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madamechrissy · 2 days ago

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Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!?

Warnings- this time, lots of fluff, sweet confessions, emotional, mentions of Satoru's past and how he got in the industry, former Nerdjo mentioned. Also explicit sex, oral (f receiving) Gojo worshipping you, breedkink, creampie, fingering, squirting, dirty talk WC this chap- 9.6k

A/N- omg one more chapter, we are at the end! Taglist closed- please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Six - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Eight >>> (Final! - coming soon)

Chapter Seven

Satoru is nervous.

He’s never really been on a ‘date’ before, he’s been on many meetings with girls from work, get togethers and hang outs, but he’s never been on something so official, even back when he was with the woman who got him into the industry. They of course fucked constantly, they went out together to hit parties, but it wasn’t that official term, not like this with you.

A real date.

Something he’s been playing over and over in his head for all these months, imagining if things could have gone differently, that night when the girl came up to him, and Nanami came up to you. Could he have said - yes, she’s my date - and not been so fucking terrified of the change? When you looked at him that way, as if you were waiting for his answer, could he have given it?

He shoves all of that back now, it’s all in the past, and the two of you have been in constant contact this week in anticipation, down to you sending him dresses you’re thinking of wearing. Suguru keeps mentioning the dopey fucking grin on his face every time you text him, and every time he calls you, the two of you end up falling asleep on the phone together.

You’re his girlfriend.

He’s actually gotten you a corsage, you maybe thought he was kidding, but he absolutely was not. He’s standing in front of your door, when he finally knocks on it, rapping his knuckles across it, and soon you’ve opened it, standing there so beautiful you make him ache. In so many fucking ways, too.

For every bit of Satoru that wants to rip this pretty little blue dress off you, another part wants to simply kiss your forehead.

The affection is as intense as the longing, the desire to have you with him always, not schedule times and days and work arounds. He knows that is what both of you have to do, but there’s a little part of him that would die to just have you with him, constantly. In his bed, waking up next to him, something he never knew he would want or crave so badly.

Your eyes light up, brilliant without your glasses on, he can’t decide what he likes better - how fucking pretty you are with them, or getting to look into them clearer without them on. You have cherry red lipstick across your lips, and a little blush on your cheekbones, your hair done up in a way that makes him crave yanking it out, letting it tumble and fall over your shoulders as he kisses you.

“Satoru, oh I’m so excited!” You’re grinning, melting his heart then, he swallows a little nervously again, leaning down and tilting your chin up with two fingers.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss on your lips, you tremble at it, your hands slipping up his chest, over the pretty light blue dress shirt he’s wearing. “We match.”

“We do,” you kiss him again, tugging at his collar, sighing into his mouth at how good it feels. “You look handsome, Satoru.”

“Of course I do.” You snort now, shaking your head and stepping back and tugging at his hands.

“Come in real quick, I need to throw my heels on and get a jacket,” he steps inside, noticing the couch is still very much spotless, no more tangled blankets, he smiles as you sit on the couch then and slip on a pair of black heels. “I’m very, very excited you know.”

“So am I,” he comes over then, kneeling and halting you before you slip the other shoe on, taking it from your hand. He presses a kiss on your bare knee, watching you react, your hands trembling, your breath quickening. “Let me.”

“You’re making me feel like Cinderella or something,” you tease, he laughs a bit softly, eyeing the flustered mess he’s made you. “I could get used to this treatment.”

“I could get used to treating you this way,” he murmurs, securing the little buckle now, hand slipping up your thigh slowly, he leans close, your fingers card through the snowy locks of his hair. “Like a little princess.”

“Satoru,” you lean down and kiss him again, deeper this time, he tugs you close as he sits between your thighs, feeling your heat. You pull back, breath ghosting his lips, he notices he’s kissed just a bit of your tint off, a fainter red now. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you.” You both kiss once more, it takes every ounce of self control not to devour you, that soaking wet little cunt so ready for him to drink up, but he knows you both have to take time, even when your bodies completely disagree. He pulls back and sighs, caressing your cheek carefully. “Don’t make it so hard for me to be a gentleman, do you know what it’s like right now?”

“You’re the one over here making me think insane thoughts,” you pout, and he grins, easing back just a bit. “This is not a good position for you to be in with where my mind is going.”

“And what is your innocent mind thinking of, hmm?” He raises a brow, so charming, still on his knees over your plush carpet. “Blushing, cute.”

“Shh! You know what I’m thinking, it’s not innocent…” you shift a bit closer, his hand slips up the inside of your thigh now.

“No? Are you being a bad girl?” He grins, still slowly inching up, watching you shift on the couch.

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Maybe I wanna hear it,” he kisses your thigh now, watching goosebumps rise where his lips press, hearing your soft whine along with the little pop of his lips. “I can make it happen after the date, if you want it to.”

You bite your lower lip, while he looks up at you under his snowy lashes, just a little red on his own lips now. “I was thinking of places that really miss being kissed by you.”

“Oh, here?” He kisses your knee, and you giggle. “Or… here?” He kisses higher, teasing you with a nip of his sharp teeth.

“No,” he’s chuckling now, fuck he doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this, even with you. It was sexual so quickly and so intense there wasn’t much room for teasing. Your fluttering pulse and quick heart rate are matched by his own, when you run your thumb over his plump lip. “You know where I miss it most.”

“It’s here, isn’t it?” He grabs your wrist now, pressing a kiss along the delicate inside of it, over the little veins raised ever so slightly.

“You found it,” his teeth nip your wrist now, shooting desire hot and heavy, while his fingers slip dangerously close to your core. “Mnh…”

“I know, I can’t wait to taste your sweet little cunt again,” his words are husky, deep toned, that voice that feels like he’s touching you, pulling back now to tug out a pretty bunch of blue flowers from his black jacket. “But I’m going to do this right this time.”

“Satoru, did you really get a corsage!?” You’re giggling, the sound making him melt as he takes your hand now. “I didn’t think you actually would!”

“I told you I would,” he kisses the back of your hand after slipping it over your wrist, little delicate blue flowers adorning it now. “I think now you’re ready for this date, yeah?”

You blink back emotions, kissing him again, he’s still on his knees, arms wrapping your waist, kissing your lips over and over, sighing into them. “Did I tell you, I never went to prom?”

“Never?” He pulls back curiously, and you nod. “Tell me why, I want to know so much, who you were. Were you a little nerd?”

“Of course I was, I just played DnD that night.” He grins then, so handsome he breaks your heart into pieces.

“Guess what?”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t go to mine either. I was also playing DnD.”

“No way!”

“Mmhmm,” he’s chuckling along with you, you kiss him again, a sweet little peck, shaking your head. “I was a nerd.”

“No way, I can’t even picture it!” He shrugs a shoulder and stands now, holding your hands and tugging you up, your head falls back to look at him. “There’s so much I don’t know about the man I fell in love with.”

It’s quiet then, he rests his head on yours, cupping your face, too quiet, your mind races. This will be the third time you’ve confessed, and the prior two were not met with answers, you curse internally, wishing you could keep it under wraps, wondering if you’re pushing it too far. But he pulls back, lips parted, exhaling and studying you carefully.

“You do not have to say it back-”

“I fell in love with you when I fucking saw you,” you pause, a little gasp the only noise aside from your pounding heart, beating so loudly, you can feel it thudding. “It scared the fuck out of me. I tried to explain it away in every different way, it must be your looks, it must be the chemistry, it must be a connection. Anything to avoid knowing what it was.”

“Satoru…” You’re blinking tears, little trails of mascara falling which he swipes up with his fingers.

“I was just really scared. I’ll get more into my past tonight, but I didn’t think this sort of thing was possible. These six months have been fucking torture,” you’re a mess now, while he tugs you closer, hands slipping down your bare shoulders. “I should have said it back.”

“It’s okay, it really is, you weren’t ready just yet.” He exhales, leaning low and kissing you once more, tasting the salty tears that fall.

“I wanted to do this after the date, I had a plan you brat.” You giggle now, as he keeps swiping at your tears. “All this work on your makeup too, want me to fix it for you?”

“You can do makeup?” You ask softly, he nods.

“I did a lot on set. You just need a touch up, though you’d be a pretty racoon, too. Where’s the makeup?”

“Scattered all over the sink,” he sees that clearly when you’re in your bathroom now, there are exactly seven lipsticks set out. “I couldn’t decide!”

“Always red, it’s my favorite on you,” he carefully takes your concealer and wets your makeup sponge like a pro as you watch. “Yes, I know how to do it pretty well.”

“Putting on my makeup and my shoes? I’ll never let you go,” you tease, while he dabs under your eye, touching up the little black spots as you look up. It’s quiet then, but he finishes that, tilting your chin up again. “Do I need more lipstick?”

“Wanna kiss you again first,” he murmurs, pressing his lips on yours, your arms wrapped around his neck, eyelashes fluttering shut. “One more.”

You’re smiling as you pull back, hands slipping down his chest. “I love you, Satoru.”

“I love you, and I wanna fucking bend you over this sink,” you moan softly when he turns you, facing the mirror, his hands on either side, you feel his length pressing against the small of your back, making you heat up. “The last time I looked at you like this…”

“I know,” you look at his eyes, as he leans down, bent at the waist, a big hand splaying the expanse of your tummy under your breasts, palm warm, you lean back against him, feeling every bit of it. “That was an… intense night.”

“It was, there’s this mix of regretting acting that way, and wishing I got to drink all that up,” you barely hold back your desperate whine, he kisses down the side of your neck now, moaning softly in your ear. “Is that terrible?”

“No, it’s not, I feel the same - ah - we won’t make the date if you keep kissing me like this.” He chuckles, pulling back a bit, you’re dizzy from his presence from every sensation.

“Can’t control yourself?”

“Oh!” You turn and shove him playfully, all lit up so pretty for him, he can’t help but feel that tug of affection. “You’re smirking!”

“You’re just so adorable like this.” He kisses you again, before pulling back, eyeing your lipstick, picking the shade you have on. “Here, I’ll fix it.”

Satoru glides the lipstick over your mouth carefully, smiling down at his work, when you wipe the tint of it off his own lips, blushing when he nips at your thumb. “All better?”

“All better, but tonight…” he leans over you again, a wicked little smirk on his handsome face now. “I think I’d like to ruin your makeup. And not fix it.”

“Toru…” He tugs you against him, thigh pressing right where you’re already pulsing around nothing, you arch them, dying for more, it’s been so fucking long since you felt him.

“The tears will be from cumming too hard, too much, not from you being sad,” he whispers, pressing hungry kisses along your jaw line now, until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Lipstick smeared from where you’ll suck my cock down that tight little throat, from your drool.”

“Fuck…” You’re damn near done for, yanking him down and rolling your hips, his big hands stop you. “Please…”

“After the date, what do you take me for!?”

“You’re ridiculous!” He snorts and you barely manage a cute little glare. “Teasing me, ugh!”

“You’re too cute, I can’t help it.” He fixes the little bobby pins in your hair that have fallen, you watch his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.

“Then you better take me out now, before we don’t get to the door.”

“You’re so slutty right now,” he’s grinning against your neck as you push at him, his arm wraps you tightly, lifting you up for a moment with one arm like it’s nothing. “Be a good girl for me.”

“I’m trying, mnh,” it’s impossible not to want him, when he’s literally just fucking carrying you with that one arm to the front door now. “I could get used to this too.”

“You’re going to be a very spoiled girlfriend, hmm?” You bury your face at that, as he chuckles, setting you down in front of your door. “You like that?”

“Yes, I do.” He grabs your jacket from the stand, slipping it over your shoulders now and holding out his hand.

“Then let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go.”

*****

“If it isn’t Satoru Gojo!” A girl runs up as you and Satoru are seated at the rooftop restaurant he’s brought you to later, overlooking the beautiful skyline below, high up as the sun gently sets.

Everything is perfect about tonight, sitting across from him, the soft candlelight flickering with the wind just a bit, your hands joined as your knees gently brush. He looks at her then, raising a brow, and you tense across from him, remembering the last time you two had gone out to eat. The girl who was his former costar, and you can’t get mad about it, he’s probably just rather popular with his career.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, what a shame,” she says then, slinking on up, her fingers trail his shoulder, when he takes her hand, yanking it off him, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m clearly on a date with my girlfriend,” his words make your heart race, while you’re nervously fiddling with your hands in your lap. She looks at you in surprise, as if she’d not acknowledged it to even be some possibility. “What did you need?”

“I just remembered having a really good time on set, and was curious if you were into it anymore, I do have my contact info if you-”

“You’re clearly not reading the room,” he cuts her off, and you’ve never seen this side of him. Usually shmoozing and grinning, putting on a bit of a show, this Satoru is far, far different from the last time this happened. He puts a hand on yours and smiles at you, saying your name softly.

“Oh… I didn’t see you there,” she says, nose in the air, you blink and Satoru glares now, his icy eyes fucking insane. “I’m Amber, was a friend of his.”

Her insinuation is clear, clear as Satoru’s jaw tensing.

“Nice to meet you, Amber.” You say, too friendly for Satoru’s liking, he raises a brow and you give him a look - you can’t be rude!?

“To answer you, no I don’t want your info, I’m not doing that now.”

“Ah, I did hear you were modeling, how’d you get into it?”

“Here,” he hands her a business card. “That’s my agent, but if you don’t mind I have a date to focus on.” Resigned, she walks off, and he tilts his head.

“What?”

“Why are you so nice? Should have scowled at her with me.”

“She just likes you, who wouldn’t,” he leans forward now, hand entwining with yours over the table. “You want me territorial?”

“It’d be hot.” You roll your eyes as he smirks.

“You’re crazy, but thank you for telling her um… I’m your girlfriend.” He kisses up your inner wrist, where the corsage sits now.

“Of course,” it doesn’t feel strong enough of a word really, for everything he feels for you, watching you across from him. “All right, so what character did you main?”

“You really were a nerd,” he chuckles, the sound so perfect to your ears then, while you both nibble on your appetizers. “I was a bard of course, and a fire genasi, you?”

“I can see it, I was absolutely a paladin.”

“What kind!”

“Dragonborne.”

“Oh, that fits.”

“What’s that mean, nerdy brat?” He teases, when you lean your chin on your hand, so fucking heartbreakingly pretty across from him it almost steals his breath away, it takes everything to remain calm.

You make him feel every bit the younger boy he was then, stuttering on his words, fumbling nervously on the inside, even though on the exterior he was so calm, so sure. That grin he gives you though? It’s not the practiced one, the sleazy Hollywood one, it’s genuine - it’s him.

Maybe that’s what always scared him.

“So, are we going to play together? I have a group you know,” you tease, poking at him when he just stares for a moment. “Planning a new character?”

“No, thinking how beautiful you are,” you blink a bit in surprise, leaning back with a little intake of breath, those earrings dangling and swaying, casting shadows along the delicate curve of your neck. His fingers trail along it, reaching up to toy with them now. “Too much?”

“No, not at all,” your hand touches his, holding it there as you study him across from you, his pretty pink lips parted, lashes lowering. “I think you’re beautiful too.”

“Of course-”

“Inside too, not just your face, or your body, or even just your eyes,” you stop him in his tracks, eyes burning with the emotions that you bring from your words. “Everything about you.”

“Shit,” he tugs you to him over the table, kissing you in front of everyone, you taste the sweetness of that moscato on his plush lips, sinking into the kiss. “You’re too sweet, I need to drink you.”

“Don’t say that here,mmm…” you pull back, covering your face, hearing his little chuckle. “You’re mean, never mind.”

“Hey, sorry, come back here,” you shake your head, then he stands up, walking over in front of you, making you look up at him. “So we both missed prom to roleplay then?”

“Mmhmm, a destined match.” He hums a bit, as you look around, seeing that some people are watching you both with curious smiles.

“Then let's dance like it is prom, a nerdy little dnd prom with just you and me.” He says softly, playful gleam in those pretty azure depths of his eyes, and your pulse races, nerves making you heat up.

“Dance, here?” You ask nervously, there is music playing, there’s a singer with a guitar, and there’s room to dance on this rooftop, but no one is.

“Yes, since we both were too busy in the dungeon for prom,” he teases, white grin flashing as the soft wind tousles his white locks. “We should dance here and now, together.”

“You’re so insane, but…” He’s standing now, holding out his hand, and you take it, a pretty smile on your face melting him ever further.

He leans low, murmuring in your ear when he tugs you up. “Good girl.”

“Oh, you know what that does.” You’re burying your face against his chest as he chuckles, hand on the small of your back.

“Too cute I can’t help it, c’mon sweetheart,” he tugs you now by your hands, and pulls you in his embrace while the music softly echoes, mixing with the pounding of your heart in your ears. He’s spinning you in a little pirouette, as the people around you smile and murmur your direction. “Look, they think you’re cute too.”

You stumble nervously, he catches you so swift, like it’s a second nature, and you can’t stop the big grin on your face - a lovesick one. One only for Satoru Gojo, one that’s been gone from your face for a long time now. He has one hand in yours, as he sways you along, the waitresses pass by and giggle, whispering how cute of a couple you are.

“You don’t mind if they know I’m your girlfriend?” You ask then, he frowns, shaking his head.

“I want everyone to know you’re my girlfriend.” You light up, and he realizes when he didn’t acknowledge it to be more before, it must have created more of an insecurity. “I wish I told everyone, especially that Nanami guy.”

“Oh goodness,” his glare shows he’s still very much not a fan, you rest your head on his chest, swaying now. “You know he’s doing OF with Jenna now?”

“What!?” You pull back a bit, nodding. “Do you just attract sex workers like a lamp for moths!?”

“Shh!” You look around at his loud ass voice, and he sighs, rolling his eyes. “I thought you’d be happy he’s occupied.”

“Mmm, whatever, I didn't like his ass.”

“I can tell!”

“Didn’t like how he looked at you,” he tilts your chin up, still swaying side to side now. “Only I can look at you like that.”

“Possessive Satoru, I kinda like that,” he rolls his eyes at your teasing little smile, spinning you again, the wine hits your bloodstream, making you deliciously dizzy. “Maybe I feel possessive too, a little.”

“I knew it, you were holding back.” He eyes the girl who’d interrupted your meal, smirking as he sees your cute little scowl. “No one can catch my eye, okay? It’s just you.”

You falter, almost tripping again in your heels that are just a bit too high, head falling back to look up at him. “Oh…”

“Don’t cry again, not yet,” he presses a kiss on your forehead, warm to the touch of his lips, while the breeze gently blows cool waves of air, making your dress fly up just a bit. “Of course you’re all I see.”

“I will cry again,” you warn, eyes glassy already, as the song ends, and he spins you once more, until your back is against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you. “Thank you, Satoru.”

“Of course.” People clap around you quietly at your little dance, when he guides you back to the table, but this time he sits the chair right next to him, a hand on your thigh under the tablecloth. His eyes lock with yours when you bite at your lip, he tugs it from the grip of your teeth. “Only I should get to bite it.”

“Only you, hmm?” He nods, leaning close, when a waitress comes with your orders, and he gives you a quick kiss, starting to cut up your food without thinking about it. “Satoru, you're very thoughtful, you know.”

“It’s nothing, I hope you like this,” he slips a bite into your mouth, juicy and tender, your eyes flutter shut as it fills your taste buds. “What do you think?”

“It’s so good!” He smiles at that, feeding you another bite now, ever so carefully, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. “You’re spoiling me.”

“I haven’t spoiled you yet, not even close,” you sip your wine, scooching even closer, your legs crossed, his hand firm on one. “I think I’ll like having a girlfriend to spoil, take you shopping, make you dress up for me.”

“You don’t have to do all that, you know.” He frowns a bit at that.

“What if I want to, will you let me?” He brushes a tendril of hair back that the wind keeps sweeping forward, the sky is darkening, the purples and oranges fading, the sun set over the horizon now. The lighting just makes the angles of his face sharper, the glow of his skin prettier.

“I’ll let you do anything,” you clear your throat then, blushing. “Well that sounded freaky.”

“I know you’d let me do anything, sweetheart I haven’t even gotten started showing you things. That blush is so pretty.”

“Oh!” You cut up some of his food then, putting it in his mouth, he eagerly takes a bite off the fork. “Yes I’ll let you take me shopping.”

“Good girl.”

“Satoru!” His hand slips up higher, surrounded by lively people and music. You get so nervous, but more excited, when his thumb brushes a little circle along the inner part of one thigh.

“You really like that, hmm?” His words are practically a purr, you narrow your eyes, but he already sees them dilate. “Are you wet already?”

“Shh,” you panic, but he’s just chuckling, pulling his hand back just a bit so it’s at your knee. Still tense, your entire body is reacting to his every movement as he sits next to you. “So you had said you wanted to tell me a few things?”

“Yeah I did,” he sighs, taking a sip of his blush wine now. “For courage.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready for.” He loves that about you, the way you’ve never pushed him - even if you should have truly. He picks up your hand and presses a gentle kiss on the back of it.

“So I was indeed a nerd, so nerdy in fact I may have been a virgin in college still.” You nod just a bit.

“Nothing wrong with that, not at all.”

“Right, but I thought there was something wrong with that, wrong with me I guess,” you frown now, heart aching for him. “I didn’t embrace it like you.”

“That’s okay, I’ll bring nerdy Satoru back.” He scoffs playfully at that, still holding your hand, you sip your drink, studying him carefully.

“So I met this woman, she was older. Like thirty, and she was someone who I guess started really noticing me, like as a man and not a nerdy little boy. I became really enamored with her, obsessive I guess…” You nod, listening, but he pauses. “Will this be weird to hear? Another woman?”

“It’s your past, absolutely not. I want to know more.” You set down your glass, still holding his hand now. “Go ahead.”

Fuck he loves you.

He blinks snowy lashes, they cast little shadows against his eyelids when he stares back at the hand he’s holding. “She was a very famous pornstar, I assumed out of my league, but she wanted me. And I guess I got a high off of it, it’s probably where I started associating sex with affection? Fuck I feel like you’re my therapist.”

“We probably both need one after what we did to each other.” He grimaces, nodding now. “But go ahead, I want to know.”

“I lost my virginity on set,” his voice is very quiet, just a murmur, and your heart aches then. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

“But that seems kind of insane? Especially really young?”

“I loved that shit, I was all about it.”

“Did you love it, or just love her?” He looks at you then, shaking his head.

“Whatever I thought I had, nothing has come close to what I feel for you,” your breath catches, when he brings your hand to his lips, kissing it again. “I know it wasn’t love.”

“But you may have thought so, like I did with my ex,” he nods then. “I know now that it wasn't anything like this.”

“It wasn’t, but I suppose I was infatuated. We did this scene and I became some fucking sensation overnight, all my plans to do physics were changed when I realized that I could make millions fucking my girlfriend.”

“You wanted to do physics?”

He smiles then. “That’s what you heard?”

“Yes, that’s insanely difficult. And very interesting.”

“My parents pushed me into it, and I was good at it, I was top of my class at UCLA and all that shit. I don’t know, something about doing porn instead really made me feel rebellious or something.”

“It’s understandable.”

“You have not a single rebellious bone in your pretty body,” he leans low, fingers entwining now. “It’d be hot if you were bratty for me though.”

“Would it be?” You lean closer, necklace tantalizing him against your collar bone as it gently moves.

“Fuck yes it would be.”

“You’re distracting from the topic,” he pouts, even as you press him. “You lost it on set, and you enjoyed it?”

He leans back now, long lanky legs spread, brushing against your own. “Yeah, I did enjoy it, I guess. We got heavy into the industry, but of course she was with other people. It was her job.”

“But that hurt you.”

“Yeah, the shit hurt me. I was jealous a lot," he eyes you then. “I guess how you felt when you saw me doing that video.”

“It did make me unreasonably jealous,” you admit softly. “But I knew it was your career.”

“Yeah, I did too. I started doing my own shoots, I eclipsed her in fame, and she wanted to retire. But, I didn’t. She mentioned how much I changed, but she didn’t realize she changed me.” You blink back emotions, thinking of how a younger Satoru must have been, a sweet physics major, shy and nervous. The thoughts melt you and hurt you simultaneously.

“Deep down, you’re still just you.” He looks down at his glass, as a waitress comes and refills each of your wine glasses up. His fingers brush up the stem of it carefully.

“I almost did that to you, what she did to me.”

“You did not-”

“Yes, yes I did.” He cuts you off now, and you shake your head. “I didn’t accomplish it, or mean to do it, but just how I got into the industry for her, you were willing to for me. You just had enough sense to catch yourself. I got too into the lifestyle.”

