#i need to start doing that in a way that works out for me better | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sshnzsr · 2 days ago

Text

cigarettes after sex

wordcount: 16k

warnings: stepcest, smut, unprotected sex, getting caught during masturbation, lying about being on birth control, emotional manipulation, mentions of pregnancy, abortion, family issues, reader shows signs of depression, self-hatred, and isolation, poverty, arguments, smoking, lmk if I missed anything

note: This is my first time trying to write a long fic. It can be kinda repetitive at some parts that’s because I tried to make it longer. Take a look at my other works.

You hated Sunghoon. Not just because he was your stepbrother, but because he was perfect in everyone’s eyes. Your dad, your stepmom, even your cousins—they all adored him. Sunghoon, with his sharp jawline, dark eyes, and easy smile, could do no wrong. He got straight A’s, captained the ice skating team, and had a future everyone envied. Meanwhile, you were the screw-up, the rebellious one who skipped classes and talked back. No matter what you did, Sunghoon was always better. Your own dad, your biological dad, picked him every time.

It wasn’t fair. You remembered the day your stepmom moved in, bringing Sunghoon with her. You were sixteen, he was seventeen, and from that moment, it was like you didn’t exist. Family dinners were about Sunghoon’s achievements. Your dad’s praise was for Sunghoon’s discipline, his talent, his everything. You were invisible, and it burned. You wanted to hurt Sunghoon, to make him feel the pain you carried. You didn’t care how. You just wanted him to suffer.

The plan started as a vague idea. Seduce him. Play with his feelings. Make him want you, then crush him. You knew he wasn’t immune to you. You’d caught him staring sometimes—your tight crop tops, your short skirts, the way you flipped your hair. He tried to hide it, but you saw the way his eyes lingered. You were nineteen now, he was twenty, and the tension between you had grown. You weren’t kids anymore, and you could use that.

It wasn’t part of the plan to catch him jerking off. That was an accident. But it was the perfect accident.

You were sneaking into his room to borrow (steal) one of his hoodies, just to piss him off. His door was cracked open, and you froze when you heard it—a low moan, his voice, rough and desperate. “Fuck… Y/N…”

Your name. He was moaning your name.

You pushed the door open, heart pounding. There he was, on his bed, shirt off, sweatpants pulled down, his cock in his hand. His eyes were closed, head tilted back, lost in whatever fantasy he was having about you. His strokes were fast, his breathing heavy, and he didn’t hear you come in.

You should’ve left. You should’ve turned around and pretended it never happened. But you didn’t. This was too good. This was the key to your revenge.

“Sunghoon,” you said, voice sharp.

His eyes snapped open, and he scrambled to cover himself, face red with panic. “Y/N! What the fuck? Get out!”

You didn’t move. You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms, a smirk on your lips. “Moaning my name, huh? That’s fucked up, stepbrother.”

He yanked a blanket over his lap, stammering. “It’s not… I wasn’t… You weren’t supposed to see that!”

“But I did,” you said, stepping closer. His room smelled like him—cologne and clean laundry—and it made your stomach twist in a way you hated. “What were you thinking about? Me naked? Me sucking you off?”

“Stop it,” he snapped, but his voice was shaky, and you could see his cock twitching under the blanket. He was still hard, even with you standing there, calling him out.

You sat on the edge of his bed, closer than you needed to be. “You want me, don’t you?” you asked, voice low. “You’re jerking off to your stepsister. That’s so dirty.”

He swallowed hard, eyes darting to your lips, your chest, then away. “You’re messing with me. Just leave.”

But you didn’t. You reached out, brushing your fingers along his thigh, just enough to make him tense. “What if I don’t want to leave?” you whispered. “What if I want you to finish what you started?”

His breath hitched. “Y/N, don’t fuck with me.”

“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it, at least in that moment. The plan was working better than you’d ever imagined. You leaned in, your lips inches from his. “Fuck me, Sunghoon. Right now.”

He stared at you, torn between guilt and desire. You could see the battle in his eyes, but you knew you’d won when he grabbed your face and kissed you, hard and desperate. His lips were hot, his tongue pushing into your mouth, and you moaned, climbing onto his lap.

The blanket fell away, and his cock pressed against your shorts, hard and thick. You ground against him, feeling the heat pool between your legs. This wasn’t supposed to feel good, but it did. Too good.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he growled, hands yanking at your shirt. He pulled it off, exposing your bra, and his mouth was on your neck, biting, sucking. You arched into him, hating how much you wanted this.

“Fuck me,” you said again, tugging at his sweatpants. “I want your cock inside me.”

He groaned, flipping you onto your back. Your shorts came off, then your panties, and he was between your legs, his fingers brushing your pussy. You were soaked, and he cursed under his breath. “You’re so wet,” he said, almost to himself.

“Do it,” you begged, spreading your legs wider. “Fuck me raw. Cum inside me.”

His eyes darkened, and he hesitated. “You’re on birth control, right?”

“Yeah,” you lied, the words slipping out easily. You weren’t. You hadn’t been for months. But he didn’t need to know that. Not yet.

He didn’t ask again. He lined his cock up with your pussy and pushed in, slow at first, stretching you. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. He was big, bigger than you’d expected, and the burn felt so fucking good.

“God, you’re tight,” he grunted, thrusting deeper. His hands gripped your hips, and he started moving, fucking you hard, the bed creaking under you. You moaned, loud and shameless, wrapping your legs around him.

“Harder,” you demanded, voice bratty. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

He did. His thrusts were brutal, his cock hitting deep, and you loved it. You hated him, but you loved this—his body, his desperation, the way he looked at you like you were everything. You clenched around him, already close, and he groaned, his fingers digging into your thighs.

“Gonna cum,” he rasped, his pace faltering. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you said, locking eyes with him. “Cum inside my pussy.”

He didn’t hesitate. A few more thrusts, and he buried himself deep, groaning as he came, his cock pulsing inside you. You felt the warmth of his cum, and your own orgasm hit, your pussy squeezing him as you shook, moaning his name.

He collapsed on you, breathing hard, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then reality hit. You’d done it. You’d fucked your stepbrother, let him cum inside you, knowing you weren’t protected. It was disgusting, but it was exactly what you wanted. You’d hurt him now. You’d make him pay.

Weeks passed, and you kept the secret to yourself. Sunghoon was different around you—quieter, softer, like he was trying to figure out what happened. He’d try to talk, but you brushed him off, keeping your distance. The plan was working. You could feel the power shifting.

Then you missed your period.

The test confirmed it. Pregnant. You stared at the stick, your stomach churning. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a game, a way to ruin him, not this. You felt sick, not just from the pregnancy but from the weight of what you’d done. You’d fucked your stepbrother. You’d lied. And now you were carrying his kid.

You didn’t tell Sunghoon right away. You let it simmer, let the guilt and regret fester. You hated yourself, but you hated him more. He was still the golden boy, still the one your dad loved. This was your fault, but it was his fault too.

You decided to drop the bomb at dinner. Your dad, your stepmom, Sunghoon—they were all there, eating some fancy meal your stepmom had cooked. You waited until everyone was quiet, then set your fork down, your voice casual but sharp.

“So,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “I’m pregnant. From Sunghoon.”

The room went dead silent. Your dad’s fork clattered onto his plate. Your stepmom’s mouth dropped open. Sunghoon��s face went pale, his eyes wide, like he couldn’t process the words.

“What did you say?” your dad asked, voice low, dangerous.

You shrugged, playing the brat like always. “I’m pregnant. Sunghoon fucked me. No big deal.”

Sunghoon choked, his voice barely audible. “Y/N… what? You said you were on birth control.”

You smirked, even though your heart was pounding. “Oops. Guess I lied.”

Your dad stood, his face red with fury. “You… you disgusting little…” He couldn’t finish, turning to Sunghoon. “Is this true?”

Sunghoon looked like he might throw up. “I… I didn’t know. She said she was protected.”

Your stepmom started crying, her hands shaking. “How could you do this? Both of you?”

But your dad’s anger was all for you. “You’re a disgrace,” he spat. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? To ruin this family?”

You didn’t answer, just stared at him, defiant. Inside, you were breaking, but you wouldn’t let them see it.

“Get out,” he said, pointing to the door. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”

You expected it, but it still hurt. You stood, grabbing your phone, and looked at Sunghoon. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. Of course he wouldn’t. He was still the favorite, even now.

“Fine,” you said, voice cold. “I don’t need you.”

You moved out that night, crashing at a friend’s place. The next week was a blur—doctor’s visits, arguments with your friend about what to do, and the looming appointment at the clinic. Your dad had called, screaming about abortion, saying you had no choice. You didn’t want the baby, but the idea of ending it made you feel even worse. This was your mess, your fault, and you couldn’t escape it.

The day of the appointment came. You sat in the waiting room, staring at the sterile walls, your stomach in knots. You kept looking at the door, hoping, praying Sunghoon would show up. He was part of this. He should be here. You texted him, called him, left voicemails. Nothing. Radio silence.

Of course he didn’t come. Why would he? He was Sunghoon, the perfect one, the one who got away with everything. You were the fuck-up, the one who’d ruined your own life. Tears stung your eyes as you realized you were alone. Completely alone.

The nurse called your name, and you stood, legs shaking. You regretted it all—every touch, every lie, every moment you thought this would make you feel better. You’d wanted to hurt Sunghoon, but you’d only hurt yourself.

The apartment was a shithole, but it was yours. A tiny one-room box on a dead-end street, where the only sounds at night were creaking pipes and the occasional cough from the old folks next door. The walls were stained yellow from years of smoke, the floorboards creaked under your weight, and the single window barely opened, letting in the damp night air. It smelled like cigarettes and stale ramen, no matter how much you scrubbed. You didn’t have furniture—just a mattress on the floor, a rickety table, and a single chair you’d found on the curb. A string of fairy lights hung above your bed, the only thing you’d bothered to make look nice. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

You’d been lucky to have some money saved up. Not a lot, but enough to cover the deposit and a few months’ rent in this rundown place. Your dad hadn’t called, your stepmom hadn’t texted, and Sunghoon—well, you’d given up hoping he’d show his face after the clinic. You’d sat in that cold waiting room, legs shaking, waiting for him to walk through the door. He didn’t. You went through with it alone, the abortion, and the memory of it clung to you like the tobacco stench in your apartment. It was a sharp, ugly pain, not just in your body but in your head, your heart. You hated yourself for what you’d done, but you hated Sunghoon more for letting you do it alone.

Life wasn’t good, but it was yours. You worked two jobs to keep it that way. Days at a greasy diner, wiping tables and dodging creepy customers, and nights at a corner store, stocking shelves while the radio played staticky pop songs. You came home exhausted, your hands smelling of bleach, your feet aching, but you didn’t cry. You wouldn’t. You’d made your choices—fucking your stepbrother, lying about birth control, dropping the bomb at dinner—and now you were living with them. No one was going to save you.

The nights were the hardest. You’d sit on your mattress, eating instant ramen from a chipped bowl, the fairy lights casting shadows on the cracked ceiling. You’d smoke, even though you hated it, because the guy who lived here before left half a pack of cigarettes, and it was something to do. The smoke curled around you, mixing with the ramen steam, and you’d stare at your phone, willing it to ring. It never did. Your friends had stopped texting, your dad had written you off, and Sunghoon was a ghost. You were alone, and the silence was louder than anything.

Until he showed up.

It was late, past midnight, the street outside dark and empty. You were on your mattress, scrolling through your phone, the cigarette smell heavy in the air. A knock at the door made you freeze. No one came here. No one knew where you lived. You grabbed a kitchen knife from the table, heart pounding, and cracked the door open.

Sunghoon stood there, his dark hair messy, his eyes shadowed. He wore a black hoodie and jeans, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. You stared, too shocked to speak. How the fuck did he find you?

“What do you want?” you asked, voice sharp, but your grip on the knife loosened.

He didn’t answer. He just stepped inside, brushing past you like he belonged there. You shut the door, your stomach twisting. The apartment felt smaller with him in it, his presence filling the space, making the air heavier. He looked around, taking in the bare walls, the mattress, the ramen packets on the table. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a word.

“Sunghoon,” you said, crossing your arms. “Talk. Why are you here?”

He ignored you. He set a plastic bag on the table, the kind you get from a convenience store. Inside were containers of actual food—rice, kimchi, some kind of stew. Not the instant crap you’d been living on, but real, cooked food. Your mouth watered just looking at it, but you didn’t move.

“I don’t need your pity,” you snapped, even though your stomach growled. “Get out.”

He didn’t. He sat on the chair, leaning back, eyes fixed on the floor. His silence pissed you off. You wanted to scream, to throw the food at him, to make him feel the hurt you’d been carrying since that night. But you didn’t. You just stood there, glaring, the cigarette smell stinging your nose.

This became the pattern. Sunghoon started coming over every few nights, always late, always unannounced. He’d walk in, drop off food, and sit in silence. Sometimes he’d bring other things—a blanket, a cheap lamp, a pack of bottled water. You didn’t ask how he found your address, and he didn’t offer an explanation. He never stayed long, maybe an hour, and he never talked. You tried, at first, to get him to say something.

“Sunghoon, why are you doing this?” you’d ask, voice rough from exhaustion. “You didn’t care when I needed you. Why now?”

He’d just look at you, his eyes dark, unreadable, then go back to staring at the floor. It drove you crazy. You wanted him to yell, to fight, to explain why he left you alone at the clinic, why he let your dad kick you out, why he was here now, acting like some silent guardian. But he gave you nothing.

One night, you couldn’t take it anymore. He was sitting there, same as always, a bag of food on the table—fried rice and bulgogi this time, the smell making your empty stomach ache. You were tired, your diner shift had been hell, and the sight of him, quiet and untouchable, pushed you over the edge.

“Talk to me, you asshole!” you shouted, slamming your hand on the table. The plastic containers rattled. “You don’t get to just show up and play hero after everything! You fucked me, you got me pregnant, and you didn’t even show up when I had to deal with it! Why are you here? What do you want?”

He flinched, just barely, but his eyes stayed on the floor. You stepped closer, your voice shaking. “Say something, Sunghoon. Or get the fuck out and don’t come back.”

For a moment, you thought he might. His hands twitched, like he wanted to reach for you, but he didn’t move. He just sat there, his jaw tight, his silence louder than your screams. You turned away, tears burning your eyes, and lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around you like a shield.

“Fine,” you muttered, exhaling. “Keep your fucking secrets. I don’t need you.”

But you did. You hated admitting it, but you did. The food he brought kept you from starving. The blanket he left was warmer than the thin one you’d been using. And his presence, as infuriating as it was, made the apartment feel less empty. You hated him, but you waited for him to come back every time he left.

One night, things shifted. It was late, the street outside quiet except for the hum of a distant streetlight. You were on your mattress, smoking, the fairy lights casting a dim glow. Sunghoon knocked, same as always, and you let him in, expecting the usual routine. He set a bag of food on the table—jjajangmyeon, your favorite—and sat down. But this time, he didn’t stare at the floor. He looked at you.

You were in a tank top and shorts, your hair messy, cigarette dangling from your fingers. His eyes lingered, tracing the curve of your neck, the bare skin of your thighs. You felt it—the heat, the tension, the same fucked-up pull you’d felt that night in his room. You hated it, but your body remembered.

“What?” you asked, voice sharp, but your heart was racing.

He didn’t answer, but he stood, stepping closer. You didn’t move, even as he stopped inches away, his shadow falling over you. The air was thick, the cigarette smoke mixing with the ramen smell, and you felt it again—that twisted desire, the need to hurt him, to feel him, to make him pay.

“You want me?” you asked, voice low, taunting. You flicked the cigarette to the floor, crushing it under your foot. “That’s why you keep coming back, isn’t it? You’re still thinking about fucking me.”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t speak. You stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat of his body. “Go on,” you said, voice dripping with venom. “Fuck me again. See if it fixes anything.”

He grabbed you, sudden and rough, his hands on your waist. You gasped, not expecting it, and he kissed you, hard, his lips crashing into yours. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t sweet—it was raw, desperate, like he’d been holding it back for weeks. You kissed him back, just as rough, your hands in his hair, pulling hard.

He pushed you onto the mattress, his body heavy on yours. Your tank top came off, then your shorts, and his hands were everywhere—your breasts, your thighs, your pussy. You were wet, embarrassingly wet, and he groaned when he felt it, his fingers sliding inside you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low, the first word he’d spoken in weeks. “You’re so fucking wet.”

You arched into him, hating how good it felt. “Just do it,” you said, voice sharp. “Fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His clothes came off, and he was inside you, his cock stretching you, filling you. It was fast, rough, no pretense of care. You moaned, nails digging into his back, your body betraying you. He fucked you hard, the mattress creaking, the fairy lights swaying above. You hated him, hated yourself, but you came anyway, your pussy clenching around him, your body shaking.

He didn’t pull out this time either, cumming inside you, his groans muffled against your neck. You lay there, panting, the weight of it all crashing down. He stayed for a moment, then pulled away, sitting on the edge of the mattress, head in his hands.

You stared at the ceiling, the cigarette smell stronger now, mixing with the sweat and sex. “Get out,” you said, voice flat.

He didn’t argue. He grabbed his clothes, dressed, and left without a word. The door clicked shut, and you were alone again, the silence heavier than ever.

The apartment was a haze of cigarette smoke and regret. The fairy lights flickered, casting weak shadows on the stained walls, and the air smelled like tobacco and the leftover jjajangmyeon Sunghoon had brought earlier. You sat on your mattress, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the cracked floorboards. The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of Sunghoon cleaning up. He was tossing out the cigarette butts and empty ramen cups you’d left scattered on the table, his movements slow, deliberate, like he was trying to keep himself busy.

You didn’t know why you said it. The words slipped out before you could stop them, soft and shaky, barely audible over the hum of the streetlight outside. “I’m sorry.”

Sunghoon froze, a crumpled ramen cup in his hand. He turned to you, his dark eyes narrowing, shadowed by the dim light. His hoodie was loose, his hair messy, and for a second, he looked like the boy you’d hated for years—your stepbrother, the golden child who stole your dad’s love. But he also looked different, older, weighed down by something you couldn’t name.

He sighed, tossing the trash into a plastic bag. “You should be sorry for yourself,” he said, voice low, cutting. “You ruined your own life while you tried to ruin mine. What is your problem? Do you like living like this?”

His words hit hard, like a punch to the gut. You wanted to snap back, to tell him to fuck off, but he was right. You’d done this to yourself—fucked him to hurt him, lied about birth control, got pregnant, and blew up your family. Now you were here, in this shithole apartment, working yourself to death, alone except for his silent visits. You’d wanted to break him, but you’d broken yourself instead.

You forced a laugh, leaning back on the mattress, a bitter smile on your lips. “Yeah, I do. It’s peaceful.”

He stared at you, his expression unreadable, then let out a short, dry laugh. “You’re crazy.”

For a moment, you both laughed, the sound sharp and hollow, echoing in the tiny room. It was the first time you’d shared anything like this, a crack in the wall between you. But it didn’t last. His laughter faded, and he stood, walking over to you, his steps slow, deliberate. Before you could move, he was there, looming over you, trapping you between his body and the mattress. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of you, his face inches from yours. You could smell him—clean laundry, a hint of cologne, so different from the stale smoke of your apartment.

“I’m sorry too,” he said, voice rough, barely above a whisper. “I never wanted you to be here. I never wanted you to get an abortion.”

The words were a knife, twisting in your chest. You hated him for saying it, for bringing it up, for acting like he cared now, after everything. You shoved him back, hard, your hands against his chest. “Shut up. I hate you,” you murmured, voice shaking, but there was no fire in it. Just exhaustion.

He didn’t move, his eyes locked on yours, dark and searching. Then, quietly, he asked, “Can I stay the night?”

You froze, your breath catching. The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning you weren’t ready to face. Stay the night? Here, in your tiny, disgusting apartment, on your shitty mattress? After everything—the lies, the betrayal, the abortion, the silence? You wanted to scream, to tell him to get out, but your body betrayed you, warmth pooling in your core at the thought of him staying, of his hands on you again.

“Why?” you asked, voice sharp, trying to keep the wall up. “You wanna fuck me again? Is that it?”

He flinched, just slightly, but didn’t look away. “No,” he said, too quickly, then paused. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just… I don’t want to leave you alone tonight.”

You laughed, bitter and cold. “Now you care? Where were you when I was in that clinic, Sunghoon? Where were you when Dad kicked me out? You don’t get to play savior now.”

“I know,” he said, voice low, almost broken. “I fucked up. I should’ve been there. I didn’t know how to handle it. I still don’t.”

You stared at him, your chest tight, torn between rage and something softer, something you hated even more. You wanted to push him away, to keep hating him, but the truth was, you were tired. Tired of being alone, tired of the silence, tired of carrying this weight by yourself. His visits, as infuriating as they were, were the only thing keeping you sane.

“Fine,” you said, voice flat. “Stay. But don’t expect me to forgive you.”

He nodded, like he hadn’t expected anything else. He stepped back, giving you space, and you felt the loss of his closeness, your skin prickling. You turned away, lying on the mattress, pulling the thin blanket over you. The fairy lights flickered, the cigarette smell clung to everything, and you heard Sunghoon move, settling on the floor beside the mattress. He didn’t have a blanket, didn’t ask for one, just lay there, his breathing steady in the dark.

You didn’t sleep, not really. The night stretched on, the street outside silent except for the occasional car. You kept replaying his words, his apology, the way he’d looked at you. You hated how it made you feel—vulnerable, exposed, like maybe he wasn’t the monster you’d made him out to be. But he was still Sunghoon, the stepbrother who’d taken everything, the one who’d fucked you and left you to deal with the consequences. You couldn’t let yourself forget that.

Morning came, gray and heavy, light seeping through the cracked window. You sat up, your body aching from the hard mattress, and saw Sunghoon still there, curled on the floor, his hoodie bunched under his head. He looked younger like this, less like the perfect son and more like a boy who didn’t know what he was doing. You hated how it softened you, even a little.

You got up, stepping over him to make coffee with the cheap instant packets you kept on the table. The smell of it mixed with the ever-present tobacco, and you lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around you as you leaned against the wall. Sunghoon stirred, sitting up, his hair messy, eyes bleary.

“Coffee?” you asked, voice flat, holding out a chipped mug.

He took it, his fingers brushing yours, and you pulled back, ignoring the spark it sent through you. He sipped the coffee, wincing at the taste, but didn’t complain. You stood there, smoking, watching him, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“Why do you keep coming back?” you asked finally, voice low. “You don’t owe me anything. You made that clear when you didn’t show up at the clinic.”

He set the mug down, his hands resting on his knees. “I don’t know,” he said, voice honest, raw. “I just… I can’t stay away. I keep thinking about you, about what happened. I fucked up, Y/N. I know I did. But I don’t know how to fix it.”

“You can’t,” you said, exhaling smoke. “It’s done. I’m here now. This is my life.”

