to be.

"Are you kidding me? Of course, I enjoyed it. You have no idea how badly I needed this tonight."

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it, because we enjoyed it too. It's not often that you get the chance to fuck one of the hottest girls in the K-pop industry."

"The...THE hottest girl in the K-pop industry." Wonyoung corrected him, before scooping some more cum off her face and swallowing it.

"Well...we have to go now. The shower is right down the hallway, to the left."

"Is there anything else you need before we go?"

"Yes. Could you guys give me your contacts? I really want to do this again next time I'm in town."

"Sure. Of course, you can." One of them said, writing his number on a piece of paper and handing it to her.

"Thank you."

"We will leave you to it. See you soon, hopefully."

"Bye, guys."

"See ya, Wony."

They all walked out the door and left the room, leaving Wonyoung alone. She sat down, with her back against the bed, reflecting on everything that had happened tonight, from being annoyed by Steven's wimpy behaviour, to being passed around 5 black guys, and getting her holes destroyed by their big black cocks.

It was the first time Wonyoung had ever done something as crazy as this, and she couldn't wait for the next time she would be able to do it. Eventually, she made her way towards the shower, making sure nobody saw her through the hallway.

After cleaning herself, and washing off all the cum that was left on her skin, she got dressed and made her way outside, calling an Uber. Once she was back at the hotel room where she was staying, she was met by all 5 of her bandmates.

"Wonyoung.....where were you, girl??? We were all worried about you. We tried calling you time and time again, but you just didn't pick up the phone. What happened?" Yujin asked.

"Oh, nothing...I was just exploring the city with Steven, and lost track of the time."

"Gosh, girl...you could've said something, though." Gaeul said.

"I'm sorry. You're right."

"So...did you and Steven finally get laid?" Leeseo asked, and Wonyoung was unable to hide her smile.

"Oh, if only they knew..." She thought to herself.

"Look girls...I appreciate your concern over me, but I'm here now, and I'm way too tired to talk right now, so goodnight." Wonyoung said, as she made her way towards her bed and laid down, falling asleep almost immediately.

#wonyoung smut #ive smut #wonyoung #ive wonyoung #ive #jang wonyoung #kpop #kpop smut

844 notes · View notes

honeekyuu · 9 months ago

Text

stuck. [tsukishima kei x f!reader]

>>Tsukishima is the kind of best friend that makes you want to leave him, but you just can't bring yourself to.

You end up confessing in the middle of a fight and he fucks you to show you how much he really cares.<<

______________________________

tags: smut, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, alcohol/drinking, college au, tsukishima kei is a dick, drunk sex, unprotected sex (dont do that), creampie, dom/sub undertones

a/n: ahahahaha this was my first hq work posted on ao3, and it is everything Mean Best Friend Tsukishima Kei that i needed. i hope you enjoy!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

------------------

“Okay, I’m done! How do I look?”

“You look like shit.”

You sigh, trying not to let him get to you.

Tsukki’s always been this way - dismissive, nonchalant, indifferent. Through middle school, he’d been sarcastic. He’d been snarky and brutally honest. And in high school, he’d only gotten worse.

Anyone else in your position might have left him already. People you’d known in school had told you to find someone else, a better friend. Best friends don’t treat each other the way Tsukishima treats you , they’d said. His teammates had been in the habit of scolding him whenever he’d go too far, whenever he’d push your buttons a little too hard. The only one who could see your side had been Yamaguchi, and even he’d had his reservations at times.

But other people don’t know Tsukishima Kei. They know the Tsukki that would refuse to share his notes with you after you’d been out sick. The Tsukki that would steal parts of your lunch and hold it high above your head, far out of your reach, and call you mean names with a cruel smirk. The Tsukki that would often leave you behind after school and head home without you, leaving you to text him and wonder where he’d gone.

They don’t know that the same person would show up at your house with his notes, walking you through calculus and poetry lessons himself because he knows you learn better with a teacher. And, even though you never called him out for it, he would show up the day you’d been out sick, too, just to check on you. Just to watch movies in bed with you, waving off your concerns about him getting sick. He hated being sick, but he would ignore your complaints and force you to relax - because you’d only ever get sick when you overworked yourself, which meant he hadn’t been watching over you closely enough.

They don’t know that Tsukki would secretly swap your lunch out for his own - better, homemade food that wasn’t the cafeteria slop you were often forced to buy because your parents weren’t home a lot. He would watch you push the food around on your tray while you’d laugh at something Hinata had said, identifying at least 3 things you were allergic to on that plate. So he would reach for it, leaving his own (allergen-free, thanks to Akiteru) lunch open for retaliation while he’d use his height as a way to take out his frustrations on you - his irritation that you never seemed to put yourself first, choosing starvation over just simply asking your parents for money before they go out of town.

And the times he’d leave you behind - well, half the time, it had been an accident. It was impossible to remember your packed schedule, all your clubs and student council meetings lumping into a vague ‘ Y/n’s busy ’ block of time in his mind. The other half of the time, it was because he needed to be alone. It’s not that he’s an asshole and loves to make you suffer - in fact, he would often call you later the same night, apologizing in his own, special Tsukishima Kei way and explaining himself. He gets overwhelmed easily, overstimulated by too many people, too many responsibilities, too many social expectations. So he would disappear as soon as he was allowed, needing to be alone with himself and no one else.

So, the people in your life had known a different version of Tsukishima than you do. Where they’d seen a bully, cold and unrelenting even for his best friend, you’d known nothing more than an introvert, expressing his care in a way that was unrecognizable to anyone but you.

Care that had carried over into college, the last three years filled with a Tsukishima Kei that even you hadn’t expected. A version of him that walks you from the library to your dorm at night, despite his increasingly hectic volleyball schedule. A Tsukishima who calls you in the morning on his walk to class to make sure you haven’t overslept, because - even if the calls consist of nothing but your crabby morning disposition, berating him for pulling you from your slumber - he knows you’ll thank him later, as you often do.

A Tsukishima who lets you drag him to parties, even though he hates them to his very core. He lets you tug him along to your dorm, lets you force him to sit through the hour-long ordeal of choosing your outfit. Lets you spin in front of him when you’re done, clearly pleased with yourself, and ask him how you look.

Lets you throw a pillow at his face when he tells you that you look like shit, even if he wholeheartedly believes otherwise.

“Tsukki, can’t you say one nice thing to me? For once?”

He scoffs when you put your hands on your hips, turning his gaze back to his phone as he lounges on your bed like it’s his own. It might as well be, with the amount of time he spends in this room.

“That would require you to have something worth being nice about, wouldn’t it?” He smiles mockingly when he catches the irritated twitch of your eyebrow.

“You’re a dick.”

“Nothing new about that.” Tsukishima watches as you turn back to your closet with a huff, taking the time to look you over appreciatively. No , he thinks, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts and the way your dress hugs your hips, the material tight but soft. His hand itches with the urge to touch it, to find out for himself. It’s not that you have nothing. It’s that you have too much.