“It was ultimately my choice, and I’m not in college and completely innocent here.”

“Damn near were, and not much older than I was. You can disagree, but I saw myself doing it, and couldn’t stop. I was so selfish for you.”

“And I was for you,” you lean closer, impossibly closer, the two of you damn near snuggled on that rooftop, a hand resting on his forearm over the soft material of his suit jacket. “Maybe being in love makes you dumb and selfish, and both of us really were.”

“You weren’t -”

“I was,” your turn to cut him off, he disagrees and opens his lips for you to put a finger against them. “Don’t take all the blame here, when we both were really bad at admitting things, expressing ourselves.”

“You stop taking so much blame then,” his words are quiet, meant for only your ears when he cups your face, thumb brushing your overheated cheek. “You are still a good girl, what you did doesn’t change that, okay?”

“I know that, and I got a bit of a rush from it, like you mentioned, not from them seeing me, but for when you called me your star.” He kisses you then, hungry and desperate, a kiss that should be in privacy, but he can’t stop it.

“You are,” he whispers, you whine into his lips when he barely has the ability to pull back. “Check?”

“Check.”

*****

The drive back is a blur, when Satoru damn near carries you out of the car, a stumbling mess of kisses until you’re in the elevator, heading up to his penthouse. He’s got you lifted like it’s nothing, pinning you against the wall, after the drive was nothing but torturous touches, caresses, kisses. The need in both of you is so intense it’s impossible to breathe.

The moment you walk into Satoru’s penthouse, he turns and presses you against the door, cupping your chin and slamming his lips on yours. You meet his kisses with desperate, needy ones of your own, your purse falling to the floor right along with the jacket he slips off your shoulders. You’re trembling when he presses hungry kisses along your now bare shoulders.

“Satoru,” you’re whispering his name, just like a needy little plea, when he unzips your dress ever so carefully, the cool metal against your overheated skin. “Mnh!”

“If you want me to stop, tell me now sweetheart,” he whispers, exposing the expanse of your back when the dress spills, breasts gripped in each of his hands, your head falls back as he squishes them in his grip. “If you don’t want this yet…”

“I want it, I want all of you.” He moans and kisses you again, one hand staying on your breast, the other tugging that dress down your hips.

“I need you sure, I can wait,” he whispers, you step out of the dress that’s around your ankles now, still in your heels, making you just a little taller, enough where he can easily touch your cunt bending down just a bit, you whine out at the contact. “I’ll wait forever for you.”

You blink back tears at that, looking up at him with lidded eyes, one of his hands now entwines with yours over the cool, slick white paint of the door, the other touching your cunt over your panties. You bite back a moan, a mix of love and desire, emotions and need, looking up into his brilliant blue eyes, dark and dilated in the dim lights of his living room.

“I’ve waited so long, for you to be back in my life,” you say then, sniffling back just a bit of tears, he pauses his touches, for you to put his hand back, looking at him under your lashes. “I want you in me, on me, with me. Please.”

“I’ll give you anything,” he kisses you again, you move his finger under your panties, earning the slick spilling down both your fingers. “Fuck you’re so wet f’me, so ready aren’t you? For me to cum inside you?”

“Y-yes, please, please - ah!” Satoru’s fingers slip inside, now your own slick ones grip his wrist as they pump. Your eyes roll back, mouth open in a desperate cry when he curls them just so in your spot, the one only he knows, exhaling as he feels your gummy walls tighten.

“There it is, did you miss me sweetheart?” He asks softly, cocky and arrogant, but you fucking love it, you nod eagerly, earning a turn of his plump lips. “Show me how much you missed it, let me feel her cum f’me.”

He’s working them faster, in that maddening fucking rythm he knows you can’t handle, you tighten up then. “T-too much!”

“No honey, don’t tighten up, already too fucking tight, let go,” his whispers urge you on, spreading your thighs and exhaling. “That’s it, that’s my good girl.”

“F-fuck!” You’re arching for more, bare ass pressed against his thighs, his cock leaks precum through his boxers, against his slacks, as he feels your muscles contract, your walls quiver. “M’gonna - ngh, Satoru…”

“That’s it, give me it, please baby,” he’s whiny and desperate even as he controls you, with those long fingers shoved so deep, and you shatter for him. You’re gushing as the orgasm hits you, rocking your entire body, you’re trembling and whimpering when the pleasure shoots everywhere, and he slips his fingers out with a pop. “Fuck, you did so good.”

He turns you now, you’re wobbling, he has to hold you firm, slipping his fingertips coated in your arousal across your lips. “Mnh… can’t stand…”

“I’ve got you, god just look at you,” he worships your body while your tongue laps that slick off, hands gently grazing your breasts, you eagerly shove off his jacket, he loosens that black tie, kissing you again, holding you steady while you threaten to fall on your own damn heels. “Need to drink you up.”

He’s slipped your panties down then, a soaked fucking mess, before slipping a thigh over his shoulders, looking up at you under snowy lashes, running a thumb down your slit. You’re shaking, head falling back and smacking the door. “Ow!”

He chuckles, and you giggle, his breath ghosting your inner thigh then. “You better not get a concussion on the night I get to taste you again, clumsy little thing.”

“I can’t hold steady - ah! Oh my god,” he kisses your hood now, lips right above your hood, your fingers slip through his silky strands, hips arching. “I missed that so much.”

“I will eat you out all you want tonight,” he smirks then, tongue flicking up your slit, you clench around nothing while he collects the pooled arousal around your little hole, making you gasp in pleasure. “I’ll eat my cum out of you too, over and over.”

“Please,” you’re tugging his teasing mouth closer, his tongue going in the slowest circles, all while you can hardly see, still blinking fuzz from your orgasm. “Oh!”

“Go ahead, don’t be shy, use me baby,” his words end you, that desperate look his pretty face has on it, the way he tugs you closer, a hand firm on your ass. “Use me all you want, fuck out all those frustrations on m’face, huh?”

“Ngh…” You tug him against you firmly then, cunt spasming around his long pink tongue, his nose bumps your twitchy clit, already sensitive from his fingers, and you do just that.

Your hips arch and roll, riding his pretty face as much as you want, as much as you’ve craved and missed, six months without him worshipping you on his knees. And it’s what he’s doing, in between filthy words and sweet ones, praising and teasing, torturing and giving. His mouth whispers how much he wants this, even as you suffocate him with your cunt.

“That’s it, keep fucking my face,” he whispers, and you’re lost to him, he’s pinned your hips firmly, as you barely hold yourself up on one leg, tongue lavishing inside your hole, between your folds, when you tense, tightening again. “No, let go, now. Let me drink it all, baby.”

You’re done again with one practiced flick of Satoru Gojo’s tongue, this time more intense, the way he sucks your clit into his mouth pushes you over that edge again, watching from on his knees as you cum for him. You’re hoarsely crying out his name as he palms his erection, straining and aching to be inside you. “Satoru, please.”

“Need more?” He teases, letting you go with a pop of his lips, while you’re still gasping for air, and he’s just smiling up at you the way he does, licking his glossy lips. “Mm, so sweet.”

“Need you inside me, now…” You tug at his silky hair now, he eases a thigh down, pressing more kisses on it. You’re flushed as he stands up, your legs giving out damn near, but he’s got you, wrapping an arm around your hips as your fingers flit to his belt.

“That needy, that eager baby?” He teases, a flash of a grin, but when his cock springs free he whimpers, clear as day, that sound you fucking miss so badly. “Fuck…” He trails off as you free him, stroking his pretty length, you run your thumb over the tip of him as he unbuttons his shirt, lapping up his precum, making his cock thicken. “You have to be this fucking sexy?”

“I missed your taste,” you tease softly, earning his moan when he quickly gets naked, filling your gaze with the perfect body, your fingers trail over his abdomen before he stops them, pressing your wrists against the wall. “Let me touch you.

“No, I can’t handle it,” he’s hoarse against your ear as he leans down, lips brushing the shell of it. “I’ll cum in your pretty little hand, and embarrass myself.”

“No, I’d just make you cum again, in my mouth,” you whisper back in his ear, so bold like he’s never heard you, your fingers pressing against his strong back now. “Then inside me.”

“Fuck me,” he grumbles, you’re giggling but it’s halted when he lifts you like you’re nothing, and you cling to him, gasping. He chuckles, the sound warm against your skin, and he’s kissing your neck, his cock nudging against you, hard and demanding at your soppy entrance. “You’re talking a lot for a girl who just drooled.”

“What now,” he grins as he pulls back, and you feel the stretch, but he just holds it there. “Toru, please, stop teasing.”

“You’re too pretty not to tease,” he leans low, kissing your lips, eyes locking with yours, your thighs pressing on his narrow hips, your heat just burning against his sensitive tip. He swallows, emotions present he never acknowledged before, but he can’t hold back anymore, as he whispers your name. “God I’ve missed your taste, your scent, your sweet little cries, all of it. All of you.”

“I missed all of you, Satoru - mnh!” He presses in then, head resting on yours, you taste yourself on the breath that ghosts your swollen lips, when he starts stretching you out. “Oh f-fuck, m-missed everything.”

“I missed being gripped like this,” he whispers, pulling back and slipping further, she’s stretching to accommodate him, your whines filling his ears, his mind, as your heels press against his back, the sight so fucking filthy - him fucking you on his door - everything he’d dreamed of for so long. “I missed your pretty face.”

“Oh my god I… you…” You’re a mess, tears falling in pleasure and love, while you feel Satoru giving himself to you, the vulnerability, the sweet pressure deeper and deeper inside you. “M-missed yours, missed your voice, missed you.”

“I missed you, every fucking day,” he takes a shaky breath, shoving his thick cock deeper now, blue eyes so dark and glittery with his tears, while he fills you so deep you feel him fucking everywhere. “I never, ever want you to leave again. Say it,” he shoves his cock fully then, you gasp at it. “Say it, please.”

“Never again,” your answer ends him, he’s desperate now, no longer gentle once he knows you can take him, he’s pushing your back against that door, his mouth claiming yours again, his tongue dripping saliva and the lingering taste of your cunt along his mouth, mixed with him. “Mnh!”

“Fuck,” he’s lost in you now, and everything gets fucking heady, you’re dizzy, his thrusts and kisses are just like a drug, intoxicating and fucking addictive. You’re lost in his kiss, his scent, his touch, just Satoru Gojo. While his huge hands slip down to your ass, he is lifting you up and dragging you down fully on him. “Got you so fucking full, don’t I?”

You’re nodding, helpless, as he bottoms out as much as he can, and your cunt is dripping down his length, down his balls and your ass, which smack with filthy noises, heavy and ready to bust inside your eager little hole. His teeth sink into your neck as he lifts you, uses you, shoving you harder and harder until your lower back bruises, until your head smacks the door again.

You wrap your legs around his waist tighter, while his cock is thrusting inside your ready, slick heat, making you bite your lip so hard it almost bleeds. He pulls back and brushes his thumb on it, sighing as it smears red like your lipstick. “Don’t hold back, lemme fucking hear every cry, every moan, every scream.”

“Ah!” You do just that, screaming when he’s got his tip grinding on your cervix, you’re desperately struggling to take him all, the pressure so intense in your core. “So big, fuck you’re so big.”

“You can take me, cunt is made f’me, only me,” he’s lost now, in all of you invading every sense he has, as he works you. “Say it.”

“Made for you,” you whisper, ruining him, your fingers feeling the heat and muscle of his strong body as he pumps inside you, his hands roaming your body with a familiarity that no one could ever have. The way he touches you, the way he knows you, like he’s meant for you.

“Only me.”

“Only you, m-meant for you.”

Your words make him pause, even as he’s losing control, pulling back from the process of leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, a growing bruise making his instincts to keep you forever flare. His lips are parted, fucked out as you are, as he pauses with his cock buried as fully as he can get it. He swallows and brushes back your hair then, falling pins still clattering to the floor.

“Meant for me,” he repeats softly, then picks you up further, firmly inside of you, slamming you down like some doll in the air. You scream out, clinging tighter as he turns with you, effortlessly. “You are meant for me.”

“For you.” He moans and kisses you again, carrying you until you’re laid on just a section of his very fancy suede couch, soft under your skin as he lays you down, tugging the rest of your hair out.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, watching it fall across one of the little gold decorative pillows, splayed underneath you so pretty. Even with his cock inside you, still getting gripped by your walls, he can’t help but be lost in your beauty. “Perfect.”

“No…” he grips your chin, shaking his head then, and you feel it, you’re perfect for Satoru.

“You are perfect,” he murmurs, slowly entering you this time, lifting your thigh until it’s high over the back of the couch, kissing up your calf now, sinking deeper and watching your head fall back, your tits jiggle as your back arches. “Perfect for me, aren’t you?”

You nod eagerly, earning his pleased moan as he lets you adjust again only to press your leg over his shoulder, leaning forward, you’re stuffed so full he can see it, the sight almost ending him. You’re gasping and wriggling at just how full he has you, his tip leaking precum right against that cervix, a hand splaying your stomach, feeling how his cock moves in your body.

“Look at that, too big for you, hmm?” He’s taunting now, that feral energy tinged with an aching sweetness, you barely manage to gasp when he slams hard inside you now. “Can’t talk, baby?”

You can only helplessly whine out his name, as he fucks you again, harder this time, hips slamming into you, you feel him stretching you wide open, pushing you further than you can think, while your cunt clenches around him. He moans when your juices gush out, making a mess of him, the little silvery white trail under his flat belly button already coated in you.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, so tight, god,” he groans out as he watches you, the way your tits jiggle more and more with every mean stroke, the way your face contorts in pleasure, that mouth in that perfect O, your brows furrowing. All while with fuzzy vision you study him, his jaw clenched, his muscles straining, sweat dripping from his skin onto yours.

“You’re s-so deep,” you whine out, he groans and leans forward, pressing into you so hard you cry out. “Toru!”

“I can’t hold back, can you take me baby?”

You want to demand how this is holding back, then remember filthy fucking nights. You blush, nodding then, and he exhales, slamming your cunt so hard you’re both a mess. You want it all, his desperate needy strokes, the way he grips you so tight you bruise - you want it, his marks, his thrusts, all while he’s pushing you over the edge, another orgasm about to end you, make you fucking delirious.

Need built for months and months, both of you drowning in it, as it consumes you, and he’s whispering your name over and over. “You need to cum, don’t you sweetheart?” You just nod, helpless, your throat so tight when he leans back, rolling his hips just so. “Then cum, lemme feel her.

Your nails are digging into his shoulders, leaving crescents in his pale skin, and he hisses at the pain, wanting more of it, fucking you harder, faster, skin smacking and squelching wetness loud and filthy. “Close, m’so close I - ah!” You’re damn near sobbing the words, this time your tears are from how much you want him, so they just make him harder, pulsing inside you.

“Cum for me then, let me feel how much you’ve missed me sweetheart, let go, you can do it,” he’s urging you when he rolls them again, dragging your spot just right, and you shatter around him. “That’s it, f-fuck, that’s it baby…”

Your pussy is clamping down like a vise on his cock, milking him for all that cum you so desperately want poured into you then, he whimpers at it, at how close you have him as your pleasure hits you. He holds back, just watching, swallowing nervously as he sees your drool spill down your smeared lipstick, sees your eyes fluttering shut and trying to focus on him.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers, just for you to tremble, thighs shaking as you feel him. “Do you want all this cum inside you?”

“Please,” he moans now, leaking more and more from his pink tip stuffed in your hole. “W-want it.”

“Want me to breed your perfect little cunt?” Satoru loses it then, seeing your eyes light up, confusion and curiosity mixing together, biting your lower lip. “Don't know what that is, sweet girl?”

You shake your head, he leans low now, lifting your thigh higher, stretching you out. Your head falls back when he grips your face between his hands, exhaling. “What is it?”

“Fuck babies into you, hmm?” You gasp, heating up then, blushing furiously, he chuckles softly. “You're so precious.”

“Y-you wanna put… babies in me?” You're a mess then, the thoughts wrecking you, he groans, breath against your lips.

“So many, so much cum inside you, keep you forever,” his words fuck everything up more and more. “Have you round with me, tits so full.”

“Satoru!” You're close again, he smirks, leaning up, jerking his hips to slam inside you again, you cling to him, whining.

“You like that idea, don't you baby?” You nod, the images overwhelming as his lips hover. “Should I breed your pretty cunt?”

“Yes, I want it, I want you -mnh!” He slams his lips against yours, groaning deep into them, his cock pulsing as he fills you up with his hot cum, so much it's flooding you with warmth.

“Fuck, sweetheart, taking it all aren't you?” He whispers, whining out as you cup his face with your hands, kissing him over and over, while he pumps more and more. “Perfect, slutty little hole, only wants to be filled by me.”

“Only you.” You gasp as he pumps more, and for a moment, you just look at each other, breathing heavily, hearts racing. His thrumming under your palm, his chest slick with sweat. He kisses your palm, rocking inside you again, watching your eyes roll back as his cum slips down between you two.

“I fucking love you,” You blink back tears, as he cups your face, brow resting on yours while he takes a breath. “I have loved you since I met you. I just wish I said it sooner, baby.”

“I love you, so much Satoru, since I saw you across that party,” tears slip out of the corner of your eye, his own fall, as he takes in how precious you are. “I want this forever.”

“So do I.” He's kissing you over and over, he's finally taken your heels off, starting a hot shower and carrying you like a little princess in his arms. You can't help but fall further, every second in his arms.

“I never thought I'd have this again,” you trail off, under the hot spray of water while Satoru washes your hair gently. “It's even better than before, when I held back.”

“Me too,” he rinses your hair out, exhaling as he kisses across your neck. “You’re always my little star.”

His words destroy you, body relaxed under the shower now tensing with need, as you look up at him, water droplets trailing along his hard body, his pretty face. “Satoru did you um… keep a copy? For you?”

He chuckles then, kissing your neck and shaking his head. “I felt so terrible, no. I regret not being able to see it but it didn't feel right.”

You turn in his arms, cupping his face gently. Leaning up, you kiss his lips, water dripping across your bodies. “I could have handled that better.”

“You didn't handle that in any way but how you needed to, it's okay. Why do you ask?” You blush even under the hot water and he smiles a bit. “Do you want to make a private video?”

“Yes, but only us, just for us,” he moans at that, exhaling as you press a kiss on his throat. “I liked being your star, I just only want your eyes on me.”

“And I want to be the only one that ever sees you, just me,” he whispers, the hot rushing waterfall above being blocked by his broad shoulders as he holds you. “When you’re ready, we’ll get a whole plot for it. And costumes.”

“Costumes!” He grins now.

“Yes, costumes. Fuck I’d love to dress you up, too,” you heat up at the suggestion. “Little nurse costume, a sexy teacher.”

“Would you be my student?”

“Mmm, I’d be the worst one,” you’re kissing again, so happy it’s terrifying, after months and months of heartache. You’re quiet in his arms later, as he holds you against him, the soft satin of his pillow against your cheek. “What are you thinking, hmm?”

“I’m scared,” you admit softly, he sighs and leans over, cupping your face delicately and studying you in the night. “That this will all just end, and I’ll go back to being so sad and alone.”

“I know what you mean,” he admits. You blink back tears now, studying the man you love. “I was afraid you wouldn’t even go out with me today, then more afraid I’d some how fuck it all up.”

“No, everything was just perfect, and you couldn’t. I just want to be around you, Satoru, only you,” he exhales and kisses you again, the fear of losing him once more slowly subsiding with each press of his lips, each gentle touch that builds to more and more. “I love you.”

“I love you, sweetheart. Pretty little star,” he kisses you heavier now, as you’re turned in his arms, tugging you closer against him as you straddle him, heat pressed against his cock. “My star.”

“All yours, ah, I’m sore,” you admit softly, when he’s grinding his cock on you, he smiles a bit, watching your face flush while you arch your back. “It’s been too long.”

“Didn't you touch yourself to me?” He taunts, but you shake your head.

“Not because I didn’t want you, I did, I was um… just so sad.” He exhales, hands slipping down your waist, rustling the silky blankets.

“I won’t let you go without me again.” You fall into him once more, his gentle guiding of you as you ride his cock, shoved so deep, it’s intimate, the way your hands rest on his chest, the slow strokes. So intimate you feel ever closer, ever more in love with every look, touch, kiss and sigh.

His cock is stretching you again, but his thrusts are easy, letting you have the control, letting you take what you want, what you need. You cum again and again, almost passing out from the pleasure, from your sore cunt contracting around his thick cock. When he fills you again - with impossibly more of his cum - you’re crying from how good it feels, how close you feel to him.

When you’re exhausted, and he’s already taken care to clean you up again, and make sure you have water, he’s brushing your hair back, watching you fall asleep. And one thing keeps resounding in his mind - that he doesn’t want you to go home, that he just wants you in his arms forever.

“I wonder if we could get a place together, just you and me,” he whispers, but you’re already snoring. Satoru smiles against your soft hair. “I’ll keep practicing for when you’re awake.”

I'm a little emotional ending this one, these two stressed me out but I love them very much. Hope you all enjoyeddd!

Kofi link if you wanna buy me a glass of wine 🍷

Taglist 1 - @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay @iluvjjkmennn @nutellajade

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miseria-fortes-viros · 2 days ago

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MY EX’S BROTHER KILLED HIMSELF THREE WEEKS AGO and saying “my ex’s brother” is kind of shitty of me i think. but i also can’t say “my friend” because we weren’t friends, and i can’t say “my friend’s brother” because now that we’re exes we’re not really friends, and also there’s a difference between “friends” and “grew up in the church together” and that’s a lot to say to someone who doesn’t have the whole picture. but it’s better to include “ex” in there somewhere, because when people hear “ex” they like to assign some bitterness to it, and it’s kind of refreshing to hear “do not meet him for coffee who cares if he’s grieving he’s an ex for a reason” instead of the run-of-the-mill scrambling for something polite and respectful to say. and then when i do meet him for coffee and his hair’s grown out again to where i once told him i like it and he tells me about his next tattoo and that he’s saving up for another motorcycle and apologizes for something he barely did two years ago and tells me that he’s single again, i can joke around with my best friend about how he still wants me if his instagram likes have anything to say about it, and i don’t have to think about how tired he looks or that, like me, he hasn’t said a word about God in six years. i don’t have to sit in the church i haven’t sat in since high school and wonder if this is the funeral—sorry, celebration of life for someone who didn’t even want to be here—my ex’s brother would have wanted. i don’t have to watch the back of my ex’s head and wonder how he can stand any of this because nobody here will shut the fuck up about God. i don’t have to sit in the back of the congregation and selfishly think WHEN I DIE I HOPE NOBODY TALKS ABOUT GOD for three hours. and usually my purse is relatively neat but right now it’s stuffed full with tissues and waterproof mascara and packets of wildflower seeds and i wonder if my ex’s brother really did like planting wildflowers or if they just told us that so we’d spread them.

later that week when i spend the night at my sister’s she tells me the exchange student she brought home for thanksgiving a few years ago was in an accident. i want to apologize because ever since i was a child i’ve felt like death follows me around somehow. his instagram says he was doing what he loved and he’s with God now. i hug my sister while she cries and i think WHEN I DIE I HOPE NOBODY TALKS ABOUT GOD. in a few days i will text her at midnight because i had a dream that i don’t necessarily remember but i do remember wishing she was still alive. and i won’t tell her that but i’ll ask her what she’s wearing to the bridal shower and she’ll say the same thing she wore to the funeral because she doesn’t have anything else, and i’ll do that too since we were asked not to wear black and the blue i wore is much more suited to a happy occasion anyway. the brides will make a toast to loved ones lost while i’m wearing the same dress i wore to celebrate the life of a dead boy and my grandmother will pray to bless the union and i’ll arrange flowers and play little games with the women in my family and all i can think is WHEN I DIE I HOPE NOBODY TALKS ABOUT GOD.

whenever i tell people my cousin drowned they always ask if he’s okay and that always surprises me because i feel like the word drowned has a finality to it; it’s an end result, and if he was okay i would have said almost drowned but i didn’t. and sometimes when i talk about someone in the past tense people will say what do you mean was? is he not your uncle anymore? as if the concept of death is so far-fetched and archaic that it only happens to the elderly and the extremely unlucky and people on tv. these are the same people who keep talking about Heaven and eternal life and how death is just the beginning and nobody’s really gone and i smile politely but i want to grab them by the shoulders and shake them and say fuck you. MY EX’S BROTHER KILLED HIMSELF THREE WEEKS AGO and i am drawing pictures and watching a trashy reality show when one of the contestants announces his early departure because his sister has died.

why do you write so much about death? what is everyone else writing about if not death? a few years ago i found out people think i’m obsessed with the idea of dying. i am not. i didn’t know there were people out there who have not experienced tragedy at all. i say tragedy and people think it just means loss. i am not talking about old men passing peacefully in their sleep. i am talking about a drowned fourteen year old and a fiancé whose heart suddenly gave out and a new grandfather t-boned by a drunk driver. these are too unrealistic for fiction. you write too much about death. i am not afraid of death and i’m not sure if that’s leftover from teenage suicidal tendencies or the result of years of exposure but i am afraid that i will die unexpectedly and nobody will know who to tell and so none of the right people will find out. and then the only people at my funeral will be family members who keep talking about God and Heaven and eternal life and give out packets of wildflower seeds, and i will watch from inside my casket even though i wanted to be cremated and i’ll scream EVERYONE SHUT UP ABOUT GOD until i can almost feel my throat but nobody will hear me because i am dead and no longer have a throat. my friends will keep texting me and wonder if i’m angry with them.

my ex’s brother killed himself three weeks ago. after the funeral i take a day off of work to sit in my kitchen and think WHEN I DIE I HOPE NOBODY TALKS ABOUT GOD.