He looked around the apartment, at the bare walls, the mattress, the trash bag full of ramen cups. “This isn’t a life,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “You deserve better.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, tossing the cigarette butt into an empty cup. “Don’t tell me what I deserve. You don’t get to decide that.”

He stood, stepping closer, and you hated how your body reacted, your pulse quickening, your skin tingling. “I’m not trying to decide anything,” he said. “I’m just… I’m trying to be here. For you.”

You laughed, sharp and bitter. “You’re a little late for that, stepbrother.”

He flinched at the word, like it burned, but didn’t back down. “I know,” he said. “But I’m here now.”

The air was thick, charged with everything unsaid—your anger, his guilt, the fucked-up history between you. You wanted to shove him, to kiss him, to scream until your throat gave out. Instead, you turned away, grabbing another cigarette, lighting it with shaking hands.

“Stay or go, I don’t care,” you said, voice cold. “But don’t expect me to need you.”

He didn’t answer, just stood there, watching you. The day dragged on, and he stayed, helping you clean the apartment, fixing the leaky faucet you’d ignored for weeks. It was weird, domestic, like you were playing at being something you weren’t. You didn’t talk much, but the silence was different now, less hostile, more fragile.

That night, he didn’t ask to stay, but you didn’t tell him to leave. He slept on the floor again, and you lay on the mattress, staring at the fairy lights, wondering what the fuck you were doing. You hated him, but you didn’t. You wanted him gone, but you didn’t. The cigarette smell lingered, the ramen cups were gone, and Sunghoon was still here.

The air smelled like cigarettes, stale ramen, and something new—Sunghoon’s cologne, lingering from where he lay beside you. You woke up in the middle of the night, your body warm, too warm, and realized why. His arms were around you, his bare chest pressed against your back. You were shirtless too, stripped down to your bra and panties, your tank top tossed somewhere on the floor. His jeans were still on, but the closeness, the skin-to-skin contact, felt wrong. So fucking wrong.

You weren’t doing anything, not really—just lying there, tangled together on your shitty mattress—but it didn’t matter. He was your stepbrother. The same stepbrother you’d fucked to hurt, the one whose name you’d moaned while he came inside you, the one who’d left you alone to face the consequences. The abortion, the exile, the mess of your life—it all started with him, with you, with that night. And now here you were, in his arms, like nothing had happened, like you weren’t both broken pieces of the same fucked-up puzzle.

Your throat tightened, tears prickling your eyes. You didn’t want to cry, not in front of him, not again. But you couldn’t help it. You hugged him back, your arms wrapping around his, your fingers digging into his skin. The tears came anyway, hot and silent, sliding down your cheeks. You wiped them away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice, and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, almost instinctual, like your body was acting without your permission. The warmth of his skin under your lips made your stomach twist—part comfort, part disgust.

You pulled away, slipping out of his arms, and stood, your bare feet cold against the floorboards. The apartment was dark, the street outside silent, just the hum of a distant car breaking the stillness. You grabbed a cigarette from the pack on the table and moved to the small window next to your bed, the one that barely opened. You forced it up, the cool night air hitting your face, and lit the cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating your trembling hands. You inhaled deeply, the smoke burning your lungs, curling out into the dark as you stared at nothing, your mind racing.

You’d ruined everything. You’d wanted to hurt Sunghoon, to make him feel the pain of being second best, but all you’d done was destroy yourself. The pregnancy, the abortion, getting kicked out—it was all your fault. You’d lied, manipulated, fucked him raw, and for what? This? A shitty apartment, a life of scraping by, and a heart that wouldn’t stop aching? You hated him, but you hated yourself more. And now he was here, sleeping in your bed, acting like he cared, and it made you feel even worse.

You didn’t hear him get up, but you felt him—his presence, heavy and warm, before his arms slid around your waist from behind. His chest pressed against your back, his breath hot against your neck. You stiffened, the cigarette dangling between your fingers, your heart pounding. He shouldn’t be touching you like this. Not after everything.

“Love you,” he whispered, his voice soft, raw, like he’d been holding it in for too long.

The words hit you like a slap. You froze, your mind reeling, and flicked the cigarette out the window, watching it fall to the street below. You turned your head, just enough to see him out of the corner of your eye. His face was close, his eyes dark, searching, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Love? After all this? After you’d fucked each other up so badly?

You turned fully, breaking his hold, stepping back until you hit the wall. Your bra strap slipped off your shoulder, and you didn’t bother fixing it. “I feel disgusting,” you said, voice shaking, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “You’re right. What was wrong with me? I’m so disgusting. I… I should’ve never done something like that.”

His eyes softened, but he didn’t move closer, didn’t try to touch you again. “Y/N,” he said, voice low, “you’re not disgusting. We fucked up. Both of us. I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve been there.”

“Stop,” you snapped, tears burning your eyes again. “Don’t act like you care now. You didn’t show up. You let me deal with it alone. You let Dad throw me out. And now you’re here, saying you love me? What the fuck, Sunghoon?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I know,” he said. “I fucked up. I was scared, okay? I didn’t know how to handle it. You were my stepsister, and we… we did that. I couldn’t face it. But I’m here now. I’m trying.”

“Trying?” you laughed, bitter and sharp, wiping at your tears. “You come here, drop off food, fuck me again, and now you’re trying? You think that fixes anything? You think ‘love you’ makes this okay?”

He stepped closer, and you hated how your body reacted, your skin prickling, your pussy tingling despite the anger. “I don’t know how to fix it,” he said, voice rough. “I don’t know what to do. But I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stay away. I hate what we did, but I don’t hate you. I never could.”

You stared at him, your chest heaving, torn between shoving him out the door and pulling him closer. The cigarette smell clung to you, the apartment felt smaller, and his words echoed in your head. Love you. It was wrong, disgusting, but it was there, a twisted thread tying you together.

“Get out,” you said again for the one hundredth time, but your voice was weak, barely convincing.

He didn’t move. Instead, he closed the distance, his hands gentle as they cupped your face. You didn’t push him away, even though you should’ve. His thumbs brushed away your tears, and you hated how good it felt, how much you craved his touch after weeks of nothing.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, voice firm. “Not tonight. Not until you tell me what you need.”

You laughed, a broken sound, and shoved at his chest, but your hands lingered, fingers curling into his skin. “I don’t need you,” you lied, but your voice cracked, giving you away. “I don’t need anyone.”

He didn’t argue, just pulled you closer, his lips brushing your forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, not really, but it felt like one, soft and careful. You let him, your body sinking against his, the fight draining out of you. You were so tired—tired of being angry, tired of being alone, tired of hating yourself.

You ended up back on the mattress, not fucking this time, just lying there, his arms around you again. Your bra and panties stayed on, his jeans too, but the closeness was enough to make your skin burn. You didn’t talk, didn’t need to. The silence said enough. His hand rested on your stomach, where the baby would’ve been, and you didn’t push it away. You just lay there, the fairy lights flickering, the cigarette smell heavy, your tears drying on your cheeks.

Morning came too soon, gray light filtering through the window. You woke alone, Sunghoon gone, but there was a note on the table, scrawled in his messy handwriting. “I’ll be back tonight. Eat something.” Next to it was a container of kimchi jjigae, still warm, and a pack of cigarettes—your brand, not his.

You stared at the note, your chest tight. He’d be back. He always came back. And you hated how much you wanted him to, how much you needed it. You lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around you, and sat on the mattress, wondering if you’d ever stop feeling disgusting, if you’d ever stop loving him, if you’d ever be free.

Sunghoon showed up late, past midnight, like always. The knock was soft, hesitant, and you let him in, your heart pounding. He looked tired, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his hoodie loose on his frame. He carried a plastic bag—more food, probably—and set it on the table without a word. But tonight was different. His eyes didn’t avoid yours. He looked at you, really looked, and you saw something raw, something broken.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked, voice sharp, tossing the cigarette into an empty ramen cup. “You say you love me, you bring me food, but you don’t talk. You don’t explain. Why didn’t you come to the clinic, Sunghoon? I begged you. I fucking begged.”

He flinched, his jaw tightening, and for a moment, you thought he’d stay silent again. But he didn’t. He sat on the rickety chair, hands clasped between his knees, and looked at the floor. “I wanted to,” he said, voice low, rough. “I tried. But Dad… he stopped me.”

You froze, the cigarette smoke lingering in the air. “What?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his voice shaking. “I need to tell you everything. You deserve to know. But it’s not an excuse. I still fucked up.”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, your heart racing. “Then talk. Tell me.”

He took a deep breath, like he was bracing himself, and started.

Sunghoon’s life wasn’t as perfect as you thought. Growing up, he was the kid who had to be perfect—perfect grades, perfect athlete, perfect son. His mom, your stepmom, was strict, always pushing him to be better, to make her proud. His dad left when he was young, and when his mom married your dad, Sunghoon was seventeen, already carrying the weight of her expectations. Your dad was the first man who treated him like a son, who showed up to his skating competitions, who bragged about him to friends. Sunghoon loved him, needed him, in a way you never understood.

But it wasn’t easy. Your dad favored him, sure, but it came with pressure. Sunghoon had to keep up the act—straight A’s, captain of the team, no mistakes. If he slipped, your dad’s disappointment was worse than any punishment. And then there was you. You, with your defiance, your sharp tongue, your freedom to fuck up and not care. Sunghoon envied you, even if he never said it. You didn’t have to be perfect. You could be messy, loud, real. He couldn’t.

When you caught him jerking off that night, moaning your name, it wasn’t just lust. He’d always noticed you—your tight shirts, your short skirts, the way you teased him with a smirk. But it was more than that. You were everything he wasn’t allowed to be, and he wanted you, even though he knew it was wrong. When you walked in, when you didn’t leave, when you begged him to fuck you, he couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to. He fucked you raw, came inside you, and it felt like freedom, like breaking every rule he’d been forced to follow.

But then you dropped the bomb at dinner. Pregnant. His kid. Sunghoon’s world stopped. He was twenty, still living under your dad’s roof, still trying to be the perfect son. Your dad’s rage was terrifying, but it was aimed at you, not him. Sunghoon felt sick, guilty, but also relieved. He was still the golden boy. You were the one who paid.

The day you went to the clinic, Sunghoon was a mess. You’d been texting him, calling, leaving voicemails that broke his heart. “Please, Hoon, I need you. I’m scared. Come to the clinic. Please.” He listened to them over and over, pacing his room, his hands shaking. He wanted to go. He needed to be there. He grabbed his keys, ready to drive to you, but your dad stopped him.

Your dad was waiting in the living room, his face hard, unreadable. “Where are you going?” he asked, voice cold.

Sunghoon froze. “To see Y/N,” he said, trying to sound steady. “She needs me.”

Your dad stood, stepping closer. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “She did this to herself. She’s a disgrace, and you’re not getting dragged down with her.”

Sunghoon’s stomach dropped. “She’s my stepsister. She’s pregnant. I can’t just—”

“You can, and you will,” your dad cut him off. “You think I’m letting you throw away your future for her? She lied to you, Sunghoon. She trapped you. You’re not the father type. You’re not ready for this.”

Sunghoon tried to argue, but your dad’s voice was like steel. “If you go to that clinic, you’re out of this house. No more support, no more money, no more family. You’ll be on your own. Is she worth that?”

Sunghoon wanted to say yes. He wanted to be there for you, to hold your hand, to face it together. But he was scared. Scared of losing everything—his home, his mom’s approval, his future. He was twenty, still dependent on your dad for tuition, for his skating career, for everything. He hated himself for it, but he stayed. He put his keys down, sat on the couch, and listened to your voicemails again, each one tearing him apart. He didn’t go.

Your dad made sure of it. He took Sunghoon’s phone, deleted your messages, and blocked your number. He drove Sunghoon to practice that day, watched him like a hawk, made sure he couldn’t slip away. Sunghoon skated, went through the motions, but all he could think about was you, alone in that clinic, facing the worst day of your life without him.

When you got kicked out, Sunghoon begged your dad to reconsider. He fought, yelled, said you didn’t deserve it. But your dad was unmoved. “She’s not my daughter anymore,” he said, and Sunghoon felt like he’d lost you too. He didn’t know where you went, didn’t have your new number, didn’t know how to find you. He was trapped, living in a house that felt like a cage, carrying the guilt of letting you down.

Months later, he found you by accident. He’d been digging through old family records, looking for something else, and saw your name on a lease agreement your dad had co-signed before cutting you off. The address was there, a shitty apartment in a dead-end street. He didn’t tell anyone, just drove there one night, his heart in his throat. When he saw you, smoking, living in that bare, smoky room, he wanted to cry. But he didn’t. He just kept coming back, bringing food, trying to make up for what he couldn’t fix.

Sunghoon’s voice broke as he finished, his hands shaking. “I should’ve fought harder,” he said. “I should’ve gone to you. I was a coward. I’m still a coward. But I love you, Y/N. I always did. That’s why I keep coming back.”

You stared at him, tears streaming down your face, the cigarette forgotten on the table. Your chest ached, a mix of rage, pain, and something softer, something you didn’t want to name. You’d hated him for so long, blamed him for everything, but now you saw it—the pressure, the fear, the way your dad had trapped him too. It didn’t erase what he’d done, didn’t make it okay, but it changed something. He wasn’t the golden boy, not really. He was just as broken as you.

“You should’ve come,” you said, voice raw. “I needed you, Hoon. I was so fucking scared.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes pleading. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

You wiped your tears, your hands shaking. “I don’t know if I can forgive you either,” you said, but your voice was softer now, less angry. “But I… I don’t hate you. Not anymore.”

He reached for you, hesitant, and you let him. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and you buried your face in his chest, the smell of his cologne mixing with the cigarette smoke. You didn’t kiss, didn’t fuck, just stood there, holding each other, the weight of the past heavy between you.

The night stretched on, and you ended up on the mattress, his arms around you again, your bra and panties still on, his jeans unbuttoned but not off. It wasn’t about sex, not tonight. It was about something else, something neither of you could name. The cigarette smell lingered, the street outside hummed, and you fell asleep, tangled together, wondering if you’d ever be whole again.

The apartment didn’t smell like cigarettes anymore. The stale ramen scent was gone too, replaced by the warm, sugary aroma of vanilla candles and fresh laundry. The walls, once stained yellow, were now a soft cream, painted over during a weekend when Sunghoon showed up with cans of paint and a goofy grin. The cracked window had been fixed, letting in clean air instead of damp drafts, and the fairy lights were new, strung across the ceiling, glowing golden every night. Your mattress was still on the floor, but it was covered with a thick comforter and fluffy pillows, a cozy nest you and Sunghoon had built together. The rickety table had been replaced with a small wooden one, a thrift store find you’d sanded and painted blue. Your tiny apartment wasn’t perfect, but it was home, and for the first time in years, it felt like one.

You weren’t alone anymore either. Sunghoon was here, not just as a visitor dropping off food, but as your boyfriend. The word still made your heart flutter, even months after you’d made it official. It happened one night, after he’d told you about your dad’s sabotage, after you’d cried in his arms and admitted you didn’t hate him. You’d been sitting on the mattress, sharing a bowl of popcorn, the fairy lights casting a soft glow. He’d looked at you, his eyes nervous but warm, and said, “Can I be yours? Like, for real?” You’d laughed, tears in your eyes, and said yes, kissing him until you were both breathless. That was three months ago, and now, life was different. Better. Happier.

You stood in the kitchenette, stirring a pot of ramyeon—proper ramyeon, with veggies and eggs, not the instant kind. The radio played a cheesy pop song, and you hummed along, your oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder. It was Sunghoon’s hoodie, soft and worn, smelling like his cologne. You wore it every chance you got, loving how it made you feel wrapped in him, even when he wasn’t there.

The door clicked open, and you turned, a smile already spreading across your face. Sunghoon walked in, kicking off his sneakers, his dark hair messy from the autumn wind. He carried a paper bag, the kind from the bakery down the street, and his grin was brighter than the fairy lights. “Guess what I got,” he said, holding the bag up like a trophy.

“Cupcakes?” you asked, eyes lighting up. You set the spoon down and wiped your hands on a dish towel, bouncing over to him.

“Better,” he teased, pulling out a box of your favorite cream-filled donuts, the ones with powdered sugar that always got everywhere. “And coffee. Real coffee, not that instant crap you used to drink.”

You laughed, grabbing the box and peeking inside. “You’re spoiling me, Hoon.”

“Good,” he said, stepping closer, his hands finding your waist. “You deserve it.” He leaned down, kissing your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, soft and slow. You melted into him, the donut box squished between you, and giggled when he pulled back, powdered sugar already on his hoodie.

“You’re a mess,” you said, brushing it off, but your hands lingered on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“Says the girl with flour on her face,” he shot back, smirking. He swiped his thumb across your cheek, wiping away a smudge you hadn’t noticed. “Cooking without me? Rude.”

“I was gonna surprise you,” you said, pouting playfully. “Ramyeon and donuts. Romantic, right?”

He laughed, the sound warm and bright, filling the apartment. “The most romantic. Move over, let me help.”

You both ended up in the tiny kitchenette, bumping into each other as you tried to cook. Sunghoon insisted on chopping the green onions, even though he was terrible at it, and you teased him mercilessly when he got onion juice in his eyes. “Big baby,” you said, handing him a wet cloth, but you kissed his cheek anyway, loving how he leaned into it. The ramyeon bubbled on the stove, the donuts sat on the table, and the radio switched to a slow ballad, perfect for the cozy vibe.

Dinner was messy, delicious, and perfect. You sat cross-legged on the mattress, the blue table pushed close, sharing the ramyeon straight from the pot. Sunghoon fed you a bite, laughing when broth dripped down your chin. “You’re hopeless,” he said, but he wiped it away with his thumb, his eyes soft, like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, cheeks warm, and leaned over to kiss him, tasting salt and sugar on his lips. The kiss deepened, slow and sweet, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You straddled him, your fingers in his hair, and he groaned softly, his grip tightening.

“Love you,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low, earnest. “So fucking much.”

Your heart skipped, and you pulled back, just enough to look at him. His eyes were dark, warm, and you saw it—the love, the promise, the boy who’d fought to be here, who’d chosen you despite everything. “Love you too,” you said, voice soft, and kissed him again, your hands roaming his chest, slipping under his shirt to feel his warm skin.

It didn’t go further, not tonight. You didn’t need it to. The closeness, the way his hands held you, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world—it was enough. You ended up curled on the mattress, the comforter wrapped around you both, the fairy lights glowing above. Sunghoon’s arm was around you, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The apartment was warm, the candles flickering, and for the first time in years, you felt safe.

“Remember when we painted the walls?” he asked, his voice rumbling in his chest. “You got paint in your hair, and I had to cut it out.”

You laughed, poking his side. “You were so bad at it. There’s still a streak of cream paint on the ceiling.”

He grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Worth it. This place looks like ours now.”

“Ours,” you repeated, the word sweet on your tongue. You hadn’t talked about moving in together, not yet, but it felt like it. His toothbrush was in your bathroom, his hoodies in your closet, his presence in every corner of your life. You liked it. You loved it.

You shifted, propping yourself up to look at him. “What’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever wanted to do with me?” you asked, grinning.

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to think. “Hmm. Probably take you to one of those drive-in movies, like in old rom-coms. Popcorn, blankets, making out in the back seat.”

You laughed, swatting his chest. “Perv.”

“Only for you,” he said, winking, but his smile was so soft, so genuine, it made your heart ache. “What about you? Cheesiest date idea, go.”

You bit your lip, thinking. “Picnic in a park. Like, with a basket and a checkered blanket and those little sandwiches with the crusts cut off. And you’d push me on a swing after.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “Deal. Next weekend, picnic and drive-in. But I’m cutting the crusts off the sandwiches. You’d probably burn them.”

“Rude!” you gasped, but you were laughing, and he was too, and soon you were kissing again, slow and lazy, the kind of kisses that didn’t lead anywhere, just felt good. You fell asleep like that, tangled together, the radio still playing softly, the candles burning low.

The past wasn’t gone. The memories of that night, the pregnancy, the abortion, your dad’s betrayal—they lingered, like shadows in the corners. But they didn’t define you anymore. You’d both fought for this, for each other, and every day was a step away from the pain. Your apartment was a home, your life was yours, and Sunghoon was by your side, loving you through it all. It was sweet, it was messy, it was real, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The apartment glowed under the fairy lights, the vanilla candle on the table casting a warm flicker across the room. The air smelled like fresh laundry and the faint sweetness of the donuts Sunghoon had brought earlier. You were curled on the mattress, wearing his hoodie, your legs tangled with his as you watched a cheesy rom-com on your phone. His arm was around you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder, and every so often, he’d lean down to kiss your temple, making you smile. Life had been good—better than good. You and Sunghoon were in love, your tiny apartment was a home, and the shadows of your past felt far away. But shadows have a way of creeping back.

It started with a text. You didn’t see it at first, too caught up in giggling at Sunghoon’s terrible impression of the movie’s lead actor. His phone buzzed on the table, and he glanced at it, his smile fading. You noticed, nudging him. “What’s up?”

He hesitated, then handed you the phone. It was a message from his mom—your stepmom. “Come home tomorrow. Your dad and I need to talk to you. It’s important.” No emojis, no warmth, just cold words that made your stomach twist.

“About what?” you asked, sitting up, the hoodie slipping off your shoulder.

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I don’t know. But… I think they know about us.”

Your heart sank. You’d been careful, or so you thought. Sunghoon still lived with your parents, commuting to your apartment most nights, but you hadn’t told anyone about your relationship. Not your friends, not your coworkers, and definitely not your family. The idea of your dad—your cold, unforgiving dad—finding out made your skin crawl. He’d kicked you out for the pregnancy, disowned you for less. What would he do to Sunghoon?

“How would they know?” you asked, voice small.

Sunghoon sighed, pulling you closer. “I don’t know. Maybe someone saw us. Maybe I slipped up. I’ve been… distracted lately. Forgot to clear my phone’s location history a few times.”

You swallowed, the warmth of the apartment suddenly feeling stifling. “What do we do?”

He kissed your forehead, his lips soft but firm. “We face it. Together. I’m not hiding you. Not anymore.”

You nodded, but fear gnawed at you. You loved him, more than you’d ever thought possible, but your family’s history was a minefield. You didn’t sleep much that night, even with Sunghoon’s arms around you, his steady breathing a reminder that you weren’t alone. Not yet.

The next day, Sunghoon went home. You stayed at the apartment, pacing, checking your phone every five minutes. He promised to call after the talk, to tell you everything, but hours passed with no word. By evening, you were a wreck, the vanilla candle burned down to nothing, the apartment too quiet without him. Finally, your phone rang, and you grabbed it, heart pounding.

“Hoon?” you said, voice shaky.

“It’s bad,” he said, his voice low, strained. “They know. Everything.”

You sat on the mattress, your knees weak. “How?”