He sighs, sitting up, and runs his fingers through his hair.

You have too much, and it’s fucking annoying.

His eyes flick to you again, his own irritation growing. You’d always been too good. Too perfect, too overwhelming. He’d hated falling in love. It had sucked. High school had sucked . Having you cling to him every day and finding himself clinging right back. Not understanding these complicated feelings he has - ones that want nothing more than to hold you in his arms, against others that would tell him to push you away with his sharp tongue, to protect himself from this terrifying feeling.

And now that he’s accepted it - it had only taken him the entirety of high school and at least a year of college - he almost hates it more. Being so close to you and somehow still feeling like he can’t breathe because it’s not nearly close enough.

So he stands, shoving his phone in the pocket of his jeans, and stares you down when you finally turn back to him.

“Can we go? The sooner we get to this stupid thing, the sooner I can go home.” He thinks he sees a flicker of hurt flash across your eyes, but that can’t be it. He’s said worse things before. You always bounce back, a retort on the tip of your tongue for everything he could throw at you. You always match him, blow for blow.

So why, then, can he see your jaw clenching as you turn away from him? Why does he feel like you’re pulling your jacket off the rack with more force than usual? Why are you leaving without responding?

What the fuck ?

Fuck Tsukishima Kei .

It’s the only thought in your mind as you down the shot, wincing as the alcohol slides down your throat. You’d lost count of the drinks you’ve had about an hour ago, when the thought had been something more like ‘ Fuck Tsukishima Kei. Stupid fucking idiot. Never thinks before he speaks ’.

Clearly, you’d mellowed out a little, but the anger is still there, simmering in your chest and threatening to rise every time he gets close to you.

The walk to the frat had been silent, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about your mood, only scrolling through his phone and occasionally glancing over at you. You’d felt the irritation crawling under your skin with every pass of his eyes over you, but you hadn’t returned any of his gazes, only looking forward to getting to the party and being with other people.

But he hadn’t let you wander off so easily, his tall form following close behind as you’d tried to find some of your friends from class. You can tell he’s been trying to silently check on you, like he always does when he knows he’s bothered you.

He’d brought you drinks, only smiling emptily when you’d glared up at him. It shouldn’t have made your heart skip that he’d done nothing more than offered you a drink, tapping his own red solo cup against yours and matching you shot for shot. It shouldn’t affect you when he does the bare minimum.

He’d danced close to you, one hand on your waist and his warm chest pressed firmly against your back. You’d hated it - feeling so safe in the arms of someone who had derived pleasure from picking on you your whole lives. And even if that’s not true - even if you only take into account all the ways that he’d taken care of you, celebrating all your accomplishments with you and holding you while you’d cried about your failures - you still shouldn’t be feeling that familiar tug of nerves in your stomach when he presses his hips against your ass, slipping his fingers through yours and pulling you close.

And when that hadn’t worked - when you’d held your ground and managed to cling to your anger from earlier - he’d even tried to talk to you about it. That isn’t normal for him by any means, but you could see the confusion in his eyes when he’d leaned down to be heard over the music, mumbling his question against the shell of your ear.

“Are we okay ?”

It had taken everything in you to resist him, to resist the pull that is Tsukishima Kei. The same pull that had kept you next to him all these years, through all the teasing and the poking. The pull that kept reminding you that he’s just bad at expressing his feelings. He’s just bad at being nice. He’s just bad at holding his tongue.

But that doesn’t mean you have to sit and take it every time.

So you’d only smacked his hand away and glared when he’d cupped the side of your face, trying to get you to look at him. Stomping over to the bar, you had asked the frat boy for a shot of something random.

After downing it, you try not to look back but fail miserably - you might be pissed, but you’ve never been immune to him. You probably never would be.

Glancing back, you can see his blond head in the sea of people. He’s trying to make his way to the bar, but his head is whipping to the side at the sound of something. A tall guy - you recognize it’s someone from his team - appears at his side, clapping his shoulder, and you can only assume he’d heard his name being called.

They start talking, Tsukki seeming distracted but drunk enough to at least pretend he’s interested in the conversation. You look away just as he’s turning his head back to you - you won’t be caught looking his way again tonight.

Luckily, there’s someone stepping up beside you, catching your attention with their bright smile.

“Y/n?!”

You blink, startled by the recognition. But when you finally see who it is, you can’t help but beam.

“Oh my God, Bokuto?!” You leap toward him, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and dragging him into a hug. You feel him laugh against you, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you in tight. When you step away, he keeps you close, hand on your hips.

“What are you doing here?! You don’t go here, do you?”

The man shakes his head, grinning down at you and pointing over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m just visiting a few friends over the weekend.”

You glance past him, seeing a group of boys that seem like they could be familiar to you, but you can never tell - Bokuto Koutarou is friends with everyone.

When you look back, you catch his eyes wandering down the length of your body, his gaze snapping up to yours when you clear your throat. He has the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Y/n - You’ve just, uh… grown up a lot since high school.”

You flush deeply, something that makes him grin when he catches it.

At least someone thinks I look good tonight .

You’re smiling flirtily up at him, feeling confident enough to drag this conversation out. He seems to notice, an interested glimmer in his eye. But then he’s glancing over your shoulder, and his eyebrows are raising in surprise.

A hand wraps around your bicep, much tighter than necessary in your opinion. You barely have time to spot the blond hair in your peripheral vision before you’re being dragged away. You can only wave at Bokuto, who looks a little disappointed but mostly just amused.

Tsukishima only lets you go when you’re outside, his hand dropping from your skin like you’ve burned him. You whip around to face him, more than ready to yell at him on the front lawn of this frat house. But he’s already walking away, in the direction of your dorm.

“Dude, what the hell? You didn’t even say hi to him - he’s one of your closest friends!” You stalk after him, determined to figure out what could possibly be going through his mind. But he won’t answer you, just shaking his head and mumbling something that sounds vaguely like ‘exactly ’ as he makes his way down the street.

You scoff, turning back to the frat. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re just going to follow him home quietly.

You start to head back to the party, but you barely make it five steps before his fingers are closing around your wrist and tugging you back to him. When you look up, enraged at his entitlement, you see that he’s incensed, staring down at you with wild eyes. He looks pissed, which he has no reason to be. But there’s something else there, something that’s contributing to this almost panicked anger sitting just below the surface.

“Tsukishima, what do you want?”

He bristles at the use of his full name, golden eyes narrowing as he stares down at you.

“You’re going home.” He punctures every word with barely concealed irritation, finally turning and dragging you back down the street. You don’t say anything this time, feeling that previously mellowed out anger returning full force as you stare at the back of his head.

The walk back is just as silent as the walk to the party had been, but this time you feel ready to explode. You’d been annoyed before, bothered and hurt by his words and the way he treats you.