#barbi.doc

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sc3ptre · 2 days ago

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A healing touch

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/n: Clark Kent fics will be posted Thursday nights/Friday mornings depending on where you live so there will be another fic this week but I really wanted to post this extra sweet lil thing bc I’m having so much fun writing these.

Warning: SMUT +18 (with plot) This is descriptive! Okay? Read at your own risk and keep both hands on the damn phone!!! | safe sex, p-in-v, oral m! receiving and mutual masturbation, mild D/S dynamics, physical restriction kink? and power play, mild mentions of injury and blood (non graphic), nipple play, c*m play?, big dick syndrome (size kink) and use of superhuman abilities during intercourse.

Disclaimer: This fic has no spoilers for the movie! But if you're still wary, feel free to skip this for now and come back later!

Word count: 4.7k (i kept telling myself i would stop soon and then didn't)

The open window barely rustled the curtains. From this high up, the city sounded like a distant ocean, with its sirens, horns, and ultimately the murmuring echo of a city that had just barely survived another disaster.

You were already standing near the floor to ceiling windows, watching the sky like you’d been doing for the last hour. The news played footage on a loop until it cut to analysts and headlines, yet none of it was useful making you turn the sound off after the third segment. You didn’t need the voiceover, you’d seen enough to know how bad it was.

You heard it then. It wasn’t a crash or a thud, just a shift in the air pressure and a flicker in the shadows outside. You turned just in time to see him glide through the open window.

He didn’t land so much as fold, his cape catching on the breeze and dragging softly behind him before falling like a second shadow. Clark stumbled with a groan, catching himself on the wall while his other hand gripped his side.

Your heart dropped when you took in his state, his suit torn across his shoulder and chest, the fabric also blackened from being dragged around by a creature fifty times his size and stained with a mix of dried and fresh blood you hoped wasn’t his.

You didn’t speak, not right away but as always, he felt the need to reassure you. Maybe it was your face, or the sound of your heart shattering at the mere sight of him.

“It looks worse than it feels,” he huffed, walking a few unsteady steps to the edge of the living room and sinking down onto the floor beside the low couch, pressing his back to it like he couldn’t trust himself to stay upright without something behind him. Only then did he actually meet your eyes, flashing you the tiniest of smiles. “It’s not that bad.”

Your mouth parted slightly as you looked at him closer, taking tentative steps toward him. There was exhaustion in his eyes, and it wasn’t the kind that sleep could fix. His jaw was tight and his knuckles were bloody and scraped raw. His perfect hair was tousled and one eye slightly swollen and still, he smiled.

You opened your mouth further to ask, but he shook his head slowly, warning you that telling you exactly what happened wouldn’t make it any better.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, voice rough.

You nodded silently, trying to ignore how much your heart ached as you moved quietly to the bag you had brought, unzipping it and pulling out several different bottles, gauze, needle and thread. It looked like you had robbed a pharmacy on the way to his place.

You returned and kneeled beside him, his eyes following every motion. Clark didn’t stop you or object just focused on breathing slowly through his nose, like each inhale took more effort than the last.

When your fingers grazed his skin, just near the edge of a gash along his ribs, he flinched. Not from pain, but from something else…surprise, maybe, and a tenderness he didn’t expect.

You soaked a cotton pad with antiseptic and spoke before you could really think about the words. “This might sting.”

He let out a faint grunt, more breath than sound, but didn't respond.

You worked carefully, wiping away ash and blood. The suit was partially peeled back, exposing more of him than you were used to, but either way, his skin wasn’t flawless tonight. It was streaked with bruises that didn't belong on him—purple, green, and already yellowing around the edges. You couldn’t imagine the force it took to actually hurt him.

You soon realized he was watching you as you worked—your face, not your hands—with that intense, unblinking stare of his.

“What?” you asked, glancing up.

“Your heart’s racing.”

You paused, fingers stilling over the line of a cut and let out a quiet, long breath, something you always did around him to regulate your system. It never worked. “And you’re still bleeding, since we’re…pointing out the obvious,” you said softly.

His lips twitched to just the ghost of a smile, too painful to reach his eyes. “I’ll heal. The sun–”

“Would you rather bleed out until sunrise, Kansas?” you cut in, gentle but firm.

He didn’t argue further. Clark had a feeling you often forgot who he was and what he could do, and he didn’t mind it one bit, especially when you got snarky this close.

You continued swabbing and bandaging with care, letting the heavy silence stretch between you. It was far from uncomfortable since you’d lived in it before. It was where your connection always seemed to grow, in those quiet corners and not with loud confessions.

Once the wound across his lower side was as clean as it would get, you threaded the needle and pressed it to the edge of his skin. You pushed it in with steady hands and watched as it bent before your eyes.

You sighed, lifting it up towards the dim light of the living room. “I always forget about… that.”

The look on your face earned you a small exhale through his nose. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but close.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You protested.

He couldn’t help the grin now spreading across his face. “Couldn’t bring myself to. You look the sweetest when you’re focused.”

You sighed, sitting defeatedly on the balls of your feet, a sight he couldn’t bear seeing.

“You’ve done more than anyone has…thank you. The sun will take care of the rest,” he assured quietly, wincing as he lifted his hand to your face, caressing it with dizzying softness.

You looked at him again and this time, he didn't look away. His gaze flickered over your face like he was tracing something he already knew but still didn’t understand—There was a pull between you in that moment, an ache that had had you circling each other for months now, too close and then too far, never quite on the same page, yet always in orbit, always looking.

His fingers went to your chin, thumb tracing your lower lip as the both of you surrendered and leaned toward the other, not stopping until your lips touched tentatively for a stretched second before Clark pulled back just enough to give you time to retreat, but you pushed forward, pressing your lips against his in a loving, long awaited kiss.

It was slow and gentle, careful in a way that made it burn even deeper. It was obvious that both of you were trying to learn where the other’s limits were but that line got pushed further back the more he welcomed you into his life. The kiss deepened, and your tongues danced a heated tango influencing you to straddle his hips. He sucked in a breathy wince, his hands moving to rest on both sides of your face, tilting your head while holding you close.

You accommodated yourself on his lap, letting your full weight fall on him and despite yourself, letting out a quiet moan.

His lips migrated from your mouth to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, as his hand guided your face to enable his actions. You closed your eyes, letting your shaky fingers trace the emblem of his suit.

Clark’s full lips latched onto your neck then, breathing out against your pulse point before kissing higher, toward your earlobe. You moaned quietly, keeping your body from moving too much over him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you breathed.

Clark’s hands went to both sides of your hips, grabbing you and pressing you down against his hardness, then smiling into your neck when you gasped quietly. “You won’t.”

Your hands steadied on his body as you began moving slowly, seeking relief while allowing his mouth to explore you freely, in the same manner your hands were—both of you acting like this was a common occurrence, with the familiar way his lips wrapped around yours, taking their time in learning what you liked and what made your breathing hitch.

You kissed in tandem, loving on each other like you were made to do.

“I want you,” you breathed when you pulled apart. “I’ll understand if this isn’t the night for it.”

He shook his head slowly, dismissing your last comment as he gathered your hair in one hand, keeping it off your face so he could see all of you. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

At his nod, you carefully got off his lap and helped him stand the best you could, each groan from his aching body stabbing your heart with a thousand tiny needles.

Once on his feet, he raised a finger to you, signaling for you to wait a second before walking awkwardly—while cursing at the uncomfortable tent in his pants—toward the closest cabinet.

You stood there watching in a daze, your fingers brushing your tingling lips as they stretched into a soft smile, while your pulse rabbitted in your neck. Until the rattle of a chain cut through the quiet, your gaze snapping to him, eyes wide. It was thick and heavy, the kind strong enough to pull a car.

“Clark…what the hell is that?”

His face didn’t change much as he held it up, looking at it like his thought process was the most obvious answer, but his voice was calm. “It’s for me.”

“So we’re flying straight past the handcuffs, huh? D–do I need a safeword or a damn prayer?...Jeez, Clark, warn a girl before you bring out the industrial sized kinks.” you said, cracking a grin.

He laughed with little to no humor. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up…This is serious, okay?” he said. “If I lose control and… I hurt you–”

“You won’t,” you interrupted.

“You don’t know that,” he pointed out.

You stepped close to him again, pressing a hand to his chest, warm beneath your palm. His heart was beating slower than yours, strong, but still at an unusually fast pace.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered.

His jaw flexed. “I would never be able to forgive myself if–”

You shook your head. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me because you won’t let it. I’ve seen you at your worst, Clark,” you said. “And I’m still here. That should tell you something.”

You were still touching him, waiting for an answer and he was still looking at you like he didn’t know how this was real. He surrendered then, letting the chain fall to the floor with a loud thud.

“Should I even ask why you have that?” you asked quietly.

“Work-life balance clearly isn't my strong suit." he murmured, leaning in to let his lips brush yours once again, like he wasn’t sure he deserved it at all.

Your hand brushed his jaw, thumb resting just below the cut at the corner of his mouth. Clark leaned right into it, eyes closing briefly while anchoring himself in that one quiet point of contact.

He kissed you back with the kind of care that felt earned, tempered by pain, longing and too much time spent pretending not to feel what he clearly did.

His huge arms snaked around your body, holding you close to his as your feet lost contact with the ground. The air shifted gently around you both with the quietest sound of lift, like a breath held within the walls. He flew you across the room like it was second nature, like carrying you in his arms was the only thing keeping him upright. His body was still heavy with bruises and cuts, but in the air, he was light, weightless.

His bedroom was quiet when you landed, soft light filtering in through the windows, stars visible beyond the glass. He didn’t let you go right away, no, he just stood there, holding you close to his chest and kissing you like letting you go after setting you down might break the spell.

Your lips parted as his hand brushed the neckline of his ruined suit, the torn, ash-smudged fabric stretched beautifully across his chest. He winced, moving his shoulder again to detach his cape and letting it fall to his feet.

You helped him peel his clothes off slowly and as gently as you could, letting your hands graze over his warm skin unabashedly while his hands trembled under your touch, especially while you helped him undress from the waist down, taking over your steady ones as if your touch could make this end far too soon.

You had daydreamed about how big he would be, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw—thick, heavy, quite literally struggling to hold its own weight up and covered in angry veins that led to a swollen, and already leaking tip. Your mouth watered the more you looked at it.

His hands grabbed at the fabric of your shirt mid-daze, steadier now as he undressed you, taking his time to memorize every dip of skin and muscle that made you who you were, weakening him beyond the damage kryptonite could do.

He carefully hooked his fingers under the straps of your bra and pulled them off your shoulders, letting them dangle there while he reached behind to unhook it, sliding it off your arms and letting it clutter the space between you on the floor.

The air current flowing through the room made you suck in a breath, yet it wasn’t what made goosebumps spread all over. It was his scrutiny, just how closely he was looking at you. Your nipples hardened under his unrelenting gaze, pupils dilating as his cock grazed your stomach, spreading a bead of precum under your belly button.

Clark lowered himself to the edge of the bed with a groan, his hands tracing the outside of your thighs up until his fingers hooked under your panties, pulling it down and watching a string of slick stretch and shine in the moonlight. His cock throbbed against his thigh from the sight, and the groan that escaped him could’ve been enough to undo you too—He let his forehead fall to your stomach with a sigh, his hands bringing you close as you could be.

“…This isn’t exactly how I imagined it being.”

You tensed at his words while he flushed, pulling back to look up at you, brow furrowing like he didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Not—not like I’ve imagined it a lot,” he added quickly, stumbling. “Because I haven’t. I mean, not a lot. Just... moderately. I thought maybe when this happened, if it ever happened, you know… I’d be whole. Not like this, bruised and broken and... It should’ve been different.”

You reached to brush a piece of hair back from his face, making sure he looked right at you.

“Clark.” The name was quiet but firm. “You’re always taking care of everyone… let me take care of you.”

You whispered, pushing him just enough for him to take the hint and lay down in bed, ribs rising and falling unevenly. He groaned quietly under his breath as he leaned back, head hitting the pillows just as you kneeled on the other side of him, leaning down to press soft kisses to his marked and bruised skin, careful not to press into any of the deeper cuts. You traced a path from his sternum down and spoke between kisses.

“Can you do that for me?” you whispered, glad to see him visibly sink deeper into the mattress.

“…Are you sure the chains aren’t needed?”

You smiled faintly, not in mockery whatsoever. “Let’s not pretend they’d hold you back.”

He studied you for a long, still second, holding eye contact as you neared his heavy cock. Something changed behind his eyes then, the tension melted, just enough for him to give you the tiniest of nods.

Your fingers wrapped around the base, tongue flicking out to lap at its length from the very bottom to the sensitive tip. You felt him shiver, letting out a sigh as his hand went to your side, eyes watchful while you teased the tip’s slit with your tongue, tasting the saltiness of him before taking him fully into your mouth, tongue flat, allowing it to create its own path down your throat.

“Golly, sweet mercy…” he breathed as he watched you.

You took him in until his head blocked the very back of your throat, with more length to take and not enough space to do so. You got to work then, for your own pleasure more than his, from the way your eyes were rolling back. You used your hands to take care of the remaining length as you bobbed your head slowly with hollowed cheeks, massaging the base with just enough pressure to keep him on the edge.

His moans slowly grew louder and less timid, as did his hands, with fingertips that caressed your wet folds from behind while you worked him.

From the way he lifted his fingers and looked at them glistening, it was clear he didn’t believe all of that was for him, yet you moaned, pushing your ass back against nothing to incite him for more. He complied by replacing his fingers there, twisting his head in an awkward angle to watch himself dip them in slowly, eyes flickering between that image and your face as he pushed both digits deeper and deeper, your body spreading to grant him access.

He drove them in as far as they could go, then pulled them out slowly, watching your reaction whilst repeating the movement, his body trembling with pride once you moaned around his cock, one hand grabbing at his thigh for support.

His pace quickened accordingly, letting the sounds from the finger-fucking mix with the ones from your sweet mouth. Clark matched the rhythm at which you worked, loving how you backed your body to meet his hand shamelessly, until the pleasure from his fingers clouded your resolve—long forgetting the fact his cock blocked the path out for your moans and whimpers while you let him fuck you senseless.

It was a beautiful sight to him, the way your back arched and your pebbled nipples brushed against his skin while you hesitated between giving him pleasure and surrendering to your own. His fingers, covered in slick, moved in and out of you with such ease he envied them, shamelessly licking his lips every time he was strong enough to tear his eyes off your face.

You pulled his cock out of your mouth with a whimper that almost made him come, so desperate and raw, just like the view from where he laid envying a string of spit linking your plumped lips to his gleaming cock.

“Ugnh!” you whimpered, closing your eyes and letting your forehead fall to his lower abdomen, a hand still absentmindedly pumping him while your body rocked to meet his fingers. You turned your head to find his eyes on you, and the mere sight caused your own to roll with pleasure, granting him a nod.

“F–feels so good,” you said breathlessly, knees spreading further almost like you wanted to rub your clit against his dark blue sheets.

“You like that?” he asked, with a boyish grin that almost didn’t belong.

You nodded rapidly, sucking in a breath. “Mmmmyes…yes…fucking love it.”

You felt your inner thighs getting wetter and that knot tightening gradually in your lower abdomen, just as your body arched into his touch and tensed, your eyes shutting forcefully as you came with a hybrid between a moan and a groan.

Your walls fluttered around Clark’s digits as he maintained the same pace through your climax, only pulling them out when you inhaled—like you’d been underwater the whole time.

His hands massaged your skin to soothe you, easing you back down to earth, while working up the courage to tell you that you could slow down, except your lips were already reaching for his.

Succumbing to his own needs, he pulled your body down against him—damned be the pain—and hugged you close while kissing you senseless. His hands grabbed at your hair and everywhere he could reach as you stretched across his bed, legs now limp.

“Bedside table,” he murmured mid-kisses, and immediately your hand went to it, pulling out a brand-new box of condoms that you smashed against the edge of the wood to pop it open and haphazardly pulled one out.

You straddled his lap, only stopping the messy kissing to carefully roll on the condom, the latex stretching around his girth and marking every single vein on it. Wasting no time, you lifted your body up and lined him to your entrance, tip pushing past your folds and threatening to slip-in in one swift thrust from how wet every surface was.

You watched as his chest rose and fell, holding eye contact while slowly sinking down on his thick cock, walls accommodating his girth beyond capacity and already twitching as if his size alone was enough to make you climax. You eased down inch by inch, thighs trembling as you took him to the hilt, savoring the delicious curve of him already caressing your g-spot while the base promised exciting friction to your clit.

Clark gasped a low, broken sound at the pressure your body subjected his to. His hands clutched your hips, guiding your descent, while his eyes lit up at the slight bulge in your stomach.

“Take it easy on me, will you?” he groaned, eyes roaming your body reverently as you lifted yourself barely an inch before dropping back down on him. You moaned, your head already falling back in pleasure before you repeated the same movement a few times. As sick as anyone might’ve thought it was, Clark couldn’t help but look deeper, using his x-ray vision to see his tip pressed flush against your cervix.

“You hear me? I said “take it easy”.”

You grinned. “Worrying about hypotheticals, Clark?”

“There’s nothing hypothetical about it, trust me.” His palms smoothed over your thighs and up your waist before cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened beneath his touch.

Your eyes narrowed briefly before catching onto the way he was staring at your stomach. “I feel as though my anatomical privacy is being invaded.”

His eyes snapped up to your face, slightly wide. “What? No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... well, I did–”

“Joke, Clark. It was a joke,” you chuckled, giving a tentative roll of your hips to savor the stretch of him inside you, feeling fuller than you ever thought possible. “Fuck, you’re big,” you breathed, more to yourself than to him, then leaned forward, ghosting your lips over his as you picked up a rhythm that his hands on your hips eagerly assisted.

"Attagirl," he murmured, voice thick from a side of him you didn’t know had always belonged to you, thumbs brushing over your hips as you moved.

“Like this?” you asked, voice fading into a moan, your breath catching every time he bottomed out.

“Mhm,” he nodded, sucking in a sharp breath. “Exactly like this, beautiful.”

No more words were needed and you both knew it. Language dissolved into moans and the sharp rhythm of skin slapping against skin.

He was big, and every thrust brought that aching kind of pleasure that made your toes curl and your core clench. You arched your back, bracing your hands on his chest and rode him with growing confidence, lifting then dropping, slick and hot and impossibly connected. Your entrance stretched for him, his unforgiving thrusts scraping your walls clean of every drop of slick, only to serve as lubrication for the next. Wetness clung to your bodies, forming clear, glistening strings between you as you fucked.

Clark’s aching body was long forgotten as his sheets took the worst of it, blood and precum baptizing the bed on both ends of the human experience. Your clit pulsed from the friction, every motion sparking fire through your nerves while he groaned beneath you, wounded but desperate, watching every twitch of your hips like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He moaned proudly into your mouth, hands trembling as they kneaded your flesh, squeezing your tender breasts with care.

He knew then that he wouldn’t wait for your moans to grow louder or your pace to grow messier. His hand hovered between your legs, sliding his thumb over your swollen clit and circling in slow, precise motions that made you gasp and clench around him. His touch was reverent, worshipful and skilled, building you up until your thighs quaked with the effort of holding back.

“There you go,” you heard him murmur softly, just before your climax shattered through you.

You came with a cry, shuddering around him as he whispered more praise that pushed you to keep going. You collapsed forward for a breath, forehead resting on his shoulder, while allowing your hips to still roll as you rode the aftershocks.

Clark stroked your back and kissed your temple, his voice ragged but still so gentle, splitting his focus between your bliss and holding himself back. “I want to make you feel good again.”

You surged up for another kiss, grinding down harder now, chasing your next peak while he looked at you like he could do this ten more times without pause. One hand gripped your hip, firmly, while the other slid up to cradle your breast again, rolling your nipple between two fingers until you were a whimpering mess.

Despite the pain, he began to thrust up to meet your rhythm, careful and still mindful of wounds that would begin healing at sunrise, but you could still feel the effort thrumming under his skin along the tension, the coiled power and the pent-up need trembling through every muscle of his.

The room became a black box of rhythm and ruin—skin colliding, masculine groans, airless moans, and high-pitched whimpers as you took each unforgiving thrust with parted lips and rolling, wet eyes.

Unsurprisingly so, your third orgasm crashed into you suddenly and far more intensely, leaving you wrung out and boneless. Your nails clawed at his skin as your body bowed and clenched.

Clark was trembling beneath you, sweat gleaming on his brow and chest heaving as he stared at the thundering flesh of your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls like it belonged to him.

Blinking through the blur and focusing on his expression felt like seeing an entirely new man, one who sounded and looked just as mortal as you were. Which was exactly when it dawned on you that he wasn’t.

“Ughhh! Fuck, Clark! Are you–are you c-close?” you whispered, breathless.

He nodded, jaw clenched tight, trying to hold off for a few more seconds with you.

You kissed messily along his jaw, down to his throat, then sat upright, rolling your hips with abandon and meeting each thrust with grace despite the ache in your thighs and your trembling body. From this angle, it felt like he was rearranging your insides.

With a ragged cry, he finally let go, roughly pulling you down and crushing your lips to his as he spilled a heavy load inside the condom, hips jerking up into you with such force that each thrust stole the air from your lungs.

He halted with a groan, staying buried deep inside you for a few shuddering seconds before collapsing onto the mattress, your body limp and slumped over his. Your chests heaved in unison, hearts slowing in tandem, caught in those still, fragile minutes that made you question whether you had ever truly enjoyed sex before this.

One of his hands cradled the back of your head, gentle and rhythmic, while the other traced along the curve of your side so softly it almost felt imagined. You laid there unmoving, your ear over his chest, listening to the slow thud of his heart and the steady rise and fall of his breath as the sun began stretching over the horizon, casting a golden light over your glistening skin.

“So…where exactly were you planning to attach those chains?” you asked quietly, your breathing finally levelled.

It took him a few seconds to reply, his fingertips lazily tracing small, absentminded shapes along the curve of your back. “I didn’t think that far ahead,” he murmured.

You chuckled, your body shaking against his. “Liar.”

You laid there way past sunrise, trapped in your own bubble with no news from the outside world, letting yourselves believe every day could be like this. Maybe you'd work toward it, because when two orbiting bodies drift too close for too long, gravity does what it does best: pulls, tangles and devours…And eventually, combustion isn’t just inevitable... it’s the only possible ending.

----

💌: This is one of the longest pieces i've ever written and it's lead me to ask myself everyday since why tf i didn't chose to write in my own goddamn language. anyway this was great and i want dick :(

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bsturnzmtts · 2 days ago

Text

Off limits p. 1 - Matt Sturniolo

Pairing: older sisters bf!Matt x innocent!reader

Summary: You’ve always had a small crush on your sister’s boyfriend. But you never acted on it, not until this summer, after you found out some things that changed everything.

Warnings: long plot?, cheating (I don’t condone cheating this is all fiction), teasing, age gap (Matt is 22 reader 18), virgin!reader, oral, lowkey mean!sister, kissing, first orgasm, fingering, pet names, almost caught.

A/n: idk why this took to long sorryy, I hope you guys like it! There will be a part 2! Maybe a bit more spicy…

Word count: 4209

You’ve always had a small crush on Matt Sturniolo. Not in a serious way, just one of those quiet, innocent feelings you keep to yourself. He’s your sister’s boyfriend, after all. Off limits. But still, he’s the only one who’s ever really paid attention to you. He remembers the little things, asks how your day is going, actually listens. Your sister barely does any of that. She’s distant, cold, always annoyed, with you, with him, with everything. So yeah, maybe deep down, you wished Matt was yours.