“Dad saw us,” he said. “That day we went to the park, had that picnic. He was there, picking up some client. Saw us kissing, holding hands. He didn’t say anything then, but he told Mom, and they’ve been watching me. Checking my phone, my schedule. They know I’ve been coming to your place.”

Your stomach churned. “What did they say?”

He laughed, bitter and sharp. “Dad called you a slut. Said you seduced me to ruin me, just like before. Mom just cried, kept saying we’re sick, that we’re not right in the head. They told me to end it, to never see you again, or I’m out of the house.”

You felt sick, the memories of your dad’s rage flooding back. “And you? What did you say?”

“I told them I love you,” he said, voice softening. “I said you’re my girlfriend, my future, and I’m not giving you up. Not for them, not for anyone.”

Tears stung your eyes, a mix of pride and fear. “Hoon…”

“I’m coming over,” he said. “I need to see you.”

He was at your door in an hour, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his face pale but determined. You let him in, and he dropped the bag, pulling you into his arms. His kiss was desperate, hungry, his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish. You kissed him back, just as needy, your fingers in his hair, your body pressed against his.

“I’m done with them,” he said against your lips, his voice rough. “I’m out. I’m not going back.”

You pulled back, searching his face. “You’re moving out? Just like that?”

He nodded, his eyes fierce. “I can’t stay there. Not after what they said about you. About us. I’m staying here, with you, if you’ll have me.”

Your heart swelled, but fear lingered. “Of course I want you here,” you said, cupping his face. “But Hoon, what about skating? Your tuition? They pay for everything.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he said, kissing you again, softer this time. “I’ve got savings, some sponsorships. I’ll get a job. I don’t care. I just need you.”

You believed him, wanted to believe him, and for a moment, the apartment felt like a sanctuary again. You helped him unpack, making space for his clothes in your tiny closet, laughing when his socks got mixed with yours. That night, you made love—slow, sweet, nothing like the desperate fucks of the past. He whispered “I love you” as he moved inside you, his hands gentle, his eyes locked on yours. Your pussy clenched around him, your body trembling with pleasure, and when you came, it felt like a promise. You fell asleep in his arms, the fairy lights glowing, the future uncertain but bright.

But promises don’t erase reality. A week later, things cracked. Sunghoon was living with you now, his duffel bag a permanent fixture in the corner, his toothbrush next to yours. The apartment was still cozy, still yours, but money was tight. You were both working—your diner and corner store shifts, his new part-time gig at a skate shop—but it wasn’t enough. Bills piled up, and Sunghoon’s skating practice was suffering. He couldn’t afford the rink fees without his parents’ support, and you could see the stress eating at him, even if he tried to hide it.

It came to a head one evening. You were cooking dinner, a simple stir-fry, the kitchenette warm with the smell of soy sauce and garlic. Sunghoon was on the mattress, scrolling through his phone, his face tense. You’d noticed he’d been quiet all day, but you didn’t push, hoping he’d open up. But when you set the plates on the blue table and sat next to him, he didn’t look at you.

“Hoon, what’s wrong?” you asked, touching his arm.

He pulled away, just slightly, but it stung. “Nothing,” he said, voice flat. “Just tired.”

“Bullshit,” you said, keeping your tone light but firm. “You’ve been off all day. Talk to me.”

He set his phone down, too hard, and looked at you, his eyes sharp. “You want me to talk? Fine. I’m fucking drowning, Y/N. I can’t skate like I used to, I’m barely making rent, and I’m living in your apartment like some freeloader. I left everything for you, and now I’m stuck.”

You froze, hurt cutting deep. “Stuck? You said you wanted this. You said you wanted me.”

“I do,” he snapped, standing, pacing the small space. “But it’s not that simple. I’m trying, but it’s hard. I see you working your ass off, and I’m barely keeping up. I feel like I’m failing you, failing us.”

You stood too, anger flaring, but it was different from your old fights. This wasn’t about betrayal or the past—it was about now, about the life you were trying to build. “You’re not failing me,” you said, voice rising. “We’re in this together. But you don’t talk to me. You just shut down, like I’m the problem.”

“You’re not the problem,” he said, but his tone was sharp, frustrated. “It’s me. It’s this.” He gestured at the apartment, the cluttered table, the tiny space. “I thought I could handle it, but I’m losing everything—my skating, my future. And you’re just… fine. Like this is enough for you.”

His words hit like a slap. “You think I’m fine?” you said, voice shaking. “I’m working two jobs, Hoon. I’m trying to keep us afloat. I gave up everything too—my family, my old life. Don’t act like I’m not struggling.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wild. “Then why does it feel like you’re okay with this? Like you don’t care if we’re scraping by, as long as we’re together?”

“Because I love you!” you shouted, tears spilling over. “I don’t care about the money, the apartment, any of it. I just want you. But you’re pushing me away, acting like I’m holding you back.”

He stared at you, his chest heaving, and for a moment, you thought he’d pull you close, kiss you, make it right. But he didn’t. “I need space,” he said, voice cold. “I can’t think here. I can’t breathe.”

“Space?” you repeated, hurt turning to anger. “You live here now. Where the fuck are you gonna go?”

“I don’t know,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “The rink. Anywhere. I just… I need to figure this out.”

You stepped closer, your voice low, sharp. “If you walk out, don’t expect me to wait forever. I’m not your fucking safety net.”

He looked at you, pain flashing in his eyes, but he didn’t stay. He grabbed his duffel bag and left, the door slamming behind him. You stood there, tears streaming down your face, the stir-fry cold on the table, the apartment too quiet. You wanted to run after him, to beg him to stay, but you didn’t. You’d fought too hard to rebuild yourself, and you wouldn’t let him break you again.

Sunghoon didn’t come back that night, or the next. You heard through a mutual friend that he was crashing at the ice rink, sleeping in the locker room, showering in the communal bathrooms. He’d quit his job at the skate shop, pouring every hour into practice, trying to claw his way back to the top. You missed him, ached for him, but you were angry too. He’d chosen to run, to shut you out, and it hurt more than you’d expected.

The apartment felt empty without him. The fairy lights seemed dimmer, the blue table too big for one. You kept working, kept living, but every night, you checked your phone, hoping for a text, a call, anything. Nothing came. You wondered if he was okay, if he was eating, if he was thinking of you. But you didn’t reach out. You’d meant what you said—you weren’t his safety net.

A week later, you got a call from one of Sunghoon’s teammates, Jay. “You need to come to the rink,” he said, voice urgent. “It’s Hoon. He’s… he’s not okay.”

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed your jacket and ran, the night air cold against your skin. The rink was a short bus ride away, and when you got there, it was dark, the parking lot empty except for a few cars. Jay met you at the entrance, his face grim.

“What happened?” you asked, your heart pounding.

“He fell,” Jay said, leading you inside. “During practice. He’s been pushing himself too hard, not sleeping, not eating. He hit the ice, and… he just broke down. He’s still out there.”

You followed Jay into the rink, the cold air hitting you like a wall. The ice gleamed under the dim lights, and in the center, you saw him—Sunghoon, sitting on the ice, his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. He was alone, his skates still on, his practice gear soaked with sweat. You’d never seen him like this, so small, so broken.

You stepped onto the ice, your sneakers slipping, and called his name. “Hoon?”

He didn’t look up at first, but his sobbing slowed, his hands dropping to his lap. His face was red, tear-streaked, his eyes hollow. “Y/N,” he said, voice cracking. “You came.”

You knelt in front of him, the ice cold through your jeans. “Of course I came,” you said, voice soft but firm. “Jay called. Said you fell. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, but his hands trembled. “Not hurt. Just… fucked up. I can’t do this. I can’t skate, I can’t live like this. I miss you. I miss us.”

Your heart ached, but you didn’t touch him, not yet. “Why didn’t you call? Why did you run?”

He laughed, a broken sound, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “Because I’m an idiot. Because I thought I could fix everything by myself. I thought if I skated harder, if I won, I’d be enough. For you, for me, for them.” He gestured vaguely, meaning your parents. “But I’m not. I’m falling apart.”

You reached out, touching his cheek, your fingers cold against his warm skin. “You don’t have to be enough for them,” you said. “Just be you. That’s all I want.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching, and fresh tears fell. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice raw. “I didn’t mean what I said. I’m not stuck. I love you. I love our life. I just… I got scared. I don’t know how to do this without their support.”

You pulled him into your arms, not caring about the ice, the cold, the rink. He clung to you, his face buried in your shoulder, his sobs shaking both of you. “We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, stroking his hair. “Together. But you can’t run again, Hoon. You have to stay.”

He nodded against you, his grip tightening. “I will. I promise.”

You stayed like that, kneeling on the ice, until his tears stopped, until his breathing steadied. Jay brought you a blanket, and you wrapped it around Sunghoon, helping him off the rink. He was shaky, exhausted, but he held your hand, not letting go. You took him home, to your apartment, and for the first time in a week, the fairy lights felt bright again.

The apartment was a warm glow of morning light, the kind that made everything feel soft and safe. The window, no longer cracked, let in a golden stream of sun, catching on the cream-colored walls you and Sunghoon had painted two summers ago. The fairy lights were coiled in a box now, saved for winter nights, but the room didn’t need them to feel alive. A small shelf held your growing collection of thrifted books and Polaroids—snapshots of you and Sunghoon laughing at a street festival, kissing under an umbrella, sprawled on a picnic blanket with powdered sugar on your faces from those donuts he loved. The blue table, still a little wobbly, was cluttered with coffee mugs, a plate of half-eaten toast, and a tiny cactus you’d named Spike. The air smelled like brewed coffee, butter, and the faint musk of Sunghoon’s hoodie, which you were wearing, the sleeves too long over your hands.

Your mattress days were long gone. A proper bed sat against the wall, a secondhand frame you’d sanded and stained together, piled with a thick comforter and mismatched pillows. The apartment wasn’t big, wasn’t fancy, but it was home. Your home. Yours and Sunghoon’s. It had been two years since he left your parents’ house, two years since you both cut them off for good. No calls, no texts, no tearful letters begging for reconciliation. Your dad had tried, at first, leaving voicemails that went from angry to desperate before they stopped altogether. Your stepmom sent one letter, formal and cold, asking Sunghoon to “reconsider his choices.” You’d burned it in the sink, watching the edges curl and blacken, and Sunghoon had held your hand, silent but steady. That was the end of it. You didn’t need them anymore. You had each other.

You were twenty-one now, Sunghoon twenty-two, and life was quiet, steady, beautiful in its simplicity. You worked as a barista at a cozy café downtown, the kind with mismatched chairs and live music on Fridays. Sunghoon coached kids at the ice rink, teaching them spins and jumps with a patience you hadn’t known he had, and picked up shifts at a local gym, cleaning equipment and spotting for lifters. Money was still tight sometimes, but you managed—bills paid, groceries bought, a little left for small joys like movie tickets or a new plant. The past, with its pain and betrayal, was a distant ache, not gone but softened, like a bruise you barely noticed anymore.

You sat on the bed, cross-legged, sipping coffee from a chipped mug. Sunghoon was sprawled next to you, his head propped on one hand, his t-shirt rumpled from sleep. His hair was a mess, dark strands falling into his eyes, and he had that lazy, morning smile that made your heart skip. The radio played softly, some indie song about love and rain, and outside, the street was waking up—cars humming, neighbors chatting, the world moving on.

“Remember when we thought instant ramen was a personality trait?” you said, grinning over your mug.

He laughed, the sound warm, filling the room. “God, yeah. We’d eat it every day, like we were gourmet chefs. You’d put, like, a single slice of cheese on it and call it ‘fancy.’”

You shoved his shoulder, laughing. “Excuse you, that was high cuisine. You were the one who thought ketchup was a spice.”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you closer, his fingers warm against yours. “I stand by it. Ketchup makes everything better.” He kissed your knuckles, his lips soft, and you felt that familiar flutter, the one that hadn’t faded even after years together.

You leaned against him, your head on his shoulder, the coffee mug cradled in your lap. “We’ve come a long way, huh?” you said, voice softer now, thoughtful. “From that shitty apartment to… this.”

He nodded, his cheek resting against your hair. “Yeah. Feels like a lifetime ago. You were so mad at me all the time. Thought you’d kick me out for good after that rink thing.”

You smiled, but it was tinged with the memory. “I wanted to. But I couldn’t. Even when I hated you, I didn’t.”

He turned, shifting so he could look at you, his eyes serious but warm. “I’m glad you didn’t. I was a mess back then. Still am, sometimes. But you… you make me better.”

Your chest tightened, a mix of love and gratitude. You set the mug on the table and climbed into his lap, straddling him, your hands on his shoulders. “You make me better too,” you said, voice quiet. “I was so angry, so hurt. I thought I’d never trust anyone again. But you showed up, kept showing up, even when I pushed you away.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, his hands slipping under the hoodie to rest on your bare skin. “I couldn’t stay away,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Even when I fucked up, even when I didn’t know how to fix it. I loved you too much.”

You kissed him, slow and deep, your fingers in his hair, your body pressed against his. It wasn’t desperate or hungry, not like the early days when every touch was a fight against the past. This was soft, certain, a promise in every brush of his lips. His hands roamed your back, warm and gentle, and you felt safe, loved, whole. You pulled back, resting your forehead against his, your breaths mingling.

“Tell me something,” you said, smiling. “What’s the biggest thing you’ve learned since we started this?”

He thought for a moment, his hands still on your waist, his thumbs tracing circles on your skin. “That I don’t have to be perfect,” he said. “Growing up, Mom and Dad… they made me feel like I had to be the best, always. No mistakes, no weaknesses. But with you, I can just be me. I can fuck up, and you’ll still love me.”

You smiled, your heart swelling. “I do. Always.” You kissed his nose, then leaned back, your hands on his chest. “Your turn. Ask me.”

He grinned, his eyes bright. “Okay. What’s the biggest thing you’ve learned?”

You bit your lip, thinking. “That I’m enough,” you said, voice soft but sure. “I spent so long feeling like I was less than you, less than everyone. Dad made me feel like I was nothing, like I’d never be good enough. But you… you showed me I’m enough, just as I am. I don’t have to prove anything.”

His smile softened, and he pulled you into a hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. “You’ve always been enough,” he whispered. “More than enough.”

You stayed like that, wrapped in each other, the radio humming, the coffee going cold. The conversation drifted, turning to memories, to how you’d grown. You talked about the early days, when the apartment was bare, when you lived on instant noodles and stubborn hope. You laughed about the time Sunghoon tried to “fix” the leaky faucet and flooded the bathroom, or when you burned a cake for his birthday and ended up eating the charred remains anyway, giggling like kids.

“We were so young,” you said, lying back on the bed, Sunghoon next to you, his hand laced with yours. “Not in age, but… in how we saw things. I thought hurting you would make me feel better. I thought I’d never get over it.”

He turned on his side, propping his head on his hand, his eyes tracing your face. “I thought I’d never be free,” he said. “From Mom, from Dad, from all their expectations. I thought I had to carry it forever. But you showed me I could let go.”

You smiled, reaching up to brush his hair from his eyes. “We saved each other, didn’t we?”

He nodded, leaning down to kiss you, soft and slow. “Yeah,” he said against your lips. “We did.”

The day passed in a haze of quiet joy. You cooked lunch together—spaghetti with homemade sauce, a recipe you’d perfected over months of trial and error. Sunghoon insisted on chopping the garlic, even though he always made a mess, and you teased him when he got sauce on his shirt. “You’re hopeless,” you said, but you kissed the spot on his cheek where a speck of tomato had landed, and he laughed, pulling you into a dance in the tiny kitchenette, spinning you until you were dizzy.

That evening, you sat on the bed, a blanket draped over your legs, sharing a bowl of popcorn as you talked about the future. Not big plans—neither of you were ready for that—but small ones. A weekend trip to the coast, maybe. A new shelf for your books. Trying a new recipe. Sunghoon wanted to teach you to skate, though he admitted he’d probably spend more time catching you than coaching.

“I’d be terrible,” you said, tossing a popcorn kernel at him. “I’d fall every two seconds.”

He caught the kernel, popping it into his mouth with a grin. “Good. More excuses to hold you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered. “Cheesy,” you said, but you leaned into him, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The apartment was quiet, the street outside calm, and you felt something you hadn’t in years: peace.

Growing up together hadn’t been easy. There were fights, tears, moments when you thought you’d lose each other. The past—your parents, the pregnancy, the betrayal—had left scars, but they’d faded, softened by time and love. You’d learned to forgive, not just Sunghoon but yourself. You’d learned to live, not for anyone else, but for you, for the life you’d built together.

“I love you,” you said, voice soft, almost lost in the hum of the radio.

Sunghoon’s arm tightened around you, his lips brushing your hair. “Love you too,” he said, and you knew he meant it, not just for now but for always.

The night stretched on, and you fell asleep tangled together, the coffee mugs forgotten, the popcorn bowl tipped over, the world outside irrelevant. You’d grown up, not just in years but in heart, and you’d done it together, step by step, love by love.

The apartment was a cozy haven, bathed in the soft glow of morning light. The cream-colored walls were adorned with more Polaroids now—snapshots of you and Sunghoon at a carnival, sharing ice cream, laughing in a rainstorm. The blue table, still a little wobbly, held a vase of daisies, a new addition from your weekend market trips, and a stack of takeout menus for lazy nights. The air smelled like fresh coffee and the cinnamon rolls Sunghoon had tried (and mostly succeeded) to bake, their golden tops peeking out from a plate on the counter. The bed, no longer a mattress on the floor, was a proper frame with a plush comforter, piled with pillows that always ended up scattered after your late-night cuddles. The apartment was small, but it was yours—yours and Sunghoon’s, a home built from love and stubborn hope.

Three years had passed since Sunghoon left your parents’ house, three years since you’d both cut them off and chosen each other. You were twenty-two now, Sunghoon twenty-three, and life was good—really good. You’d upgraded from your barista job to managing the café, a role that came with better pay and creative control over the menu. Sunghoon was thriving at the ice rink, coaching kids full-time and even competing in local tournaments, his passion for skating reignited. Money wasn’t a constant worry anymore; you could afford small luxuries like weekend getaways or new furniture. The scars of your past—the pregnancy, the abortion, your parents’ betrayal—were still there, faint and faded, but they no longer defined you. You’d grown up together, learned to love without fear, and built a life that was yours, free from the weight of your family.

You were curled on the bed, wearing Sunghoon’s t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, your hair still messy from sleep. Sunghoon was in the kitchenette, flipping through his phone, his sweatpants low on his hips, his bare back lean and strong from years of skating. The radio played a soft pop song, and you hummed along, scrolling through your own phone, when an email notification popped up. It was from an old family friend, someone you hadn’t spoken to in years. The subject line was simple: “Checking In.”

You opened it, curious, and skimmed the message. It was mostly small talk—updates on their life, questions about yours—but one line stopped you cold. “I was sorry to hear about your dad and Sunghoon’s mom splitting up. Divorce is tough, but they seem to be moving on.”

You sat up, heart pounding. “Hoon,” you said, voice sharp. “Come here.”

He turned, eyebrows raised, setting his phone down. “What’s up?”

You handed him your phone, the email open. “Read this.”

He scanned it, his expression shifting from confusion to surprise, then to something like amusement. “They got divorced?” he said, looking up at you. “When?”

“I don’t know,” you said, taking the phone back. “This is the first I’ve heard. I mean… we blocked them. Nobody told us.”

He sat on the bed, a grin spreading across his face. “So, technically, we’re not step-siblings anymore.”

You stared at him, then burst out laughing, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. “Oh my God,” you said, clutching your stomach. “That’s… that’s so stupid. We’re not related anymore?”

He laughed too, the sound bright and free, his eyes crinkling. “Guess not. We’re just… us now. No weird family baggage.”

You fell back on the bed, still giggling, tears of laughter in your eyes. “All that drama, all that guilt, and now it’s just… poof. Gone. They’re not even together.”

Sunghoon lay next to you, propping himself on one elbow, his grin wide. “Kinda funny, right? We went through hell because of them, and they couldn’t even make it work.”

You turned to him, your laughter fading into a smile. “It’s like… we’re free. Really free.”

He nodded, his hand finding yours, his fingers lacing through. “We always were,” he said, voice softer. “But this? It’s like the universe saying we’re okay. That we’re right.”

You leaned in, kissing him, slow and sweet, your lips lingering against his. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you felt the familiar warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart. The kiss deepened, but it wasn’t urgent, wasn’t desperate. It was love, pure and simple, the kind that didn’t need to prove anything. When you pulled back, you were both smiling, your foreheads pressed together.

“Love you,” you whispered, your fingers tracing his jaw.

“Love you too,” he said, his voice low, warm. “Always.”

The discovery could’ve been heavy, could’ve stirred up old wounds, but it didn’t. It was a relief, a punchline to a bad joke, and it made you both lighter. You spent the morning talking about it, laughing over the irony, wondering what your parents were doing now but not caring enough to find out. They were gone from your lives, and their divorce was just a footnote, a reason to chuckle and move on.

That evening, Sunghoon was acting strange. He’d been fidgety all day, checking his phone, pacing the apartment, muttering to himself. You noticed but didn’t push, assuming he was just wired from the divorce news. You were in the kitchenette, washing dishes, humming to the radio, when he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, a little nervous. “Can we talk?”

You turned, drying your hands on a towel, raising an eyebrow. “You okay? You’ve been weird all day.”

He laughed, but it was shaky, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… come sit with me.”

You followed him to the bed, your heart picking up speed. He sat, pulling you down next to him, his hand tight around yours. The fairy lights were plugged in now, glowing golden, and the room felt warm, intimate, like it was holding its breath.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low, serious. “I’ve been thinking about us. About everything we’ve been through. The good, the bad, all of it.”

You nodded, your stomach fluttering, not sure where this was going. “Okay…”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locked on yours. “I love you. More than I ever thought I could love anyone. You’re my best friend, my home, my everything. And today, finding out we’re not tied to them anymore… it made me realize I don’t want to wait. I want you forever.”

Your breath caught, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. Your heart stopped as he opened it, revealing a simple silver ring, a tiny star etched on the band. It wasn’t flashy, wasn’t expensive, but it was perfect.

“Marry me,” he said, his voice steady despite the nerves in his eyes. “Not because we have to, not because of anyone else. Just because I want you, always.”

Tears welled up, and you laughed, a soft, shaky sound, your hands flying to your face. “Hoon,” you whispered, voice thick. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He grinned, wide and bright, and slid the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling. You kissed him, hard and desperate, your arms around his neck, his hands in your hair. The kiss was messy, full of tears and laughter, and when you pulled back, you were both beaming, the ring catching the light.

“I love you,” you said, your voice breaking, and he kissed you again, softer this time, his lips lingering.

“Love you too,” he murmured, his forehead against yours. “Forever.”

You didn’t want a wedding. Neither of you did. The idea of a big ceremony, with dresses and flowers and people you barely knew, felt wrong. You’d spent years tied to expectations, to your parents’ rules, and you didn’t want your love to be a performance. Instead, you went to the courthouse a week later, just the two of you, in jeans and t-shirts, the ring on your finger and a matching one on his. You signed the papers, said your vows in a quiet room with a bored officiant, and laughed when you tripped over the words, Sunghoon catching you with a grin.