Now you’re just ready to pick a fight. Which means you’ll probably say something you’ll regret if you don’t get away from him soon and take some time to calm the hell down.

When you get to your door, you’ve already got your keys out. He’d let go of you in the elevator, finally realizing that he’d been gripping you way too hard. You might just be able to get inside without him following.

But the second you unlock the door and slip inside, not a word said to the blond as you try to shut the door behind you, his hand is slamming down on the wood. He stops your attempt, staring down at you with annoyance.

“You’re joking, right?” And then he’s pushing into your room with an angry sigh, letting the door swing shut behind him. You only step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him over.

“What do you want?”

“What do I wa- What is your problem tonight ?” He squints down at you, eyebrows furrowed. When you only raise yours, his jaw is clenching. “Why the fuck are you so mad at me?”

“Because-” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath in order to maintain some semblance of control. “Because you’re an asshole, Tsukishima-”

“Stop fucking calling me that, Y/n-”

“-and maybe I’m just not in the mood for your shit tonight!” You yell over him, clenching your fists against your body. You need him to go. You cannot let him see you cry.

“I’m always an asshole! How is tonight any different-” He’s taken a step further into the small bedroom, and you take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. You’re immensely glad you don’t have a roommate, so they don’t have to deal with the mess that is your friendship with Tsukki.

“Tonight isn’t any different, you dick. It’s the same as it always is. I’m just tired of it tonight.” You feel yourself growing angrier when he just laughs, throwing you a mocking smile as he paces the room. He’s definitely drunk.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize I needed to account for Little Miss Y/n’s fucking mood swings whenever I open my mouth-”

“What the fuck did you just sa-”

“I just didn’t take you for someone who’s sensitive-”

“Well, maybe I am, you fucking asshole! ”

You’re definitely drunk, too.

Tsukishima stops short, taking you in. He can’t hide the shock on his face when he sees you - the way your hands are shaking at your sides, the quiver of your lip as you try your best to stand up to him. You’re trying so hard not to cry, he can tell.

Wow, I really am an asshole.

“Y/n… I-”

“Did you really think I would still want to go to that party once you’d made it clear how much you didn’t want to go? That you think it’s stupid to hang out with your best friend on a Friday night doing something she wants to do - because your idea of a good time is so different from mine that you would try make me feel like a fucking idiot for it?”

Tsukishima’s starting to panic - had he made you feel that way? He’d just been talking. He hadn’t even been thinking about how it would make you feel - he’d thought nothing could hurt you, that your friendship is guaranteed and that having you next to him is a given.

Now he feels like he’s losing you.

“Maybe, once in a fucking while , it wouldn’t hurt you too much to tell a girl she’s pretty when she’s just spent an hour trying to look good for you.”

The frustration on Tsukishima’s face drops, and he’s left staring emptily at you.

That’s what this is about?

He stares for a while, his eyes just flicking back and forth between yours as he thinks of how to take that. It makes you nervous. You’d said too much.

“Fuck this.”

You blink, staring up at him in disbelief. What is that supposed to mean?

“What do you- mmh -”

Tsukishima had crossed the room in just two steps, taking your face in his hands while you’d been preparing to yell at him again. And then he’d smashed his lips to yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you let out a noise of shock, muffled against his mouth. Your eyes remain wide open, flitting in a panic over his features as you feel his lips move against yours. His brow is furrowing behind his glasses, and you’re realizing that you still haven’t kissed him back. You push against his lips experimentally, watching that wrinkle between his eyes all but disappear when he feels it, and you think it looks a lot like relief.

He’s nervous.

Your body moves of its own accord, hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shirt, and your eyes slide closed when you feel one of his hands fall to your waist. He nudges you backward, and you feel the hard surface of your closet door against your back.

Tsukishima slides his tongue against your bottom lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he feels you inhale sharply in response. He takes advantage of your surprise, pushing past your lips and brushing his tongue against yours. When you slide your hands up and around his neck, tugging at the hair there, he groans and leans down.

Planting a hand on the door behind you, he angles his head, slotting his lips against yours. He presses his hips into you, and you can feel how hard he’s getting. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, smiling when his body reacts to the sound, his cock hardening against your thigh.

Tsukishima Kei might be impossible to read sometimes, but he never could hide from you.

He drops his mouth to your neck, latching onto a spot under your ear and using his other arm to pull you flush against him. The sounds you’re making are clear now, soft gasps and whimpers echoing in your tiny dorm room.

“So stupid… ”

You barely hear him, too busy wondering why it had taken so long to feel his lips on your skin.

“The only person in the world that can see right through me, and you were stupid enough to believe what I said. ” He mumbles it into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and sighing when you moan against him.

“You’re so mean…” Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand drop to your leg, pulling the fabric of your dress up slightly. He grips at the back of your bare thigh, brushing against your panties and kneading into the plush skin just below your ass.

“What were you gonna do, Y/n, go home with Bokuto?” Tsukishima all but growls the question against your neck, dragging your thigh up and wrapping your leg around his hip. He feels your dress slide up, feels your warmth against his jeans. He’s desperate to get out of them.

“Y-You called me ugly-”

“I never said that.” Yes he had. He knows he had. He just hadn’t realized you would take it to heart. Now he hates himself for even saying it. For pretending you aren’t the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

“Bo said I looked good… Figured I might as well go for someone who’s actually attracted to me…” You whimper when Tsukishima presses his erection against you, your thin panties useless against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you?”

You breathe out a laugh, clinging to his biceps as he sucks another bruise into your skin.

“How was I supposed to know, you dumbass? You only ever say mean things, and I thought I could get over you by-”

“By what?” He’s getting irritated again at the thought of what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t brought you home. If he’d left you alone, like his brain was telling him to. If he’d given you space and just texted you in the morning.

“You thought you could just fuck some other guy and get over me?” He lifts his head, grinning cruelly when you look up at him, your lip trembling. “Because I didn’t call you pretty tonight? Because you were tired of me being mean all the time?”

You nod, a gasp leaving you when he wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up so you’re eye-level, slamming you back against the closet door and pinning you there with his hips. Your dress is bunched up around your stomach now, leaving Tsukishima with a perfect view of the wet spot on your panties when he glances down. His grin widens, an evil glint shining behind his glasses.

“But it seems like you like it when I say mean things, Y/n.”

You whine in protest, growing louder when you feel him rut involuntarily against you at the sound.

“This is different, Tsukki-”

“Is it?” He’s distracted when he asks, too busy steadying you in his arms so he can lift you up and away from the closet. Making his way to your bed, he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress, smiling when you yelp. He removes his glasses and leaves them on your bedside table, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can drag you toward him.

You sit up, taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips urgently to his - even on his knees, he’s tall enough to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers, long and calloused, drift up your thighs and hook into your panties while he nips almost affectionately at your bottom lip.