You’re heading to the cabin early just you, your sister, and Matt. Your parents won’t be arriving for a few more days, so it’ll just be the three of you for a while. It’s supposed to be a relaxing start to summer, until you find out something you weren’t supposed to.

A few nights before the trip, you overheard your sister on the phone where she mentioned she cheated on Matt. She doesn’t know you heard. And Matt still has no clue. Since then, you haven’t been able to act the same around Matt. Everything feels different and confusing.

Later

The cabin is quiet, the only sounds coming from the chirping birds outside and the gentle rustling of leaves. You're sitting on the porch swing, watching Matt carry in the last of the bags from the car. He looks up and catches your eye, giving you a warm smile that makes your heart flutter.

Matt walks over to you, and sets down the bags. "Hey," he says softly, sitting down next to you on the swing. "You okay? You've been quiet since we got here." He nudges your shoulder gently with his own.

Your sister walks out onto the porch just then, overhearing Matt's question to you. She rolls her eyes and interrupts before you can answer. "She's fine, she's always quiet, Matt. Get used to it."

Matt looks between you and your sister, a faint frown on his face. He seems a bit taken aback by her dismissive tone.

“Yeah… yeah I’m fine, just a bit car sick.” You try to brush it off, not wanting to cause any tension. “I’ll go set up my room” You stand up and leave.

You head inside, the cabin still smells like old wood and summer air. You walk down the short hallway to the room you always stay in.

You set your bag down on the bed and sink into the mattress, letting out a slow breath.

You’re not even sure why you lied. You’re not car sick. You just can’t look Matt in the eyes right now.

Not when you know what you know.

Not when he’s still smiling at your sister like she deserves him.

After a few hours, you get hungry and decide to head to the kitchen.

You open your door quietly, stepping into the hallway.

Just as you do, Matt walks out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower, hair damp, a towel slung low around his hips. You freeze mid-step.

He notices you and pauses, a little surprised. “Hey,” he says, a small smile on his face.

Matt's towel is wrapped around his waist, but beads of water are still dripping down his chest and abs. He runs a hand through his wet hair, leaving it slightly messy.

Your heart races as you take in the sight of him. The way the towel barely covers his hips, the muscles of his chest and arms on full display. You feel a warmth spread through your body, a feeling you've never experienced before. You swallow hard, trying to find your voice.

"Uh..." You stammer, your face turning red. You quickly avert your eyes, not wanting him to see the sudden flush on your cheeks or the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "I was just gonna get something to eat."

Matt chuckles softly, seeming to find your reaction adorable. "Help yourself," he says, continuing to walk down the hall towards the bedroom he shares with your sister.

As he walks away, you can't help but steal one last glance at his back and the way the towel hangs low on his hips. You let out a shaky breath and quickly make your way to the kitchen, your mind racing with thoughts you shouldn't be having about your sister's boyfriend.

You grab a soda from the fridge and some chips from the cabinet, trying to focus on anything other than the image of Matt half-naked. You sit down at the kitchen table, taking a big gulp of your soda. Suddenly, you hear some screaming from the bedroom.

The screaming is followed by loud arguing voices - your sister's high-pitched shrill and Matt's deep, frustrated tone. You tense up, recognizing the signs of another one of their fights. This has been happening more frequently lately.

You sit there for a few minutes, listening to the argument escalate. Suddenly, there's silence. And Matt comes out of the bedroom, now dressed, with a pillow in his hand and shuts the door behind.

He sees you sitting at the table and pauses briefly before walking over to the couch. He throws himself down on it, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"You okay?" You ask softly, genuinely concerned. The argument was loud and intense. Matt looks over at you, his expression tired and annoyed. "I'm fine," he snaps, but there's no real anger in his voice, just frustration. He lays back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

You hesitate for a moment before getting up from your chair and walking over to him. ”You can have these.” You say softly as you leave the chips on the coffee table. “I’ll go get you a blanket”

Matt's expression softens slightly as you hand him the chips and offer to get him a blanket. "Thanks..." he murmurs, seemingly caught off guard by your kindness. He's touched by your thoughtful gesture, especially after the fight he just had with your sister. As you return with the blanket, he sits up and takes it from you, he lets out a heavy sigh. "You shouldn't hear all that shit," he adds quietly, as if realizing you probably caught most of their argument.

You shrug, trying to downplay it. "It's fine…I'm used to it," you admit quietly, looking down. "You two fight a lot lately." You bite your lip, debating whether to say more, but you decide not to. “Goodnight” you softly mumble as you head to your room.

Matt nods slowly, taking in your words. He knows their relationship has been strained, but he didn't realize it was that noticeable. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it again, seeming to think better of it. Instead, he just nods slightly. "Goodnight," he replies softly, watching as you head to your room.

The next morning, Matt is already awake and sitting at the kitchen table when you come downstairs. He's drinking coffee and scrolling on his phone, but he looks up as you enter. "Morning," he says, his voice a bit gruff from sleep but carrying a warmth that wasn't there yesterday.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit down across from him, trying to act casual. "Morning," you reply softly, taking a sip. The tension from last night seems to have dissipated, but there's still an underlying awkwardness between you both. “Where’s my sister?”

"She left early," Matt answers briefly, running a hand through his messy hair. "Had some errands to run." He avoids your gaze, focusing on his phone instead. There's a pause before he adds, "She won't be back till late." Another silence falls between you two.

You nod, taking another sip of your coffee. The house feels oddly quiet without your sister around, and the tension with Matt is making the atmosphere even more uncomfortable. You set your mug down and fidget with the hem of your shirt, debating whether to say something to break the ice. "So..."

"Mm?" Matt lifts his head up to look at you, those deep blue eyes meeting yours.

"Nothing," you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly at the sudden eye contact. You look away, feeling self-conscious. "I was just going to... ask something stupid."

Matt raises an eyebrow but smiles slightly, leaning back in his chair. "Ask something stupid then," he says teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. His expression is more relaxed than it has been since last night.

"Um... nevermind," you laugh softly, feeling embarrassed. You stand up suddenly, grabbing your coffee mug. "I'm gonna go..." You trail off, heading towards the living room before you can say something even stupider.

Matt watches you go, a small smile still playing on his lips. He shakes his head slightly, amused by your flustered reaction. After a moment, he gets up from the table and follows you into the living room. "You know what?" he says as he leans against the doorway.

You turn to face him, holding your coffee mug tightly. "Hmm?" you a, your voice slightly shaky. He looks handsome standing there in his worn-out t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair messy from sleep. You quickly avert your gaze, focusing on your mug instead.

"You get really shy all of a sudden," Matt remarks softly, observing your body language. He's starting to realize that you hardly maintain eye contact, like you're nervous around him. “And you’ve been acting a bit weird around me lately.”

"Have I?" you ask quietly, taking a small sip of your coffee to avoid answering immediately.

"Yeah..." Matt observes your facial expressions carefully. He's starting to wonder if he imagined the fact that you used to laugh and joke around with him easily. Now you barely look at him or talk to him much. "Did I... do something to make you act like this?"

You shake your head quickly, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. "No," you say softly. "You didn't do anything wrong." You finally look up at him briefly before glancing away again.

Matt notices your quick glance and the slight blush on your cheeks. He's starting to piece things together but wants to hear it from you directly. "Then why are you acting like this?" he asks gently, taking a step closer. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he steps closer. You can feel the heat radiating off of his body. You don’t know if you should snitch on your sister and tell him the truth, or just stay quiet about her cheating.

"Listen..." gentle but carrying a hint of frustration. "If it’s about your sister cheating on me… i already know.”

You freeze slightly, then relax. "So..." you say carefully, testing the waters. "You know?" You try to keep your voice steady, like you're not curious about whether he's heartbroken or not.

"Yeah," Matt confirms briefly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He watches your reaction carefully. "I’m not blind or dumb you know.” He lets out a small chuckle.

"Does she… know you know?" You ask softly, your curiosity getting the better of you. You set your coffee mug down on the side table, turning to face him fully. You can't help but notice how calm he seems about the whole thing.

"No, she doesn’t," Matt replies, his gaze lingering on your face. "I’ve been pretending like everything's normal between us. But to be honest... I'm tired of it. I'm tired of her lies and secrets. Plus she loves arguing with me about nothing literally, I’ll just let her be. I'm not gonna chase after her this time.”

You notice a hint of relief in his voice, and you can't help but feel a little lighter knowing he's not heartbroken over her. "I... didn’t know if I should’ve told you, I didn’t want to snitch on my sister. I’m sorry.”

Matt smiles slightly, finding your innocence cute. "You don't need to apologize," he says gently. “I know you knew about it too,” Matt says suddenly, catching you off guard “I saw how you were acting around me lately… like something was bothering you.”

"You could tell?" You ask softly, feeling a bit embarrassed that he noticed your unusual behavior.

"Yeah," he says with a small smile, taking another step closer to you. "You've been avoiding eye contact, hardly talking to me... pretty obvious actually." His eyes meet yours intensely, holding your gaze just a little longer than usual. "I mean, we always had a good relationship."

"Yeah," you agree quietly, your heart beating a bit faster as he steps closer.

Matt's smile widens slightly as he sees your reaction. He decides to take another step forward, closing the gap between you two. "You know..." he continues softly, his voice carrying a tone that makes you feel slightly nervous and flustered. “We could make our relationship even better… while she’s out.” He says, looking at your lips briefly before meeting your eyes again.

"But..." you stammer slightly, feeling your face flush. His closeness is making it hard to think straight. "You..." you try to form a coherent sentence but your voice comes out quieter than intended. "You’re my sister's boyfriend…”

"I know…" he murmurs softly, his presence almost deliberately invading your personal space. His hand gently finds its way to lean against the wall behind you, effectively trapping you there gently but intentionally. "But she cheated on me." He adds with a hint of a teasing smirk, his eyes searching yours.

"Yeah… I know," you whisper softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. Your eyes flicker down to his lips briefly before meeting his gaze again. "But..." you hesitate, feeling torn between guilt and desire. “You’re still my sister’s boyfriend…”

Matt's smirk grows wider, understanding your internal struggle. He leans in just a fraction closer, his breath mingling with yours. "Yet you still have a crush on me," he whispers, his lips almost brushing against your ear as he speaks.

You blush deeply, feeling heat spread across your cheeks. "I..." you try to deny it but the words catch in your throat. You look up into his eyes, seeing the desire mirrored there. "How do you know?," you a softly, your voice barely audible.

He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes directly, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. "Because I've seen the way you look at me," he says honestly, his thumb lightly brushing over your bottom lip. "The way you blush when I'm around..." He chuckles gently remembering how nervous you always get. “How flustered you got yesterday when you saw me walk out of the shower.”

Your face turns beet red at the memory of seeing Matt half naked, his muscular body dripping with water. You can't help but get more nervous as he continues to tease you, his thumb pressing softly against your lips. "You..." You swallow hard, his thumb still on your lip making it difficult to speak. "You can't... You can't just say stuff like that." Your voice comes out breathy and weak.

Matt laughs softly, finding your innocence adorable. "You always get like this” He muses, realizing how innocent you really are. "Have you…kissed before?”

You hesitate before shaking your head softly, your eyes flickering down to his lips briefly. "Never," you admit quietly, your voice barely audible. You swallow hard, feeling even more nervous now that he knows you have no experience.

Matt's heart races at your admission. He can't believe how innocent you are - no kisses, no boyfriends... He leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you want to. His lips brush against yours softly at first, testing the waters. “Fuck…” he whispers under his breath before pressing his lips gently against yours. It's a soft kiss, testing the waters while giving you plenty of opportunity to pull away if needed.

You freeze initially, shocked by the sudden kiss. Your eyes widen slightly before closing instinctively. You part your lips softly without even realizing it, giving him better access. Matt deepens the kiss gently, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your neck to hold you closer.

The kiss is gentle and exploratory, unlike anything you've ever experienced. Your heart races in your chest as you feel his lips move against yours, his tongue tracing your bottom lip softly. You whimper softly, unsure of what to do but unable to pull away.

Matt takes your whimper as encouragement and slips his tongue into your mouth, gently exploring. He kisses you deeply, passionately, pouring all his pent-up desire and frustration into it. His hand moves from your neck to the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you breathless.

Matt breaks the kiss, breathing heavily as he stares at you with heated eyes. A smirk plays on his lips as he sees your flushed face and parted lips.

“Did you like that?” Matt asks, his voice low and huy. He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "I know I did." His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You're too stunned to speak, your mind reeling from the intense kiss. All you can manage is a soft, breathy "Mm-hmm" as Matt's hand on your waist sends shivers down your spine.

Matt smiles softly at your response, finding it cute how innocent you are. He tests another question, "Do you want to learn more things?” His voice drops lower.His thumb brushes your hipbone, making you squirm slightly.

You bite your lip nervously, unsure if you should ask but too curious to stop now. "More... things?" you repeat softly, your cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. Your eyes flick down to his lips briefly before meeting his gaze again. "Like... what?"

Matt's smirk deepens, enjoying your innocence and curiosity. "You'll see," he says softly, his voice laced with promise. He takes your hand gently and leads you towards the bed. His movements are slow and deliberate, giving you plenty of time to change your mind if you want to.

Matt gently pushes you back onto the bed, following you down so that you're lying underneath him. He props himself up on his elbows, caging you in between his arms. "Open your mouth." He says, his voice low and huy.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what he wants to do. But the curiosity and excitement in your chest wins out over your nerves. You open your mouth slightly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Matt swallows hard, finding your obedience incredibly sexy. He lowers his face to yours and slips his tongue into your open mouth again, this time kissing you deeper and more intensely. His hand moves to your thigh, slowly hiking up your skirt as he kisses you.

As Matt kisses you deeply, his fingers trail up your inner thigh, getting closer to the hem of your underwear. You whimper softly into the kiss, one of your hands gripping his shirt tightly stopped his hand.

Matt freezes, his tongue still exploring your mouth. He pulls back slightly to look at you, watching as you unconsciously tighten your thighs together. "Trust me, I’ll make you feel good." His voice drops lower, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your thigh where your hand stopped him.

"But..." you whimper softly, biting your lip as your legs press together tighter. "It's just..." You bite your lip again, hesitating. "No one's ever touched me there before." You admit softly, your cheeks burning red.

"Shhh..." he hushes you softly, his other hand gently stroking your hair. "I just wanna make you feel good" he whispers against your lips. His thumb traces the edge of your underwear, making you shiver.

He kisses you deeply again to distract you as his fingers slowly slip underneath your underwear. You gasp into his mouth as he touches you there for the first time, his fingers gentle and exploratory. He breaks the kiss to whisper,"Shh, just relax..." His fingers start to move slowly over your clit.

You let out a soft whimper as his fingers start to move, your back arching slightly off the bed. It feels strange at first, but also really good. You bite your lip to stifle a moan as he continues to touch you, your legs falling open unconsciously.

Matt watches you carefully, seeing your innocent reactions. He adds more pressure to your clit, his fingers moving in slow circles. He swallows hard watching how responsive you are, completely untouched before. "Spread your legs wider for me," he whispers huskily against your neck, placing soft kisses there.

You spread your legs wider as he asks, feeling shy but also wanting more. He slips a finger inside you slowly, watching your face closely. You're so tight and wet for him that he has to go slow. He kisses your neck again to calm you down.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight." He whispers against your neck. He starts to move his finger slowly in and out of you, stretching you. You whimper softly, gripping the bedsheets. It feels weird having something inside you, but it also feels really good.

He adds a second finger, stretching you gently. You let out a soft cry into his shoulder as he kisses you deeply to muffle the sound. His fingers curl inside you, hitting a spot that makes your whole body jerk. "Shh shh shh..." he whispers against your lips, kissing you softly.

You clench around his fingers tightly, panting heavily as he continues to touch you in all the right spots. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close as you bury your face in his chest to muffle your moans. "M-Matt..." you whimper his name, "It feels so...weird, but good..." You bite your lip, your face flushed.

Matt smiles softly at your words, pleased by your innocent reactions. He continues to move his fingers inside you slowly while rubbing your clit with his thumb. "I know baby," he whispers, kissing your forehead gently. "Let me make it feel really good..." He picks up speed slightly.

Without warning, he starts moving down your body, placing kisses along your stomach. You blush deeply, trying to close your legs but he gently keeps them open. He looks up at you with hooded eyes. "Just trust me, okay..." He slowly starts taking off your skirt and panties.

He throws your clothes aside and spreads your legs wider, settling between them. He looks at your innocent pussy, completely bare and untouched. He swallows hard before diving down and pressing his mouth against you. You let out a loud gasp as he starts licking and sucking on your clit gently.

His tongue moves expertly over your clit, his hands spreading your legs wider to give him better access. He keeps his movements gentle and slow, knowing you're a virgin. You start squirming underneath him, your hands gripping his hair as you whimper and moan softly.

You pant heavily, your voice trembling with pleasure. "M-Matt...what...what are you doing...it feels so...good..." You arch your hips up slightly towards his mouth trying to get more pressure from him.

He looks up at you briefly, his eyes dark with desire. "Just enjoying you..." He says before going back down to lick your pussy more eagerly now that he knows you're loving it. He slips two fingers inside you again while continuing to suck on your clit.

"Oh my god..." you gasp out, your body tensing as his fingers move in and out while his tongue works its magic on your sensitive clit. "It's...it's too much..." Your legs shake slightly, and you can feel yourself getting closer to something you've never experienced before.

He feels you getting closer and starts moving his fingers faster, curling them inside you to hit that spot that makes your eyes roll back. He sucks hard on your clit, wanting to make you come undone. "That's it baby, let go for me..." he murmurs against your pussy.

Suddenly, you break apart. Your back arches off the bed and you let out a loud moan that turns into a series of whimpers as you come for the first time. Matt keeps his face buried between your legs, lapping up your release gently as your body shakes with pleasure.

He kisses his way back up your body once you've stopped shaking. He looks down at you with soft eyes filled with love and desire. "Did that feel good baby?" He asks, kissing your neck gently.

You’re about to answer as you hear the front door opening.

"Matt?" Your sister's voice calls out from the front door. You both freeze, your eyes wide with shock and panic. Matt quickly pulls up your skirt to cover you, but you can still feel the wetness between your legs and the lingering sensitivity.

Matt quickly kisses your forehead and jumps off the bed, and helps you get up "Go hop in the shower real quick, okay?" He says quietly, giving you a soft smile to calm you down. "I'll deal with her."

Taglist pt 1:

@blahbel668 @bernardsbendystraws @sturnzsblog @deffonotjae @suyqa

@mattsturniololover1 @mattsturniolosgf @annsx03 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @strnzzvsp

@mattsfavbitchhh @yourenogoodforme-blog @mattshighway @lauren-222 @slvtformatts

@megamorgan44 @xaristhings @ariestrxsh @sucretwin @tisiablack

@nelxoxo14 @miasturn1ol0 @mattssslutbby @sophsturns @sturnberrys

@sturniololover69 @wakeupitschrizz @jessie-essie @freshlov3 @sturniolofreakk

@lydi2718 @chrisstvrns @le4hsblog @pip4444chris @chris-hallelujah

@esioleren @namelesssav @ilovemenwithlonghairr @ribread03 @valkatriee

@sturniolofreakk @izzylovesmatt @lolastrniolo @pip4444chris @idrk2292

@strnilolover @2prcntmilkluvr @chrissbows @chrissweetheart @strvnolin

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batsandbirdbrains · 22 hours ago

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Inspired by whatever the fuck my cat is currently doing but my back hurts too much to get out of bed and check it out:

Bruce Wayne has perfected the art of pretending he does not hear shit.

His new eight year old adopted kid was very good at making a ruckus in the house at odd hours. Usually when Bruce hurried to find and and check if he was alright, he was doing some dumb shit like shoving all his toy cars in a cabinet and seeing if they’d spill out when the door opened back up. Or climbing chandeliers at 2am. Or throwing everything out of his closet in the middle of the night so he can sleep in side it with the duvet and pillow he dragged off his bed.

Dick does odd shit. All the time. For no apparent reason. And Bruce has become very good at it ignoring it unless it actually sounds like a problem. There’s a key difference between Dick who’s up to no good and Dick who actually probably is about to get hurt. It only takes him two years to figure out the difference.

So when each subsequent kid shows up, he sort of ignores anything they might do when Bruce is trying to sleep. Sneaking out? He doesn’t care, he’s tried and failed a million times to stop Dick from sneaking out. It’s not worth the fight. Getting into Bruce’s liquor cabinet? He only gets up if he hears them take the real expensive shit.

The only time he really gets out of bed is if someone is puking or otherwise being sickly, or if he hears them sneaking in a guest. Then he’s kicking down the bedroom door of the offender and swatting the visitor with a broom or a slipper, mumbling Get. Out. Of My. Manor. Guests are allowed during visiting hours only! Bruce’s kids know that. No one is allowed to visit during Bruce’s scheduled sleeping time. Otherwise they end up doing something stupid like hacking the Watchtower or getting stuck between walls while trying to vibrate their molecules into the next room (both offenses being caused by Dick and Wally when Dick was 13. On the same night).

The other Batkids all just thinks Bruce sleeps like a log or has a weird bat-sense. Dick just wants to hiss at all of them, “you don’t even understand, I wore him down for you all! You should be thanking me!” But he’s humble enough not to rub it in their faces that Bruce being so chill is all thanks to him.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #fic ideas #Batfam

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dark-night-hero · 1 day ago

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Imagine being Zayne's non-mc significant other.

Imagine being the one Zayne always came home to.

Imagine being the person he smiled for when no one else was around. The reason he packed extra meal just in case you forgot to eat again. The one who'd fall asleep with your head against his shoulder while he charted vitals or scribbled post operation notes under dim lights.

Imagine it started with long shifts and night calls. The hospital never slept. And neither did he really. Not when you were starting to disappear into your own schedule, a different work, different place, a different life it sometimes felt like.

Imagine Zayne didn't say much. That wasn't his way. But he noticed everything. The way your coffee mug sat untouched on the counter. The slow fade of your toothbrush like you weren't using it his place as often. The silence after his messages. The shorter replies. The "Sorry, call you later." That came more often than it used to.

Imagine he told himself this was normal. Two lives, both demanding, both full of different things you two work on to. It wasn't your fault. And did he hoped it wasn't his.

still, Imagine the way the apartment felt colder these days. Even when the heater hummed and the lights were on.

Imagine he stopped bringing up dinner plans. He wasn't sure if you would show up. And part of him hated how his stomach twisted when he thought of an empty chair across from him.

Imagine the worst part was how kind you still were. You weren't angry. You weren't distant in a sharp, cruel way. You still understand. At the same time, it felt like you were just… Tired. Quiet. And he doesn't know how to ask. "Are you still in this? Or are you just trying not to hurt me by leaving?"

but Imagine, he tried to push it out of his mind. Telling himself he was just overthinking, that it was just the fatigue getting over him. But then came the moment.

Imagine you were outside the emergency bay, seemed to be waiting for someone but was also talking to someone he didn't recognize. A nurse maybe. Or someone from admin. It didn't matter. What mattered was the smile on your face. Soft. Relaxed. Familiar. The kind of smile you used to give him.

Imagine Zayne didn't interrupt. He just stood there for a second, blood pressure readings half forgotten on the tablet in his hand. And then he walked away.

Imagine it was not because he didn't care. But it was because it terrified him. The idea that you might be happier, more at ease when he wasn't around.

Imagine he stood in the on call room later, still in his scrubs, staring at the locker door like it might give him answers.

Imagine Zayne wasn't really the emotional type. Or at least on the outside. He didn't throw things. He didn't cry. But he sat down. Shoulders slumped. Head in his hands. And all he could think was that 'What if I was the one who made us tired?'

Imagine he remembered the last time you laughed together. The last time you touched his arm in passing. The last time you stayed awake just to wait for him to come home. He didn't know when those moments stopped. But he missed them like something broken beneath his ribs.

Imagine Zayne never blamed you. He blamed himself. For the hours spent chasing patients. For the nights he chose work over warmth. For thinking you'd always just be there even as the distance widened inch by inch.

Imagine he wanted to ask. "Do you still love me?" But he never did. Because if the answer was "No. No anymore." He wasn't sure he could bear that. If he could handle that. So instead, Zayne kept moving. Kept healing others. While something inside him quietly ached.