It was enough. More than enough. You celebrated with takeout pizza and cheap wine, eating on the bed, the fairy lights glowing, the radio playing your favorite songs. You made love that night, slow and tender, his hands gentle on your skin, your pussy clenching around him as you whispered his name, your bodies moving together like they were made for it. It wasn’t about passion or need—it was about love, about being one, about promising forever in every touch, every kiss.

After, you lay tangled in the sheets, his arm around you, your head on his chest. The ring felt new, a little heavy, but right. You traced his collarbone with your finger, smiling when he shivered.

“Mrs. Park,” he said, testing the words, his voice teasing but soft. “Sounds good, huh?”

You laughed, poking his side. “Don’t get cocky, Mr. Park. I’m still me.”

He grinned, kissing your hair. “Good. I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

You talked until the candles burned out, reminiscing about your journey, laughing about the divorce news again. “We were so stressed about being step-siblings,” you said, shaking your head. “And now it’s like… who cares? They’re not even a thing anymore.”

“Right?” he said, chuckling. “All that guilt, all those fights, and they just… imploded. Guess we won.”

You smiled, snuggling closer. “We did. We really did.”

You talked about growing up, about how you’d changed. You weren’t the angry girl who’d wanted to hurt him, the one who’d lied and schemed. You were stronger now, kinder to yourself, proud of the life you’d built. Sunghoon wasn’t the perfect son, trapped by pressure. He was free, passionate, a man who loved deeply and fought for what mattered. You’d both learned to forgive, to heal, to love without conditions. The past was a lesson, not a chain, and you carried it lightly now, a story you’d survived together.

“I’m happy,” you said, voice soft, almost afraid to say it out loud. “Like, really happy.”

He looked at you, his eyes warm, his smile soft. “Me too,” he said. “Happier than I’ve ever been.”

The night faded into morning, and you fell asleep in his arms, the apartment quiet, the world outside irrelevant. You were married, not by a big wedding but by choice, by love, by a promise no one could break. You’d grown up together, from pain to peace, and now, you’d grow old together, just the two of you, forever enough.

The house was alive with the chaos of a Saturday morning. It wasn’t the tiny apartment anymore—that was a distant memory, a place you and Sunghoon still talked about with nostalgic smiles. Now, you lived in a modest two-bedroom home on the edge of the city, with a small backyard and a swing set the kids adored. The walls were painted a soft blue, covered in crayon scribbles and framed family photos—you and Sunghoon at the courthouse, your twins as newborns, all four of you at the beach last summer. The kitchen smelled like pancakes and maple syrup, the radio playing an old love song, and the living room was a mess of toys, books, and a half-built pillow fort.

You were thirty, Sunghoon thirty-one, and life was everything you’d dreamed it could be. You owned the café now, a thriving little spot with your artwork on the walls and Sunghoon’s skating trophies on a shelf. He ran a skating school at the rink, coaching kids and adults with the same passion he’d always had, his smile brighter than ever. Your parents were a faint memory, their divorce a footnote you’d laughed about years ago. You hadn’t spoken to them in over a decade, and you didn’t need to. Your family was here, in this house, with the two people who made every day a gift.

The twins, Hana and Minjun, were five, a whirlwind of energy and giggles. Hana had Sunghoon’s dark hair and your stubborn streak, always bossing her brother around. Minjun had your eyes and Sunghoon’s quiet charm, content to follow his sister’s lead but quick with a cheeky grin. They were sprawled on the living room rug, coloring a giant piece of paper, their crayons rolling everywhere.

“Mommy, Daddy’s burning the pancakes again!” Hana called, not looking up from her drawing, a lopsided rainbow.

You laughed, standing at the stove, flipping a pancake that was, in fact, slightly too dark. “He’s not burning them, baby. He’s just… making them extra crispy.”

Sunghoon, beside you in a faded t-shirt and sweatpants, nudged your hip with his. “Liar,” he teased, his voice low, warm. He leaned in, kissing your cheek, his hand brushing your waist under the hem of your shirt. “You’re the one who distracted me.”

You swatted him with the spatula, grinning. “Keep it PG, Park. Kids are watching.”

He chuckled, stealing another kiss, quick and soft, before turning to the twins. “Who wants pancakes?” he called, holding up a plate stacked high.

“Me!” Hana and Minjun shouted, scrambling to the table, their coloring forgotten. You set the plates down, cutting their pancakes into small pieces, while Sunghoon poured orange juice, dodging Hana’s attempt to grab the jug.

Breakfast was loud, messy, perfect. Minjun got syrup on his nose, Hana told a long, dramatic story about a butterfly she’d seen, and Sunghoon kept sneaking bites from your plate, his hand resting on your thigh under the table. You caught his eye, and he smiled, the kind of smile that still made your heart skip, even after all these years.

“Eww, Daddy, stop looking at Mommy like that,” Hana said, wrinkling her nose. “You’re all mushy.”

Minjun giggled, covering his mouth. “Yeah, mushy-gushy! You’re always kissing!”

You burst out laughing, and Sunghoon leaned back, pretending to be offended. “What? I can’t kiss my wife? Who made that rule?”

“Me!” Hana declared, crossing her arms. “It’s gross.”

“Gross?” Sunghoon gasped, scooping her up and tickling her until she squealed. “You’re gonna be mushy-gushy one day, kiddo.”

“Never!” she shrieked, giggling, while Minjun joined in, climbing onto Sunghoon’s lap, demanding tickles too.

You watched them, your heart so full it hurt. This was your life now—pancakes and laughter, crayon stains and tickle fights. You and Sunghoon were still so in love, the kind that made you steal kisses in the kitchen, hold hands under the table, make love late at night when the kids were asleep, your bodies tangled, your whispers soft. Your rings, simple silver bands, caught the light, a quiet reminder of the vow you’d made—not with a wedding, but with each other, every day.

Later, after the dishes were done and the twins were napping, you and Sunghoon curled up on the couch, a blanket over your legs. The house was quiet, the radio off, just the hum of the fridge and the distant chirp of birds outside. He pulled you close, your back against his chest, his arms around you.

“Happy?” he asked, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low.

You smiled, tilting your head to look at him. “Happier than I’ve ever been.”

He kissed you, slow and sweet, his hand resting on your stomach, where the twins had grown years ago. “Me too,” he said. “You, the kids… it’s more than I ever dreamed.”

You turned in his arms, straddling his lap, your hands on his face. “Love you,” you whispered, kissing him again, deeper this time, your fingers in his hair.

“Love you more,” he murmured, his hands sliding under your shirt, warm against your skin. The kiss heated, but the sound of small footsteps made you pull back, laughing softly.

“Mommy?” Minjun’s voice came from the hallway, sleepy and curious.

Sunghoon grinned, resting his forehead against yours. “Busted,” he whispered.

You climbed off him, smoothing your shirt, and went to scoop up Minjun, who was rubbing his eyes. Hana followed, dragging her blanket, and soon you were all piled on the couch, the twins nestled between you. Sunghoon draped an arm around you, his hand resting on Hana’s head, and you leaned into him, your heart full.

“Still mushy,” Hana mumbled, but she was smiling, snuggling closer.

“Always,” you said, kissing her forehead, then Sunghoon’s cheek.

The afternoon faded into evening, and you stayed there, a happy, messy family, built from pain and love, stronger than anything that had tried to break you. You’d grown up together, you and Sunghoon, from anger to trust, from chaos to peace. Now, with your twins, your home, your love, you were whole—a family, forever.

252 notes · View notes

imnez-daydreams · 2 days ago

Text

the art of noticing

pairing : benjamin poindexter x reader

warnings : extremely suggestive below read more, not outright explicit in detail (cause im not talented enough for full on smut lol) but just to be safe, don't read if below 18 !! quite a few religious themes/imagery too.

a/n : hii ! i've never written fanfiction before let alone anything spicy but the dex brainrot was too strong so please bear with me. special thank you to @kyamiia for inspiring me and letting me expand on the idea based on this, and to @babyangeldex for being THE sweetest ever with her encouragement, especially on me wanting to write for the first time !! credits for the header images goes to @bullseyelover, THE no1 bullseye fan hi i love you !! hope you enjoy fellow dex lovers <3

dex notices things.

it started even before you guys got together.

dex's eye for details only intensifies when he crawls his way into your heart. your home. your shared home. it was one thing being able to look through the glass of your apartment window, studying your routine. timing his sips perfectly to yours, anticipating that look of bliss when the coffee hit just right. pretending that faraway look and smile out the window was directed to him, reserved for him.

now though, dex doesn't have to be delusional anymore. there's no need to time his drinking with yours because he is making your coffee and spending the mornings with you. he knows just how you like it. he's memorised all your morning routine steps, catalogued every small tick in your face when you eat your breakfast, has your glossy eyes from watching your favourite romcom seared into his brain. he knows how to see that satisfied and "on cloud 9" face. how to be the reason for that pleasure.

when you laugh at dex's poor attempt of a joke, really laugh with your eyes crinkling in the corner, he thinks his heart stops. he thinks this is it. the sound of an angel come to gently lead him towards the afterlife, with the way your laughter wraps around his body like the soft embrace of an angel's wings.

so it makes perfect sense for dex's penchant for noticing to seep into your shared bedroom too. he needs to remember everything, he needs to file away every little sound, every facial expression. keeps it in the folders of his mind, locked away for nobody else to see. only unlocking these memories when he's hard at work, away from his angel. clings to the image of you, the sound of you like a lifeline. counts the seconds down to when he can finally lock up his place of worship again because you're back in his arms. but its not just for himself, to keep his hunger satiated. its for you too. so he can replay your reactions to everything he does and says. analyse what made you feel good. what can make you feel even better. let you float up to the same high he gets from watching you, being with you. don't worry, he'll be there to catch you in his protective embrace when you land back down.

the first time he sunk to his knees for you, he never took his eyes away from you. couldn't bear to, not when your face was so beautifully contorted in pleasure, pleasure he was giving to you. the rising pitch of your voice, the up and down movement of your chest, the low tilt of your eyes to keep that eye contact with him going. when you absentmindedly reach for dex's hair, tugging the short hairs at the back while begging with that sweet saccharine voice of yours,

"pl- please dex, i can't anymore. i need, ohmygod, i need it please, i need you dex"

it takes every. single. cell. in dex's body to not roll his eyes to the back of his skull and finish in his pants then and there. his years of military training, experience as FBI-SWAT all lead up to this moment. to practice that honed skill of restraint. he can't let go until you have, until you've reached that peak. when you do, you collapse backwards with a heaving chest. dex unclenches his bruising (posessive) grip on you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. not to waste a single drop, he licks his hand clean while slowly standing back up from his place of worship.

the sight that greets dex has him believing in God.

your hair is tousled just above your head like a halo.

your eyes that look up at him are completely glossed over, a single tear slowly cascading down the right side of your face.

your smile, oh, your sweet loving smile. directed at him, only him as if he was the answers to your prayers.

those aren't what drives dex over the edge though, oh no.

its you.

you looking like the epitome of an angel.

slowly hiking up your legs, opening them up shyly.

"more? please, dex?"

if this is how dex dies, he believes its worth it.

a/n : thank you so much if you've read to the end <3 !! this is very very beginner so pretty please be nice if you reblog with comments/ramblings, though i'd still appreciate any kind of support with likes/reblogs/comments hehe. (also yes i wrote this on my phone on drafts, and nearly got a heart attack when the draft vanished and accidentally uploaded before i was done so if you saw ... no you didnt)

#imnez writes <3 #benjamin poindexter x reader #bullseye x reader #dex x reader #bullseye #benjamin poindexter #dex #daredevil #daredevil born again

175 notes · View notes

valleydoli · 2 days ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 Only You 𝜗𝜚

Cw 𝜗𝜚 MDNI, Stalking, Obsessiveness, Controlling Behaviour, Love Bombing, Murder, Fluff, Kidnapping, Smut, Toxic Sukuna, Yandere Sukuna? Readers a sweetie, (Touch her you die… like actually…)

𝜗𝜚 Series Masterlist…

𝜗𝜚 Previous Chapter | Chapter Three…

𝜗𝜚 WC: 3k

Luckily for Sukuna, his extremely compliant twin agreed to let him pick up his son from school, but the weekend couldn’t have been any slower for Sukuna.

Anything he did to occupy himself and keep you from creeping your way into his mind was a dud. He’s starting to think you’ve put some sort of spell on him. A minute couldn’t pass without you running through his twisted mind.

Any second he had to himself, he would spend it scrolling through your Instagram, saving some, if not all, pictures you’ve posted into a folder he has already made specially for you. Lucky for him, you post a lot, a bit too much. He doesn’t like that, you can't do that when you’re finally his. You just seem too… open.

Too trusting.

Too naïve.

See, you’ve tagged your apartment complex as a location, and you’re wearing a shirt with your work logo in another one of your posts. Your profiles are public for God's sake.

You’re incredibly naive.

You don’t know half of the disgusting, evil men out there. But it’s fine, he’s here now. Sukuna will always be there to keep you safe. He’s your protector. He’s your saviour. He was put on this earth for the sole purpose of protecting you, his angel.

You are his angel.

“What’re you doing to me?” Sukuna whispers to himself. He’s never felt this way before. He's never had someone occupy his mind to this extent. He’s never wanted to be with a woman like this. He doesn’t do relationships, as cliche as it sounds, but he would have rather been alone for the rest of his life. He's never wanted to have a girlfriend by his side, to hold, to kiss, to love, to protect. But with you, it’s different, you’ve changed him for the better. He needs you, and you need him.

You need each other.

*Ping*

‘I’ve found some stuff on the girl…’ Toji messages

Sukuna sighs heavily. Toji really tests his damn patience.

‘Like what, Toji? Don’t beat around the bush.’

‘My bad…’

‘She’s studying Art at university, in her 2nd year, and umm, she’s also a teacher at Megumi's preschool. Yano with your nephew… probably should have mentioned that, huh?’

What. The fuck. Jin AND Toji knew who you were before him?!

‘Toji, don’t piss me off. I told you her name, you don’t know her fucking name?’

‘I’m sorry, I dont know her fucking name. They just call her Miss Fluttershy or somethin, from that kids' show? My little horse? I think she mentioned her name before, I just forgot…’

‘You’re so fucking useless sometimes.’ Sukuna runs his large hand down his face.

My God. Yuji talks about you every fucking day. You gave him those stupid colouring books.

“Miss Fluttershy.”

The kids’ just as obsessed with you as he is.

‘Do you know what days she’s working?’

‘Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays’

‘Perfect.’

~~~

As Monday finally rolls by, Sukuna couldn’t be more thrilled to see you again. There hasn’t been a second since he met you that he hasn’t thought about you. What will you wear? A dress? It’s quite warm today. What perfume will you use? Do you have a favourite? How will you style your hair? In a bun? No, a ponytail!

His body is practically buzzing with excitement just to see your face again.

To smell you.

To hear your voice…

The way you say his name... It’s been echoing through his mind.

So soft and delicate.

What would you sound like yelling his name? What would you sound like moaning his name, while he slid his thick inches into your tight walls.

“Fuck…” he sighs, as he rubs against his growing member—

No.

Stop.

It’s almost 14:00, he’s got 30 minutes until he needs to pick up Yuji, (and meet the love of his life again,) and he looks a fucking mess. Hair disheveled, five o’clock shadow. He looks nasty. It’s not good enough for him. It’s not good enough for you.

Sukuna finally pulls himself out of bed, throwing on a wife-beater, a grey tracksuit and shaving his five o’clock shadow.

Great. Presentable.

15 minutes.

15 minutes until he sees you again.

~~~

“Come on, Yuji, honey, your daddy’s here.”

“No, it’s not my Papa, it’s Uncle,” the pink-haired boy says as he grasps onto your hand.

Oh, the mysterious brother Jin always speaks about, and the Uncle little Yuji admires.

“Really? I can’t wait to meet him! I’m sure he’s just as lovely as you.”

“No, he’s a big meanie,” The young boy deadpans.

Oh…

As you turn the corner with little Yuji trailing by your side, you’re faced with someone you didn’t expect to see at your place of work.

Sukuna.

How does he know where you work— wait. Is he here for Yuji? He’s Jin’s brother? The brother Jin and Yuji mentioned countless times?

There you are, and you look so beautiful. He was right, you’re wearing a dress. A floral dress. How adorable. He just wants to dress you up like the doll you are— wait.

You’re flustered. Why are you flustered? Aren’t you happy to see him? Did he do something wrong?

“Sukuna? You’re Yuji's uncle?” You inquired, “Wow… Come to think of it, you guys look so much alike. I should have noticed the moment I looked at you, huh?”

You begin to chuckle to yourself

“Actually, I think Jin and Yuji are happier looking than you.”

“He’s always angry, Miss Flutter,” Yuji chimes in.

He’s holding your hand why is he still holding your fucki—

No, he’s not about to be jealous of his 4-year-old nephew, no way.

Control yourself.

“Mhm, that little brat is my nephew.”

“I’m not a brat!” Yuji calls out

“You’re right, sweetheart, you’re the cutest one here, but don’t tell anyone I said that, okay? It’s our little secret.”

He vigorously nods his head, “Mhm, I promise!”

You’re good with kids, you’re so good with kids. You don’t understand how attractive that makes you. Oh, how desperately he wants to make you a mother. A mother to his kids, his twin—

“Suku, can Miss Flutter get ice cream with us?” He hears his nephew say.

Oh my God.

Yuji, you fucking genius.

“He’s right, you should come, it’s by my place, ‘Kaspas.’ I can take you home afterwards?”

Say yes.

“I do love that place, but I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

Angel, there wouldn’t even be a point in Sukuna's miserable life where you could intrude. Ever. If he could keep you by his side forever. He would.

“You could never intrude. Come on, my treat before our date.” He smirks as he desperately tries to convinces you to get ice cream with him… and Yuji.

Just fucking say yes. Do you not want to be around him?

“Hmm… okay fine, I’ll come along. Let me get my stuff quickly.”

Thank fuck.

Sukuna lets out a relieved sigh. You’re difficult. Is that normal for you? If it is, he's got to correct it. He can't have a disobedient girl by his side.

No way.

Again, Yuji pulls him out of his thoughts, “Suku, do you like Miss Flutter?” The young boy asks as he looks up at his uncle.

Sukuna chuckles and leans down to the boy’s ear and whispers,

“Don’t be a nosy brat.”

~~~

As you make your way to the car park, with Yuji still grasping onto your hand, you come into sight with Sukuna's car, an extremely expensive car. What the hell does he do for a living?

“Detective,” He answers back.

“Huh?”

“You’re thinking out loud. I’m a detective,” he admits.

“Woah, it pays well clearly,” you say as he opens the car door for you.

“Aren’t you a gentleman?”

“Just for you, angel,” he winks.

You’ve been watching him drive for the past five minutes. You can’t help but stare. He’s so beautiful. He and Jin hardly look alike as twins. Don’t get it twisted, Jin is just as attractive as his brother, but there’s something so ethereal about Sukuna's features. Almost as if he’s not a real person. Does he have any flaws? He was perfectly sculpted by the gods themselves. His arms are… massive, he clearly spends a lot of his time in the gym. His nose… is so… rideable. My goodness, how did you get this guy to approach you?

“You’re staring, angel, you like what you see?” Sukuna questions, as he cocks his brow.

“Yes, I actually do.” You shyly replied

“Well, we don’t live far from each other, you’re more than welcome to see me more.”

“I know I’m just— I’m really busy, as much as I’d like to see you, I need to focus on school and work…”

Sukuna wants to be mad, but you’re such a good fucking girl. You should focus on your studies, yes, but what about him? His focus is on you right now, so why isn’t yours on him?

Bullshit

“But, maybe we could have dinner tonight?” You innocently ask.

“I’m making lasagna, do you like it?”

“I love it, Miss Flutter!” Yuji chimes from the backseat

Honestly, Sukuna forgot Yuji was here.

Sukuna sternly looks at the boy through his rearview mirror. “No, you’re going home after this, brat.” He asserts.

“Hmph,” you hear from the sulking child, as he crosses his arms and pouts his lips.

“I’ll love whatever you’re making,” He grins.

“You might be my biggest fan behind Yuji, Sukuna. You’re not gonna start stalking me, are you?”

Sukuna grin falters

“‘Course not, I’m a normal guy. I promise.”

Liar.

~~~

The three of you arrive at the dessert parlour, 20 minutes later. It’s understandably packed since it’s a warm day. You find a table in the corner of the shop, giving Yuji the seat by the window, and Sukuna sitting opposite you.

“Hi, what can I get you guys today?”

“Cookies and cream!” Yuji yells at the server

“And for you, pretty?”

Sukuna's eyes darken and snap towards the boy. The fuck did he say?

You giggle.

You fucking giggled.

You think that pathetic attempt at flirting is cute?

“Vanilla ice cream, please, and some cookie dough.”

“And for you?” the guy mutters at Sukuna.

Sukuna side-eyes the server and mumbles a quick “nothing.”

The audacity this kid has to speak to you like that and you like it?!

“Sukuna, are you okay? You don’t want anything?”

“I'm not big on sweet things,” he comments bluntly.

“Oh-kayy, it’ll be about five minutes.” He finally walks away.

That little shit. Who the fuck does he think he is. And why the fuck are you feeding into his bullshit?

“What a creep,” he hears you say.

“I swear, everytime i come here he does that shit, it’s boring.”

“Does he bother you?”

“Every damn time. I just pretend I’m into it now, he was way creepier before,” you pout as you look out the window.

Sukunas lips twitch into a smirk.

Angel, you're never seeing that piece of shit again after today. Don't worry your pretty little head.

He’ll protect you.

“Why don’t we take it to go? And I’ll take you and the kid home before dinner,” Sukuna proposes.

“Yeah, I’d like tha—“ you begin to say but that dumbass server cuts you off.

“Here are your orders. And this is for you,” he winks at you before walking away.

It’s his number.

“Well, I guess he’s feeling confident today, huh?” You awkwardly say.

“Come on, Yuji, let’s go,” you say as you grab his smaller hand in yours to leave. You make sure not to pick up the tissue with the server's number on it and make your way to Sukuna's car. But don’t worry, Sukuna definitely made sure to pick up the tissue and stuff it in the pocket of his joggers.

“How about you take Yuji back without me, and I get started on dinner? I'll text you my address,” you say, but you don’t give Sukuna the chance to answer back, you’re already walking away.

“Bye, Yuji!” You wave.

Sukuna hates to see you go but fuck, he loves to watch you leave. How long until he gets a hold of you, really? How long until he can see you every second of every day? Really, how long? What if he kept watch of you—no, that's too much… is it though? He’d be able to keep an eye on you from afar, for now at least. It's not too much if it's keeping you safe.