“Tsukki… ” You whisper against his mouth, but he’s quick to shake his head, mumbling back to you.

“Not that. ”

You’re a little surprised - you never really call him by his first name. He’d found it uncomfortable the one time you’d tried it as a joke. But if he’s asking, then-

“Kei .” His pulse quickens under your fingertips when you murmur against his lips, his kiss becoming more full, and you realize just how much he likes it.

You pull away and press kisses to his face, peppering them across his nose and cheeks. It’s a moment that’s far softer than either of you had had before, one that has Tsukishima’s heart beating a little too hard in his chest.

God, he hates being in love.

He pulls away from you, planting one hand on your chest and shoving you away from him. You fall back onto your elbows with a noise of surprise, bouncing lightly on the mattress. Tsukishima only reaches for your panties again, tugging them down and smiling to himself when you lift your hips to help him.

He throws them somewhere over his shoulder, refusing to break his attention. Planting his hands on each of your knees, he pries your knees open slowly, glancing up at your face for any signs of discomfort. When he finds none, his gaze flicks back down to what’s in front of him.

And then his breath is cutting short at the sight of you lying bare in front of him. You’re glistening, even in this dark room, and his cock is suddenly unbearably hard.

He’d been thinking about this moment for far longer than he’d ever care to admit.

“Well, isn’t this just the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen?”

You throw your head back at his words, moaning loudly.

“Oh, shut up.” You know Tsukki’s slept with his fair share of girls since you’d started college - being a popular volleyball player has its benefits. You’d done the same, hoping to squash down that jealousy in your own, twisted way. To hear him praising you like this - like you’d always wanted - has you clenching and squirming from the desire coursing through your veins.

“First you get mad because I’m too mean, and now you’re mad because I’m being nice?” He tilts his head, his voice mocking. “You really need to make up your mind.”

And then, before you can let out some kind of snarky quip, he’s dipping his head and dragging his tongue over your slit in one long stripe.

You gasp loudly and moan out his name, falling back onto the mattress as your hands fly to his head. You bury your fingers in his hair, tightening your grip when he does it again, licking through your folds before latching onto your clit, pulling the nub gently into his mouth.

He moans loudly against you when you mewl and pull his hair. The vibration on your clit makes you squirm, and you’re involuntarily rutting your hips against his face. He only laughs against you, his breath tickling your skin, and wraps an arm over your hips to hold you steady on the bed.

He pulls his mouth off of you, and you lift your head to look at him in annoyance. He smirks, holding eye contact while he brings his other hand to your folds. When he runs his fingers through them, stopping briefly to circle your clit, you whimper. And when he drops his middle finger to your entrance, nudging gently at it in question, you bite your lip and nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you already-

“Oh my- Kei-” Your head falls back when he slides his finger in and drops his mouth to your clit to suck on it. He sets his pace with his finger, thrusting into you and curling gently up toward himself, repeating the process until he can tell by your squirming hips that you’re starting to feel something.

And then he’s pushing another finger past your entrance, his cock twitching when you moan at the stretch. He’s been painfully hard for a while now, and all he wants is to be inside you of already. He doesn’t realize you’re feeling just as impatient, only noticing when your hands drop to his shoulders, tugging on his shirt.

“Kei …” You pout down at him, your eyelids fluttering when he thrusts his fingers into you again. His fingertips are brushing against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, his fingers much longer than yours. You think you might become addicted to his hands soon. But you only pull again on his shirt with a whine, hoping he’ll get the message.

Luckily, he does, because he’s pulling away to rip his shirt impatiently off his back, wiping his mouth with it before throwing it to the floor. He unzips his jeans as he makes his way up to the bed, pausing to scoop you up into his arms and tossing you closer to your pillows so he can climb on top of you.

When he pushes his mouth to yours, you’re moaning. He tastes like you, something he’s apparently proud of, because he’s just smiling against you and shoving his tongue past your lips. He drops his mouth to your neck again as he fumbles with his jeans.

“You taste so good, you know that?” He latches onto your skin, sucking harshly. “So much better than I’d imagined.” He pushes his pants just past his thighs, growing impatient. You gasp quietly when his cock brushes against you, the sound changing to a moan when Tsukishima runs it through your folds, sliding against you.

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours in a moment of astounding clarity given the insanity of this whole night.

“You sure?”

Your heart jumps when he asks. He’s got the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, clearly holding himself back. But the way he’s looking at you makes you realize he wants this to be done right - after all, this had started with the two of you fighting. He doesn’t want you to regret this later and be even more upset with him.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

The idea that that’s what been hiding behind Tsukki’s eyes tonight - that vague panic that you couldn’t put your finger on - makes your heart sing and your stomach swoop with butterflies. You can only nod, cupping his face and bringing him down to your lips. His kiss is gentle and full of something that makes your nerves worse, something that makes you feel more than sure.

“I want this more than anything.”

Tsukishima’s heart skips, and he’s swearing softly against your lips. He hovers over you, keeping his mouth on yours as he presses his thumb against the head of his cock, guiding it past your entrance.

You gasp together as he pushes slowly into you, a moan pulled from your throat when he bottoms out and breathes out your name. The fog in your head - a mixture of alcohol, arousal, and nerves at the realization that you’re having sex with your best friend - worsens considerably when he drops his head to your neck, making an admission against your ear.

I’ve wanted this for so long …”

You whimper, curling your fingers into his hair and holding him close as he pulls out slowly just to slide into you again. You moan at the slow stretch, feeling his shaky breath against your ear.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Tsukishima doesn’t know why he’s choosing now to have this conversation, when you very well can just talk about it after. But there’s a strand of fear twisting around the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is moving without his permission. He needs you to understand what this means to him.

“I didn’t know it would hurt you… I didn’t mean it…” His hips are still slow, moving languidly against yours. He’d expected this to be rough - sex is only ever rough for him - but he needs to concentrate on what he’s saying. And you feel so good like this, so warm and tight around him.

You’re having the same problem, your head completely empty as you feel him push into you inch by inch instead of all at once. You can barely hear him, your ears ringing and your skin overheating while you try to process that this is actually happening - that you finally have Tsukishima Kei the way that you’d always dreamed about.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Your heart stutters when you realize what he’s been saying. Even with everything else going on right now - even as his hips are picking up the pace, even with his breath shuddering against your skin as he moans quietly in your ear - he’s distracted, trying to apologize. Trying to make things right between you.

“It’s okay…” You whisper forgiveness into his hair, but you feel him shake his head, his grip on your hips tightening.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t hurt you. Not you…” He gasps quietly into your neck, his hips stuttering momentarily before he returns to his previous speed. “S-Sorry… You feel really good… Trying to focus.”

You flush, clenching around him and pulling him closer when he groans. You think about what he’s saying. ‘ Not you ’?

You’re about to ask what he means, but he’s mumbling another admission against your skin, this one much more intense than the last.