Imagine because that's how Zayne hurts. Silent. Steady. Like a heartbeat you don't realize is fading until it's almost gone.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: looks away* ehem, well you see- I was bored and hungry I could eat a damn zayn-

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sugarcubesandinsanity · 17 hours ago

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cw!! - nsfw. afab! reader (no mentions of pronouns though), voyeurism, female masturbation, jerk off session cut short, phainon almost comes in his pants that loser, needy phainon, explicit text messages, praise directed towards reader, slight yandere (?) at the end, pet names (he calls you dawnlight, pretty baby and my love) not proof read!

a/n - i just had to write this okay… we praise down bad phainon in this au. also first time writing smut erm… idk how to feel gulp. (◞‸ ◟)💧

✰ jerking off all by yourself, gorgeous? [self aware! phainon au]

self aware! phainon swallows hard at the sight in front of him. well, through the screen at least.

you.

oh, gorgeous you... fingers plunged deep inside your sloppy cunt, trying so hard to reach your high. phainon's cock painfully throbs beneath his pants as he's forced to just watch you. his breath hitches. phainon wants it to be him so badly. his fingers. his tongue. his cock that’s ramming inside you, making you squeal his name. phainon’s forced uptight smile almost cracks at hearing your loud cries and whimpers grow louder and louder.

you're close. he knows it.

fuck, you’re gonna make him cream in his boxers. phainon just can't help but let out a loud needy whine himself, seeing you desperately rub your clit at a frantic pace.

‘uh oh.’ he bites his tongue, cursing himself for letting that slip. phainon wants to run off the character details screen from embarrassment.

oh titans, you’re going to notice how he looks like some puppy in heat. bulge evident in his pants, feeling how sticky his boxers are from the amount from pre cum his cock has leaked. mouth completely dry from just watching you play with yourself.

his mind is flooded. his thoughts are a jumbled mess.

what would your reaction be? to your golden boy ogling over you like some pervert?

would you notice how disheveled he looks right now? how his very being is screaming out for you?

why does he want to get caught so badly?

you freeze at the sound, sitting up straight immediately to look around your room. your eyes land on your monitor screen.

ah, you forgot to close the game. clumsy you.

you hop off your bed, walking over to your pc setup. phainon's character model is present in front of you.

he looks different from the phainon you’re used to. his cheeks redder than usual, more flustered. chest heaving up and down nonstop, like he’s the one out of breath. blue eyes filled with something other than their bright gleam. is he... biting his lower lip?! you shake it off. you're probably imagining too much on your part.

that’s enough for today. you shut the game off and continue your little… session.

unbeknownst to you, your in game chat system displays a small red dot at its top right corner.

the message is gone when you boot up honkai: star rail the next day.

just wait a little longer, dawnlight. he can’t let you know yet.

so keep showing your divine body to him and let him worship you. you can do that for him, right? ♡

#🔆 self aware au!#honkai star rail #hsr #phainon #phainon honkai star rail #phainon x reader #phainon x you #phainon smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere phainon #yandere hsr #x reader

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serenity-loves-red · 3 days ago

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IT STARTED WITH THE CAT DISTRIBUTION SYSTEM

Part 11. Masterlist

In which• The Deliverer of Amphoreus is suddenly transported to your home as a cat.

Tribbie, Trianne and Trinnon didn’t know how they got here. In fact, their memory had been foggy at most. It was as if waking from a dream; memories felt fleeting and inconsistent, filled with gaps and loop holes.

The only thing they’ve remembered was the sudden shift in their surroundings. The world just glitched and then they felt a pull– not strong or forceful, but rather a gentle embrace that pulled them towards a rift.

They fell asleep before they managed to resist– or at least wanted to. Their limbs felt off and weak and oddly enough, they felt relaxed and comfortable to the point that they weren’t able to resist and was simply lulled to sleep. And when they woke up, they turned found themselves turned into a rodent.

A cute rodent! Trianne corrected while Trinnon meekly agreed.

A cute rodent, Tribbie parroted, who found themselves roaming around a garden of someone’s backyard.

It was fun, as Trianne would like to say, until they got lost around the large towering leaves and was chased by a cat. Fortunately, they got saved by the owner of the cat that took pity on their little forms and brought them to the vet to check for any injuries.

The same vet clinic you brought Phainon and Mydei. And yes, they saw everything.

Poor Dei and Snowy. They wanted to comfort them but didn’t know what to say.

Even they felt terrified for them. They get that Dei and Snowy are in different forms now, but to think they have to go through that? So scary.

Although it was scary, but you seems to be a nice person, Trinnon chimed. Yeah, a nice person, they all agree.

Later that night, Phainon had snuck towards the small makeshift pen you laid them on. It was cozy and comfortable even for something you just hastily made.

“Snowy?” Tribbie was the first one who noticed Phainon looming over them. Trianne and Trinnon are too engrossed to notice, laying flatly– like some squished mallows, on the small table you added.

“Lady Tribbie,” Phainon greeted, “How are you three doing?”

“We are fine Snowy,” Tribbie replied cheerfully, “Trianne and Trinnon are enjoying themselves, see?”

“Yeah– they indeed looks happy.” Phainon replied feeling a bit baffled, looking at the said two who laid quite carefree. “But don’t you have questions, Lady Tribbie?” He remembered almost having a mini heart attack, feeling a sense of dread and Mydei’s onslaught of questions and anxiety masked with impatience.

Tribbie thought for a moment. “We did at some point, Snowy. When we woke up, we thought we were just having another dream–“ Tribbie trailed off. “Then we got chased by a cat and everything starts to feel real.”

“A cat?” Mydei voiced from behind. Trianne and Trinnon who finally noticed Phainon and the just arrived Mydei exclaimed. “Dei!”

Trianne gleefully stood up. “Look Dei, this is so so fun! Hehehe.” Her cheeks puffs as she rolled around. Trinnon looked at Trianne and wordlessly snuggled and together, they rolled into a ball.

“They really are having fun, huh.” Phainon muttered before addressing to Mydei. “You manage to get away? You seem to enjoyed yourself a bit too much.”

He remembered seeing Mydei wrapped under your arms after you spent the entire evening trying to win him back– snacks, affection and all.

He would lie if he said he didn’t feel a tiny tinyyy amount of uneasy and jealousy when you do the things you did with him when you two were alone before. Then Mydei just shows up and now he had to share.

Those are your special moments– the pets, cuddles, kisses, everything, and now, he huffed internally– looking at Mydei, he had to share you with this Kremnoan Prince.

Although Mydei was his friend and rival, you were his first so Mydei had to go in line.

Hope you didn’t forget cats are territorial too.

Hearing Phainon’s condescending tone, Mydei paused for a moment before replying snarkily, “Why? Feeling jealous?”

Phainon didn’t reply but his tail started to wag irritated. “Heh. Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Deliverer.”

“Umm… Dei? Snowy? Is there something that matters?” Tribbie squeaked from below.

“…No Lady Tribbie,” Mydei huffs awkwardly before leaning to the pen a bit closer. “It’s just trivial matters. We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Tribbie gave them a knowing look and smiled, “You seemed to be different now Snowy, Dei. More happier and relaxed than you were before.”

“I hope that’s a good thing Lady Tribbie.”

“It is!” Tribbie giggled. “As we were saying–we started to get scared when Trinnon pointed out we are not dreaming as we thought we were. Then we saw you at the clinic and decided to sneak around to follow you back hehehe.”

“…right.” Phainon chuckled awkwardly.

“You don’t have to worry Snowy, we are not scared anymore. Although we still have questions, we can wait.”

The next day, when you woke up, you didn’t feel Princess’ body in your arms nor Blue’s fluffy body laying snugly on your chest. Instead, you saw them– sleeping beside the pen you made for the hamsters with the said hamsters laying on them, sleeping.

Taglist: @speedycoffeedelight @kiransalt @sunsethw4 @wispfish @syntaxandpi @hoo-hoo @aerisevx @wixsvem @reminiscingthesea @hquntinghunter @n8mareee @larettajudith @vashyuu @superbfuryfest @shio225 @line-viper @hiqhkey @fuji-sen @takeyomikamakura @raaawwwr @hoshinosama @shonwithnohope @naOyak1 @whatamoodhoney @violetisreadinghush @shio225

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr phainon #hsr mydei #phainon x reader #mydei x reader #mydei #honkai star rail mydei

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thatonegrimm · 1 day ago

Note

Emoji Anon here! Can I request a drabble for poly Saja Boys reacting to their gn s/o accidentally calling them "my boys" while looking for them please?

Thanks for your request! This idea was too cute💖 Hope you like it! 💌

🌙 Saja Boys x Reader — “Your Boys”

------------------------

The fluorescent lighting buzzed softly above you as you scanned the shelves, your grocery basket swinging lightly at your hip—half-full, half-forgotten.

You’d made the mistake of sending the boys off in different directions, hoping you’d get through the trip quicker if everyone grabbed what they liked. That was twenty minutes ago. You hadn’t seen a single one of them since the chips aisle.

You squinted down at your crumpled shopping list. Two drinks, ramen, something sweet—

“Hey!” you called out instinctively, raising your voice just a little over the murmur of a nearby mom group. “Where are my boys?”

It slipped out.

Casual. Unthinking. Loud enough to echo across the cereal aisle and die somewhere near frozen foods.

A beat of silence.

Then—

Jinu poked his head out from behind a corner shelf, a box of barley tea in one hand, his brows raised in dry amusement. “My boys?” he echoed, voice calm but clearly entertained.

Abby turned from the canned goods he’d been diligently stacking into a pyramid (for fun, not function). “You rang?” he said with a grin, flexing one bicep like he’d been summoned by title alone.

From the far end of the store, the freezer door creaked open slightly. Mystery’s eyes caught yours through the glass—glinting with mischief, like a cat who’d been caught exactly where he meant to be.

Romance placed a tub of ice cream delicately into your basket and then clutched his heart dramatically. “I knew it. We’ve been claimed. It’s official.”

Baby, already leaning coolly against the cart like he’d been waiting for his cue, just smirked. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

You froze, face flushing.

“Oh my god,” you muttered. “That wasn’t supposed to be—"

“Too late,” Jinu said, adjusting his glasses as he approached, tone matter-of-fact. “It’s canon now. We’re branded. Better design a crest.”

Abby slung an arm over your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Do we get badges? Titles? Matching jackets?” he asked, jostling you playfully. “Wait, no—snack privileges. That’s what matters.”

Mystery appeared soundlessly beside the cart, now rifling through the snacks. “So if we’re yours,” he murmured, “do we get to know who your favorite is?”

Romance was already at your side, hand finding yours like it always did when he wanted to be charming and annoying at the same time. “Careful, Mystery,” he said sweetly. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered.”

Baby shrugged, picking up a spicy ramen pack and tossing it into the basket. “As long as I get the last bite of whatever she’s cooking, I don’t care who the favorite is.”

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. “Why do I bring you guys anywhere?”

“Because you love us,” Abby said cheerfully.

Romance leaned closer. “Because we’re pretty.”

Mystery blinked slowly. “Because we carry the heavy stuff.”

Jinu raised his index finger. “Because we remind you to get toilet paper.”

Baby grinned. “Because you called us your boys. Too late to backpedal now.”

You tried to compose yourself, but they’d already started closing ranks around you—shoulders bumping yours, hands slipping snacks into the basket, playful grins flying faster than you could block them.

------------------------

A few minutes later, the teasing hadn’t let up.

Abby lifted a bag of chips triumphantly. “Okay, but if we’re her boys, I call dibs on being the muscle. I’m obviously the most shredded.”

Jinu didn’t look up from his checklist. “Incorrect. You’re the himbo. I’m the brain, and the leadership committee.”

“You’re the what now?” Romance asked, eyebrow raised. “Excuse me, I’m the face of this team.”

“You’re the menace,” Jinu said calmly.

Mystery slipped a chocolate bar into your hoodie pocket when no one was looking. “I’ll be the ghost. I’m good at lurking.”

“You can’t choose to be a ghost,” Abby said, exasperated.

“Too late,” Mystery replied. “I already phased out of this conversation.”

Baby kicked the cart gently forward, one hand casually holding onto the handle as he looked back at you. “Wild card,” he said with a lazy smirk. “That’s my role.”

“Chaotic one,” Jinu corrected.

Romance sighed. “Fine. But at least I’m the romantic lead.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh as you looked at the absurd group around you the five very different disasters in one collective orbit.

“...You’re all ridiculous,” you muttered fondly.

Abby bumped his shoulder into yours. “And yours.”

Jinu cleared his throat. “Do we get uniforms now? I’m thinking matching hoodies. Monogrammed. Maybe in navy?”

“You’re not designing them,” Baby said flatly. “Last time you tried, we almost wore wool in summer.”

Romance wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you a little closer. “But really… we’re yours. You said it. Don’t try to take it back.”

Mystery glanced sideways. “Too late. You summoned us. We’re bound now.”

You gave up fighting the grin and held out the shopping list like a truce offering. “Then help me get the rest of this stuff before the sun sets.”

“Team snack squad,” Abby said proudly.

“Snacklords,” Romance corrected.

“Snack cult,” Mystery murmured ominously.

“Let’s just pay and leave,” you sighed.

Still, as the six of you walked toward the checkout, laughter trailing behind like a trailing spell, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth in your chest.

Yeah.

Your boys.

And you wouldn’t trade them for anything.

------------------------

M-List

#kpdh x reader #kpop demon hunters #saja boys x reader #baby x reader #jinu x reader #abby x reader #romance x reader #mystery x reader #kpdh

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beargyu313 · 3 days ago

Text

Let’s not do this again .ೃ࿔ *:･

⋆✴︎˚Summary: you’ve known Riki since you were little, but as the years pass they force you apart. You never knew running into him after two years would make you meet the worst version of yourself.

⋆⭒˚.⋆Word count: 13k

CW: This story explores messy, flawed characters—read with caution.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Tags: angst with happy ending, smut, childhood friends, brat tamer Niki, subtle degradation, cheating, blackmailing, possessive behavior, sex as retribution, jealousy, angry sex, fluff at the end

જ⁀➴a/n: This was way angstier than I intended idk what happened taglist: @mrsjjongstby

mdni smut ahead, masterlist

You have known Riki your whole life. Being neighbors meant you saw each other often. And all it took to spark a friendship was him sharing his candy with you on a cold September day.

You still remember it, as if it happened yesterday. First day of school, overcast weather, and your chest tight for no real reason.

After school ended you went to the playground. And your younger neighbor was already there. He didn’t understand why you were sad, but he knew he wanted to make you smile again.

He just sat down beside you and placed the wrapped sweet in your hand. Like it was obvious that he wanted to make you feel better. That he would.

After that, it was always just you two. Matching Halloween costumes. Staying up too late on Fridays. Trading secrets. You had other friends, but Riki always came first. He felt like home.

As you two got older, things shifted. But not in a sudden, dramatic way. It was slow. Soft. The kind of change you barely noticed — until one day when you kissed him, and it didn’t feel wrong.

On his 18th birthday, you two had sex for the first time. It wasn’t planned. But it also wasn’t a surprise. That was the thing about you and Riki, everything just sort of happened.

He’d touch your wrist a certain way, and you’d end up in his lap. You’d fight, and then you’d make out in silence.

You weren’t a couple. But you weren’t just friends either.

Then Jungwon came along. Same age as you. Same classes. Smart, kind, charming in the right ways. It made sense to date him. To say yes to something real. Something normal.

So you did.

And for the first time, Riki wasn’t there. He hated it. Tried to act indifferent. Played along at first. But you could feel it. The resentment. The anger. The disbelief that you’d actually leave him behind.

Because here’s the thing… Riki thought you’d pick him. He thought he was your endgame. But you didn’t. And he never forgave you for it.

But you still dream about his mouth sometimes. You still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, especially on cold and foggy days that reminisce the early autumn weather.

And no matter how much time passes… you can’t move on. Even two years later, as you’re getting ready for a party you think about him as you look out at the blinking city lights hugged by the mist and fog.

You hug your bare arms, already wearing the backless ruby dress, matching with Jungwon’s shirt.

He steps out of the bathroom, his blonde hair impeccably styled into fluffy bangs. You force a tight smile as you look over him.

“Ready?” he asks you, holding his hand out.

You take his hand, “almost,” you say, spritzing the final beats of perfume and then you’re leaving.

The party was glamorous. Screaming Park Jongseong. Flashing lights, gold hues dominating the ballroom, at least five different types of wines to choose from, and you think you can even spot a champagne tower through the crowd of people dressed in fancy clothing. You grab onto Jungwon’s hand tighter as he happily leads the two of you to Jongseong. This is why you like Jungwon, he grounds you.

You’re still taking in the room once you reach Jongseong, you exchange greetings, let Jungwon take over the conversation with his lifelong friend, and then it’s like time freezes.

Right across from you, you spot him. Your heart beats harder in your chest as you stare. It can’t be him. Can’t be your Riki. This Riki was taller, broad shoulders, somehow intimidating. Which was weird because the Riki you remember always felt like home.

He still hasn’t noticed you. He was too busy smiling at a girl hanging off of his arm. Unknowingly your jaw clenches at the sight. What was worse even, you knew the girl.

Rei.

Sweet, kind Rei. She and Riki used to be classmates back in middle school. You never would’ve guessed this was Riki’s type. Selfishly you wanted, or hoped, he would chase the ghost of you in every girl he meets.

Same as you did, looking for traces of your Riki no matter where you were.

That’s when he spots you. And you quickly avert your gaze, cheeks burning at your shameful thoughts. You reach for comfort, for Jungwon – still in deep conversation with Jongseong – and he wraps his arm around your waist and you melt. A little. But it’s enough.

That’s when you hear what they’re talking about. And your blood runs cold.

“—still won’t tell anyone what the occasion is,” Jungwon is saying, laughing under his breath. “A little dramatic even for you, don’t you think?”

“Come on,” Jongseong grins, swirling his champagne. “I give you flowers, live music, gold everywhere — and you complain?”

“I’m just saying,” Jungwon tilts his head, “I’ve seen people throw royal galas with less mystery.”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Jongseong smirks. Then like it’s nothing, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a velvet box. Flips it open.

“Oh my god,” you breathe before you can stop yourself.

Inside is a ring. Elegant, shimmering. Oval diamond, flanked by two smaller stones.

Jongseong’s grin widens.

“So you’re—?”

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “She said yes last week. Tonight’s just the warmup.”

Jungwon lets out a low whistle. “That’s what this whole thing is?”

“Soft launch,” Jongseong winks. “Dinner on Sunday’s the real reveal. Only close friends.”

You nod slowly, still a little stunned. That was the thing about men like Jongseong — everything was glossy, fast, and expensive. Even the life milestones felt like magazine spreads.

He notices your hand still looped through Jungwon’s, and his smirk returns, sharper now.

“What about you two, huh?” he drawls. “Two years and counting, right? When are you putting a ring on it, Mr. Romance?”

You force a laugh. “Don’t start.” And you can feel the bubble of anxiety growing again.

“Seriously,” he nudges Jungwon. “You gonna make her wait for a diamond or what?”

Jungwon chuckles. “I’m pacing myself.”

Jongseong raises a brow. “Yeah? Careful. Someone might steal her first.”

The words land strangely. Too pointed. You’re about to respond, to deflect, tease back but your gaze drifts again.

And across the room, Riki is still in your line of vision.

He looks happy. Or at least, he’s playing the part well. You watch as he leans down, lips brushing Rei’s ear, saying something that makes her giggle before she kisses his cheek. And you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

For the rest of the evening you can feel his eyes on you. You don’t see him look at you, but you know he’s watching you. His presence is like a dark cloud. Following you across the galla no matter where you go.

You can feel yourself getting drunk. Whether it’s on his attention, or the alcohol you don’t know.

Later, maybe an hour in, you see Jongseong cutting through the room, dragging Riki behind him. Jungwon straightens beside you, smile returning.

“Come meet my business savior,” Jongseong announces proudly. “Guy practically rebuilt the whole backend in a week. Couldn’t survive without him.”

Riki stands next to him, hands tucked in his pockets. His hair is a little tousled, jaw sharper than you remember, but he gives the same bored nod he always used to when being praised.

Jongseong gestures between them. “Jungwon, this is Nishimura Riki. Riki, this is my oldest friend in the world.”

Jungwon eyes him curiously, then tilts his head. “Wait... have we met before?”

There’s a beat. A flicker of something passes through Riki’s eyes.

And then, calmly he motions to you and your stomach swoops, “We used to be neighbors.”

Disappointment shoots through you.

“Oh—” Jungwon turns to you. “That’s right. You did say your old neighbor moved back to the city.”

You don’t remember saying that. Maybe you did.

You look between them, nodding softly. “Yeah. We go way back.”

Riki doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t need to.

But then Jongseong is waving over a waiter, and suddenly there are flutes of champagne being passed around, and someone’s asking what everyone’s drinking.

Without thinking, you grab a glass of Hibiki from the tray and hand it to Riki.

You don’t ask if he wants it. You don’t need to.

He takes it without hesitation. A soft hum of thanks.

Then, like nothing’s happened he says, “You still drink brut rosé?”

You blink. You’re holding that exact glass in your hand. Your cheeks warm.

“Guess some things don’t change.”

He smiles at that. Barely. Just a flicker. And still not once do your eyes meet directly.

You’re in a progressively worse mood as the week unfolds. Nothing obvious. Not the kind anyone can name. Not even Jungwon.

You still kiss him goodbye, still laugh when you’re supposed to, still hold his hand in public like it means something.

But your head’s somewhere else. Your body moves through the days like clockwork, while your mind stays circling back to a half-smile and a glass of Hibiki.

You lock the door to your bathroom. Turn on the faucet. Stare at your reflection. You swore you’d be fine. Swore he was the past. But your mascara’s starting to get smudged and your hands won’t stop shaking.

And worst of all you still want him. Not in memory. Not in fantasy. You want him now.

You bite your lip until it bleeds, desperately pushing down your arousal. But your thoughts keep betraying you throughout the week. Little things. Like if he has any new kinks, any new fantasies he wanted to try out. Maybe something Rei doesn’t want to do. But you would. You were always down for whatever he wanted.

An invitation comes a few days after the party. A private dinner hosted by Jongseong’s family. Only close friends and immediate relatives.

You don’t want to go. But Jungwon lights up at the mention.

“I think we should,” he says, smiling. “It’ll be nice. Just family, you know?”

You nod. Smile back. Pretend your stomach doesn’t drop.

The party’s held at a hotel you’ve only seen in magazines. Huge mirrored ceilings, white orchids adorning the room, the kind of ambient lighting that makes everyone look beautiful. Jongseong’s fiancée is radiant, warm in a way that’s clearly rehearsed, but still charming. Her and Jongseong’s parents sit near the head of the table. Jongseong’s sister flirts with a waiter.

You’re seated across from Riki. Of course you are. You’re seated just barely enough to avoid conversation. Close enough to feel the weight of his stare.

The table is long, candlelit, buzzing with low conversation and vintage jazz from invisible speakers. Jongseong is laughing with his fiancée’s father. Someone makes a toast.

Rei leans into Riki’s side and loops her arm around his, she’s glowing in soft pink. Like a cherry blossom come to life.

You want to bite something.

It’s awkward between you and Riki. Too quiet. Eye contact too fast, too sharp. Every glance feels like a threat.

Rei is talking about something — her job? A skincare line? You’re not listening. You’re watching the way Riki cuts into his steak. The way he drinks water with his left hand. The slight curve of his mouth when Jungwon says something flirty in your ear and you laugh.

Riki doesn’t say a word, doesn’t flirt. But he keeps refilling your glass.

Twice. Three times. Brut rosé, always.

Your leg brushes against his under the table once. He doesn’t move it. You’re not sure if you’re even breathing. The room is suddenly too warm. Or maybe it’s you.

Still the dinner drags.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom. You don’t expect him to follow. But the moment the door clicks shut, you hear it. Footsteps. Then the quiet lock turning.

His reflection appears behind you in the mirror.

You don’t turn around.

“You looked real domestic tonight,” Riki says, voice low. Flat. Like a dare.

Your breath catches. You grip the sink tighter.

“Still playing house? Even when I’m this close?”

You shake your head once. Not at him but at yourself. At this. You can’t look at him, not when your whole body’s already betraying you. His scent, his closeness… it was too much, too soon. You’re not ready to face him.

“I haven’t said anything,” you whisper. Your skin is flushed, something akin to nervousness (or arousal) building somewhere deep in your tummy.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s kind of your thing, isn’t it?”