“C'mon, kid, let’s go.”

~~~

You've never cooked for a guy before. I mean, you've cooked for Satoru before, but he's not a guy, he's… Satoru. Satoru, who lives down the hall, Satoru. You know? You wonder if he and Sukuna will get along if you both continue seeing each other.

You've texted Sukuna your address, so he should arrive soon. Luckily, you're prepared to have guests today, your apartment is spotless, well besides your bedroom but he won’t see that. Fuck you’re nervous, over some guy? But he's not just some guy. You've known his brother, his twin brother, for over a year now. This is insane.

Finally, you hear a knock at your door. He’s here. Gosh, are your palms sweating right now?

Calm down, you’ve got this. The food looks good, and you look good. Everything's going to be just fine. Now just open the door.

Once you swing your door, you’re faced with the biggest assortment of flowers. Peonies, roses.

You're in awe.

“Sukuna… these flowers… they’re my favourtie.”

You tweeted that they were your favourite flowers in 2018… Yes, he scrolled that deep into your socials.

“Gosh, they're so beautiful, thank you. I don't know where to put them. Come in quick before the food gets cold.” You say as you hurry excitedly to your kitchen.

Your apartment's cute.

Cosy, for a girl like you.

Sukuna bets you’d feel cosier in his apartment. You’d have so much more space for your books, your pretty shoes, your dresses. You’d feel at home. Home is wherever he is. You need to live with him. You need his protection. But for now he can just watch you. How? He has 4 mini cameras stuffed in his pockets he's planning on hiding around your apartment. There’s already one outside your door so he can see who comes in and out of your place.

He just needs to figure out where he wants to put the rest of them.

“Here, sit. Do you want something to drink? I have wine, some tropical juice and water of course.”

“I’ll just have water, I've actually got to go into work later.”

“Work.” He’s actually going to beat the shit out of the server that’s been harassing.

That’s still work, right?

“So,” you begin as you take a seat opposite Sukuna.

“I still can’t believe you’re Jin’s twin. You just seem the complete opposite especially in looks. You’re fraternal, right?”

“Yeah, I’m 6 minutes older.” He tells you

You sigh longingly, “I’ve always wanted twins… girls of course.”

You were made for each other.

“Wow, so do I, what a coincidence,” he admits.

“We might as well get started then, huh?” You suggest as you sip your wine.

He chokes on his drink.

What’d you say?

But before Sukuna can reply back there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey, you in there?”

A guy? What man is looking for you at this hour.

You roll your eyes before pushing back your chair and making your way to open the door for said man.

“Yes, ‘Toru? I’m kind of busy right now.”

‘Toru?

“I’m sorry but I could really need some help… please?” This “‘Toru” says with a charming smile.

Annoying.

“‘Kuna, you don’t mind if I help my neighbour quickly?”

“Kuna…”

“No, not at all.” Now if he didn’t need to hide the 4 cameras in his pocket around your house, he would mind. But this “‘Toru” guy is honestly helping him out.

“Ten minutes,” you tell him as you shut your door.

Sukuna instantly rises from his seat and makes a Beeline for your bedroom.

It’s messy.

You didn’t make your bed. Do you leave your bed unmade everyday? There’s a bottle of water on your side table. You didn’t finish it.

Weren’t you thirsty last night?

Sukuna runs his large hands across your bed sheets. Running his fingers along each crease you’ve made.

What side do you sleep on? Away from the door, right?

Makes you feel safe.

“Who else has slept in here? That ‘Toru?” He spits as he kneels down to your bed level

He can smell you. So sweet. What perfume is that? He puts his face right into your sheets and breathes your scent in deeply.

“Fuck,” he mutters into your sheets.

He was practically drooling.

“God, I think I love you, Angel.”

He’s started to rub on his crotch, your smell is getting to him.

Rock hard.

He’s a creep but he doesn’t care. You’re like a drug.

An addiction.

His addiction.

He begins to pull out his leaky length from his boxers, rubbing his thumb across his swollen red tip.

So much pre-cum it’s dripping onto the side of your duvet.

He strokes himself back and forth steadily, still breathing into your unmade bed.

It’s your hand stroking him; pretend it’s you. You’re whispering his name softly…

Sensually

His pace quickens.

You might be back soon. He needs to hurry. You can’t see him in such a… pathetic state. You can’t see him in this state at all. Not yet at least.

The schlick sound of his length could be heard from the other room, he’s desperate at this point. Whining for you, pleading for you.

“L-love you. Ugh, I love you, Angel.” He cries out as if he's confessing to you.

“Need you. So b-bad.”

His core tightens, hands clutching onto your sheets.

Wishing the load he’s about to release was spilling into your womb instead.

Soon

His throat lets out a guttural moan, he’s cumming, but not into you.

Into his hand.

His fucking hand.

Pathetic.

After Sukuna recuperates himself, he places each camera in a spot he knows you won’t see, but he’ll definitely see you.

He also takes a few presents for himself from your washing basket.

He’ll definitely make good use out of them.

It’s been 10 minutes and you’re not back yet. What’re you doing with your neighbour?

Just as Sukuna is wondering where you are, you open your front door dishing out apologies for your absence.

He’s not mad… Only because he has a date to attend.

A date with the Parlour Boy.

𝜗𝜚 Chapter Three…

a/n: ehhhh. ehhhhhhh he was creeping me out at the end icl but uh what do you think? i’ve never write this much before. i know for a fact im gonna come back and rewrite things in the future but here you go! goodnight ♡

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #daddy sukuna #modern sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen x reader

331 notes · View notes

mullermilkshake · 2 days ago

Text

I’ll look after you, second

Part 4 <- Part 5 -> Part 6

Things are tense, but you come up with a solution.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Smut, Car sex, Vaginal Sex, p in v sex, quickie, unprotected sex, creampie, trying for a baby, breeding, possessive thoughts, mentions of infertility, strained pressure in a relationship, Jinwoo just wants a family with you

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

Jinwoo never got a chance to fuck you before the association dinner, you trudged off towards the bedroom and slammed the door shut for a whole hour before emerging in a dress that took his breath away.

It was evident that you’d been crying and for the first time, Jinwoo was unsure how to approach you.

Besides making his feelings partly known that first night, there’d been too much emphasis from the association that you and he never fully had that chance to explore each other emotionally.

You were well aware of Jinwoo’s thoughts towards you, yet you never acted on them, not unless it was in the bedroom. You cooed all sorts of little sweet nothings into his ear, and only then did you make him think you felt that way. As soon as he came and you were finished, it all stopped.

He craved more than just a facade. More than just a show for the association. He wanted you to want him too. He had already killed for you to ensure you slept next to him at night, that you uttered his name with pleasure and ensured he was the first and last person you saw in the morning and before bed.

So why was everything falling apart and becoming so difficult?

Jinwoo wasn’t sure, he wanted to get to the bottom of it, so he thought of the most logical way and just asked on the drive to the restaurant. “So… I know things have been difficult. I wanted to let you know that I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

“You do?”

“I do. It’s not easy and I can’t imagine how awkward things are for you…” He started soft and respectful for now. “We’re in this together and I want you to know that just because the association wants to turn their backs on us in a month, it doesn’t mean I will.”

You were silent for a while, looking over at Jinwoo in the car every so often from his periphery, he could tell that you were conflicted. Each time you opened your mouth to speak, you stopped yourself until he looked over at you behind a red traffic light.

“I guess we haven’t really had time to find more about each other, huh?” You looked down at your laced fingers nestled neatly on your lap. “I guess this whole thing has thrown me a little.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s just… If I’m less involved with you, Jinwoo, then I won’t get attached. And the pressure of all these negative tests is stressing me out- I want to get to know you better, but Jin-chul said it himself, in a month they’ll split us up, so what’s the point?”

What’s the point? The point is everything, it’s the very essence of this programme, the point is to get to know each other and make a baby. When Jinwoo eventually got you pregnant, because he wouldn’t ever give up, he wanted to be a family. That was his main goal.

He didn’t want some other woman’s child, he wanted yours.

“There’s a point, but that’s probably a contributing factor to why nothing’s happened yet… Y’know, the whole ‘why bother if it isn’t going to work’, I think we need to reevaluate our stance on this.”

“So… this is all my fault?”

“No, no, no, I never said that.” Well, in honesty, it was. But how could he tell you that when you looked so hurt as he pulled up in the darkened parking lot, right by the streetlamp with the busted light. “All I’m saying is that it’s a cycle, and we’re stuck in it, so let’s pull ourselves out of it, okay?”

“So what are you suggesting exactly, Jinwoo?”

He had one idea, and that was to fuck you senseless in the car right now, but he went with the secondary option instead. “Why don’t we go on a real date and see how you feel then?”

When you turned to him, pulling off your seatbelt in the most adorable way, Jinwoo saw the cogs turning. “You want that?”

“I told you how I felt about you, remember? This is more than just an agreement to me, and it can be for you if you let it. But it’s your decision to make.”

Making it sound like your choice made it easier for your brain to comprehend someone else making decisions for you without even realising. Eventually, Jinwoo would coerce you into picking every option he chose, darting around the wrong ones like a river around a rock.

The right choices were the ones involving Jinwoo.

“I don’t-” You didn’t flinch, not at Jinwoo’s touch to brush a hair from your face. “I don’t know what I want.”

“I can show you a few options. If that’s what you want?” Jinwoo’s touch never let up, his thumb traced your bottom lip, his eyes watching you softly under the interior light. “I want you to be comfortable and look forward to being with me, not dreading it.”

You swallowed deeply, biting your bottom lip and contemplating your life choices. “Why do you- how am I good enough to-”

Jinwoo kissed you, it was the only way to show you instead of spilling pointless words for you to deny. Actions spoke louder than words and it was about time you saw that. The kiss was quick and sweet, firm enough to mean business but shallow enough to stop you bolting.

And when you kissed him back, it was a sealed moment in the relationship. Not once outside of the bedroom had you kissed or even spoken about Jinwoo’s feelings about you since the beginning. He hoped once Hae-in fell pregnant, you’d stop with the barrage of guilt for sitting on Jinwoo’s cock in Hae-in's place. She was pregnant now and it was about time you were.

It was probably the reason Jinwoo was caught off guard when you pawed at his suit jacket, becoming more feverish and passionate so quickly, going as far as to turn the interior light off.

“What do you need?” He managed to get in between touches, heated exchanges in the passenger side after you slipped your stilettos off.

“Want you to- I need you to fuck me.” You were already hiking your dress up.

To fuck here, in the parking lot when the resturant was maybe fifty metres away, the association table most probably already collecting with hunters and you wanted to fuck?

Jinwoo was already at half mast just from your kiss and here you were, about to slip your underwear off.

“Leave them on-” Jinwoo launched his driver's seat back as far as it could possibly go and took a hold of your waist, pulling you on top of him as close as he could.

He gripped your hips and weighed you down over his growing erection until you ground on him instinctively. You were beautiful, breasts stuffed into your dress jittering perfectly with each stolen breath to make the car windows steam.

“What’s caused this?” Jinwoo wasn’t sure why he asked, but he did.

“I-I don’t know, I just need you right now.” It was good enough for him, you caused friction over his suit pants that drove him wild.

Jinwoo chuckled, shoving his face against your chest and trying his damndest to keep his composure. He couldn’t ruin you, not right here before the dinner, but he could leave you with a present. He pulled your dress up further, past your waist and admired your body begging for his touch, each kiss was electric, every touch a lit fire under his skin. You were coming round to this idea eventually, the only thing getting in his way of keeping you permanently was a baby.

Before Jinwoo could really settle himself in the moment, you were tugging at his belt, lips locked in a hurried fashion with feverish tongues exploring each other's tastes. You tasted of spearmint toothpaste, gentle, refreshing mint right on his tongue. Jinwoo wondered what he tasted like to you, but that thought quickly flew away when you hurriedly pulled out his hardened cock to sit on.

It happened so quickly, yet earned no complaints from either participant.

Jinwoo pulled your lace underwear to the side, the softness gathering at his fingertips as he moved and and slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside you. You sat down quick enough to make him gasp, bottoming out with an overcharged huff, sexually activated.

Perhaps now you and he were joined as one as a couple could be.

You moved, slowly picking up the pace while Jinwoo held on for dear life, cursing under his breath at the very sight of you initiating something like this. It was more than just sex now, that much he understood. How could you say this was just sex?

So beautiful. He wanted so desperately to make you a mommy, filling you up time after time was his only way to truly get that ownership over your fierce independence you displayed out of the public eye. He couldn’t wait to break it down in exchange for codependency. You might be one of the country’s sweetheart S-Ranks, but Jinwoo knew you to be filthy, riled up and stubborn enough to give him a run for his money. Taming that was his ultimate adrenaline rush.

Jinwoo pushed you down further, watching your breasts bounce, the whole car trembling with the anticipation of an orgasm. His kink took over.

“We’ll finish this tonight, but I’m coming inside you and I want you to keep it in for the entire dinner, can you do that for me?”

You nodded immediately. “Y-yes. Yes.”

“Good girl.”

He pulled you down to kiss, both tongues and saliva joining in desperation which seemed to spur you on further, ass bouncing and cupped in his hands for safe keeping.

“Give it to me- now, I want it now, shit - we’re going to be late-“

“Don’t look at the clock, we have plenty of time, hold on.”

Jinwoo fucked you good. The little driven breaths from your lips drove him insane, fingers clenched around his suit lapels for support, ravenous at everything you did. The way your pussy sucked him in like it was meant for him, made for him. Fate enough that you fit so perfectly in his arms, the accentuation of your waist enough for his hands to sit like a carved art piece. So much perfection.

He loved it.

He loved you.

And he’d love the body you got while it made his baby and especially after that.

A family. He wanted a family with you so desperately. Give that to me, please.

“J-Jinwoo, I’m com- I’m coming- oh fuck!”

He wanted to kiss you so your moan escaped into his mouth, but that would have been a waste. “Let me hear you, don’t keep it in- please don’t keep it in.”

You did as you were told and let it out, the most sensual and romantic gesture you had done for Jinwoo to date. When your hips jerked, you pushed Jinwoo’s back into the seat which made his heart swell three times the size.

Perfect. Just perfect.

“Are you ready for me? Take everything I give you and keep it there-” He pulled you in for one last kiss. “You can’t waste a drop-”

There was something that mulled over in your eyes, like a darkness, but nothing like Jinwoo could produce when he was pissed off. Because you weren’t angry, you weren’t enraged or engulfed with fury. No, you were hungry, ravenous.

“You better fill me up good, or we’ll never make it to that dinner.”

Fuuuck.

Well that just spurred him on and when Jinwoo did come inside you, it was positively the strongest orgasm he ever had in his life, not just with you, but in his entire existence. He held onto you tight like you would disappear in thin air, like you would leave if he didn’t have you in his clutches already.

Jinwoo wanted to forget about the dinner and in fact, he did forget as his toes tried to curl in his shoes, his knuckles seizing up at his iron grip on your hips and digging into the plush skin that would most definitely bruise tomorrow.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The scene was sublime, the actions and words and everything happened as it should. Never for a second did he ever think you would do something so risky so early. In the grand scheme of things, two months was nothing, and you were bending to him like you needed him as much as he needed you in no time at all.

When it calmed down, you leant over to kiss him, your lips less passionate and more sweet like honey, though your face did not match it. It was like you were troubled over something you didn’t want to share, or thought it wasn’t worth acknowledging because you smiled sleepily right after.

If Jinwoo blinked at that moment, he would have missed it. So, he took a stab in the dark to gain your trust a little better. “Don’t worry, we still have time to do this.”

“I know… I just- I don’t want to have to start over again because they’re impatient. But…”

“What is it?” Jinwoo ran his fingers over your forearm, tickling them into goosebumps.

“What if I can’t- I mean, they never tested to make sure before we started this and I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

You weren’t really thinking that, were you? This was the association's doing, not yours, and Jinwoo would be damned if he let you think that way, just when you and he were making headway.

“Please don’t think that way. It just takes time, don’t compare yourself to Hae-in, she just got lucky, but we still have time. So let’s make the most of it, hm?”

It seemed to settle you. You didn’t get off of him initially and Jinwoo assumed it was to keep his fluids inside a little while longer, but that wasn’t exactly that. You laid down and rested your head on his shoulder for comfort, you even allowed him to stroke your hair in the process.

“Okay… Alright then, let’s do this. We can do it.”

Well this night became a whole lot more interesting than I initially thought.

Originally, Jinwoo fully accepted that you were either going to ignore the issue and therefore ignore him, or it would blow up into an argument. Though you never really had it in for Jinwoo, he was the closest one to air your frustrations about the association. He tried to stay on side for the most part, but then he’d say something that didn’t align with your frustration and he’d get both barrels. While he never took it personally, it was getting kind of boring.

So when you and he straightened yourselves up, left the car with you full of his semen and holding hands like a real couple towards the restaurant, Jinwoo had high hopes of succeeding his untouched year long quest.

All he was waiting for now, were those two little lines on a pregnancy test and the first step of keeping you was complete.

One hell of a bumpy ride, but his suspension still seemed intact.

Part 4 <- Part 5 -> Part 6

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

Tag list - @bubera974,@snowy-violet,@sky2lar,@starrynights23x,@minh907

@yessirr7,@aussie-boys-wife,@yihona-san06,@mashiromochi,@daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator,@alia-17,@otomegamesforlife@m00n-estelle,@towomatos,

@stormnightingale,@johnnysactualgf,@johnnysactualgf,@solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved,@notleclerc,

@minkuro,@misakicchi,@lovingyeet,@soft-dots,@gina239,

@sabrina-senpai,@tsukimoon-chan

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

292 notes · View notes

eddieisashifter · 2 days ago

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐆? — MY MARAUDERS REALITY

this is a brief tour of my bag in my maruaders era hogwarts dr! this bag has been with me though literally everything and she's only holding on due to mending enchantments I put on her when I first started to notice her descent. some of the stuff in her is...probably less than legal. but hey! snitches get stiches, alright? inspired by this post by @chaaistained and this one by @hrrtshape!!

my trusty messenger bag that i carry literally everywhere with me. you wouldn't catch me dead using just my pockets to carry all my shit. she's basically a staple of my appearance. anyway, let's open her up!

BUT FIRST——THE DECOR!

✦ my pinback buttons! the "kind hearted degenerate" was stolen from Sirius' patch jacket (I think he let me take it), the "cult leader" was a gift from barty because of course it fucking was, and the other two my sister, eden, and I found just outside of diagon alley (we fought over who got to keep them. I won, obviously. so, i display them proudly, she hates it).

✦ i also have my prefect pin stuck onto the strap of my bag because it's so much better to have on there than my robes. no one's gotten mad at me so whatever.

✦ the dice keychain was stolen from eden's room. I thought it was pretty and she hasn't missed it so

✦ the froggy keychain I found in a muggle shop and needed immediately. I may have a secret obsession with froggos, my friends may or may not be very aware of this fact. he also might be cursed, I swear I hear him ribbit when it gets quiet.

✦ the other keychain I found half-buried in a public park. no idea where it came from or how it got there.

ONTO THE POCKETS! my bag has four pockets on the outside, two that close and two that are just slots on the side. they're all full of shit.

LEFT FRONT POCKET

this pocket is entirely full of trash. literal trash. some of it is cute notes from my friends and such, but the other half is actual trash. I say I'm going to use it to junk journal, I don't. It just sits there in the pocket, unused. I refuse to clean it out.

but the notes!

✦ three fortunes from three fortune cookies that I got on three separate occasions at three different restaurants. — the first "you have the ability to see the bright side in things, do not lose that ability" I got on an outing with my family. it was a rough time all around and the whole dinner was tense, but getting that fortune just reaffirmed my belief in aiming for the best, even when it's unrealistic, so I kept it. — the "your love of music will be an important part of your life" I got on one of my first real dates with sirius. I already knew he dreamed of being a musician, so I took it as a sign we were going to work out. and well, it was correct. — finally, the "whatever you want to do, do it. there are only so many tomorrows" fortune found me when I was wrestling with my feelings. I hadn't intended to fall for remus, but I had. I didn't know what to do. but, I took this as a sign to just go for it and be true to my feelings. It worked out. so I kept it as a reminder, like I did with sirius' one.

✦ "I'll let you drag me to hell if it means you'll hold my hand" note that sirius passed me one day in the middle of class. like that wouldn't make me insane in public. stupid dog.

✦ "kind of a pretty boy, isn't he?" note that I found dropped on the ground in divination. when I picked it up, some girl turned beet red. amusing, really.

✦ "we are all haunted houses" note that I wrote on the corner of a notepad and tore out. I found it at the bottom of my bag weeks later. I cant for the life of me remember what I was talking about, though I think I was onto something.

✦ "not everything has to make sense. let it go. choose peace." note that was written at the top of one of my papers for divination class. professor was far too done with my constant questioning of why things worked the way they did.

✦ "just make it exist first, you can make it good later" sticky note that I wrote to stick onto my writing desk to try and help ward off my perfectionism. It remained there for years until I accidently knocked it down and it refused to stick up again. so, i shoved it into my bag with the others.

✦ "the memory is unclear but the feelings remain" written on a blank polaroid photo. barty accidently took a picture as he dropped my camera. evan wrote the words on the picture that came out. I think he thought he was being poetic. I kept it regardless.

✦ "I think you're afraid because we get along so well. I think it scares you." one of the notes sirius taunted me with in our rivals phase of our rivals to lovers arc. torn in two and carefully taped back together.

✦ "dear me, don't fall back into old patterns just because they're familiar. love, me." letter written for an assignment. that 'write a letter to your younger self' writing prompt nonsense? I didn't want to do it, so I wrote the first thing that came to my head. still got an O though.

✦ an unopened letter. the front says "open when fate decrees it". that trelawney girl got a cheshire smile when I picked it up. I've had it for five years.

✦ also a train ticket from my very first year of hogwarts

✦ other trash in this pocket includes: a to-do list that says "1. ace your o.w.ls, 2. take over the world", at least four salazar slytherin trading cards, a receipt from the record shop in hogsmede, a punch card from the three broomsticks with ten punches in it (I probably should use it at some point), a scrawled list of hexes that barty copied from the restricted section of the library, and a note I passed to reggie that says "do me a favor, kill your brother" that he threw back at me with a scrawled "NO." underneath.

RIGHT FRONT POCKET

the snack pouch, basically. if I'm hungry, this is where I'm reaching.

✦ a chocolate frog that's probably melted slightly with how long it's been in there. I think barty gave it to me on the train ride. it's probably still good, right?

✦ raven chocolates that are literally better than any wizarding candy, trust.

✦ jelly slugs because gummies are the superior form of candy

✦ also chai teabags because you never know when you might need it (also because I'm picky about my chai)

SIDE POCKETS

LEFT SIDE POCKET

✦ my round sunglasses that are basically my staple.

✦ the swiss army knife that eden has a matching one of. i enchanted it so that the blade doesn't grow dull. honestly, much better than a wand half the time, but don't tell anyone I said that.

✦ vampire pill box that has enchanted ibuprofen. thank you dorcas my love. one of these does 10x the effect as a regular without the damage to your internal organs or risk of an overdose.

RIGHT SIDE POCKET

✦ a crocheted chanel rose made for me by evan's sister, pandora. it's hella impressive actually.