“I love you, Y/n… So fucking in love, it hurts…”

You inhale sharply, your heart stopping in your chest. But then there’s a moan ripping from your throat, because he’s hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know existed, the tip of his cock bumping up against something that makes the coil in the pit of your stomach twist harshly.

“I- fuck - Tsukki, I love you, too…”

Tsukishima lifts his head then, staring down at you with surprise written all over his face. You can only breathe out a laugh, moaning quietly while you giggle.

“What, you’re shocked? I just told you I almost went home with Bokuto just so I could stop thinking about you.”

His eyes darken at your words, and his hips are snapping harshly against yours. You moan in surprise, feeling your stomach flip at the way he’s looking down at you. He seems to remember now just how this night could have gone.

He sits up, knocking your hands away when you reach out for him with a whine, and pulls out of you completely. Slipping off the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands around your thighs and tugs you toward him roughly. He only smiles mockingly down at you when you slide across the mattress with a quiet yelp, pulling your hips flush against his.

When he slips into you again, the soft, caring Tsukishima is gone, replaced with the Tsukki you’ve always known. The one who has no problem running his mouth just to get to you.

“That’s it then, huh? If I hadn’t dragged you home, you’d be wrapped around another man right now?” He slams into you, watching with delight as you cry out and arch your back. He keeps this pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he drives his cock into you.

“Tsukki-”

“What did I tell you? ” His tone cuts through you, yanking hard on that coil in your navel and setting off a fresh flurry of butterflies.

“I- Kei -”

“You think you can forget about me that easily? You think I would let you?”

You’re writhing under him, hands gripping your sheets tight as you gasp with each hard thrust of his hips on yours. The sight makes Tsukishima’s hips stutter, and he feels his orgasm coming on. He drops his thumb to your clit to push you closer to the edge, throwing his head back with a moan when you clench around him.

“Kei, please- feels so goo- ah- ”

“S-Shit, Y/n, I’m not gonna last… Where should I-” Tsukishima almost loses it when you claw at his hands on your hips, latching onto his wrists as you moan.

“Insi-Inside… Inside, Kei, please…” You look up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyelids flutter when you clench around him. The way he bites down hard on his bottom lip and moans after a few seconds, breaking his hold on you so he can slam his hands down on the mattress on either side of you, his hair falling into his face as he pants down at you.

“Fuck -” He reaches down, brushing his thumb over your clit again. When you tighten around him this time, he’s letting out a choked gasp and your name, and you’re suddenly filled with warmth as his hips stutter, as he spills into you. He drops his head to your shoulder, his breath shaky as he thrusts into you, riding out his orgasm.

And when he’s done - when his cum is dripping out of you while you squirm, feeling full but unsatisfied - he sits up, pulling you against him again. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, smiling breathlessly when you cling to his forearms, and uses you as leverage when he draws his hips back and snaps them harshly into yours.

You cry out, feeling yourself throb the more he all but drags you down onto his cock and tries to draw your orgasm out of you. He releases your wrists, his thumb circling that little bundle of nerves while his other hand grips the back of your thigh, spreading your legs even further.

When he changes the angle of his stroke, you’re gasping, unable to handle all of the sensations he’s causing in your body. There’s too much going on, too many feelings happening, each of which is bringing you closer to the edge. You slap your hands down over your face, trying both to muffle your moans and also hide your face, feeling embarrassed that your body is reacting so strongly to everything Tsukishima does.

He only coos down at you, his tone almost insulting.

“Oh, is my baby going to come?”

You whine loudly at his words, so rude but so endearing - your stomach swoops as the coil tightens, but you nod anyway. His low chuckle reaches your ears.

“Let me see you, then.” When you don’t respond, only moaning into your hands with each thrust, he clicks his teeth at you in annoyance. “Come on, Y/n. I wanna see how pretty my best friend looks when she comes on my cock.”

Tsukishima beams when that does it, your back arching as you cry out his name. You screw your eyes shut and fumble desperately for his hands. He slips his fingers through yours, holding tight when you come, your walls fluttering around him. He fucks you through it, inhaling sharply when you become impossibly tight, and then drops down over you when you're done, pressing his lips to yours.

You let out a sob against his mouth, your limbs heavy as you try to catch your breath.

“Tsukki …” You wiggle uncomfortably, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. He laughs against your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. And then he leans up again, pressing his lips to your tiredly.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He snickers when you whine but joins in on your soft gasp when he slides out of you, both of you sensitive. Stripping you out of the dress that’s been bunched up on your stomach this whole time, he leaves you on the bed, kicking his jeans off as he makes his way into your connected bathroom. When he returns, it’s with a wet rag and a gentle hand on your thighs.

Tsukishima scoops you into his arms when he’s done, setting you carefully against the pillows and climbing into bed with you. Your head is still empty, and you reach your arms out uselessly for him, mumbling his name. He only smiles, pulling you against his chest and kissing the side of your head.

“You okay?” When you nod sleepily against his chest, he smiles, tugging you closer. “Not too mean?”

You giggle, planting a kiss on his neck.

“I like you a little mean.”

Tsukishima snorts, shaking his head.

“I know you do. But still…” He meets your eyes, suddenly shy, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll be better from now on. Less ‘ toxic boyfriend ’ and more ‘ insufferable but still cute ’.”

You beam at his words, your heart skipping.

“Boyfriend , huh?”

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I forgot you and Bokuto were basically married.”

“Oh, right, I should probably tell him the wedding’s off-”

“You’re a dick.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut

1K notes · View notes

httpsserene · 8 months ago

Note

can you do a smau if you want where the reader is a driver and makes music on the side (music like sza or Megan thee stallion and kaliii) and she makes a music video for area codes and all her other music and it has the drivers in it

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 (𝐟𝟏) - 𝐲𝐧. 𝟎

summary: you make hit songs when you’re not driving a formula one car. your fellow drivers love to feature in your music videos. content warning: driver!reader makes music. toxic internet culture. profanity. hateful comments. attempt at humor. fluffy. light angst ig. there's no specific face claim, just pretty black women! ex-haas driver, current aston martin driver!reader. reader is american. seb retires in 2021, fernando is on the grid just not with aston martin. nikita mazepin mention lol. lando norris and george russell get bullied (humor). light british slander. no plot just vibes. pairing: platonic f1 grid x fem!black!driver!reader genre: smau.

from serene: i have a disease and it's called "being unable to make a normal length smau." it's a sickness, idk if i'll ever be abl to fulfill a request without the plot running away from me. anyways, enjoy loves xxx