He takes a step forward. You feel the heat of him now, not touching, but close enough to scorch. And even though there’s no touching, your body reacts like there is. Like it remembers what his breath feels like against your neck. What his fingers can do.

“You said you moved on. So did I,” he pauses. Smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “But wanna know something funny?”

You don’t answer. You already know it won’t be funny.

He lifts his phone. Swipe. Tap. Holds it just out of view, “Guess what I still watch when I can’t sleep.”

You turn your head just slightly and see it. A flash of movement. Your body. The sound of his name gasped like a prayer. You flinch like you’ve been slapped. Heat rushes between your thighs. Your stomach sinks, and tightens.

That night. That angle. You know exactly what he’s watching. What you wore. How he looked when he came inside of you.

“Delete it—”

“Why?” His voice is calm. Dangerous, “You think you didn’t want the camera on you that night? You think I didn’t know exactly what that look in your eyes meant?”

You did, still do. You know exactly what he means. You remember the way you looked up at him. Mouth parted, eyes wide, begging without saying a word. You remember how it felt, being watched by him.

You turn to leave back to your boyfriend before you do something stupid. You try to push past him, but he’s already moving. Not blocking you. Just enough to remind you you’ll have to touch him to get out.

His hand grazes your wrist. Not by force, just subtle touch. It lingers like a promise.

Like a warning. You should pull away but your skin tingles from that one brush like it’s been lit on fire.

“You’re still lying,” he says softly, “Just not with your mouth.”

You flinch. Something in you twists — humiliated, exposed, wet. Your body still wants him. But your mind claws for a way out.

You snap your gaze to his, eyes sharp.

“I have to get back to my boyfriend,” you hiss. More bite in your voice than you intended. It echoes against the marble tile like a slap.

His face changes. Barely. A twitch of the mouth. But it’s enough to tell you you hit something raw.

He laughs once, bitter. Low.

“Yeah. That’s always been your line, hasn’t it?”

You blink.

“Run back to Jungwon when it gets too real. Just like before.”

Your jaw tightens. He doesn’t stop.

“You think I didn’t know you were using me? Letting me fuck you like that — whispering my name like I was the only one — and then going home to him?”

“Say it,” he murmurs. “Say you didn’t think about me when he touched you.”

Your breath hitches. His words hit you straight between the thighs… and that’s the worst part. You do still think about him.

And he knows it.

You shove past him this time, physically push the door open and leave before you say something you can’t take back.

You return back to the table, flushed. Your chest is tight as you try to calm your breathing. Jungwon places a hand on your lower back.

You startle. But smile. Too quickly, too rehearsed.

Riki joins the rest of you a moment later, leaning boyishly across his chair. He places an arm around Rei’s shoulder, looking directly at you.

But you don’t give him the reaction he’s looking for. Instead, your hand rests on Jungwon’s thigh and he clasps your fingers together as he tells you about the dessert that’s about to be served.

And as the sky outside turns to black everyone starts slowly leaving the hotel.

You’re in bed when your phone buzzes. Jungwon’s in the shower. You’re half-scrolling, half-asleep.

It’s a screenshot of that same video he was showing you in the bathroom. The photo is blurred. But unmistakably you, pink thong pushed to the side, exposing your wet cunt that’s gushing with Riki’s cum.

He didn’t add any caption.

you’re sick

Is what you type back, knowing exactly who this is from.

u like it.

Is what comes back, a second later. Then, another buzz.

go somewhere you can be alone

before I send it to your boyfriend

You stare at the messages. But your feet are already moving. You slip onto the balcony, tightly wrapping the black robe around your shoulders. The cold wind cuts through you. You shut the door just as your phone rings.

You don’t hesitate as you pick up.

“I told you to delete it,” you snap. No greeting. No pretense.

A beat of silence passes between you before you hear the crackling on the other side. Was he smoking? Then, his voice cuts through the line, deeper and rougher than you remember him sounding on the phone.

“And you also said you loved me.”

Your breath stutters. You grip the phone tighter.

He exhales, something sharp behind it, “You think I sent that to fuck with you?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, “I sent it because you’re mine. You always have been.”

Your lips part to argue, to say something cold. But nothing comes out. He hears it. The silence. The surrender.

His voice softens, but only slightly.

“Just spend one week with me,” he says. “Like before. No strings. And I’ll delete it for real.”

You laugh, bitter, “And Rei?”

He doesn’t flinch. “Don’t act like you’re any better.”

You stiffen. His voice is sharper now, no softness, “You were still fucking me when you started dating him. Or did you forget that too? Three months of you calling me baby, coming over at midnight, then going to brunch with him the next morning like your mouth wasn’t still swollen.”

Your stomach turns. Shame curls hot under your skin because he’s right. Because he remembers it better than you do. Because you never really stopped. You couldn’t. That’s why you had to leave.

He exhales into the silence slower now. Controlled. Cruel, “So don’t ask me about Rei like you’re innocent. You don’t get to moralize, baby. Not when you let me fuck the lie out of you for months.”

You feel it low in your gut, the feeling building the longer he taunts you. That horrible, aching twist of guilt and arousal, of memory and muscle memory. Like your body remembers every time you swore you’d stop, and every time you came crawling back.

“Does Jungwon know that?” Riki asks, so calm it could kill you. “That when he took you to your first fancy dinner, I was the one you called when you got home?”

Your mouth is dry. Your thighs press together, not because you want to but because your body’s already answering questions you haven’t asked.

“I thought you didn’t care,” you manage. “You’ve moved on.”

“Sure,” he says, too fast. Too sharp. “Me, Rei, we look good, don’t we? That what you wanted to say?”

You don’t reply.

“So why are you breathing hard into the phone right now like you want me to say more?”

You clench your eyes shut, grip the phone harder. You want to throw it. You want to drop it. You want to crawl through it. Anything to make it stop. To don’t’ make it stop.

“You kept that video,” you whisper.

“I did,” he confirms, without apology. “Watched it last week. And last month. And again the night before your anniversary.”

You gasp softly, shoulders curling inward. Shame coats your skin, thick and electric. But there’s no denying it anymore. You like his obsession with you. The confirmation that he was just as bad as you were was weirdly soothing.

“I told you not to make it so pretty,” he murmurs. “You think I was just gonna delete that?”

“You’re sick,” you say, but it comes out breathier and whinier than you intend.

“You liked it,” he says. And then, softer he adds, “And I know you still do.”

Your hand trembles. You press your fingers to your lips to quiet yourself, to swallow whatever sound might escape. You slide a finger down to your panties. Pressing down on your clit. You don’t move your fingers though, gaslighting yourself that this is okay. That you’re not about to masturbate while Riki’s taunting you with his deep voice and cruel words.

He lowers his voice. It’s barely a whisper now. “You’re still mine, even if you won’t say it.”

You feel your pulse stutter. There’s something dangerous about the quiet in his tone — not violent, not even angry. Just… sure. Like he’s not trying to convince you. Like he knows you’ll say yes. Eventually.

You press the phone harder against your cheek.

“I have a boyfriend.”

He lets that sit. Lets it rot.

“And I had you,” he says finally. “Every fucking version of you. Not just the good parts.”

You think about Jungwon’s hand on your lower back. How light it felt. Safe. Soft.

But it’s not what you ache for now.

“Where?” you whisper decisively.

A pause. And then, with brutal precision he answers – as if he’s thought it all out, “Hotel Majestic, on the top floor. Friday. Wear whatever you want, but no underwear.”

The line clicks dead.

And you’re left out in the cold, wind wisping hair all over your face. You sneak back into the warm bedroom and luckily Jungwon was still in some other part of the penthouse.

Throughout Monday and Tuesday you’re trying to stay composed. You’re soft-spoken, polite, and polished. You hold Jungwon’s hand a little tighter in public. Smile a little sweeter. Your makeup is perfect, your outfits more carefully curated than ever. You’re performing the role of the good girlfriend with a new level of desperate conviction.

But once you’re alone, you spiral. You can’t stop replaying the phone call in your mind over and over again. You’re easily startled. You zone out. You can’t stop anticipating and imagining Friday — his hands, his mouth, his voice.

He texts you on a Tuesday evening.

You’d stayed late at the office — some intern mixed up a calendar invite and your boss chewed through the whole team like wet paper. Your brain feels like it’s in a mush. You’re half-dressed out of your blazer, collar loose, wine-stained lipstick smudged, when your phone buzzes on the desk.

You glance over. Coupang Eats. You’d saved him under that name to avoid raising suspicion. Your stomach knots, low and sharp.

You unlock the screen. The message is already waiting.

Coupang Eats: u gonna wear white on friday

Your throat tightens. He doesn’t even say hello.

You: You don’t get to ask that.

Coupang Eats: didn’t think u’d answer didn’t think u’d say yes either

You: It’s just sex. That’s what you said, right?

Coupang Eats: sure. keep saying it if it helps

You stare at the text box. Thumbs hovering. You type ‘Don’t text me again’. But then you delete it.

You don’t send anything.

So he does.

Coupang Eats: u’ll be thinking about me either way might as well give you something real to touch yourself to

You turn your phone over and chuck it across the room.

The next day you’re jittery. Checking your – now cracked – phone over and over again. But he doesn’t text you. You don’t know if you’re happy or disappointed by that as you lay in bed next to Jungwon, staring at the ceiling. He’s warm. He always is. One arm thrown across your waist like you’re something precious. Like you’re not betraying him the longer this goes on.

And still, your legs are clenched tight together. Your breath uneven.

You check your phone again, around 3 a.m.

Nothing.

The next day you try distracting yourself. You fold laundry. Light a candle. Then give up pretending you’re not waiting. Your phone buzzes at exactly 11:04 p.m.

Coupang Eats: still thinking about the video?

Your stomach flips. You hate him. You hate him for knowing. You hate him for being right.

You: How long have you had the video?

Coupang Eats: long enough.

You: Why?

Coupang Eats: I like watching you when I miss you.

There's a pause. Long. You try not to breathe. But he’s typing again.

Coupang Eats: you miss me?

You: You’re disgusting.

Coupang Eats: and you’re wet, quit stating the obvious

You clench your jaw. You throw your phone across the bed like it burned you. But when you crawl after it again — your hand doesn’t go to the keyboard. Instead you open the gallery and click play on the video.

Your hand snakes between your legs. Just like Riki said it would.

You probably touched yourself more than you did when you were a teenager this week. And each time, you hated yourself for it. You’re consumed. It feels like Riki owns you. Again. You're ashamed that you still want him. It’s humiliating. And what’s worse, it turns you on.

On Friday Jungwon comes home with takeout and a new bottle of red. You’re pacing around the room, white dress on when you hear the front door open.

You greet him by the door, always the perfect girlfriend and he kisses your cheek, leaves his coat on the stand, and hums something low as he sets the table for you two.

Two plates, two candles, and the playlist you made him months ago still queued up from some night before. He lights the candles without asking. Like being with you has made him softer in all the right places.

“Surprise date night?” you ask, trying to sound playful. As if you’re not lowkey trying to rush out the door.

“You’ve been quiet this week,” he murmurs, brushing your hair off your shoulder. “I missed you.”

The words land in your chest like a bruise.

You pour the wine. Try not to shake. Try to smile. It’s real — the affection. But it feels like you’re loving him with your hands tied behind your back.

“Since when do you pour for me?” he laughs, eyes warm and teasing.

You smile, small. “You’ve had a long week.”

He hums. “You’re so good to me.”

Your stomach coils. Guilt, maybe. Or something worse — the part of you that wants to ruin it all.

He kisses your temple. “You’re gonna make an amazing wife one day.”

The glass nearly slips from your hand.

You don’t respond. Just press your face into his shoulder and nod like you believe it. Like that’s the version of yourself you want to be.

He doesn't notice. He leans in, kissing your jaw, his voice warm and low against your skin. “You look so pretty. Is that the dress I bought you?”

You nod. He beams like you just gave him a gift. You press your lips to his. Slow. Familiar. Gentle. But your head is somewhere else entirely.

The first message from Riki comes just as Jungwon is plating dinner.

Coupang Eats: tick tock.

You ignore it.

Jungwon sets your plate in front of you. Sits. Laughs about something his coworker said. Eats with one hand while he reaches for yours with the other. You let him hold it. Let him squeeze. Let yourself pretend this is enough. You don’t check your phone again until he leaves to get another wine bottle.

Coupang Eats don’t keep me waiting. again.

Your heart stutters. Then starts racing.

You: He’s almost asleep.

Read.

Coupang Eats: aww. such a sweet girlfriend want me to call? help tuck him in?

You bite the inside of your cheek. Hard.

He’s baiting you. Of course he is. And you hate that it’s working.

You: Shut up.

Coupang Eats: did he kiss you goodnight? did you kiss him back thinking about me?

You clench your thighs together. It’s not fair. It’s never been fair. And worst of all he knows it.

Jungwon comes back in a t-shirt and sweats, smelling like mint and dryer sheets. He drapes an arm around you on the couch, nuzzles into your neck.

“You’re warm,” he mumbles. “I love this.”

His fingers trace circles on your thigh. Not sexual just sweet. Just his. His version of forever. You feel him relaxing next to you. Melting into the couch as his breath evens out.

You leave a blanket on the couch. Place a kiss on his forehead so soft he doesn’t stir. The guilt is loud in your ears, but not louder than the pull. Your phone buzzes again in your coat pocket.

Coupang Eats: wear white.

And you already are. Because it’s not about being good anymore. It’s about seeing if he still burns.

You drive in silence. Not because you want to but because any music might make it real. The roads blur. Your hands grip the wheel tighter than they should. Every red light feels like a warning.

Jungwon’s scent is still on your clothes. Your lips still taste like the kiss you left on his forehead. And under all of it, you’re wet. You hate yourself for it. You hate how easy it is.

Your turn signal clicks. You’re five minutes away.

Your phone buzzes again in the passenger seat. You don’t even look. You already know who it is. You already know what you’re about to do.

The hotel hallway reeks of too much cologne and carpet cleaner. Room 912. You hesitate once, then knock.

The door swings open fast. Like he was already standing behind it.

He doesn’t speak.

You’re not sure who moves first, maybe him. But suddenly, you’re inside, your back against the door, his mouth inches from yours.

His voice is low, rough. “You wore white.”

You almost say for you. But you don’t. Because that would be too honest. Riki doesn’t care to wait for your answer. His big hands are on you as soon as the door locks.

"You missed this?" he gruffly asks, pinching your nipple through the dress as his hips grind against yours.

"I missed being treated like shit? No, thanks," you bite. But your body betrays you, chest pushed out, legs spreading to allow him access.

Riki's grip on your waist tightens, his hands find the curve of your ass. He hikes the short dress higher, exposing your ass.

His mouth is by your ear when he speaks, and you have to fight the urge to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

"Funny. Your pussy says otherwise," he lowly says, fingers prodding by your clothed wet entrance.

You clench around nothing, groaning in what you hope Riki thinks is annoyance.

He doesn’t.

He roughly turns you around and wraps his hand around your throat. Just enough to make your mind go numb, enough so your knees tremble.

Your hands are pressed against the door, as Riki pulls your hips back. He has you awkwardly half-way bent as he bunches your dress around your waist. Expertly tucking and folding it in so it doesn’t slide down.

He harshly spanks you and you moan at the contact.

“Stand still, take what you came for,” he gruffly tells you.

“I didn’t come for you,” you spit out, moaning as he lands another fat spank on your ass. You feel it jiggle at the harsh contact.

"No? Then why are you shaking?"

You don’t reply. You can’t, not when his hands slide up your back sensually. He’s pulling you back against his body and you let him.

Riki wraps his arms around you and guides you towards the bed.

He doesn’t let you lay down. Gripping your hips when you reach the edge of the bed and pushing your head forward.

Doggy. Of course. That was always his favorite way to have you. He finds your lacy panties, slowly slipping them down.

"You still wear lace for me, huh? Or is this what you wear when you’re playing house with him, too?"

"Don’t flatter yourself," you tell him, refusing to feed his ego. But you can feel your pussy gushing, the substance dripping past your lips, making your thighs sticky.

"Why not? I’m the reason your thighs are shaking right now," he whispers as he hovers by your neck.

"Fuck you," you hiss as you bite down on your lip.

"You will. But not yet," he tells you, his hands on your ass. You feel him press his hips into you and glance over your shoulders.

He was still dressed and that only made you even more turned on. Oversized gray tee, black chrome hearts boxers.

Riki hisses as he lets your pussy stain his boxers. You feel him twitch as he humps you once, twice, three times.

Then he slips two fingers past your mouth. His larger frame allowing him to do so from behind. "Every time you lie to me, I’ll make you gag on the truth."

“Shuck yoh,”

Fuck you is what you mean to say but it comes out muffled with his fingers pressing down on your tongue. He has them in so deep you can’t even swallow, saliva pooling at the corner of your mouth.

But Riki only presses closer, his other hand traveling to your clit.

"You already did. That’s the problem."

He starts playing with your pussy then. Just the way you like, and each time you moan, the fingers in your mouth pull back a bit.

"You looked real proud, playing perfect girlfriend. Walking around like you’re innocent."

"I am innocent," you complain and Riki immediately slides his fingers deeper into your warm and wet mouth.

"Not after tonight. You came to this hotel just for me.”

"I had to. You said you’d delete the video if I did."

“Oh sweetie,” he mocks you, “you and I both know you’d be coming regardless of the video.”

That when he pushes you fully on the bed. He flips you around so you’re laying on your back.

He positions himself between your thighs, gaze locked on your glistening cunt.

You move up on your elbows as you watch him watch you. His eyes flick to yours as he pushes past your entrance.

He shows you no mercy as he immediately pushes two digits deep into you.

"Slower— I haven’t—" you gasp, back arching off the bed.

"You haven’t been properly fucked. That’s what you meant, right?" he darkly mocks you. But you see the ghost of smirk on his handsome face.

"Riki—" you whine, trashing on the bed as he roughly pushes in and out of your wet pussy. Loud moans and squelching noise fill the otherwise quiet hotel room and you really hope it’s soundproof.

But Riki is merciless, almost cruel as he taunt you, "No one else gets you wet like this. Say it."

"No one," you quietly gasp, gripping onto his hair as he presses a wet kiss on your clit. His tongue swirls and sucks on it, just enough to make your mind spin. He pulls back with a popping sound.

Your breath hitches when he says it—

“That’s my good girl.” Like he’s been waiting to say it. Like he knew you’d earn it eventually.

Your eyes drag up, greedy, as he pulls his shirt over his head. The muscles. The sharp cut of his waist. And then the tattoo—dark, bold ink sprawled across his side, crawling up his ribs like a warning.

You stare. Maybe a little too long.

“You like that?” he smirks, thumbs hooking under his waistband. “Thought about this when you were with him?”

You say nothing. But he sees the way your thighs press together. The way your lips part when he drops his boxers and steps toward you, cock hard and already leaking.

You swallow. And nod. Just once. Honest, finally.

He smiles, cruel and slow.

“Of course you did,” he says, voice low as he crawls on top of you. “Bet you fucked him with this image in your head.”

You’re trembling now. Not from fear. From the weight of it — the ache, the guilt, the unbearable want. His tattoo is right there, close enough to touch, and your hands rise almost instinctively, splaying across his inked ribs. He’s warm. Solid. Real.

“Say it,” he murmurs, bending slightly, his mouth ghosting over your jaw. “Tell me you thought about me.”

You exhale shakily. “I… did.”

He hums, pleased. His hand slides to your neck, the other gripping your thigh, forcing it open.

“And now you get to have me. Just like this. Just like you wanted.”

You don’t say anything. Can’t. Because the truth is lodged in your throat — hot and humiliating and dangerous.

He leans in until his lips brush your ear.

“Good girls shouldn’t lie,” he says. “And you’ve been lying for so long. Would love to punish you, but some other day. Need you too badly right now.”

Then, Riki is on you. Body on yours, lips on your neck.

He growls ever so slightly as he grips his dick and positions it close to your pussy.

“Been waiting for this, for so long,” he softly mutters and then he’s slipping in.

He was way girthier than you remember, the stretch pleasurably painful and you claw at his back. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist.

Riki continues pushing in, slowly stretching your cunt with his big dick.

"God— I forgot—" you whine in a strained voice.

"No, you didn’t. You pretended to forget. Just like you pretended he was enough," he replies through gritted teeth.

"Stop talking about him," you whine, lips brushing against his shoulder.

"Why? You’re dripping around my cock while he’s asleep thinking you’re loyal," he mocks as he sheaths his dick fully into you.

You cry out at both the pleasure and his cruel words, "You’re a fucking monster."

He pins your wrists to the bed when you press your nails into his back. Harshly. His other hand goes to your throat, squeezing you in silent warning.

"Yeah? And you let the monster ruin you every time," he taunts you, his hands move to your legs – still wrapped around his waist – and he adjusts your position so they’re resting on his shoulders.

You’re folded like a pretzel, left to his mercy. And Riki knows it too.

He smiles down at you as if he won a prize and then he starts fucking you. His thrusts are intense. Deep and unrelenting as the fucks you as if he’s punishing you. He is.

Your sounds are a mix of gasps, whimpers and moans, “Please—Riki, please—”

“Yeah? This how you wanted to get fucked? To be ruined?”

But he softens just a bit, slowing down ever so slightly, “You miss how I break you open, don’t lie.”

He’s softer. But not sweet. His thrusts fueled by the betrayal, the jealousy, the ache. This is sex punishment for leaving.

And you understand that this is him establishing control. So you let him, hips tilting up to meet his rhythm, hands fisting in the sheets instead of pushing him away, your body falling into obedience before your mind can catch up.

And it’s only when he sees you break, after your moans start to sound like sobs — that his mouth lowers to your throat, planting a gentle kiss. Then another on the inside of your knee, a subtle crack in the armor. Always a reward.

“I always knew you’d come back like this,” he breathes into your neck, his voice a low growl. “Opened up. Begging.”

He slows down then. Just enough to make you feel him in a different way, the angle almost brutal. He stays deep inside of you and leans down so your foreheads nearly touch. Not kissing. Just staring.

“You think he can make you feel like this? Tell me who owns this pussy. Say it.”

And you do. Pleasure swirls in all parts of your body, you don’t even register the building ache in your thighs.

You’re nearly crying, choked "Harder— please, I want—"

"Want what? Say it," he tells you, nuzzling into your neck.

"I want you to ruin me."

"Already have," he growls, and then his hand finds your small clit. Peeking through the gap between you two.

He rubs you, not to fast, not too slow – but just right. You lock in place, the pleasure of his fat cock entering you, stretching you open and his big hands playing with your cunt too much.

"I c-can’t— Riki— it’s too—" you beg.

"You’ll take it. You owe me this."

"Please— I’m gonna—"

"Cum for me. Prove it still belongs to me," his voice is strained as he speaks. He can feel your tight cunt squeezing impossibly tighter around his dick and he groans when he hears your breathy voice.

"Yours— yours— fuck, I’m—" you say, trembling and not breathing momentarily as you cum.

You’re still trembling when he pulls out. Riki fists his cock, teeth clenched, eyes locked on you as he cums hard, messy, all over your bare skin like a claim.

Neither of you speaks.

For a moment, the only sound is your broken breathing, shallow, trying to come down. You reach blindly for something, maybe a sheet, maybe him and feel the mattress shift under his weight.

He doesn’t hold you. Not fully. He doesn’t even look at you as he tosses you a towel and lies back beside you, chest rising and falling.

But when you move closer, he doesn’t stop you. Your head finds his chest, and he stays still. Heart pounding beneath your cheek.

You close your eyes.

Silence stretches.

Then, just as your fingers start to relax against his ribs, you hear his voice low and steady, dangerous.

“You left me once.” A pause. “You won’t get another chance.”

You lay there for a moment longer, catching your breath on his chest. He still hasn’t touched you, not really. He’s just letting you cling onto him.

You speak first. “I should go.” Your voice is quiet. Calculated. You don’t look at him.

Riki doesn’t move. “Obviously.”

You sit up. Wipe the mess from your stomach. Slip your dress back on, not bothering to fix your hair. You’re still flushed. Still swollen where he broke you open. But your voice? Steady. Controlled.

“I live with him,” you say, reaching for your phone. “I can’t be gone all night. He’ll wake up.”

You expect silence. Maybe something cruel.

Instead, Riki laughs, it’s short. Bitter, “You think I give a fuck about Jungwon?”

You turn, fixing your earring in the mirror. “You did this whole thing because of Jungwon.”

He sits up now, elbows on his knees. His stare cuts through your reflection.