✦ my trusty vivienne westwood lighter. used to be my mom's, I took it from her purse as a well rebellious thirteen year old. it also has a matching cigarette case that I also stole. i was having my kleptomaniac era. there is also skull bandages tucked inside the case.

INTERIOR POCKET

where i keep all the loose things that would get lost in the bottom of my bag otherwise.

✦ tiny bottles of banned potions that dorcas made for me. I make sure to keep the corks on very tightly.

✦ a jar of human teeth. no, I will not explain where I got them.

✦ jars of bones. not human (yet).

✦ intricate jar, full of enchanted, basically holy, water. for all your banishing needs. never summon anything you don't know how to get rid of.

✦ a jar of salt. for the same reason. also salt.

✦ tin of tiny candles for on-the-go spellwork because you never know when you might need it.

✦ tiny clay charms of tarot cards also made by pandora. she passed them to me in divination. she never did tell me why. they are pretty cute though.

MAIN POCKET

✦ a leatherbound journal full of all my secrets. jinxed, obviously. possibly with some that I would get in trouble for casting. their fault really for trying to snoop. includes detailed plans of world domination, lists of hexes and curses ordered by their usefulness, recounts of possibly prophetic dreams, and lists of very good numbers

✦ poetry journal for my midnight poetic ramblings. not jinxed, not yet. also includes my casebook recounts of strange romantic feelings, complete with red string.

✦ my trusty wand. black walnut and dragon heartstring, 12"

✦ a lace fan for when it gets far too hot to be legal. because I can't be sweating not in style

✦ a very illegal time-turner hidden inside a matchbox. I probably shouldn't have told you that I have that.

✦ a vintage comb that I call my tactical comb.

✦ my leather bat-wing wallet. one of the most important things in this bag

✦ my black makeup pouch that mary poppins would envy.

✦ my heavily annotated copy of "scottish fairy tales" that I've had with me since my first year of hogwarts. I think there's more notes and highlights than actual text. and the notes are more journal entries than actual annotations.

✦ tiny bird scissors I stole from madame pomfrey. they're for sewing. I don't do much sewing. but I can chase sirius around with them, threatening to cut the stitches on his patches. it's very amusing.

✦ an extra lighter, clipped onto the inside of my bag, just in case my trusty one ever breaks. so far, it hasn't.

✦ a special edition of the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde, my favorite book of all time. this edition was a gift from reggie, who knows my love of it.

✦ a fountain pen for my sudden bursts of inspirational musing. enchanted to never dry of ink and never need to dip it. I stole it from my older brother, alastair. I can't help it, he makes such good enchantments.

✦ a fancy flask. yes, of course there's alcohol in it. what did you take me for, a lightweight?

✦ vivienne westwood gloves for the colder months, an enchanted lining to keep your hands at the perfect temperature, not too hot and not too cold.

✦ the box of my trusty tarot cards. they always seem to call me out. they also have a bit of an attitude. typical.

✦ a coin that's engraved with "one more chapter" on one side and "go to bed" on the other. for very important dilemmas regarding my sleep schedule. do I ever listen to it when it lands on "go to bed"? no, of course not. don't tell me what to do.

WALLET

✦ my galleons. the wallet is linked to my vault at gringotts so I don't run out of money, because that would be embarrassing.

✦ photos of my friends and I. i know, I know, very sentimental of me. — photo of dorcas and eden from one of the slytherin common room parties — a photo of me, barty, and dorcas with a mall santa. he looks like he's being held hostage. — photo of me playing chess with dorcas (off camera) while barty lounges across the bed, pouting because he lost to me minutes ago. — photo of evan, me and reggie at one of our families' stupid summer galas. having friends makes them more bearable. — photo of evan and me from one of the royals' summer outings — photo of me and barty on a late-night hogsmede outing — photo i took of dorcas at one of the slytherin common room parties as we dared her to chug her drink

✦ an id, so people know who I am. as if they didn't already, pfft. it is also fake.

✦ spare condoms. enough said.

MAKEUP POUCH

✦ my signature black lipstick. can't go anywhere without that beauty. enchanted for long-lasting wear. the touch-ups are hardly necessary, but it does make people look at my lips~ also enchanted with love magic so when he kisses me he thinks I'm god. (I think that might make it illegal, but who's gonna snitch anyway?)

✦ tinted chapstick for dry lips.

✦ a spare eyeliner pen, because none of my looks would be complete without eyeliner.

✦ a knife inside a lipstick tube. just incase one knife wasn't enough. also great to scare the shit out of your friends with

✦ extra mascara, also for touchups.

✦ a black nail polish. also for touch ups. though, usually not my own. barty can never seem to keep his nail polish from chipping for longer than a day.

✦ cannabis and rose roller perfume. in case my aura isn't addicting enough. enchanted by dorcas with glamour magic, obviously. she's literally a goddess.

✦ my chanel compact mirror that also answers most of my questions. "mirror mirror in my hand, what's the answer to question #6?"

✦ a vivienne westwood claw clip that I stole from my older sister, morgaine. she's so damn uptight all the time and she's still freaking about about losing this clip. it's all I can do not to laugh aloud.

✦ a shit ton of hair ties and bobby pins just strewn throughout the pouch. I'll lose all of them eventually.

181 notes · View notes

lazysoulwriter · 2 days ago

Text

the love we hide. - pedro pascal.

requested! hope you like it, honey. thank you for sending.

----

You always knew dating Pedro Pascal wouldn’t be easy. Not because he made it difficult — if anything, he made it feel like the most natural thing in the world. It was the world around him, the world that didn't stop spinning faster and louder with every new movie, every new award, every new headline with his name in bold letters.

From the start, he had asked for your privacy. "I just... want this to stay ours for as long as we can," he'd whispered one night, arms wrapped tightly around you, voice heavy with something that felt like fear. And you agreed. Happily. Proudly. You understood.

But lately... it had started to hurt.

The more his fame grew, the more invisible you felt. He walked red carpets with stunning co-stars, smiled in interviews when asked about his love life ("I'm married to my work," he'd joke), and your phone buzzed with articles, photos, videos of him living a life you weren’t allowed to share publicly.

And no matter how much you told yourself you were strong enough, you started pulling away. Little by little.

Skipping dates under the excuse of being tired. Replying to his texts hours later. Letting your hand fall from his when no one was watching. Convincing yourself it would hurt less this way. That he wouldn't even notice.

Of course, Pedro noticed. Pedro always noticed you. Every blink, every breath, every tremor in your voice. You were his favorite story to read.

It all came crashing down on a quiet Tuesday night. You were supposed to have dinner at his place — just the two of you, homemade pasta, a bottle of wine. Your favorite kind of night.

But you canceled, blaming a headache. And when you didn't answer his third call, he showed up at your apartment, heart pounding, palms sweating.

You opened the door, still in your pajamas, surprised and guilty at the same time.

"Pedro—what are you doing here?"

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, eyes scanning you, searching for something. "Why are you doing this?" he asked softly.

You swallowed hard. "Doing what?"

He laughed, but there was no joy in it. Only hurt. "You think I don't see it? You think I don't feel you slipping away from me?"

Tears burned the back of your eyes, but you blinked them away. "It's better this way," you whispered. "For who?" he demanded. "For you!" you snapped, voice cracking. "You're becoming Pedro Pascal. You deserve someone who can stand next to you, someone who belongs in your world. Not someone you have to hide."

Silence. Heavy. Devastating.

Pedro stepped closer, closing the space between you with careful, deliberate steps. His hands framed your face, thumbs wiping away the tears you didn’t even realize had started to fall.

"You think I’m hiding you because I'm ashamed?" he asked, voice breaking. "You think I don’t want the whole damn world to know you're mine?"

You shook your head helplessly, but he wasn’t finished.

"I was trying to protect us," he whispered. "Protect you. From the cameras, from the gossip, from people who don't know anything about how beautiful and strong and perfect you are."

You let out a broken sob, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you like he'd never let go. Like he couldn't.

"I notice everything about you," he said into your hair. "Every smile you force. Every time you don't call me 'love' like you used to. Every night I sleep in an empty bed because you're trying to convince yourself I’m better off without you."

You clung to him, sobbing now, your heart cracking wide open. "I'm sorry," you choked out.

He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids. "Don't be sorry," he whispered. "Just stay. Stay with me."

You nodded against his chest, breathing him in like he was the only air you needed. "I love you," you said, and his body trembled with the weight of it.

"I love you," he echoed. "So much. So much that I can't—"

He pulled back slightly, enough to reach into his jacket pocket.

Your breath caught when you saw the small velvet box.

Pedro smiled through the tears shining in his eyes. "I was going to wait," he said. "I had a whole plan. Paris. Fireworks. The whole cheesy thing."

You laughed wetly, heart hammering against your ribs.

"But I don't want to wait," he said, voice steady. "I don't want to hide. I don't want to spend another second making you feel like you're not everything I've ever dreamed of."

He opened the box. Inside, a delicate, breathtaking ring sparkled under your living room light.

"Marry me," he said simply. "Let’s tell the whole world you're mine."

You gasped, a hand flying to your mouth.

"Yes," you whispered, before throwing your arms around him. "Yes, Pedro. A thousand times yes."

He kissed you like it was the first time, the last time, and everything in between. When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling that soft, boyish smile that had made you fall in love with him in the first place.

"Tomorrow," he said, "I'm posting about you. About us. About my fiancée."

You laughed, giddy and overwhelmed and so, so in love. "Are you sure?" you teased. "Might ruin your mysterious reputation."

He chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're worth ruining everything for."

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it. With your whole heart.

----

275 notes · View notes

revelboo · 2 days ago

Note

I'm here for Reader of the Insecticons because its gonna take a long time for that info to sink in. What do you mean its for life.

Yeah, that human isn’t having fun learning things the hard way

You (Don’t) Know Me Pt 15

Insecticons x Reader

• “What do you mean no, no?” Shrapnel growls, servos flexing like he’s itching to reach for you. And shake you. Staring at him, you try to push Kickback’s arm away so you can get some space between you and them. Overwhelmed with Shrapnel’s little claim that if you don’t regularly bond with them, it’ll slowly kill you. And them. Because it’s either bond regularly or slowly weaken and die, giving a whole new horrifying twist to til death do us part. Feeling the overwhelming urge to try and run again even knowing it’s futile.

• Arms tightening around you, Kickback rests his head on top of yours to try and control your struggling. Because if you bolt again, Shrapnel’s going to lose it. “It didn’t occur to you that I’m human and you might need to explain things?” You counter, trembling and he can’t tell if it’s fury or fear, but it’s putting him on edge. “Because this is your fault for making assumptions!” Apparently it’s anger.

• Glowering at you as his spike stirs despite himself at your temper, Shrapnel hisses and turns his attention on Kickback. Who’s making no move to get involved, his wings flicking slightly with a chirp. “You still said you’d be our queen and then ran, ran,” he snarls, electricity beginning to build inside him needing an outlet. And Kickback hisses a warning, legs tensing to shove himself and you clear. Clawed servos flexing, Shrapnel starts pacing. Trying to work out the frustration. Maybe not explaining is their fault, but you’d still lied. Promised to be theirs and ran away first chance you got.

• Stiffening as electricity arcs between those weird curving horns on his shoulders, you lean into Kickback. Because that’s new and definitely not good. Is he angry enough to fry you? But he can’t, can he? They need you and if he electrocutes or strangles you, he goes out with you and so do his brothers. That knowledge making you bold when you really just want to curl into Kickback and let him deal with Shrapnel. “I’m sorry, but did it ever occur to you that I don’t want to live in a damp cave?”

• “You left to scout for a new home?” Kickback asks, jumping on that thought even if he’s sure it’s not true and you’d just been running. From them. Pitching his voice to thread conviction into the question even as he knows Shrapnel is going to be furious if he realizes he’s being manipulated. But Shrapnel’s furious enough to accidentally shock you and he’s not sure you’d survive. Sees Shrapnel hesitate, knowing as well as he does that it’s a lie, but wanting to believe it. “This is only temporary. Unworthy of our queen,” he adds and by some miracle you’re clever enough to not contradict him and he relaxes. “We were searching for a better hive, a worthy hive.” Hears your muttered ‘for fuck’s sake’ and he doesn’t know what that means, but he can work with this. Just needs to convince Bombshell of the lie when he returns. Because this is his skill, coaxing, talking others into doing things, believing things that he wants them to. Just wishes his ability worked on himself because your betrayal hurts.

#transformers x reader #insecticons x reader #g1 bombshell #g1 shrapnel #g1 kickback

151 notes · View notes

viperify · 2 days ago

Text

drabbles | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⟢ late nights at the library.

All you crave is a break and sleep—but Tom Riddle being your tutor and boyfriend makes your life just a little bit more complicated.

“This is the third time you have gotten this wrong.”

You sighed, leaning back in the chair you were sitting in. “Tom, I know. I just— it’s late, okay? We have been here for what? Five hours?”

He raised a brow, deep brown eyes meeting yours. “That’s right. So, any reason why you can’t remember? Do I need to explain it again?”

You wished you had known what you were signing up for when you started dating Tom. Endless hours of studying together. Him acting like your tutor when he was supposed to be your boyfriend. He had this never-ending ambition and motivation that you just couldn’t match in the slightest.

Yes, you were one of the better students as well, but nobody and nothing could match Tom Riddle—top student in every single class. Sometimes you wondered how he managed it all. How he could be so perfect. Studying, revising, prefect duties. It was almost like you needed an appointment to meet him, even as his girlfriend.

He seemed like a student as any other—though so special in his own way. The hunger for knowledge and power. The desire to become prefect, head boy, a professor.

The softer side to him that only you would ever get to see—except when you were studying together, that is.

“Please, can we just leave? I am so tired.”

You didn’t leave. Not until you finally got it right. Not until you were completely drained, eyelids fluttering closed every other minute.

“Come on, I will bring you to your dorm.” He said softly after returning the books to where you had taken them from. Taking your hand in his and helping you up, he led you out of the dark and empty library. There were no words needed when you arrived at your dorm. The look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Tom exhaled, deeply. “Fine. But just this once.”

He always said that.

A minute later, you entered his dorm instead, and it was as if his guard had dropped the second the door closed behind you both. He took off his and your robes, hanging them on the coat stand behind you.

And then, without hesitation, he gently pulled you into his arms. He held you close, your head buried against his chest as his hand caressed your hair, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Finally, your worries started to fade, exhaustion taking over. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he took in your expression, swiftly helping you out of your uniform and into your pyjamas. How he’d gotten them—you didn’t know, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

All you wanted was him—his kisses, his warmth, his support.

Of course, he knew.

So that’s what he gave you—pulling you close as soon as the both of you lay down, pressing a gentle kiss to your soft lips before letting you cuddle into his side.

“I am proud of you, darling.” Tom whispered right before you drifted off to sleep, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I always am.”

You smiled softly in response, drawing soft patterns on his chest.

“I love you so much, Tommy.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | drabbles.

⋆˙⟡

A/N: Just a little fluffy drabble bc I crave this man’s love and support during exam season. Ugh. <- This is also why I will be posting a little less/shorter works due to me basically having no time to write for the coming two weeks! I love you guys and hope to be back to normal asap! <33

#finals are killing me #send help #accounting…#tom riddle #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fanfic #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #tom riddle drabble #harry potter fandom #harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys fanfic #dividers by strangergraphics

175 notes · View notes

punksyeet · 2 days ago

Text

- Heart And Sole ❥

Plot: Do you believe in love at first sight? Well, evidently, these two sneaker-heads do.

Warnings: Hefty flirting & fluff!

A/N: here’s a little fic i came up with inspired by jey’s sneaker shopping video with complex! i did indeed lose motivation halfway through so it’s not my best work, but i hope you enjoy anyway! 🥲🖤

———————————————————————————————

“Where to next?” my best friend Trinity asks, throwing a shopping bag over her shoulder as we exit Victoria’s Secret.

I pucker my lips to the side, looking around at the stores included in our local strip mall.

To the left? TJ Maxx.

To the right? Macys.

Across the street? Target.

Diagonal towards the left? Chick-Fil-A.

And finally, I find it. The motherland. Nike.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her follow my gaze and immediately shake her head.

“I should’ve known,” she teases, placing a hand on her hip.

I roll my eyes and nudge her playfully. “Triiiin! It’s been two months since my last pair of Jordans. That has to be a new record, no?”

She chuckles, shaking her head some more and holding out her hand. “Cmon. Before you pass out on me.”

I give her a wide smile and take it before crossing the street.

Once we reach the sidewalk, her eyes light up.

“I’m gonna look into some colognes for Jerdy’s birthday,” she announces, nodding towards the fragrance store a couple buildings down. “I’ll catch up with you later?”

I nod and we share a quick hug before going our separate ways.

The refreshing scent of fresh leather and shoe cleaner takes over my nostrils, as I walk in and immediately scan the front of the store.

“Welcome in,” a deep and raspy voice greets me, alongsithe sound of sneakers squeaking against the newly polished floors.

I look over and drool damn near pours out of my mouth.

Stood before me is a gorgeous guy.

Caramel toned skin, stunning chocolate brown eyes, a perfectly round nose, pillow-soft-looking full lips, and a well-trimmed salt & pepper beard.

As for his clothes? The man can dress.

A zip-up black wind runner Nike hoodie, matching sweatpants, white air forces with matching high socks, a snug black beanie placed neatly atop his neck-length curls, and some gold jewelry on his wrist and earlobes to top it off.

I’m pulled away from my daydreaming when he clears his throat.

“Ma’am? You good?”

“H-hey!” I reply, my voice a little too high pitched. I clear my throat and fix it before talking again. “Sorry, yes, I’m alright. T-Thank you.”

He gives me a warm smile and slides his hands into his pockets. “Good, good. Can I help you find anythin’ today?”

I begin scanning the store again, shaking my head casually. “I don’t think so. I’m just looking for now.”

He nods again. “Aight, no worries. If you need me, the names Josh.”

Josh.

I smile sweetly. “Noted, thanks again.”

“Of course, honey.”

I don’t know if I damn near drop dead more in reaction to the nickname or the smile he gives me in return, before heading to the back right corner of the store.

Once I’m out of sight, I immediately pull out my phone and text Trin.

Gigi 💗: BITCH

Gigi 💗: SOS

Gigi 💗: TRINITYYYY

trin 💚: Bitch you better be dead or dying 😐

Gigi 💗: honestly….

trin 💚: WHATT???

Gigi 💗: 😭🤣

Gigi 💗: girl this nike employee is fine as SHITTT

Gigi 💗: i damn near passed out once i laid eyes on him 🫦

trin 💚: GIRLLLLL 👀

trin 💚: You better spill EVERYTHING later 🍿

Gigi 💗: not the popcorn 😭😭

trin 💚: 🤣🤣 Good luck!!

Smiling and shaking my head, I slide my phone back into my jacket pocket and start browsing, checking out the dunk lows section first.

A few pairs catch my eye and, as I’m reaching for one of them, the same voice from earlier makes me jump out of my skin.

“How’s your browsing going, lil mama?”

This man and his nicknames.

“It’s going,” I reply, looking back down at the sneaker and tilting it towards the light.

He chuckles, nodding. “Good, good.”

I smile and sit down, sliding out of my own shoe and unlacing the new one to try on.

He watches me amusingly, arms sat across his broad chest.

Completely aware that those gorgeous brown eyes are watching my every move, my fingers betray me, uncontrollably trembling and making me look clueless in front of him.

“Here baby,” he says, kneeling down in front of me and taking the sneaker. “Lemme help you with that.”

I take a deep breath, watching his long and thick fingers go to work on the laces. “T-thanks, Josh.”

He gives me a warm smile, stretching out the sides of the shoe. “No problem. Dunks can be tricky sometimes.”

He gently lifts my ankle and places the shoe on me, as if we’re Prince Charming and Cinderella.

“How does it feel?” he asks, placing my leg down once the laces are tied, making sure to leave his hand on my knee for just a few seconds too long.

I stand up and begin to walk around, making sure to include walking by the mirror to see how they look. “Really comfy, actually.”

He smiles, sliding his hands into his sweatpants pockets. “Good. They look real pretty on you too, baby.”

“Thank you,” I reply sweetly and softly, my cheeks immediately becoming hot to the touch.

He nods, taking the shoe and placing it back into it’s box with the second one. “Did anything else catch your pretty lil eye?”

God, this man is such a flirt.

Doing my best to ignore the butterflies going buck wild in my stomach, I pucker my lips to the side and scan the shelves once more.

“Nah I don’t think so,” I reply, shaking my head and looking back at him. “Just those will do.”

He nods, placing the box in one arm. “Aight, perfect. They’ll take care of you up front, honey.”

I smile and thank him sweetly before sitting back down to put my shoe back on.

———————————————————————————————

** Josh’s POV **

“Sup, uce?” I greet my co-worker, Mike, at the cashier counter.

He looks up from his phone and nods his head, sliding it back into his pocket when he sees me. “Sup, man?”

I place down a box of sneakers that a real pretty customer just chose onto the counter.

“A customer is gonna come up here and try to buy these,” I explain, reaching into my pocket for my wallet. “But I’m gonna take care of ‘em for her.”

A smirk grows on his face. “Do I sense a little crush, uce?”

I roll my eyes playfully. “Sumn like that. Just hurry up before she gets here.”

He chuckles and rings me up quickly.

I thank him and stand off to the side, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

A few moments later, the sound of light footsteps causes me to look up from my phone.

“Hey there,” Mike greets her once she reaches the counter. “Just these right?”

She nods in reply. “Yep, just these today.”

“Alright, perfect. You’re all set.”

She tilts her head to the side and lets out what seems like a nervous, but ends up being adorable, laugh. “I-I’m all set? I…I’m sorry, I don’t think so. I haven’t paid yet.”

“Oh no need,” Mike replies, nodding towards me. “I believe a friend took care of you.”

She slowly turns to me with a look of confusion, and I meet her gaze with a warm smile.

“Thanks for stopping in,” I tease playfully, sliding my hands into my pockets.

She lets out a breathless chuckle and takes a few steps closer, allowing Mike to head to an aisle to help out a customer.

“You really didn’t have to,” she begins, placing the shopping bag over her shoulder.

I slide my lower lip in between my teeth and reach out to stroke her arm. “I know. But a beautiful lady like you paying don’t seem right.”

She crosses her arms sucking her teeth playfully. “Well, I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“Anytime, baby,” I reply. “You have a good one, aight?”

“You too,” she replies, nodding softly.

And it’s the next thing she does that takes me completely by surprise.

Standing on her tippy toes, she gently cups my face with her free hand and places a gentle kiss on my cheek.

My breath hitches as she flashes me yet another gorgeous smile before heading out of the store.

Oh I’m fucked.

———————————————————————————————

** Gianna’s POV **

“You did WHAT?” Trin practically screams through the other end of the line.

I groan, flopping down on the couch. “Girl, I don’t know what I was thinking! It was in the heat of the moment!”

She groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. “And you didn’t get his instagram? Number? Anything?”

I shake my head, gently biting the freshly manicured nail on my index finger.

She sighs and begins cutting vegetables. “Girl, we gotta get you back there. Like tomorrow.”

I nod in agreement. “We will. I’ll see him again. I just have to.”

A soft smile appears on her face and silence takes over for a bit before she speaks up again. “Anyway, show me the shoes you got.”

As if on cue, I immediately grab the sneaker box from next to me on the couch and open it.

And then, my heart drops.

“Trin,” I call out quietly, staring at a piece of bright yellow paper neatly tucked under one of the sneakers.

She looks up from chopping and a look of concern immediately comes across her face. “Bitch, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I pick up the paper and hold it in front of the camera, resulting in her absolutely losing it.

Written on the tiny post-it note, is a phone number.

One that, I can only imagine, belongs to him. Josh.

“Bitch if you don’t text him right now!” she demands, pointing her knife at the screen.

I take a deep breath before sliding out of the FaceTime tab and opening the iMessage app to start a new conversation.