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻

yn ln signs multi-year contract with aston martin • espn f1 • 2021 post-season

ESPN F1 yn ln has signed a multi-year contract with Aston Martin! The American driver completes the team’s lineup with Lance Stroll. Even though she was an F4, F3, and GP3 Champion, and she won the F2 Championship on her first try with Prema; her F1 career began with unexpected opportunities and last-minute substitutions—becoming a reserve driver for Haas and filling in for Romain Grosjean after his accident in 2020, and then replacing Nikita Mazepin halfway through the 2021 F1 season—an official seat of her own in Formula One was a long time coming and well deserved. Congratulations to yn ln, the first Black woman to race in Formula One!

instagram • yn0 • 2022 pre-season

liked by astonmartinf1, lewishamilton, maxverstappen, sza, and 3,451,967 others

yn0: i have always believed that being an f1 driver would become my reality. it was a never a dream to me because i KNEW i was going to make it here. i’m incredibly thankful to haas for giving my first chance to race in the big league and i will miss all the incredible people who helped me grow and improve while i was there. however, i am extremely grateful and excited to have a seat of my own at aston martin in 2022 and onward. some critics have called me "conceited" to bet on myself, so i made a song just for them < 3

tagged astonmartinf1

view comments

yn0 on sundays, we wear green 💚

➥ user1 you're an inspiration to all women in motorsport, especially women of color 💚💚💚

➥ user2 praying that your aston is quicker than your haas! prove the haters wrong 😤

astonmartinf1: we'll bet on you every race! can't wait to play this in the garage 💚

haasf1team: take care of our songbird 🥲

➥ haasf1team: and keep the tea and honey STOCKED for her vocal cords

➥ user3: i’m gonna cry :(

user4: yeah who paid for her seat? no way she got it off skill. she's never been above p12. f1 has changed for the worse now that a woman's out there. she's a hazard.

➥ user5: incel mindset 😒

➥ user6: bro she was in a haas. reaching p12 in that car is enough of an achievement. better than mazepin ever did, even with his daddy's money 🤷‍♂️

lewishamilton: LFG 💪🏽💪🏽💪🏽 can't wait to see you in the paddock

➥ yn0: lfgggggg 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

➥ yn0: i wouldn't be racing at all if i didn't see you do it first :)

sebastianvettel: prove them all wrong and never apologize for it.

➥ yn0: i learned from the best 🥹 happy retirement, seb!

mickschumacher: "no reason to make friends, i'm cool"??? is that line about somebody else or should i be worried 🤨

➥ maxverstappen: yeah let us know 🙄 your seat on the jet can be revoked

➥ yn0: bros...we all know who it's really about

➥ user8: you can say it's about mazepin nobody will be mad at that 🤗🤗🤗

landonorris: wish it was papaya, but i can't wait to see you in green!

➥ yn0: you know what?i think I CAN wait

➥ yn0: i'm actually going to quit f1 rn i think 😐

➥ user9: lando stop, get some help

lancestroll: hi teammate!

➥ yn0: hi teammate!

➥ user6: oh,,, this is awkward

charlesleclerc: finally 🙌🏻 i thought you would never drop this song

➥ yn0: the music is more important than my f1 seat to you 🙂

➥ charlesleclerc: encore encore encore 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

georgerussell: i would be happy for you if i didn't know this meant you'll be bullying me every race weekend

➥ alexalbon: she smells your fear which makes you an easy target

➥ alexalbon: CONGRATSSS 🥳🥳🥳🥳

➥ yn0: 🤭

instagram • yn0 • 2022

liked by charlesleclerc, lewishamilton, megantheestallion, and 2,191,042 others

yn0: thee "cognac queen" learns how to celebrate their FIRST EVER f1 points in italy with their honorary prince 🇮🇹 im in my gacccc, i wanna danceeee, come get yo man, come getcho maaaannnnn 🍾🍾🍾

tagged charlesleclerc

view comments

user10: WOOOOOAH WHATS ABOUT TO PLAY 😳

➥ user11: she PUT IT ON HIM last night apparently 🫣

➥ user12: he calling her BACK TO BACK????

astonmartinf1: you only win first points once but you only have one liver. please show up to the paddock next week 🥴

➥ yn0: don't worry admin i'll be there bright and early!

➥ user13: drink responsibly kids alcohol poisoning is not fun

➥ user14: aston martin shouldn't stress. it sounds like charles took very good care of her 😏😏😏

user15: i feel like i shouldn't be allowed to watch that video (i'm 23)

➥ user16: they were having a tiiiiiiiiime out in italy 🫦

➥ user17: if she was all over me like she was on charles i would be asking about marriage. he's so much stronger than i am 🙂‍↔️

charlesleclerc: went courvoisier crazyyyy

➥ charlesleclerc: je suis très fière de toi (i'm very proud of you) ❤️

➥ yn0: thank you charlieee (for the mv too x) 😚

➥ user18: oh so she really got charles thinking that he's her man???

➥ user19: you were DOGGING it? i didn’t know charles had it in him 🐶🐶🐶

user20: ew this is gross. charles is in a happy relationship and we're all going to pretend like yn isn't a homewrecker???

➥ user21: i was waiting to see this comment! this is like proof she used her body to get on the grid 👀

mickschumacher: no way you put charles in a video before me...i thought we were locked in 😞

➥ yn0: mick be so for real. you hate cognac :(

➥ user22: mick said we suffered through haas together and you already forgot about me

landonorris: are you looking for a cognac king?

➥ alexalbon: boys point and laugh 🫵🏼🤣

➥ charlesleclerc: 🫵🏻🤣

➥ maxverstappen: 🫵🏻🤣

➥ georgerussell: 🫵🏻🤣

➥ mickschumacher: 🫵🏻🤣🤣🤣💀

➥ user23: 🫵🏾🤣

lewishamilton: xnda feature when you make it on the podium

➥ yn0: i'll be up there next week.

➥ user24: bring back xnda girl !!! for all of us 🙇🏽‍♀️

instagram • yn0 • 2022

liked by alexalbon, astonmartinf1, maxverstappen, sza, and 4,233,761 others

yn0: my girl is my girl, is your girl, heard that's his girl too...he's like 9 to 5, i'm "the weekend"

tagged alexalbon, lilymhe

view comments

astonmartinf1: highest race finish of your career can you drop a fire song to celebrate 🥵

➥ lancestroll: team karaoke when????

➥ yn0: make it happen and i will show out for y'all 💯

user25: this video was funny af! my favorite song from you so far 😁

➥ user26: yessss i was not expecting her to flip the song in the video like that 🤌🏻💋

➥ user27: the premise of her and alex fighting over lily was perfect 👌🏽

lilymhe: make me lose my mind every weekend 😮‍💨

➥ alexalbon: you take wednesday thurday 🧎🏼‍♂️‍➡️

➥ yn0: then just send her my wayyyyy 🤤

➥ user28: think i got it covered for the weekend 🎤🎶

landonorris: i'm available any day of the week with no other commitments blocking my schedule ☺️

➥ georgerussell: mate this is embarrasing

➥ mickschumacer: lando no wins & no rizz what a shame 😒

➥ user29: MICK CHILLLLL ⁉️⁉️

➥ user30: whatdidhedo to deserve that calm downnnn

➥ charlesleclerc: lando please just listen to the song like everybody else this is painful to see 😣

maxverstappen: you laced this song with something addictive

➥ schecoperez: i hear it on repeat through the wall he is not lying

➥ user31: yn ln gives you wings 🤪

user32: just because lily was in the video and yn made the focus of the song about her doesn't mean that the orginal song is okay? it's not like she stopped singing about being a side chick.