“No. I did this because you pretended you were over me.” He stands, walks up behind you, not touching. Just close enough. “And you’re not.”

You hate how your knees almost give.

You snap the clasp on your purse shut. “I never said I was.”

He steps in closer. “So stay.”

You swallow. “I can’t.”

Riki’s jaw ticks. Something in his eyes dims. “Right. Because you’re such a good girl now.”

You don’t flinch, but your heart does, “Better than I was with you.”

It lands. It hurts him. But he doesn’t stop you when you reach for the door.

You pause before leaving. Glance back once.

He’s watching you with that look again, the one that never says what he wants, only what he can’t admit.

“Text me when you get home,” he mutters. “So I know you didn’t crash or something.”

You stare, “You’re not my boyfriend.”

“No,” he calmly says. “I'm not, but you're still going to text me.”

You don’t respond. Just close the door behind you. But you don’t stop shaking until you’re halfway back home.

You wake up sore the next morning. The ache in your hips is slow and low and everywhere. Your body remembers before your mind does.

You're curled against Jungwon’s warm and familiar chest and his hand rubs soothing circles on your back.

“Don’t feel good today, Wonnie,” you mumble, barely above a whisper.

He presses a kiss to your temple. You flinch. Not enough for him to notice. But you feel it. The echo of Riki's mouth, rougher, crueler… it still burns under your skin.

Jungwon hums, his voice soft with concern, “You were tossing around a lot last night,” he says. His fingers trail down your spine. “I’ll make you tea. Go shower, baby.”

You do. Twice.

The water is hot enough to scald. But it’s not enough. You scrub behind your ears. Between your thighs. Inside your bellybutton. There’s still something on you. In you. His scent. His breath. The way he said mine like it was a curse and a promise.

You check your phone with wet fingers. One new message. A photo.

Riki’s hand, ringed and veined, fisted around something delicate and pale. Your panties. Twisted in his palm like a trophy.

Coupang Eats: forgot these.

You close your eyes. You bite your lip. And you save the photo.

And when you meet at night his mouth is everywhere, teeth against your thigh. His voice dark and amused, whispering to you what he’ll do next time.

This time, after you are done, you make sure to stuff your ruined panties into your coat pocket as you’re leaving.

On Sunday he simply texts you “come outside in 15” and you do. You slip out just as Jungwon get’s on a business call coming from overseas. You mumble something about needing air. He kisses your cheek without looking and you’re already halfway out the door.

Riki’s car is parked at the edge of the driveway. Engine low. Window down. He doesn’t say a word as you slip into the passenger seat. The smell hits you first — leather, smoke, cologne that clings to your skin even when he's gone. His eyes drag over you like he’s checking for damage.

You don’t greet him. Just say, “What if Jungwon finds out?”

He laughs, sharp and short. “You’re not worried about that,” he mutters, not even looking at you.

“I am,” you snap. “This is insane. We shouldn’t—”

But his hand is already moving, low between your thighs, and your body betrays you instantly. You flinch, it’s not from fear but from how fast your pulse spikes when he touches you like that. Like he’s entitled to it.

You climb into his lap anyway.

It’s cramped. Messy. Windows fog too fast, too loud, and you're fucking him in the front seat with your skirt bunched around your hips. Your back hits the steering wheel. He doesn’t care. Neither do you.

You tell him to be quick but the moment he’s inside you, time fractures. He grips your waist like a lifeline. You ride him like you’re drowning.

There’s no music. No words. Just breath and skin and the wet slap of your bodies colliding in the dark. You bury your face in his shoulder and his hands slide up your back like he’s remembering every inch of you.

Oddly, it feels romantic. Not soft. Not safe. But intimate in the way only ruin ever is.

He finishes with his mouth on you, not your lips — no kiss. Not yet. That would mean something.

When he pulls back, his eyes are still half-lidded, gaze fixed on you like you’re something carved out of sin. Your heart’s pounding in your ears. Your thighs are shaking.

You reach for your coat silently. Pull it around you like a shield.

“Next time,” he murmurs, voice low, “don’t wear anything. Saves us both the time.”

You slam the car door harder than necessary.

The next day you’re halfway through lunch with Jungwon when your phone buzzes on the table. You glance at it absently, thinking it’s work—until you see her name.

Rei: I’ve been thinking! Maybe we do a little double date? It’s been forever! 🥹 I think Riki’s been down ever since he saw you again. I wanna patch you guys up 😭💗

You choke slightly on your iced coffee.

Jungwon looks up from his plate, concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say quickly, setting the drink down and wiping your mouth. You try to play it cool, but your fingers tighten slightly around the phone.

He squints, playful. “Who is it?”

You hesitate. Just a beat. Then force your best smile. “Rei. She wants to set up a double date. Us and her… and Riki.”

Jungwon’s brows lift. “Really?” He seems genuinely surprised, but not suspicious. Just thoughtful. “That’s kind of sweet of her.”

“Yeah,” you lie. “It really is.”

You feel his foot graze yours under the table. “I’d be down,” he says with a grin. “Maybe you two can finally patch things up.”

Your stomach coils. Not from guilt. From the irony of it all. Rei wanting to help. Jungwon wanting to trust. You’re smiling through your teeth like you’re not already branded head to toe in Riki’s touch.

You: Totally! Would be fun.

Rei: He needs this. He won’t say it but I can tell 🥺

You turn your screen off.

You haven’t even seen Riki today, and still it feels like his hands are all over you. The rest of the day stretches, thick and frustrating. No texts. No missed calls. Not even a sign.

You go home with Jungwon. Let him kiss your cheek. Let him laugh against your neck. Let him touch your waist with hands that don’t know better.

You wait. All day.

You shower. You try not to think about the marks on your skin, the ache between your thighs that never really left. You try not to check your phone every ten minutes.

By nightfall, you’re pacing.

Finally, just before midnight, your phone lights up.

Coupang Eats: rei’s breathing down my neck. can’t today.

That’s it.

No “hi.” No apology. Just dismissal dressed like explanation.

You don’t reply. You leave it on seen. You throw your phone on the nighstand and crawl into bed. You hate that it hurts. You hate that it hurts because you miss him.

You curl up, blanket pulled to your chin, and close your eyes like that’ll stop the heat from spreading low and slow inside you.

You don’t expect another text.

But at 1:13 a.m., your phone buzzes again. You grab it with more desperation than you mean to.

Coupang Eats: but ive been thinking about you the whole day

There’s a slight pause, and then he’s double texting you.

Coupang Eats: think rei’s starting to catch on. she asked if i’ve been seeing someone else

Another pause. You keep leaving his messages on seen.

Coupang Eats: anyway. i want your mouth tomorrow

You stare at the screen. Your body flushes instantly, pulse skipping. He always knows what to say to wreck you.

You read it again. And again.

Your thighs clench under the blanket. You should block him. You should throw the phone across the room. Instead, you place it gently on your nightstand. And smile, just a little. You never stood a chance.

Tuesday he’s ignoring you. Again.

You try to stay rational. You tell yourself it’s because of Rei. Because of guilt. Because of everything this already is. But that doesn’t explain why your chest tightens every time your phone buzzes — and it’s not him.

You last until midnight. You’re curled under your blanket, half-dreaming, half-angry, when your screen lights up.

Incoming Call: Coupang Eats

You step into the hallway and gently close the door so you don’t wake Jungwon. Then you answer without a word.

Silence on the other end. Not awkward. Not hesitant. Just… breath. Slow and steady.

“Riki?” you whisper.

Still nothing.

Your voice sharpens. “What’s wrong?”

Another breath. Then finally, his voice — low, worn, unsweet.

“You’re mad.”

You scoff. “You think?”

You can’t help the raising of your voice, “I waited all day for you yesterday. I sat next to him thinking about you, and you haven’t even—” You catch yourself. Bite down the whine in your voice. “—you haven’t said anything. Not even a text.”

“I’m not here to make love to you. You have someone for that,” he says, flat and final.

You flinch. Like he slapped you through the phone. Your throat tightens. You wait for him to say something else.

He doesn’t.

You end the call first.

You stand there in the hallway with your phone pressed to your chest like it might keep your heart inside your body. But it doesn't help. Not even a little.

Sleep doesn’t come easy. You toss and turn so much that Jungwon at some point bear hugs you and keeps you close to his warm body. And finally you’re able to relax enough to let sleep overtake you.

The double date is happening late afternoon today. You don’t mention the call — not to Jungwon, not to yourself. You just get dressed. Not in red because that’s too obvious. But soft. Romantic. A pink silk dress that hugs your waist and slips off your shoulders with every movement. The kind of dress that would make someone believe you’re innocent. That you belong to someone.

The date is happening in a cute, but luxorious sweet shop. The café is a pastel-hued dream. Soft pink walls, delicate white lace curtains, and dainty gold accents catching the light. Glass display cases are lined with perfectly frosted cupcakes. Vintage floral teacups clink softly against saucers, and gentle indie music hums in the background, mixing with the faint chatter of quiet patrons.

Rei and Riki are already sitting down by the window overlooking the entrance. Your heart squeezes when you see him. He’s dressed in a crisp, black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the lean muscle of his forearms. A subtle flash of silver chain is glinting around his neck. His shirt is tucked neatly into tailored charcoal trousers, sleek and effortless, like he stepped straight out of a midnight city skyline.

You make sure Riki sees you walk in first. With Jungwon’s arm around your waist, smiling up at him like you mean it.

Rei waves you over. She’s sipping on her drink, other hand on his thigh like she owns it. You slide into your seat across from them, perfectly poised.

Jungwon orders for you, as always. You rest your chin on your hand and glance at Riki just long enough to make it look casual.

He won’t look at you.

Not at first.

But you can see the tension in his jaw. The white of his knuckles on his water glass. He’s trying not to react.

Good.

Rei watches you. Not warmly. She senses something — can’t name it, but it’s there. Then she blurts, “Didn’t you two used to be, like, inseparable?”

Her tone is off. Maybe playful. Maybe not.

“That was a long time ago,” Riki speaks.

You shrug, smile too sweet. “We were kids.”

You don’t look at him.

Jungwon laughs, reaching for your hand. “Didn’t you say you had a crush on him in high school?”

Your stomach tightens. You throw your head back and laugh, “God, don’t remind me.”

This time, Riki looks at you. Dead on.

Then, slowly, his hand drops to Rei’s thigh. He leans closer to her and murmurs something — something that makes her smile and adjust her grip on his bicep.

You almost break. But you don’t. Instead, you slide your hand under the table and rest it on Jungwon’s knee. Riki’s gaze drops. Then sharpens. You can feel it burning through your skin.

Jungwon starts telling a story to break the tension — something light about his boss messing up an email thread. You fake-laugh, brushing your hand along his forearm.

Still nothing from Riki.

So you go further.

You lean into Jungwon’s ear. Whisper something that makes him grin and kiss your cheek. You giggle and sip your coffee, letting your lips linger on the mug.

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

You glance down.

Coupang Eats: Stop fucking smiling at him like you’re not going to be on your knees for me in 2 hours.

You excuse yourself. A moment later, in front of the bathroom stalls, you hear footsteps. You don’t turn around.

“So that’s how we’re playing it?” you murmur.

Riki doesn’t answer.

“She’s clinging to your arm like a trophy and you’re looking at me like you want to kill something.”

Still nothing.

You turn. Face him. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets, shoulders tight, breathing slow and shallow.

“She asked about us,” you say. “You really gonna sit there and pretend we were nothing?”

His eyes narrow. “You’re the one pretending.”

You raise a brow. “I’m just being polite.”

Riki steps closer. Still calm. Still composed. But you know the signs… the way his jaw clicks, the twitch in his brow. He’s unraveling slowly.

“You smile at him like he’s enough,” he says quietly. “But I know what you look like when you’re lying.”

You look up, but Riki’s already turned back toward the tables.

And you follow.

Because you always do.

You return to the table with Riki just a few paces behind, the silence of the hallway still clinging to your skin. Jungwon glances up from his cappuccino, expression tightening. Rei’s head tilts ever so slightly, like she’s trying to catch a whisper she just missed.

“Everything okay?” Jungwon asks, voice easy, but his hand slips off the back of your chair like he’s not sure if he should still be touching you.

You nod too quickly. “Just—long line.”

“Hmm.” His eyes stay on you for a beat too long. You know he doesn’t believe you, but he smiles anyway.

Rei's stirring her iced latte with her straw, the clink of ice loud in the delicate atmosphere of the café. The scent of vanilla and buttercream hangs in the air. Around you, couples laugh softly, forks clinking against pastel plates.

But at your table, the energy has shifted.

You take your seat, careful not to brush against Riki’s knee under the table. You don’t want to give anything away… except maybe in this moment you do. Maybe you want to be caught.

Jungwon reaches for the last macaron, brushing a crumb from your plate as he does. “Try this one, it’s raspberry.” His voice is soft. Familiar. And it makes you ache.

But before you can answer, Riki’s voice cuts in, sharp around the edges. “She doesn’t like raspberry.”

The table stills.

You freeze mid-reach.

Rei blinks. “Oh?”

You force a laugh. “I guess I… grew out of that.”

Jungwon sets the macaron down slowly. “Right,” he says, like he's trying to convince himself.

The tension spirals, thick and sticky as frosting. You try to redirect, compliment the café wallpaper, anything to smooth it over. But Rei’s already watching Riki too closely now. Her fingers trace the edge of her water glass. Her mouth presses into a thin line.

“So,” she starts, “you guys been seeing each other lately?” She phrases it light, like it’s casual. But her eyes are too sharp, scanning you both.

You smile like you’ve practiced it. “Not really. We ran into each other a couple of days ago. Unexpectedly.”

Riki doesn’t say anything. He’s staring down at his coffee like it personally offended him.

Rei hums, glancing between you again. “Weird. Riki never mentioned it.”

You sip your drink to avoid answering. It tastes like syrup and guilt.

Jungwon shifts beside you. He’s been quiet too long. Observing. Calculating. He reaches for your hand under the table—and you flinch. Just slightly. Just enough.

You see the flicker in his eyes. Something cold, unsure, tightening his jaw before he lets go.

Riki’s chair scrapes softly as he leans back. He stretches one arm behind Rei’s chair. It’s casual. Possessive. Performed. But when your eyes flick to him, he’s already watching you. And he doesn’t look away.

The silence stretches too long.

You glance at the time. Not late, but suddenly, it feels like you've been here too long.

Jungwon clears his throat softly. “We should probably get going. You have work early, don’t you?”

It’s a neutral out. A subtle offering. But the edge in his tone is unmistakable.

You nod too quickly. “Right. Yeah.”

You stand, smoothing the hem of your dress. Across the table, Riki doesn’t move. Rei offers a tight smile as she pushes her hair behind her ear, eyes flicking between you and Riki again.

“You two heading out too?” Jungwon asks, polite.

Rei shakes her head, “I think we’ll stay a bit. Riki’s sweet tooth hasn’t kicked in yet.” She laughs, light but forced. Riki doesn’t even blink.

Jungwon places a warm hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the door.

You don’t look back.

But still in the café, as you and Jungwon are leaving Rei watches Riki pick at a dessert he’s not even eating.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” she asks.

Riki shrugs. Doesn’t look at her.

“You couldn’t fake it for two hours?” she says, still trying to keep it light, but her voice is breaking at the edges.

He doesn’t respond.

She swallows. “You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

Still nothing.

Rei sits back, blinking fast.

“I hope she’s worth ruining everything.”

In the car you and Jungwon are barely halfway down the block before he speaks.

“You don’t like raspberry,” he says. Quiet. Not accusing. Just… unraveling the thread.

You stare out the window.

He doesn’t push. Not yet. He just lets the silence sit between you both, letting you feel the weight of it.

And when he parks the car outside his and yours penthouse, his voice drops lower.

“How long has this been going on?”

You blink. “What?”

He turns to look at you. Not angry. But hurt. And that’s worse. Way worse. You never meant to hurt him. You were just too blindsided by Riki. Like you always are. Everything is always too much with him. Too colorful, too loud, he makes you too ha-…

“Whatever this is between you and Riki,” he says. “You think I can’t feel it?”

You open your mouth. Then close it again.

He nods, jaw clenched. “I didn’t want to be right.”

You don’t say anything. Not because there’s nothing to say but because anything you could say would sound cruel. Or worse, dishonest. And you’ve lied enough.

The penthouse is quiet when you step inside. Not soft quiet — hollow. Like all the warmth Jungwon tried to build with you has finally leaked through the cracks. You trail in behind him, your eyes skimming over the small signs of his care… the flowers he replaced just this morning. The charger he keeps plugged in for your phone. The pink cupcakes you like in the fridge, even though he doesn’t eat sweets.

You should feel something. But you only feel heavy.

You sit on the edge of the bed. Your dress folds gently at your thighs. The same dress you wore to hurt someone. Or maybe yourself. You can’t tell anymore. Somewhere between the fucking, something in you blurred.

Across the room, Jungwon doesn’t move. He stands like he wants to ask for something, an explanation, an apology — but knows he won’t like the answer.

And maybe the worst part is… you wish he would yell. Or cry. Slam a door, something. But Jungwon is still himself, still his calm self and it only makes you feel messier. Uglier.

Your phone buzzes.

Coupang Eats: We should talk.

You lock it. Set it face-down on the nightstand.

Coupang Eats: Whenever you're ready.

Your hands shake slightly as you unzip the weekender bag. You don’t pack much. Just what you need. You tell yourself you’ll come back. That it’s not permanent. You lie to yourself the way you always have. Softly, sweetly.

You glance toward Jungwon once more. He hasn’t moved from his office. His back is to you now, one hand gripping the edge of the desk like he’s trying to ground himself.

You want to go to him. Say sorry. Say something. But you don’t know how to comfort someone while still choosing someone else.

So instead, you whisper “I’m staying at a hotel. Just for a while.”

He doesn’t answer.

You leave the keys on the credenza. The door clicks shut behind you.

And just like that, you become the kind of girl who walks away from a man who would’ve never walked away from you.

You last 5 minutes in the car by yourself before you’re shaking. Your vision blurs and you pull over. Your hands stay on the wheel, but your shoulders can’t stop shaking.

No noise escapes you, the kind of breathless crying that comes only after you’ve been thoroughly overwhelmed. You don’t even know why you’re crying. Because you hurt Jungwon? Because you left him? Because you chose Riki this time and you’re sorry for hurting him too? Because you don’t know if you’ve ruined it with him too?

You gather yourself slowly. Just enough to drive to the closest hotel.

It’s shabby. If you were your usual self you wouldn’t be found within 10 feet of it. But right now the small and dim room brings you comfort.

The lighting is yellow and uneven, the hallway carpet faded with time and secrets. But right now, the small, dim room wraps around and it's enough.

The walls are a muted pastel green, chipped at the corners, soft and sleepy. The heavy curtains are the color of oversteeped tea. The rug beneath you is old, scratchy in some spots and suspiciously soft in others — probably disgusting. But it’s warm. And it doesn’t ask anything of you.

The bedspread is stiff. The air smells faintly like cheap linen spray and leftover takeout from whoever was here before you. But there’s a strange comfort in how off it all is — like the room knows you don’t belong here, and it’s choosing not to care.

You drop your bag. The zipper’s still half open.

You lie down on the carpet, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The glow from the streetlights outside crawls in through the blinds in thin gold lines. You trace them with your eyes like they might lead you out of this moment.

But they don’t.

They just remind you that morning will come whether you’re ready or not.

Eventually, you sit up with heavy limbs and pull your dress off in silence. You throw on an oversized tee, one that smells faintly like Jungwon’s laundry detergent, and immediately hate it. You shrug it off your shoulders as if it burned you.

You flick the TV on, scroll through the channels until you land on one that only plays indie love songs and soft piano ballads. You try to sleep to it, but your brain won’t quiet down. The pillow feels too loud. The room feels too full of everything you left unsaid.

So you grab your phone.

The screen lights up with missed calls. Coupang Eats (3 missed calls) 11:08 PM. 11:42 PM. 12:17 AM.

You don’t call back.

Instead, your fingers start flying across the screen. You swipe through your notes app, scroll past voice memos and lists you never finished, until you find it: “Shared account pw 🫣🤐🤞”

The login still works.

The finsta you and Riki made when you were fifteen. No followers, no bios, no comments. Just a locked archive. You remember laughing about it back then, calling it your “burner for memories.”

The feed loads.

First photo you see is a blurry close-up of your pinky with his pinky wrapped around it. Captioned contract sealed.

Then you scroll past selfies at the convenience store, your faces mid-laugh, Riki sticking out his tongue. Then a video of him trying to teach you how to skateboard, failing miserably and pretending to die in the parking lot. You can hear your own cackling in the background.

The further you scroll, the harder it gets to breathe.

A picture from your sixteenth birthday. He’d made you a paper crown from receipts and straw wrappers. You wore it all night. He wrote in the caption ‘Queen of making me soft’. You’d replied ‘Ur weak anyway’.

You press the screen. Let the image fill up your phone. Let the ache press into your lungs.

He was your best friend before he was anything else. And now everything feels like too much.

You set the phone face down and finally let yourself cry. Quietly. Face buried in your arms. Not for Riki. Not for Jungwon. Just for the version of yourself who didn’t know how complicated love could get.

You fall asleep like that, head pounding, throat sore and dry and eyes swollen. And wake just as the sun is starting to paint the skyline yellow-

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Your heart leaps. You sit up too fast. The pounding continues, it sounds urgent, not frantic. Like whoever’s on the other side knows you’ll open. Like they’re sure of it.

You reach for the first thing you can find (your old hoodie) and slip it over your head as you stumble barefoot to the door.

You peek through the peephole.

Riki.

Hair a mess. Hoodie half-zipped. Jaw tight. His shoulders are hunched like he’s been holding his breath for hours. His eyes are ringed with exhaustion, skin pale under the hallway light. You open the door slowly.

Neither of you says anything at first.

He just looks at you. Takes in the hoodie. Your bare legs. The redness around your eyes.

You swallow hard. “How did you even find me?”

He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze for once. “Went to your place. Jungwon opened the door. Didn’t say much… just said you were staying at some hotel. That you left.”

He looks up now. “So I checked every hotel near the highway. Every cheap one I thought you’d never usually pick. I figured, you’d want to be somewhere that didn’t ask questions.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your chest tightens just seeing him there.

Riki doesn’t wait for an invitation. He doesn’t speak again. Just steps inside, shuts the door behind him with a soft click. Tosses off his jacket onto the nearby chair.

Then he walks over and pulls you into his arms.

No tension. No games. No hunger.

Just holds you.

You cave instantly, burying your face into his chest like your bones have been aching for this. And you cry. Again, but it’s not like last night, not quiet or restrained — but open. Loudly. Like a kid.

Riki says nothing for a while, just moves you both to the bed. His hand just runs slowly over the back of your hoodie, warm and careful. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Then, just barely above a whisper he tells you, “I told you I’d never stop choosing you.”

And that’s all it takes.

You let yourself collapse into him, fully. His hands splay across your back, holding you close enough to feel every shaky breath. The kind of hug that says stay here. That says I’ve got you.

Time moves differently in his arms. You don’t know how long you stay there, pressed against his chest, legs tangled, hearts a little quieter now.

Eventually, your tears slow. You sniffle and wipe your cheek against his shirt, then freeze. “Sorry. I got snot on you.”

Riki glances down. “I don’t care.” He slightly pauses before speaking again, “I like when you ruin my stuff anyway.”

You roll your eyes, even as the corners of your lips threaten a smile. “You're such a freak.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you — his thumb brushing beneath your eye gently. “And you look ridiculous in that hoodie. It's swallowing you.”

“It’s yours.”

“Exactly.”

You both laugh. A small one. But real.

Riki presses a kiss to your forehead. It's gentle. No pressure. No expectation. Just warmth.

You sit on the edge of the bed while Riki disappears into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. You hear the faucet, the clatter of the cheap soap dish. It’s quiet again, but this time, not lonely.

When he steps back out, his hair is damp and pushed back, and his sleeves are rolled to his elbows. He looks younger this way. Less like the person who ruined you, and more like the boy who used to make you laugh until your stomach hurt.

You curl your knees up to your chest. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He glances at the crusty hotel menu on the nightstand and lifts a brow. “Room service?”

You nod. “Please don’t judge me if I order pancakes and miso soup.”

Riki smirks. “That’s disgusting. I’m getting that too.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting cross-legged on the bed with trays between you.