I enter his number and watch as the blue line fades in and out, my brain completely shutting down by the second.

“What the fuck do I say?” I ask, subtle panic taking over me.

She thinks for a minute. “Well, hi would be a good start.”

“Right right,” I reply, beginning to type. “Should I add a smiley face or is that corny?”

She giggles and goes back to cutting, as my thumbs get to work.

Gianna (Maybe): heyy it’s gianna from nike earlier :)

Almost immediately, three little dots inside a bubble pop up and a response comes through.

josh 🫦: Hey love

josh 🫦: I was worried you didn’t see the paper

“What’s he saying?!” Trin asks excitedly, popping a piece of bell pepper into her mouth.

I giggle and share my screen, before locking back in and thinking of a response.

Gianna ❤️: my bad i just got home lol

Gianna ❤️: i just wanted to thank you again for what you did today 🫶🏽

josh 🫦: Anytime beautiful ❤️

“You guys are so cute already!” Trin gushes, her voice super high pitched and squeaky.

“Bitch get off my phone,” I tease, rolling my eyes playfully.

She bursts into laughter and blows a kiss then hangs up, the sound of the call ending echoing throughout my living room.

After a few more messages back and forth with Josh, I get an Instagram notification that instantly grabs my attention.

uceyjucey has followed you!

I immediately take a screenshot of his most recent post and send it to Trin.

Gigi 💗: Attachment: 1 image

Gigi 💗: LOOK AT HIMMMM 🫦

trin 💚: Bitch is that my brother in law- 🧍🏽‍♀️

Liked by uceyjucey, trinity_fatu, jonathanfatu, and 8.3k others

giannamacri 💋🥀

View all 761 comments

uceyjucey Mines 😍

trinity_fatu 🥵🥵

tag list: @uceyliyahh @christinabae @bebesobrielo @biancasreign @myamericannightmare @partypoison00 @li-da-savage @luvrsluxe @tribalchief2112 @isabella-2025 @chasssssworld @wrestlingprincess80 @amethyst09 @luvrgirl4roman ♡

join my tag list here! ᥫ᭡

request a one-shot here! ❦

check out my twitter and tiktok! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

follows, feedback, & reblogs appreciated! -`♡´-

#wwe #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #fanfic #fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #jey uso fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe imagines #jey uso #jey uso fluff #jey uso imagine #jey uso gif #the usos #yeet #the bloodline #strangers to lovers

150 notes · View notes

dearstvckyx · 2 days ago

Text

You've got a heart of gold and mine is always broken - Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri has quietly loved his guarded best friend for months, trying and failing to break down her walls. After finally asking why she won’t give him a chance, she admits her fear of getting hurt again. Patient and steady, Oscar shows her that love with him isn’t something she needs to fear. - The Neighbourhood , The Shining

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Warnings: emotional vulnerability , mentions of bad past relationships

The Neighbourhood Lyrics Masterlist - ⌂

⸻

Oscar wasn’t oblivious.

He saw it all — the way you tensed when someone got too close. How you laughed at jokes but never let anyone past the surface. How you treated attention like a game you refused to lose.

You were sunshine wrapped in barbed wire. Beautiful and untouchable.

Oscar should’ve known better than to chase someone who didn’t want to be caught.

But he did.

Every day.

Because he saw something no one else bothered to look for — the girl who was scared, not selfish. Guarded, not cruel.

He couldn’t stop trying, even when you pretended you didn’t notice.

⸻

Flashback.

It started small.

After a long meeting, Oscar had waited by the door, pretending to scroll on his phone.

“Need a ride back?” he offered casually, looking up at you with that soft smile.

You hesitated—just for a second—before shaking your head.

“Thanks, catboy,” you said, teasing him with a smirk. “But I like walking. Less awkward conversation.”

He had laughed it off, even though he watched you leave, your shadow growing smaller with every step.

⸻

Then another time—at a team dinner—he slid into the seat beside you before anyone else could.

“I saved you the best spot,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched like you were fighting a smile.

He talked to you the whole night, voice easy and warm, nudging you with jokes and stories.

When dessert came, he built up the courage to ask:

“Hey… do you wanna go out sometime? Just us?”

You had blinked, wide-eyed, like he asked you to solve a physics equation on the spot.

Then you laughed—a little too loudly.

“You’re sweet, Oscar,” you said. “But you don’t want me. I’m more work than I’m worth.”

He never forgot the way you said it—like you believed it.

⸻

Now, sitting side by side on the pit wall after a long day, the track lights buzzing, he found himself asking again.

“I don’t get you,” he said, trying to sound light even though his heart felt heavy.

You gave a dry laugh. “Yeah? Welcome to the club.”

He nudged a pebble with his shoe, glancing sideways.

“You know I like you, right?” he asked, voice soft.

“You’ve mentioned,” you said, sarcasm hiding the panic clawing at your chest.

Oscar waited a beat. Then another.

“Why won’t you let me?” he asked, no bitterness — just hurt.

You swallowed.

The words stuck to your tongue, thick and heavy.

“Oscar…” you whispered. “I like you. Really, I do.”

His heart skipped.

“But I can’t risk getting hurt again,” you said, voice cracking. “I’ve loved before. And it broke me into pieces I’m still trying to glue back together.”

The silence stretched.

Heavy. Fragile.

Oscar didn’t rush to fill it. He just shifted closer, his shoulder brushing yours.

“I’m not them,” he said quietly. “I’m not here to break you. I’m here to stay. If you’ll let me.”

Your eyes burned, blinking away tears you refused to let fall.

“You have a heart of gold, Oscar,” you whispered, voice trembling. “And mine is always broken.”

He reached out slowly, curling his pinky around yours.

“Maybe we can fix it together,” he said. “Or maybe… it doesn’t need fixing. Maybe it just needs someone to stay.”

You finally turned, looking him in the eyes — really looking.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” you warned.

He smiled—small, sure, and entirely Oscar. “I do.”

You exhaled, shaky and unsure, but let your head fall lightly against his shoulder.

Maybe you were still broken.

Maybe love still scared you.

But sitting there with Oscar, for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel so terrifying.

It felt like coming home.

⸻

#oscar piastri #op81 #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #mclaren #f1 #formula one #the neighbourhood lyrics masterlist #the nbhd #Spotify

126 notes · View notes

everythingmp3 · 2 days ago

Text

can’t get enough

adult!Van x fem!reader

living with your girlfriend has many upsides: spending slow mornings together, sharing a sense of home, falling asleep in her arms, and the fact that shes there to offer you relief when youre feeling needier than usual, when you keep wanting more and she keeps giving in

authors note: I wont lie, this one came from me thinking about how certain phases of your cycle can make you feel crazy, so it’s heavier on the smut than usual, but there’s a decent amount of plot too, that’s why it’s around 9k! hope you enjoy <3

warnings: smut (reader receiving)

you couldn´t have asked for a better kind of Sunday.

you were blessed with beautiful early spring weather, Van´s was apartment flooded by golden afternoon light, which intensified the feeling of it being your safe haven. you´d spent the early hours of the day doing nothing but delight in each other´s presence, savoring all those hours of freedom and ease.

even though you´d been dating her for nearly seven months by that point, you were in a new kind of honeymoon phase, since you had moved into her apartment only about a month before, which made it one of the first weekends of you living together as a couple.

up until that point, it had been nothing but lovely, all of the little anxious thoughts that had gotten to you during the moving process - like the fear that you´d start getting on each other´s nerves or lose some of that intense spark you´d felt before - proving to be completely unwarranted because if anything you only fell more deeply in love when you finally got to see the other person during moments where they felt unwatched, like when Van hummed a song to herself while making coffee, or when you took a nap on the couch in her clothes and she almost melted on the spot when she walked in on it.

none of it was truly surprising considering how lovestruck you both still felt even half a year into your relationship, just as passionate as that night you´d first kissed like you were scared that you´d just dreamed each other up, clinging on for dear life.

one of the things that Van did for you before you moved in, was that she´d put a little desk in her bedroom for you to use whenever you had assignments to write and needed to be by yourself, in a separate space, in order not to get distracted by her presence nearby.

that Sunday afternoon, you had an essay to finish, so you were seated at the desk, staring outside of the bedroom window, unable to concentrate, unable to write as much as a single word, silently losing your mind due to one pressing issue: you were horny out of your mind.

it was the kind of horniness that simply would not subside, for hours and hours, that could get you worked up just from a simple thought, that could wreck you just from a minute of fantasizing, so you found yourself almost shaking with need, breathing unevenly, acutely aware that jerking off would not relieve you of the craving that was eating you from the inside out.

moving in together naturally meant that you and Van started having sex more than before, it was inevitable with all that access to each other that you followed your instincts whenever they took a hold of you, no matter what time of day or what you were both supposed to be doing instead, it was exciting to share that new domestic kind of sexuality, for Van especially, since few things turned her on more than being pursued and corned by you. sharing a living space with you gave her that tingling sense of anticipation, the thrill of not knowing when she might feel your hand slide under her shirt, your breath on her neck, your wordless way of saying “give into me”, which she did, every time, often just waiting to surrender, to go pliant under your touch, to do whatever you wanted.

you fell into a comfortable rhythm, which usually stayed somewhat the same, except for the days where you truly couldn´t keep your hands of each other and fucking turned into an all-day thing, round after round after round while abandoning whatever it was that you´d told yourself you would get done that day, not a care in the world about anything but devouring each other only to starve again within no time, barely giving your bodies time to recover, leaving you entirely spent by nightfall, but happily so.

that day was one of those days, especially on your part. it started right after you woke up. it took you about a minute of laying next to her and watching her stir until you started feeling her up, kissing her neck, pushing her shirt up to feel her chest, which turned into a lazy, sensual hour of touching and eventually getting each other off, her hand staying between your thighs until you stopped whining for more. after breakfast, you snuggled up on the couch, which turned into kissing, which turned into making out, a proper heavy-breathing, sloppy, borderline dry-humping make-out session, the kind that she never allowed herself with previous lovers, addicted to every part of it, the way you caressed her hair, the way you grabbed her jaw whenever you needed to deepen the kiss, the way you´d sometimes pull back to kiss her face in a rush of affection before returning your lips to hers, every part of it, so that morning you made out for ages until you caved again and fucked on the couch for a while, laying there breathless and swollen-lipped for a decent amount of time afterwards, enjoying the luxury of having a morning all to yourself, to do whatever you pleased, or rather, whoever you pleased. a few hours of being outside, eating lunch, and getting things done around the apartment passed, until it was around 4pm and Van offered to give you head when she sensed how riled up you still were, really taking her time with it, drawing it out until you were unsure how much more you could take, which ended in you riding her face until you had to tap out, ruined by the sight of her beautiful smile as she laid there with her mouth open, glistening in the sunlight, licking her lips like she hadn´t just gotten smothered by that taste.

in moments like that she was almost in shock about just how deep your need for her seemed to be able to run, seemingly no amount of her touch enough to make you wish she´d stop. she knew in her heart that she could´ve insisted on having you again and again and again that day without meeting any kind of hesitancy, and the thought alone made her feel high on adoration for you, the way you´d come into her life and suddenly made her feel so desirable again, after years of feeling like a shell of herself, empty, unappealing.

as you were sitting at your desk, haunted by the fresh memory of her devoted touch, your skin still burning where her fingertips had dug in to hold you in place, you told yourself to leave her alone and get to work, but nothing helped, you were a mess, so around fifteen minutes after you´d left her alone in the living room with the words “okay, I´m gonna go get this thing done” you admitted defeat and walked back out into the living space, too desperate for more of her to spend another second away from her.

Van was sitting on the couch, reading her book, blissfully unaware of the hunger her girlfriend was eyeing her with. you took a second just to watch her from where you were standing, her freshly washed hair glowing like flames in a way that made you want to bury your nose in it and take the deepest breath, the way you often did at night when you were the big spoon.

eventually, you got over yourself and quietly walked over to her. at first, she didn´t react, so you flopped down next to her on the couch and watched her from the side as she pretended not to notice, her eyes still cast down, her smile giving away that she wasn´t reading at all, that she was just waiting for you to say something, to admit why you were not doing what you were supposed to, but after a moment she dropped her book and turned her body to face you directly with a fond, amused expression, almost like a parent who´d caught their child staying up way past bedtime.

“yes, can I help you, darling?” she said, her tone overly sweet, clearly teasing you about your inability to stay away. “yes…” you answered, your tone quieter and huskier than intended, strained by your obvious pressing need, it was clear what you wanted, but she pretended not to notice, still messing with you a bit when she cocked her head and asked “you done with your essay already?”.

you shook your head, “no, but it´s not due til tomorrow” it wasn´t a lie, but she was too clever to fall for it “well, we have plans tomorrow night, so, that´s no excuse”. you didn´t laugh, you were too riled up to have any humor, which was not the case too often, so seeing you sit there like that, pouting, made her reach out and caress your knee while laughing, “hey, you okay there?”.

her touch was enough for you to lose all ability to restrain yourself, so you sighed “no, no not at all.. I need you so bad..” while climbing over and getting half on her lap to grab her neck, breathing against her face then, trying your best to persuade her, your body basically vibrating with need as she wrapped her arms around your back and felt you cling to her, which got a labored breath out of Van, the way your weight pressed down against her, the feeling of being climbed like that. she searched your eyes and said “again already? it´s barely been an hour”, she was clearly baiting you to flatter her a bit, but you were glad to do it, so you nodded and gave her a brief but heartfelt kiss “yeah I know…can´t help it…”.

she could tell that you were genuinely already just as worked up as before, so she cooed “poor thing, you´re really going through it today, aren´t you?”, aware that the faux-mocking would only rile you up more, so she used the moment to her advantage and went in for the kill, kissing your neck while slipping her hands under your shirt, an undignified sound leaving you because the way she moved her lips all over your pulse-point didn´t alleviate you from your ache, it only deepened it, to a worrying degree, each wet kiss making you squirm and bite your lip in an effort to stay quiet while your nails dug into her skin, jerking forward on her lap, chasing friction.

you heard a quiet laugh as she felt you shiver all over and pulled away, whispering “so needy today..”, no malice to her words at all, just her usual way of using foreplay to seem composed, because the second you actually got down to it, she could never pretend to be anything but weak in the knees for you, a slave to your every wish, so you let it slide, her momentary cockiness, only nodding, unable to deny that you were in fact the picture of neediness right then.

Van pulled back and looked at you, holding your face in her hands, gently, stroking your cheeks “I should tell you to get back to your work, you know” she mused. you both knew that there was no world in which she could ever deny you, but even just the thought of stopping right then made a wave of terror wash over you, so you said “no” a bit sharper than intended, “no?” she echoed, grinning, moving her hands from your face to your shoulders.

“please just.. I don´t need much baby, I´ll be quick, please, only a few minutes” you were out of your mind, usually you wouldn´t have bargained for sex with her, you would´ve made a joke or been more playful about it, but you were sucked up in such a vortex of desire that you couldn´t speak or think the way you normally would, which made Van feel a kind of power that wasn´t unpleasant, still, she wasn´t one to be sadistic, so she dropped the teasing “hm, well I think I can do better than just a few minutes”.

“yeah?” you asked with bright eyes, but it wasn´t a surprise, Van was not the type for quick aggressive sex, rushed attempts at getting off, she was a romantic at heart, especially in bed, so the most satisfying intimacy for her was the kind both you and her could savor, draw out, drown out time and space with, so she gestured for you to get up and grabbed your hand to lead you back to the bedroom, endeared by the way your eyes seemed to sparkle at her suggestion, “yes, come on, let me see what I can do for you”. as you let her tug you forward you felt anticipatory relief from what was about to happen, and a rush of heat from her formal way of phrasing it, as if she was talking about a business offer, not you, getting ruined by her.

you were only wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt without a bra, so within seconds you were undressed, unwilling to play it cool or act coy, your underwear already discarded on the floor when Van was still peeling off her flannel and her jeans, leaving her in her underwear and a thin white tank top as she crawled up on the bed where you´d already found your place.

Van was about to get between your legs but you beckoned her closer“wait no, come here”, eager to kiss her, so she smiled and obliged, letting you pull her into a deep and hungry kiss, melting into it for a second, a pleased groan when you kept going and going, lavishing her with the kind of kisses that one might give a lover after having missed them for weeks, when it had been just an hour since you´d last made out. she seemed surprised, judging by the moan stuck in her throat, but it was nothing new, no amount of time spent with her seemed to ever make you feel like you had gotten enough of her lips, the softness, the warmth, the way she tasted, but after a while you grew too hot and separated, panting, nodding as if to say “okay, now you can get down there”, which she did, gladly, kissing a line all the way from the hollow of your throat to your lower stomach, working you up even more, which made you brace yourself on your elbows to watch her, breathing heavy, parting your legs wider to give her space, to invite her, impatient, a sudden throbbing sensation where you where dying to feel the heat of her mouth once more.

Van looked up at you and let out a quiet, vaguely pitying “ohh baby” when she saw how helpless you looked, how you couldn´t even smile because you were so sick with desire, which made her feel equal parts protective and possessive, an acute sense of “only I get to see her like this, nobody else”. it stirred something deep within her, so she leaned in and kissed your inner thigh feverishly, licked over it, bit down ever so lightly, marked her territory before she moved up and reached out to drag her fingers over your cunt to part you, a high-pitched whimper from you as she took a moment to appreciate how wet you´d already gotten for her. after a moment of playing with you, she leaned in and kissed the outside area, slowly dipped her tongue between your folds, met by that taste she could never tire of, a moan from her that matched yours as you laid back and felt her start to move her tongue up and down in long, self-indulgent strokes, over and over, gripping your thighs and getting her face all up in you, the way she always did, clearly never waiting for your approval or praise but just enjoying herself so deeply that it was a given you were too, heavily making out with your cunt, lewd sounds that almost drowned out the whimpers you couldn´t keep in.

after a while of unravelling you, she focused only on your clit, relentlessly, applying just enough pressure to satisfy, while making you whine for more, faint, muffled “hmm” sounds coming from her as the tip of her tongue flicked over you again and again, a rhythm that you matched by rocking your hips up to meet her mouth, which only made her go harder.

when she really loved someone, the way she loved you, she found a place of worship between her lovers legs, poured all of her feelings into the act of giving head, which was why you were addicted, the same way she was, both of you oftentimes taking turns multiple times in one night until your jaws hurt. in that moment, it was no different, you were all hers, moaning and sighing praises as she kept going, your hands finding their way into her hair as you lifted your upper body a bit to be able to watch, lovingly caressing the back of her head as you looked down at her and felt a tightening ache at your core, your breathing even more rapid from the sight of her eating, the divine perversity of it, a sharp breath in when she let her gaze flicker up at you and held eye-contact for a moment while you kept her trapped, your legs close to her ears, and felt her reach up to hold your hands, squeezing them in reassurance, until she could feel that you were getting close and freed her right hand again, moving her mouth away for a second, panting, chin slick with you, so she could see what she was doing as she slipped two of her fingers into you, an instant sigh of relief as you felt her inside of you, so you moaned “yeah like that..” and laid back again, fully surrendered.

she took the cue and went to finish you off by curling her fingers up in you, hitting the spot she knew so well by then over and over, while attaching her mouth back onto you and hearing the familiar sound of your pleading and cursing, your hands clutching the sheets, your mind blank, your walls clenching around her fingers as she didn´t let up one bit and sucked on your clit until you couldn´t hold out any longer and came all over her fingers, her free hand gripping your thigh to keep you from closing your legs as she kept going all throughout your climax until your muscles finally relaxed and you let out a deep shuddering sigh, shaking, high on the orgasm in a way that left you needing more, much more. one wouldn´t be enough, even while you were still recovering from the intense release, your body was already calling for the same thing again, a tremor taking you over that would not subside, Van could tell, so she caressed you and kissed your leg to catch a small break, before she pushed her messed up hair out of her face, which made you move your head to see it and marvel at her, the beauty of her in that moment, her face all flushed, her lips raw and red, a glow that made her look like she´d just come as well, which knowing her, perhaps she had, it had happened before, that she´d finished just from pleasing you.

“.. you´re so pretty…” you sighed, still breathless, which made her grin and move up to kiss you, softly, a faint residue of your taste hitting you, her face so hot that it radiated onto yours, both of you ready to push it further, to look even more wrecked by the end.

you needed more, badly, the throbbing wouldn´t go away, nothing would help, so you felt the urge to take her strap. you didn´t do it too often, it was something you reserved for when either or both of you wanted to be fucked so badly that fingers wouldn´t suffice anymore, which wasn´t every time, but right then, you were in that state, and a shared look between you was enough to communicate, you didn´t even have to ask, but still, she made sure, “need a bit more than that, don´t you?”, so you nodded “yeah.. please”, and the return of your begging was enough to make her need it as well, to see you get what you were craving, to watch you come again, but harder than before, it was ringing in her ears then, the memory of how you´d sounded the last time she´d fucked you that way.

before she got up from the bed, she moved your hand between your legs and smiled devilishly as she whispered “go on, touch yourself a bit, feel how wet you are” a pause before she added “how ready” the last word said in a low tone that made you choke up on your own spit almost because it was unlike her, to speak like that, and it was clear she said it half-jokingly, as if she was putting on a different voice than her own, but still, it thrilled you, to have her insinuate that your body was just waiting for her to invade it, which it was, had been all day.

you used your fingers to apply just enough pressure to keep yourself worked up as you watched her red rid of her remaining clothes, unwilling to deny herself the feeling of being flush against her lover, her back turned to you, your gaze lingering on her legs, the soft, delicate nature of them that contrasted her tough exterior, a point of obsession for you, since only you got to see her legs fully in the nude. it was a ritual for you to kiss her calves, her knees, her thighs, whenever you´d just finished giving her head and used the time she needed to recover to cover her lower half in kisses.

it was no different in that moment, you felt a rush of heat go to your face when you saw the contrast of the black of the harness and the paleness of her skin, some of her flesh spilling out over the straps, a sudden urge to bite into it, a shiver down your spine when you saw the aggressive hand movement of her making sure everything was truly tight enough, sitting right over her hips, around her sides, a whimpering sound as you touched yourself a bit harder then, unable to restrain yourself, which made her flip her hair back over her shoulders in a slightly cocky way as she come back to you and watched you shamelessly stare at her with that same helpless expression as before, moving over to make space for her.