➥ user33: no, it literally IS okay. because lily and alex both said they made the song with her and were happy to be in the video 🙂

➥ user34: i don't know, lily agreeing to the video makes me dislike her

➥ user35: yeah this song was a miss not a good message at all

instagram • danica patrick • 2022

liked by 10,764 others

danicapatrick: “This past weekend the Aston Martin F1 crew celebrated yn’s P5 finish track side and, honestly, that was unnecessary. It’s not like she managed to reach the podium and personally, I feel like she doesn’t take F1 seriously. I mean, it seems like she spends more time making explicit songs than she does preparing for a race weekend. Her little songs are a distraction to the men on the grid and she appears as a promiscuous, immature, and unfocused girl. She’s not the formula one standard, in my opinion.”

I discuss yn ln’s career in the new episode of my podcast, Pretty Intense! Click the link in my bio to hear it all!

tagged prettyintensebydanica

view comments

user36: ms. patrick are you familiar with the idea of having a hobby 🤔

nicorosberg: how are you qualified to be an expert on sky sports?

user37: woman who's never raced in f1 gives her unsolicited opinion on the only black woman to race in f1 😂

user38: danica this screams jealousy girl

user39: nothing is worse than hearing a fellow girl hate like a man smh

user40: "her little songs" disrespectful as hell don't forget one of them charted on billboard's top 10 😤

user41: SHE GOT P5 IN AN ASTON MARTIN how is that not taking f1 seriously????

user42: if her songs were a distraction to the men on the grid aren't they the ones who should be described as unfocused🤫

➥ user42: anyways, yn would be doing us a favor. maybe max wouldn't win as many races if that were the case

instagram • yn0 • 2022 post-season

liked by dominicfike, keithpowers, tchalamet, summerwalker, and 7,988,531 others

yn0: "girls need love," too.

view comments

user43: OH MY GOD the drought is over 😭😭😭

➥ user44: i thought we'd never get another song after the hate she was getting for it 😫

michaelbjordan: are you interested in a private studio session?

➥ landonorris: she don't want u lil bro 🤣

➥ user45: yn's pulling with three photo's and a song,,,teach me your ways

astonmartinf1: the spine tattoo 😍 good choice to get it during the off-season 💚

➥ user46: i misjudged you aston... i thought y'all told her to stop making music glad to see the support is still there :)

mickschumacher: let’s go get some gelato?

➥ yn0: as long as you don’t snitch to my trainer 😚

➥ mickschumacher: i’ll pick you up 😇

➥ landonorris: imma bout to crash TF out ong 💢💢

patriciooward: there's a spot on my side of the garage whenever you want to watch an indycar race

➥ landonorris: oh wow is this really what we're doing pato 😐

➥ user47: the tension in this comment section scares me

jjetas2: if you're near minnesota one day fall through

➥ landonorris: win a superbowl first 🥱😴

➥ user48: LANDO you haven't won a race or a championship either 😭

judebellingham: have you gotten any better at football since the last time we spoke?

➥ landonorris: knew i supported man united for a reason 😒

lore_musetti: call me if you want a real italian to give you a tour of italy x

➥ landonorris: didn't know an italian could disrespect charles like that honestly 🤨

➥ user49: 💀💀💀

instagram • yn0 • 2023

liked by georgerussell, mickschumacher, megantheestallion, and 4,178,063 others

yn0: japanese nightlife captured in my new music video “mamushi” !!! thank uuu yuki-san for being my tour guide 💋💋💋💋💋💋

tagged yukitsunoda

view comments

georgerussell: i quite enjoy this song 😌

➥ alexalbon: bro what

➥ yn0: tEa aND cRuMPets SConEs AnD biScUIts 💂🇬🇧

charlesleclerc: triple platinum in my house rn ⭐️⭐️⭐️

➥ alexandrasaintmleux: i'm responsible for at least a million views on my own 🥱

➥ yn0: 💚💚💚💚💚

user50: at least we know that yn and yuki can qualify for formula drift if they ever lose their f1 seat

➥ user51: 95% of the driving they were doing in that video looked illegal (but fun asl i'm not a buzzkill)

➥ user52: she's a bad influence on yuki 🙄

➥ user53: i don't think you're familiar with yuki tsunoda at all @/user52

maxverstappen: yeah the song is catchy; where's mine 🥱

➥ yn0: damn you're gonna win a third championship this year and you want a song too 😱

➥ yn0: just big and greedy fr 😒

➥ user54: big back attitude

➥ user55: like sheesh leave something for the rest of us 🤯

user50: gets p3 in suzuka driving an aston 🗿-> shrugs when asked how she did it 🗿 -> makes a banger mv in japan with yuki 🗿 -> refuses to elaborate 🗿

pierregasly: yuki explain your behavior in this video

➥ yukitsunoda: no 🤗

➥ user56: maybe he would've told you if you stayed at alphatauri

➥ user57: now you're in an alpine 🫵🏻😭

instagram • yn0 • 2023 post-season

liked by charlesleclerc, logansargeant, glorillathepimp, and 9,337,272 others

yn0: he don't "wanna be" saved don't save him 🤫

tagged maxverstappen

view comments

yn0: i don't need insurance cause a bitch CAN'T WRECK ME

➥ user58: no like she's never been in a crash her entire f1 career ��

➥ user59: she's untouchable srs

logansargeant: WHITE BOY WASTED CHANNING TATUM

➥ yn0: hoes love me like justin bieber 👅👅👅

user60: omg an old picture from yn's haas era when max's redbull wasn't a rocket ship 😩

➥ haasf1team: good times

➥ astonmartinf1: 💚💚💚

maxverstappen: you graduated from the max verstappen school of being unstoppable 😼

➥ charlesleclerc: austria 2022

➥ georgerussell: brazil 2022

➥ mickschumacher: my dad’s 7 championships

➥ alexalbon: i have nothing to add (literally)

➥ maxverstappen: out of the five of us we have three total world championships and they're all mine 😐

glorillathepimp: go yn 🥵

➥ yn0: get it glo 👅

➥ user61: i am no better than a man

➥ user62: i want this video tattooed on my eyelids

mickschumacher: i don't wanna be saved don't save me

➥ yn0: on gang 🤞🏾🔒🙅🏾‍♀️

kellypiquet: twenty missed calls...

➥ yn0: i would like to initiate a trade! i offer: max :) in return i receive: my twin p 🤲🏾

➥ kellypiquet: i will have a bag packed for her TONIGHT

➥ user63: kelly definitely won in that trade agreement! a childfree night??? sign me the fuck up ‼️

user64: i didn't think it was possible but this song is the worst thing she's ever made 😂

➥ user65: it's weird. max is in a committed relationship with a woman and has bonded with her kid. yn's getting involved with him when she shouldn't be 🤷‍♀️

➥ user66: girl she's been around since wayyyy before kelly as max's friend.

➥ user67: she forced max into friendship when they were karting back when he thought he couldn't have racing friends🥺

➥ user66: trauma bonded besties fr

sky sports f1 • 2024 testing

instagram • yn0 • 2024

liked by natalie_pinkham, danielricciardo, laybankz and 5,438,023 others

yn0: (my honest reaction when the internet can't stop talking shit about me) can't i make fun music videos without being called a homewrecker or a whore? sometimes "girls just wanna" f1 !

view comments

user68: no bc she makes hot girl music and y'all dont appreciate it 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

➥ user69: if you don't like her music you're not a baddie i don't make the rules 🙅🏻‍♀️

user70: did she just make the song of the summer 😱😵‍💫☠️

➥ user71: song of the YEAR !!! and people calling her a whore smh

landonorris: what if you make an mv with me and instead of being called a whore i call you my girlfriend?

➥ mickschumacher: corny. delete your account 🚮

➥ user72: i disagree with mick, he ate that up imo 👀

➥ user73: isn't he messing around with that model/actress though…

➥ user74: you mean m*gui lol

➥ yn0: who's that

➥ user74: lando's recent sneaky link or gf i thought

➥ yn0: oh

charlesleclerc: if i were to call you one thing it would not be homewrecker or whore ✊🏻

➥ charlesleclerc: it would be hit-maker because you DO NOT MISS 😩

➥ alexalbon: one could even call her the 🐐

➥ georgerussell: grammy caliber artist

➥ maxverstappen: they compare her to lebron and simone biles in discussion of being the greatest of all time 😌

➥ yn0: just yesterday y'all said i give slut energy (affectionately) 😕

➥ maxverstappen: many things can be true at the same time

➥ charlesleclerc: false ‼️ accusations

sabrinacarpenter: girls just wanna have fun 😋

➥ user75: OMG sabrina what are you doing here

➥ user76: what in the disney channel crossover episode is going on

imessage • yn -> lando

instagram • yn0 • 2024

liked by mclaren, mickschumacher, lewishamilton, laybankz, and 8,765,392 others

yn0: dropping the "tell ur girlfriend" video tonight as celebration for lando's first win (me next please!) i DO NOT codone cheating but the song is too hard for me to pretend like it's not a banger 🤪

tagged landonorris

view comments

landonorris: you look good in papaya 🧡🧡🧡

➥ astonmartinf1: it's a little too much for our tastes 🤢

➥ yn0: i look good in any color but i do happen to prefer green 💚

➥ user77: i think lando's on to smth w the orange tho 🤔

landonorris: that's my girlfriend !!!!

➥ yn0: NO I AM NOT ❌❌❌

➥ yn0: WE WERE ACTING IN THIS MUSIC VIDEO

➥ yn0: LANDO I WILL SUE YOU FOR DEFAMATION 🤬

➥ landonorris: i'll wait for you 😔

➥ mickschumacher: she's so uninterested in you mate 🙃

user78: he gets his first win and a yn ln music video i know he's on cloud nine 😭😭😭

➥ user79: lando how does it feel to be living my dream 😩

oscarpiastri: oh thank god maybe he'll stop talking about you nonstop now that he got a video 🙏🏻

➥ landonorris: bro delete this comment

➥ user80: i screenshotted it too late 🫡

user81: she doesn't condone cheating but makes a song promoting it anyways 😑

➥ user82: she doesn't condone cheating but messes with lando even though she knows he's taken by magui 😑

➥ user83: she doesn't condone cheating but makes a song about it because it sounds fucking fire 🫦👅🔥🔥🔥

alexalbon: great video too much lando for me 😪

➥ georgerussell: he really just ruined the vibe

➥ charlesleclerc: y'all just mad you haven't been in one of her videos yet 🙂‍↔️

➥ maxverstappen: i don't see how you can hate from outside of the club 🤷🏼‍♂️

➥ landonorris: you can't even get in 🫵🏻🤣

twitter • yn0

instagram • yn -> the day ones

instagram • yn0 • 2024 post-season

liked by maxverstappen, fernandoalonso, zhouguanyu24, kaliii and 12,779,436 others

yn0: hoes mad about my roster being INTERNATIONAL smh stay mad and watch the music video for "area codes" it features all the men (my FRIENDS ✨) you'll never have a chance with 😇😚🤗🤭🤤💚💚💚

tagged f1

view comments

user84: no xnda feature but she got lewis in the fucking video

user85: i just wannna know hwo the fuck she got checo to be in the video 💀

user86: idc what the haters say: she just said y'all have no motion, no aura, no bitches and what are you gonna do about it 😳😳😱

user89: she got lando and mick in a photo together??? how they've been beefing in her comments for years 😧

➥ user90: can't believe im saying this but esteban did not deserve to be punished like that 😬

georgerussell: i am the one feeding her pasta and lobster btw

➥ yn0: you don't send me money tho :(

➥ georgerussell: you are an f1 driver too you don't need my money 🧐

charlesleclerc: can you leave some talent for the rest of us 😒

➥ yn0: bro u are mozart on your days off be serious

lilymhe: cause why are u never in town 😞

➥ alexalbon: cause she'll steal you from me 😭😫

➥ yn0: i'm pulling up rn lils 🫦

lewishamilton: you want a mercedes or a xnda feature?

➥ yn0: im tryna take the mercedes seat you left behind 👀

➥ user91: omfg toto sign herrrrrrrr ✍️

maxverstappen: anything for my favorite lady 🙇🏼🧎🏼‍♂️

➥ yn0: i gotta go they just lmk that i could pick up my mercedes 🏃🏾‍♀️💨

user92: lando in two photos? sus

➥ landonorris: you said it not me 🤫

➥ mickschumacher: bro you acted like her shadow the entire night don't let it go to your head 😠

fernandoalonso: very fun song!

➥ user93: you too old to be doin all that fernando :/

➥ user94: literally choked when i saw him in the video

logansargeant: hey you did manage to get me in "one of your little music videos" 🤭

➥ yn0: if only they knew that you agreed with a bribe of two zebra cakes

➥ user95: they couldn't fathom the delicacy that is a zebra cake 🤤

yn0: stop pretending to dislike my songs and realize that the boys are my homies. you'll be a lot happier when you come to terms with that 🥱

#f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x female reader #f1 smau #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #mick schumacher x reader #serene’s chapters.#⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1

1K notes · View notes