Van knew what you wanted, so she sat down next to you and patted her lap, conscious of the fact that having you on top first was ideal, not just selfishly because she wanted to get a good show, but because it gave you the freedom to tire yourself out, before being finished off by her afterwards. so, you got up and shook a little as you climbed over her and felt her hands on your sides, to steady you, both your eyes and hers cast down, watching you take the strap in your hand to guide it into yourself, carefully, which wasn´t necessary, you arousal so intense that there was no resistance whatsoever, your cunt drenched and throbbing as you sat down, feeling yourself be stretched and filled, your eyes fluttering shut from the overwhelming relief, the sensation so good that you kept still for a moment to soak it up, while moving your legs to a comfortable position, one you could last in, a “hmmm” sound escaping you, which made Van smile as she tenderly caressed your back and sighed “there you go baby, that´s better, hm”.

it turned you on to know that Van felt like it was actually her cock you were taking, so you started moving with her help, her hands travelling down to guide you a bit, deeply turned on by the fragility you exuded in that moment, the trust you placed in her, the way you put yourself in her hands in your most vulnerable state, drunk on the whimpers you let out while rocking back and forth on it, feeling the strap deep inside, your walls clenched, slicking it up as you picked up a rhythm, trembling because it had been a while since you´d taken it like that, so violently turned on that you were sick with the need to come, hard, chasing the all consuming high with blind need, the kind that doesn´t happen fast, that takes time to build up to, and Van could tell you were overly eager, at risk of rushing it, so she tried to bring you back to the present moment, to enjoy the feeling of pained pleasure, the submission to that pre-orgasm ache, so she cooed “you´re okay, shhh, easy, nice and slow, let me take my time with you” and pulled your face closer to kiss your cheek.

you leaned forward in response and held onto her neck as you felt more secure and found a good angle, breathed against her face and heard her whispering sweet nothings to you as your clit brushed up against her in a way that made you moan louder again, your lips brushing up against her cheek, a shiver down her spine. you weren´t bouncing on it the way you might have if you hadn´t fucked all day, you were too weak for it, but you had enough energy to manage a bit of that motion, moving up and down a few inches, again and again, your juices leaking down the strap, her arms firm around your back as you kept whining and riding her, turned on by your own motion, the romantic yet pornographic feel of it, the feeling that you were performing for her, your cunt sucking the strap up easily over and over, a neverending feeling of “more, more, more” as you went a bit faster and felt a rush of confidence that made you lean back and brace yourself with your palms flat against the sheets, to show of your chest and tilt your head up to the ceiling, which allowed Van the perfect view of not just your body but the way the silicone disappeared in you, your arousal milky white against the black of the toy, her mouth open in hunger, her chest flushed pink in response, her whole body.

you could hear her whisper “jesus.. look at you..” under her breath as she palmed your tits and watched you ride yourself into oblivion, your moans more pathetic than before, her thumbs brushing over your nipples to hear you wince in pleasure, her hands reverently moving all the way down your stomach, until they rested right above where you were getting fucked, fucking yourself, both, that thrill of being on top, the double feeling of she´s doing it to me, I´m doing it to myself.

Van was the type of lover who often preferred to use her hands and mouth on you, it was what she craved most days, the filth of having you drip all over her lips and fingers, the sensuality of it, but whenever you did end up wanting to get strapped by her, she enjoyed every little thing about it, rediscovered her eagerness to see you take more than what she could naturally fuck you with. it drove her wild, to see the way you gave in and opened yourself up, you could hear it from her heavy breathing, felt in the way her hands grabbed you wherever she could reach, worshipful, her own composure crumbling by the second, both of you letting out little curses and groans.

eventually you needed support, so you leaned all the way forward and braced yourself against the headboard with both hands, which made your tits eyes level with her, so Van lost no time and held you in place and started sucking on your right breast, hard enough to make my cry out, the double arousal making you see stars as she closed her lips around your nipple and refused to let go, addicted to the soft feel of it, her teeth digging in for a second as you tried your best to keep up your rhythm, panting, needing release so badly that you were scared of losing your stamina, but you pushed through the intensity of being fucked and sucked on, until you whined “baby I can´t, I´m so.. fuck” unable to find the words, so Van let moved her hands to your waist and held on firmly. “I´ve got you, just keep your hands right there” she reassured you, so you did as she said, braced yourself, slowed down, allowing her to take over, which she did, thrusting up into you from below in a way that made it clear she wanted to see you come, soon, so you surrendered to the fast, deep strokes and heard the slapping sounds of your skin meeting, over and over, as you couldn´t do anything but let out moans that were matched by hers, as if she was also being fucked, both of you gone by then, high-pitched cries falling from your lips until you felt like you might cry from how hard she was hitting the right spot deep inside, so you groaned “fuck fuck I can´t I´m gonna-” choking up on the last word and shuddering just as it all crashed over you, hard, overwhelming, your entire body shaking as she kept going but eased up a bit, your orgasm ripping through you, leaving you spent and breathless on top of her, your hands on her shoulders then as she caressed you, soothed you through the aftershocks, waited for you to ride it out, patient, her own breathing ragged and laced with faint whimpering sounds.

once you felt the tremors subside a bit, you climbed off her and let out a sigh from the sudden emptiness where you were still raw, still sensitive, her hands never leaving you as you followed your urge to suck her off and licked over the side of the strap all the way up until you reached the tip, briefly taking it in your mouth, tasting yourself, drooling on it, her hand in your hair as she let out an “oh…” sound of disbelief, a shiver taking hold of her from the unexpected thrill of seeing you do that, for a second almost forgetting that it wasn´t part of her, a phantom feeling of actually having her dick sucked by you leaving her a mess then as you wiped your mouth and tried to get your bearings.

you laid down next to her, riled up the max, the ache from before less pressing but still there, so you looked at her and whispered “please..”, which you didn´t have to say twice. Van got up and moved to kneel before you, saying “lay back and relax for me”, as she reached out to gently put a flat pillow below your hips, creating a better angle, making sure you were comfortable before she smiled down at you and saw an exhausted but happy smile being directed back at her, her heart melting at the sight, her own wetness almost matching yours by that point, so she got to it and held one of your legs up in a way that opened you wider, teasing for a second by just moving the tip over your outside area, slicking it up, until she heard an impatient “baby…” and gave in, pushing herself all the way in with one swift motion as she leaned over you, a deep groan leaving you as you were filled again, your hands on her back then, nails scratching down as she placed her hands by your head and kissed your face, your cheek, ever so softly, a maddening contrast to the deep, slow strokes she was giving you, your legs wrapped around her waist to keep her as close as possible, your chest pressed against hers, your heartbeats close, so close, a feeling of melting into one as she almost hugged you while fucking you, groaning from the effort, a deeply intimate feel to it that made every movement of her inside of you feel even more intense.

“fuck..” you whined, her breath hot against your face as she sighed “feels good?”, “yeah so good…I love you.. so much” it just spilled out, you couldn´t contain it, the adoration for her that was threatening to tear you apart, crying from it it almost, so she moved her face to stare down at you, her beautiful flushed face, her pink lips, the glowing waves of her hair, all of it adding to your feeling of “god I am so in love with her” as she stared you with the same exact feeling written all over her face and sighed “I love you too..” right as she hit a spot in you that made the words burn not just in your heart but your cunt, body and soul ablaze with the way she was handling you, the way she used sex like that for intense passion, not aggression or dominance over you, her motions never too hard, always just the right amount of pressure - for a second you both just breathed into each other´s open mouths while listening to the “huh” sound that left you with each thrust, Van fixated on how much she adored the way getting it from her always turned you so docile and lamb-like, in awe of it all, her lips brushing yours, a deep intimacy to it, both of you staring into each other´s souls until you caved and started making out, desperately, your hands on her neck as you opened your mouth and felt your tongue against hers, in heaven then, bursting with how good it felt to have her on you, in you, while kissing like that - you couldn´t get enough of the bliss of being wrapped up in her presence like that, her perfume and and shampoo and natural musk hitting you where you were weakest, every part of you claimed by her intoxicating physicality, the same for her as she tasted and smelled and felt you, both of you refusing to let go even when you struggled to continue from how heavy your moans were getting in the way.

eventually she changed her position a bit to have more control and grabbed your legs right under your knees to push your thighs back a bit, up towards your face, to go even deeper, which made you let out a borderline pained “ohh fuck..”, Van mesmerized by the sight of the strap moving in and out of you, using her stabile position to really fuck you, giving you a moment of just being pounded, so you rested against the pillows and took it, scared that you´d come already but holding it together to have an even more rewarding release, breathing through it, until she slowed down again, aware that switching between different speeds was what always got you, not immediate release but gradual building up to it with small setbacks until she gave it to you for good, it drove you crazy in the best way. she leaned back over you and kept your legs up with her arms and leaned down to lick over your chest, animal-like, as if she was trying to devour you, tasting your sweat, your hot skin, her hair spilling over you as she sucked on the flesh of your tits erratically and used her hands to keep you open, both of you addicted to the filthy wet sounds that were filling the air, each move into you creating another maddening sound, the muscles in your lower stomach tight and ready to release again, your cunt overstimulated and leaking all over the strap and yourself, both of you addicted to the sensations, the primal nature of your actions, your sounds, the scent, everything about it.

Van sounded just as pathetic as you then as she sighed “god..” and shut her eyes, as if she was praying for the strength to hold on, so you gripped her shoulders and pleaded “baby please.. I can´t” as you felt the intensity challenge what you were capable of handling, but she insisted, encouraged “it´s okay, you can take it baby, just a bit more, you´re doing so well” so you listened and took a deep breath, remembering how much better you came whenever you didn´t hold the air in, so you willed yourself to relax and saw her approve “that´s it” her face buried in the crook of your neck then, soothing you, “I´m right here, I´ve got you, I´ve got you”, your nails digging into her shoulder blades as you whimpered and got scared of your release, after all that build-up, so she commanded you “come for me baby, just let go, make a mess”, and somehow the last part got to you, your body eager to comply, so she kept you pinned down and didn´t change a thing about the pace and depth she was going at as she felt you come undone beneath her, kissing your face all throughout it, encouraging you “there you go” as you cried out and felt your whole body shudder and shake, sweat dripping down your forehead, spit collecting in your mouth, your legs tensed up, your body unravelling in the most deliciously violent way, no part of you unaffected by the climax, Van staying right where she was, still inside you, out of breath, obsessed, drinking in every sound, every sigh, every touch of your desperate hands, the way you clung to her in your moment of dying of pleasure and coming back to life anew.

you shared a frantic kiss and then her gaze was drawn to where a few tears had escaped you, without you even realizing, so she kissed them away too, tasting the salt, feeling you relax even more from her gentility, so she cupped your face in her hands and used her palms to infuse you with all the soothing touch you needed while recovering from the multiple highs you´d just been through. you shut your eyes and whispered “thank you..” but she didn´t want any gratitude, so she shushed you with another kiss, briefly rubbing your temples with her thumb, trying her best to burn that moment deep into her psyche, to keep it, forever.

eventually she gave you some space and moved on the bed. “be right back” she promised as she got up and freed herself of the harness to put her clothes back on, before she cracked the window open and grabbed a tissue from the bedside table to wipe the sweat off your chest, the juices off your inner thighs, a few deliberate swipes here and there to clean you up a bit, to be of service not just during sex, but afterwards too. for a moment after she just stood there next to the bed and grinned as her gaze traveled all the way over you, the way you laid there, dazed, satisfied, glowing.“damn, what a view...” she marveled while appreciatively running her index finger all the way up your leg, so you smiled and twisted your body a bit to get into a more flattering position, “all yours” you whispered, meaning it, so she got back on the bed with you and pressed a kiss to your stomach “that´s right. all mine” the words spoken against your skin, her voice all raspy and deep, a tingle on your skin where her the breath of the word “mine” left its impact.

it took no time for her to want you close again, so she moved behind you on the bed and sat upright while you draped yourself half over her lap, her arms around your waist, both of you quiet as you melted against her and heard her sigh “my angel”, a quiet laugh from you considering how far from saintly you´d just behaved for her. “you´re a fucking dream, you know that?” she said, her voice clearer and louder then, her grip on you tightening, her chin resting on your shoulder, “you are..” you countered, while lacing your hand through hers and squeezing them.

“god. I needed that so bad…” you confessed, which made her smile to herself “you don´t say”. there it was again, the teasing, her usual tone coming back, “but clearly I did too.. you drive me fucking crazy”. you nuzzled up closer to her and felt her grip on you tighten a bit as you said “I always want you, of course, but on days like today…” you paused to sigh and shake your head “I´m not joking I could just go on and on, I feel insane” your hand wrapped around her wrist then, your cheek resting against her upper arm, her heart swelling from the sight. she laughed at your way of phrasing that “well, don´t ever hold back for my sake, please, I might tease you about it but don´t think I don´t love it when you get like this. it´s hot.”

“yeah?” you asked, just to hear a bit more, already aware that she definitely meant it, so she indulged you “of course, I mean I´d have to be beyond ungrateful to complain about my situation here, having a hot girl want me over and over, that´s about as close to heaven as I´m allowed to get in this life I think” she laid it on thick, so you turned your head to look at her with a questioning but undeniably pleased look, Van grinned, standing by her statement, and leaned down to kiss your forehead, her lips lingering long enough to hear something close to a purr from you.

“you know” you said, playing with a strand of her hair as she leaned back again and caressed you absentmindedly “yeah?” she asked, her tone soft and patient, so you went on,“you might not be the first person I´ve ever been with” a fake gasp of shock from her in response to that,“but!” you insisted, laughing at her dramatics “it still feels like you are because it´s so intense when you´re in love, which is very much a first for me. it´s just so much better like this. I mean clearly it´s addictive to me..” alluding to your never-ending hunger for her that matched hers for you, the kind that made homebodies instead of a couple who spent entire weekends outdoors.

Van nodded and thought for a second before she added to your thought “yeah I mean I wasn´t exactly inexperienced when we met but this is definitely very new to me as well, to actually need someone and feel like touch can be.. healing” she said the last word quietly, as if she was a bit embarrassed about being so earnest, but you squeezed her hand to encourage her to go on. “forgot what that felt like. this might sound corny but I don´t care, it honestly feels like my body came alive again with you. you changed everything for me. everything, I swear.” she sounded like she might choke up, so you moved out of her arms to face her directly and put your hands at the back of her head, your fingers tangled in her hair, scratching gently. “so did you..” you told her and leaned in to kiss her nose, that part of her face you felt so tenderly for, the way it scrunched up whenever she really smiled, a few soft kisses that instantly made her weak again.

“did I wear you out?” you asked after you pulled back, straddling her lap by then, the sight of you completely nude on her clothed body a sight that stirred something deep within her as she cocked her head and ran her fingertips up and down your spine. “your concern for the elderly is very touching, really, but I can keep up. for now. besides, I´m the one who should be asking you that, you´re the one who took it”. she squeezed your hip for emphasis, which caused an involuntary motion from you that made you rub up against her thigh in a way that almost got you going again, but you held back, still, she saw it, the flicker of need behind your eyes, unsure how she got lucky enough to have someone so wrapped around her finger.

“I´m a bit sore, but I kinda like that, so I´m good” you mused and watched her eyelids lower the way they always did when she was suspicious. “you like being sore?” she asked, unsure if you were trying to rile her up or being for real, but you insisted “when it´s your doing, yes” whispering it lasciviously, so she played along “oh really?” her own voice dripping in sensuality then, “yeah, I remember the morning after I first slept here, I was so giddy all the way home when I felt my muscles aching.”

“damn” Van laughed, “you´re something else, girl” you shrugged and settled back in her arms, laying down again, sprawled out over her. “but I agree, I also like when you leave your impact on me” Van admitted, her masochistic nature not a secret to you, so you took her arm and playfully bit down enough to leave some faint teeth marks, which made her wince but more from pleasure than pain, her smile audible when she said “yeah, something like that” and hoped that the indents would actually stay for at least an hour or so, already hoping you´d bruise her inner thigh the next time you gave her head.

for about ten minutes you continued to lay there, eyes closed, breathing in unison, a deep relaxation settling over you in that moment of precious, quiet intimacy.

before either of you could fall asleep, Van tapped you on the shoulder and said “so. is there any point in me leaving the bed and telling you to get to work now, or are you just gonna come crawling all over me again in ten minutes?”. you sat upright then and went to go gather your clothes from the floor to get dressed again “I´ll try to restrain myself. I mean, you could also just tie my legs to the chair”. Van watched you from where she was still sitting and laughed “oh, don´t tempt me”

“okay, so” she said as she also got up from the bed and went over to you, snaking her arms around your waist “how about you finish your work while I cook us something nice, then after dinner we could go get some fresh air and then get back to bed later. how does that sound”, you smiled, nodding “perfect”.

before she could leave you shared one last thought “you know you´re the first..” you were searching for the right word “lover” you said, which elicited a grin from her, “that I have ever lived with and I can´t imagine it going better than how it is right now. I feel so at peace here, like I´m home, for real”. Van´s expression softened “I know, I´ve shed some tears about it, trust me, I feel very lucky”.

you wrapped your arms around each other and breathed in each other´s scent one last time and then begrudgingly separated, a groan from you as you sat back down at the desk, so she turned around and said “alright, in and hour I wanna see at least 500 words progress, are we clear? don´t ruin your academic career because you´re too busy throwing yourself at me”.

you whipped your head around and found her leaning against the doorframe, clearly satisfied with herself, a hint of pride in her demeanor that suited her “you calling me a whore?” you joked, watching her smile get even wider as she countered “I´d never”. she blew you a kiss, half-teasing, half-earnest, and left you to it, uttering “good luck” as she closed the door behind herself.

miraculously you actually managed to put your head down and push through the last few pages of your assignment without taking breaks or distracting yourself or letting thoughts of Van get a hold of you too heavily, so after about an hour and fifteen minutes of sitting there and typing away, you emerged from the bedroom and joined her in the kitchen where she was putting the finishing touches on a nice pasta dish she´d cooked up. you wanted to be close to her, so instead of taking a seat, you stood there with her, picking up random things on the counter and putting them back down again to occupy your hands, so she said “trying to find a good space to bend over for me?”, not willing to let it go yet, that you´d been needy as hell all day, a smug grin as she kept her eyes on the plates she was preparing while you scoffed “you wish”, pretending to be offended, a little turned on from the mental image.

after you both got some energy back into your system from the pasta and some ice-cold soda, you decided to go out and enjoy the beauty of the golden hour, the sky empty save for a few clouds here and there, the breeze just mild enough to allow you to leave your jackets, but fresh enough to make you link your arms in order to be cozy.

after an hour of wandering around in the park and stocking up on sweets for later on, you went back home and both a had a shower, she first, then you, and right as you freed yourself of your clothes to wash yourself, you saw that you´d bled into your underwear a little, confirming what she´d alluded to earlier, that your sex-drive had been intensified by your impending period. she´d said it off-handedly that morning in bed, that she remembered you bleeding one morning after you´d begged her to keep going and going all night, but you´d brushed it off, certain that you weren´t getting it until at least a week later, but it had in fact come a bit early that month and it made you emotional in a way, to know that she paid such close attention to your body, to your moods, everything.

Van was waiting for you in her sleeping clothes on the couch when you walked over and said “well you were right earlier, I got it now..”, so she perked up, immediately alert, always concerned about any pain you might be in, “fuck I´m sorry, does it hurt?”. “a bit yeah, but not as bad as usual, you can take credit I think, relaxed my muscles” you smiled as you approached the couch and carefully sat down, your hands on your stomach.

Van grabbed your knee, searching your eyes from up close “still, do you need a pain killer?” and you considered her offer just a second too long before answering, so she cut you off and decided for you “yes you do”. she rushed over to the cabinet to get some pills and a glass of water and brought them back once you´d obediently swallowed them.

“come here” she said once she sat back down and opened her arms, so you laid on top of her, your back against her chest in a way that allowed her to caress your abdomen, ever so gently, trying to alleviate you from any tension that might´ve been causing discomfort.

“comfortable?” she inquired as she felt you go slack and breathe out “yeah very. you´re so warm” you hummed while resting your hand above hers, “and you´re so beautiful..” she answered quietly, her eyes fixed on the space where your sweatpants had been pushed down a little, your skin visible below her palm. you smiled when you heard the reverence in her tone, moved by it, so you shifted your position a little and gave her a kiss before you rested your head on her shoulder, by the crook of her neck, suddenly emotional over her way of caring for you as if it was second nature to her.

“oh you´re killing me today baby” she sighed and held you close, unsure how to handle the feeling of having you curl up on her like that, your body so pliant and open under her touch. “I haven’t gotten used to it yet, that I get to be held like this all the time now..” you told her. she agreed, “yeah me neither. and it´s been like a month of you living here but I still have these moments where I wake up at night and see you there next to me, or when I come up the stairs and you´re already there and I didn´t expect it and feel such a rush. the same way I did when I first met you.”

you smiled and clung to her “god I´m so glad I have you…” your eyes getting heavy, hers too, “my baby” she whispered and let you drift off. before you could fall asleep, you mumbled “love you.. ”, her voice just as fragile “love you too..”.

both of you were too relaxed and content to move and got to bed already, so instead she pulled blanket from the couch over you and let you stay on top of her, keeping you warm and safe as you both dozed off to the feeling of each other´s chest rising and falling pressed against your own, heart to heart.

as your consciousness became hazy, you found yourself in a state of almost prayer-like, deep gratitude for Van, the way she tended to you, body and soul, the way she could overwhelm you with pleasure, make you lose yourself in passion, but also soothe any ache or discomfort and still your being with the simplest gesture and touch.

a memory from earlier that day was the last thing you thought of, you heard it echoing in your head, what she´d said, and repeated it back to yourself, to affirm it, revel in the fact that no dream you were about to sink into could match the sweetness of your reality: I´m hers. all hers.

#I was kinda delirious from being sick when I wrote this so that might have also featured in #my style for her is pretty consistent I think but this one did feel a bit different so I thought I’d just put it out there and see what #you how you guys feel :)#yellowjackets #van palmer x reader #yellowjackets x reader #van palmer

120 notes · View notes