Miso steam fogs your lashes. The pancakes are a little dry, but Riki drowns his in syrup and makes a show of pretending it’s gourmet. You throw a rolled-up napkin at him and he catches it mid-air with his mouth. He’s so smug, it’s ridiculous (ridiculously endearing).

For a while, it feels like the world outside doesn’t exist. Like you’re not running away. Like this is just... the two of you again. Existing in a quiet pocket of peace.

“I forgot how easy it is,” you murmur.

Riki chews, swallows. “What is?”

“This. Us. When we’re not trying to hurt each other.”

He’s silent for a second, then reaches across the tray and tugs your sleeve. “Then let’s stop trying.”

After breakfast, you both stretch out on the bed. You lie back. He lies beside you. Not touching. Just breathing together. And after a while, without saying anything, Riki slips his pinky against yours.

You link it.

He glances at the clock. “It’s still early,” he says. “Wanna go for a drive?”

You turn to look at him. “Where?”

He smiles. Soft. Secretive.

“Somewhere we left a part of ourselves.”

A short drive later with the windows cracked and the morning sun warming the car you’re on your way.

You recognize the route before he even parks.

The overlook.

It’s stupid, really. Just a hill that peers out over the city, tucked behind an old park and some bike trails. You used to sneak up here after dark when you were both barely sixteen. It was the first place you ever kissed. On a hot rainy summer day. Hair soaked, heart pounding, shoes caked in mud. Neither of you ever talked about it much after — like it was a secret even from yourselves.

You stare at the familiar curve of the hill, the chipped bench still there.

“You remember?” Riki says as he kills the engine.

You nod slowly. “Of course I do.”

Neither of you says this is where it started. But you’re both thinking it.

He helps you out of the car like he always used to, like you’re fragile and treasured and something he doesn’t want to lose again. You sit on the bench, shoulder to shoulder, looking out over the skyline.

And when he takes your hand, he doesn’t lace your fingers together… he just holds it, palm to palm. Still. Soft.

“Do you think we could ever do it right?” you ask quietly.

Riki looks over at you. His lashes catch the light. His voice is a little hoarse. “Maybe not perfect. But honest this time.”

You nod. “I could live with that.”

And then, he finally kisses you.

Slowly. Gentle. The kind of kiss that makes time stretch like the world softens just to give you this. He kisses you like he remembers every version of you — the girl from next door, the one who used to steal his hoodies, the one who left him, the one who came back. Like he’s been holding his breath since the last time you touched and finally gets to exhale.

And you melt into it. Your hands slide into his hair without thinking, like it’s an old habit. He tilts his head just slightly, deepening it, and your heart stumbles because it’s not lust that makes you shiver — it’s how much you feel. The love. The passion. The yearning you’d been hiding from yourself.

There’s something unsaid in it. A hundred unsent messages. All the years in between. An apology. A promise. A beginning.

And when he finally pulls back just an inch, your forehead rests against his. Both of you a little breathless.

“I missed you,” he says quietly. “More than I should’ve.”

You don’t speak. You just kiss him again. Because saying it aloud would break you.

But he already knows.

You sit beside him on the old bench by the reservoir for the long time after that. Shoulder to shoulder, reminiscing together.

You glance at him. “It hasn’t changed much.”

Riki smiles faintly, eyes forward. “You have.”

You huff a laugh. “Thanks?”

“I mean it in a good way.” He tilts his head toward you, expression open now, so rare for him. “You always had all this light in you. You just… didn’t know how to carry it.”

You’re quiet for a moment. Letting it in. Letting it sting.

Then you nudge his knee with yours. “You were the first person to ever see me.”

#niki angst #enhypen smut #niki x reader #enhypen #nishimura riki #niki smut #enhypen x reader #niki scenario #niki fluff #niki nishimura #riki nishimura x reader #ni ki scenarios #ni ki x y/n #ni ki enhypen #ni ki x reader #ni ki fluff #ni ki imagines #enhypen niki

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delusionsofgrandeur13 · 3 days ago

Text

your kind of love drives a man insane

a clark kent that’s probably a little too old for you.. x virgin!reader

no minors allowed! 18 and up—that’s the rule. thanks.

you’ve had your eye on clark kent for awhile—and now you’re finally just old enough to do something about it.

warnings: barely any consumption of alcohol, problematic age gap, mouthy sub corrupting a soft dom, no condom, some roughness in bed if you’re nasty.. enjoy!

“sweet little thing like you..” he smiles, shaking his head. “tryin’ to get with something like me.”

“you think i’m sweet?” you ask, batting your eyelashes.

“i’m old enough to be your father.” his tone’s gruff, like he’s hoping to scare you off. it’s having the opposite effect. nonetheless, you’re playing a very delicate game.

“you say that like it’ll scare me away.”

this conversation’s been a long time coming. he’s been the subject of your under-the-covers dead-of-night fantasies since you were fifteen. boys your age have never been particularly..appealing, compared to clark kent.

immature, loud, rude—why waste your time with someone like that? why not wait a couple years, exercise your patience?

and all that waiting had finally paid off. here you were, with the town’s infamous blue-eyed bachelor. trying to persuade him into the spot between your legs.

he shakes his head, those deep blue eyes never leaving yours.

“‘m not sure s’right, darling.”

it almost makes you want to laugh, the way he’s trying to chase you away like he’s not visibly hard.

this must be the first time in a long time he’s been propositioned.

your mouth’s watering looking at him, framed by rough, worn denim. he looks big.

he coughs, and you trail your eyes back up to his face. clark’s cheeks are pink, you didn’t realize how long your gaze had been trained on his crotch.

“who said it had to be right, clark?” stepping closer has your dress swaying against your thighs, the airy fabric stretching over your hips. you swear it makes him gulp.

all bark, no bite.

he looks up, like he’s asking for help, before taking another swig of his beer. you take the chance to step even closer.

you run a fingertip over his hardened length, causing him to sputter.

“that looks like it hurts,” your voice barely above a whisper. “won’t you let me take care of it for you?”

it feels like ten years, the time that it takes for him to reply: he spends it with his gaze fixed on you, face a blank canvas covering up the internal battle.

“c’mon.” he grunts out, kicking away from his stool. immediately he’s towering over you, your heartbeat responding with a stutter. you watch as he throws a bill on the counter, nodding to the bartender.

clark’s rough hand grabs yours, and the size difference almost has him digging his heels in and saying no.

almost, but not quite.

you follow him out to his truck, your boots crunching through the gravel parking lot after his.

“should i drive?” you pipe up, remembering how the hand that’s holding yours was holding a beer not even a minute ago.

he chuckles, cutting you a glance.

“i’m no teenage boy, gorgeous. wouldn’t be takin’ you anywhere if i was drunk.”

you blush, nodding. he opens the passenger door for you, holding out a hand to help you up.

it’s a big truck for a big man—but it’s not one of those new ones, lifted ones.

it’s old, red, rusted. looks like something he’d spent a couple of years fixing up. a shiver runs up your spine as you settle into the worn leather of his passenger seat. you’ve made it.

clark keeps his eyes on the road. for the most part.

it’s bumpy, heading down to his farm—he just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting jostled too much. the pockmarked road did nothing but bounce your tits in his face.

he’d hate to admit how much of a reaction having a pretty little thing like you in his truck was causing—but it was clear as day if you looked between his thighs.

he’s gonna have to go about this very carefully.

you don’t even get the chance to kick your cowboy boots off before he’s pushing you forward onto the mattress, the impact forcing a grunt from your chest. getting up on your elbows, you turn to see him unbuckling his belt, hastily shoving his jeans down, past his hips. the way his shirt’s riding up his stomach has you swallowing hard.

“looked your fill?” he grumbles, eyes shifty. talks a big game, but you have him like a deer in headlights.

“probably never,” you smirk, squinting. clark rolls his eyes at you, returning the expression.

you almost gasp at the sudden chill on your backside as he yanks your dress up, muttering to himself about the panties you’re wearing.

“hands.” he suddenly barks, and you put them behind your back. easily palming both of your wrists into one hand, he leans over you.

“how’d y’know red’s my favorite color?” clark rasps into your ear, voice low, rough.

“lucky guess,” you squeak out, squirming under his big body.

“got quite the mouth on ya.” he remarks, and you feel his cock twitch against your hip. “do i need to do something about it, or are you gonna behave?”

“gonna behave.” you nod against the mattress, murmuring. anticipation setting alight in your veins.

“good.” he stands back up, his grip still firm on your wrists.”dunno how i didn’t see these through that white dress you’re wearin’.”

clark snaps the waistband of your underwear, making you jump.

“woulda taken you to the bar bathroom then and there.”

the thought of him fucking you in the dingy water closet makes you moan involuntarily. he chuckles, smacking your ass. you squeak at his firm hand, and his cock throbs painfully.

“we’ll have to do that next time, huh, sugar?” clark hums.

you nod eagerly, arching your back to press your ass against him.

“could we do somethin’ now?” you ask, eyebrows pushed together. the look on your face is so resolve-melting that clark almost folds.

almost.

“so impatient!” he says, a huge grin cracking onto his face. “guess you might hafta wait a little longer now, gorgeous.”

pushing himself off of you, your hands still held tight in his grip, he eyes your pussy. his gaze is locked onto the growing dark spot on the gusset of your red panties.

it makes him want to pant like a fucking dog.

you’re like an oasis in the desert. a cool coca-cola after a long day chorin’. clark’s gonna eat you whole.

your underwear are yanked off, clark taking special care to pull them over your matching red boots. they’re dropped to the floor, and the anticipation feels like a gun pointed at your head. unavoidable. a confirmed kill.

he spits, and you watch it fall onto your core from over your shoulder.

it’s a new sensation, but the fluids mixing between your thighs feels like heaven.

his knuckles brush against your folds, causing you to squirm.

it’s a lot different when it’s not you. not your hands.

his hand’s on you, his fingers playing with your clit. teasing you, flirting with it. seeing what you react the most to. this could be all he does for the night and you’d be satisfied. the sensation is so heightened, so brand new, you’re about to burst from this alone.

clark gathers the combined slick and slides his middle finger into your entrance.

the stretch is delicious, perfect.

and then after a few pumps, he adds another.

he presses you into the mattress as he hits your g-spot, kissing up the back of your thigh to where it meets the swell of your ass.

it’s perfect, it’s saccharine, it’s a little slice of heaven in clark kent’s bedroom.

you feel his breath on your clit, and then he’s on you.

his tongue is searching, suckling at the protruding area until you’re whimpering. he curls his fingers inside of you, the feeling like no other as he laps at your clit.

it’s been hours, days, weeks. it feels like you’ve set up camp in his bedroom. so careful, so dutiful, as he pulls you right to the edge just to yank you back.

he’s insatiable, he’s trying to keep from grinding against the bed frame so he lasts longer inside of you.

the sounds you’re making might change that.

you’re as taut as a bowstring, toes curling, head thrown back. you let the arrow fly, and you’re shaking, muscles spasming as you finish on clark’s face.

he hums in satisfaction against your clit, the vibration making you want to cry.

you’re the most responsive partner he’s ever had. the way you’re pulling at his grip, whining like he’s not gonna give you exactly what you want.

clark doesn’t quit until your legs are shaking, until you’re breathing heavily, until you’re barely able to speak. his mouth doesn’t stop moving until he’s satisfied.

releasing your wrists, he stands, and pumps his painfully hard cock: giving you a second to breathe.

you suck in oxygen through your nose, shakily exhaling through your mouth.

the sight of him over you, hand gripping his length, has you drooling.

clark pats your ass, pinching your hip. you meet his eyes, and he raises a brow.

“ready,” you say, a little surprised at how weak your voice sounds. it’s a lot different when it’s someone else doing it. you return your wrists to his hand, your shoulder muscles complaining. taking them back into his palm, he nods to you again. you nod back. ready.

“thank god,” clark rasps, biting his bottom lip as he lines himself up with your entrance. his tip breaks through, stretching you far more than his fingers ever were

you try to breathe, your chest shuddering as he pushes in.

it becomes a little too much:

you gasp, and clark’s eyes fly to yours. your face is pinched in pain, your lips pressed tightly shut.

he doesn’t pull out.

“you’re a virgin.”

said, not asked.

you nod, grimacing. that gonna change things?

“didn’t feel like sharin’ that w’me before we started?” clark asks, accent thicker. tone dangerous, sharp like the edge of a knife. like the fangs of a rattlesnake.

you shrug your shoulders the best you can with your wrists still in his palm.

“guess not,” you start. “does it sweeten the deal?”

clark scoffs, looking disgusted. looking away.

he doesn’t respond.

“tell me if you need to stop.”

it’s unbearable, it’s all you ever want for the rest of your life. he bottoms out, and the stretch has your most delicate muscles stinging with exertion.

you could die happy.

clark kent just took your virginity.

he moves his hips, resetting, actions careful. eyes on your reaction.

you don’t say a word, and clark takes that as a green light, yanking at your wrists to arch your back. it has you lifting off of the bed, moving against his cock, moans falling from your mouth involuntarily.

“there you go, sugar,” he growls, the look on his face enough to make you come again right then and there.

clark snaps his hips up into yours, pace relentless from the beginning. he snakes his hand around to your front, pinching your nipple. you whine, and he cups your tit, his rough palm kneading the smooth skin.

every one of your nerve endings feels like it’s on fire, your sensitivity heightened in ways you’ve never felt before.

“please, clark,” you cry out.

he grunts behind you, the sound scraping through your ears and dropping straight to your belly. you moan in response, and he moves, bracing himself against you as his hips piston into yours.

“oh, please, just like that,” you whine, his hips snapping into yours. the sight of your ass rippling under him has his teeth clenching.

“keep talkin’ like that,” he grits out, “and this is gonna be over real soon.”

he pumps into you, the friction sending pleasure bursting through your body. you would’ve started fucking a lot sooner if you knew it was this good.

maybe it’s just clark.

smiling to yourself, you deepen your arch, pulling at his grip.

“whatever you say, mr. kent.”

clark lets loose a noise of surprise, and then you can feel his load emptying into you. deep satisfaction settles into your bones, and you use the leverage of his hold on you to pound back into him.

he groans, almost whimpering, as you milk every last drop.

clark flops down beside you on the bed, breathing labored.

“you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters, slinging an arm over his eyes.

“promise?” you reply, a cheshire cat smile pulling at your lips.

༄ inspired by father figure by george michael, but got pretty have love will travel by the black keys soon after.. you guys get it.

༄ thanks for reading, and a big thanks to bee for formulating with me about our big man.. there might be future installments of this just to please her.. who knows.

divider: @enchanthings

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mickyschumacher · 2 days ago

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more sub Oscar pleaseeeeeee

[DEAR GOD!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: silverstone has left a sour taste in oscar's mouth and he wants you to get it out. or in which oscar decides to call in a favour.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), some fluff, sub!oscar, mentions of alcohol, oscar worshipping you, younger reader, praise kink (m/f receiving and giving), oral sex, eating out, fingering, squ*rting, p in v, unprotected sex (use protection plsssss), breeding kink, mutual and multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight breastplay // poorly proof-read

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x driver!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.4k+

𝐀/𝐍: just had to post this bc i've been salivating over this so here you go! sorry for the wait honey! hope you like it as much as i liked it! also notice how i've done two silverstone pieces and they're both about oscar... am i jinxing him?

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Oscar stood outside your hotel door in Monaco, swallowing the nerves he had built up. It had been two days after whatever had happened in Silverstone.

God, he didn't know what to do.

The emotions he had experienced in the past forty eight hours alone had him melting down. 'Iceman' they called him. Emotionless. Cold. He felt sorry for those who couldn't differentiate the trait of a sociopath and he who could regulate his emotions.

Oscar was angry initially. Fuming. He couldn't understand why he had even received the penalty. It was the only reason he had so desperately asked to switch on the radio. He was never desperate.

But after looking at the footage from various angles and drivers, he was inclined to agree. And although he might've argued ten seconds was still a little too harsh, it was over. What's done was done.

Yet... he couldn't get it out of his mind. No amount of exercise or mediation (as his mother so kindly provided) was helping. So he was calling in a favour.

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, taking a step forward to knock on your door before stepping back. While he waited for you to answer, the dread immediately began filling him. Was this wrong? Would you even say yes?

This favour... he had incurred it after you had gotten a bit too carried away with the drinking when you had won your first race this year. To be honest, you still barely remembered the night. You drank, you danced, you cheered... and the next moment, you were waking up with Oscar dealing with your hungover-self in your apartment.

Embarrassed as hell, you had tried to get him out of your apartment as quick as you could, pushing him out, saying something along the lines of "I owe you."

Before Oscar could overthink any further, you opened your door, brows raised and lips parted. You definitely weren't expecting him.

"Morning," Oscar greeted, shifting on his feet awkwardly while he took in the little black sundress wrapped around your body. Not even wrapped, it clung to your body oh so nicely. Oh Christ.

You smiled softly. "Morning," you responded. "What's up?" You queried, leaning on the frame of your door.

Oscar pursed his lips. "Um, well, you know how you got shitfaced in Monaco a few weeks ago? Well–"

You sighed, leaving the door open as you retreated back into your home. "Thin ice, Oscar. Thin ice," you mumbled loudly, cheeks already burning at the memory. You didn't want to try and remember any of it.

Being hungover was hell enough. But after winning in Monaco and having the Oscar Piastri help you home... it was a new sort of purgatory. One you weren't willing to tread.

Being hungover wasn't even the problem.

The problem was Oscar and the way he looked at you.

You were a rookie driver. Three years younger than him. You had raced each other at different times before. You knew his sister well too. You had never even considered him as something more than a friend or co-worker until this year.

Being on the same grid meant seeing him everywhere. You had lost count of how many times the McLaren team had dragged you to help the boys with their social media. More times than that, you had caught him staring at you. Eyes soft yet dark, full of want. At first you thought you were imagining things. But when your publicist pulled you aside and asked why Oscar staring at you like he wanted to consume your very being, your beliefs had been confirmed.

Even worse, Oscar had gotten out of a long term relationship months ago. So with the way he looked at you, the last thing you wanted to be was a rebound. That's exactly what you needed. Be a young rebound co-worker for a leading potential World Champion. Not.

"Right, well," Oscar walked after you, closing the door behind him while he removed his shoes. "I... you said you owed me."

You looked at Oscar through your eyelashes, taking a seat next to your kitchen counter. You chewed on your lip, raising a brow. "You mean like a favour?"

Oscar nodded quietly, memorising the way you crossed your legs and looked at him, teeth grazing your plump lips. He blinked, shaking his head lightly. "Silverstone's killing me. I can't get my mind off it."

You tilted your head, leaning on the counter. "How am I supposed to fix it?"

Oscar's mouth opened but nothing came out. Fuck... he didn't know if he could actually do this. Not when you sat in front of him like this. Ready to devour him.

"I know you don't what to hear it but when you were drunk," he sighed at your groan. He stepped closer to you, invading your space. "When you were drunk," he repeated, "you said something and I think I need it." Right now. Tomorrow. Next week. He didn't want to put a time limit on it.

"Oscar, please," you closed your eyes, trying block out all the memories.

"You have to remember it if you keep stalling, ___," Oscar mumbled, brown eyes staring hard at you.

You swallowed thickly. It was the only part of Oscar bringing you home that you remembered. The reason you had been avoiding him in the paddock for weeks now.

Oscar breathed, inching closer to you. "You said you wanted to fuck me. Have me on my knees. Eat you out till you couldn't remember your name. Ride me until I begged you to stop. I need that."

You sucked in a sharp breath, visibly clenching your thighs together. Fuck. His voice was shaking. You did say that. You had said it because Oscar looked so beautiful in the moonlight. You had said it because...

"I was drunk–"

"Drunk words, sober thoughts," Oscar retorted simply.

You wordlessly watched Oscar sink down to his knees, his hands skimming the fabric of your dress and your exposed thighs. You could feel your heart thud in your ears, whirring loudly while you spotted the semi-bulge in his pants.

"Please," Oscar murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of your calf. "I want to taste you so bad," he breathed out, fingers drawing idle circles on your skin. "I want you to feel good, princess."

You involuntarily shuddered at the nickname. He threw it around the paddock all the time. Teasing you. But today, he was on his knees, pleading you.

"Oscar..." you whispered, swallowing the saliva built up in your mouth. He was making the mess between your legs even worse. "We can't. We work together. Our contracts–"

You could feel him huff with amusement against your legs. "Fuck the contracts. Everyone knows within a five hundred metre radius knows."

"Knows what?" You whispered.

That same boyish smile you saw that night sprawled onto his face. The sheer seriousness swarming his eyes as he looked up at you. "That I worship the floor you walk on."

Oscar watched you blink, silent for a moment. Quietly, you opened your legs, revealing a peak of your matching black panties. His mouth fell open as you spoke with a small smile, "I hope you don't make promises you can't keep."

"Christ," Oscar rasped, leaning in, hands grasping your thighs, your skin spilling between his fingers driving him crazy. He pushed your legs further apart, black dress riding higher, teeth sinking into his bottom lip when he spotted the damp spot of black on your panties. "Look at you," he croaked, hot breath skimming past your core.

He breathed in the smell of your arousal and God, he could've sworn his cock twitched. So intoxicating.

Your body lurched as he pressed his thumb on your clothed pussy, rubbing you gently. Oscar couldn't take his eyes off it. "So wet... does my devotion turn you on, princess?" He queried not in jest but pure intrigue.

"Shit," you mewled, hands clenching the edge of the kitchen counter tightly as Oscar pushed aside the drenched fabric and was immediately greeted by the warmth of your folds. He smiled, gathering all your slick with this thumb, grazing past your clit to capture the look of your hazed eyes.

Oscar said nothing, hooking a finger on your waistband before pulling down your panties, leaving it on the countertop before spreading you once again. His head dipped between your thighs, tongue taking a long stripe. You whimpered at the hum vibrating through your body.

"Taste like heaven," he gasped before plunging his tongue back into your pussy, nose nudging your clit as he lapped at you.

Your head fell back, pleasure swirling around you while your thighs clenched around his face. He was drinking you, taking all he could while he explored every single crevice he had been jerking off to for months now. How many times had he come in his driver's room under the guise of Lando's loud music, imagine your pussy on his tongue? Too many perhaps.

Your hands flew to his brown locks, trying to grasp the sheer pleasure running through your body as if it was tangible. Your eyes fell to his, tongue dragging up your folds before circling your clit while you instantly spotted his blown pupils.

You think he was humping the air, that's how turned on he was. But you couldn't tell. Not when he sucked your clit to gently yet firmly, a precision you had never even been to get on your vibrator. "Feels so good, pretty boy."

Oscar moaned against your pussy, cock straining in his pants at the name you had given him. He adored the thin sheet of sweat on your skin. You glowed above him, lips red from the way you bit them, nipples hard through your dress. Fuck, you were killing him.

He could only tighten his grip around your thighs, bringing you closer if possible, eating you like he was a starving man. The edges of his mouth drooling for you. He could feel your hips jerk and grind against his lips, your moans turning into incoherent gasps. White stars were clouding your vision while the sounds of Oscar slurping your pussy filled your apartment.

"Oscar," you breathed, lower stomach tightening, "I... fuck!"

Your legs trembled around his face, air evaporating from your lungs as you continuously ground your hips, taking every wave of pleasure rolling over you while his groans reverberated within your core.

While Oscar wasn't done, still lapping at your sensitive pussy, you grabbed those brown locks, forcing him to stop and look at you. Your core throbbed at sight of his face, shining with your arousal, chest heaving like he was finally breathing.

"Let me ride you, pretty boy," you breathed, pushing yourself off the chair, not forgetting to grab your panties. You watched him slowly stand back up, your index finger under his chin, his brown eyes solely focused on you.

"Yes, please, please," Oscar rasped, moaning when you grabbed his collar and pulled him towards your bedroom. The small trip had you press your lips to his, his hands immediately resting on your waist, bringing you closer while his tongue explored your mouth. The flavour of you fell all over your tastebuds.

Dear God... you weren't ever going to forget these lips.

Oscar whimpered at the rub of your hands on his ears, fingernails moving down his neck teasingly. You walked through your bedroom door, hands moving to push him onto your bed. "Take it off," you breathed. "Take all of it off."

Oscar scrambled at your orders, removing his shirt off with one hand – the other undoing his belt. He only sped up as you removed your pretty sundress, revealing your bare body to him.

"Oh fuck," he whined, eyeing you in awe while he finally removed his boxers. Goosebumps littered his skin. He was awfully aware of the way you were looking at him as he laid on your bed. Memorising him.

Your eyes fell to his cock. The pretty thing standing straight, slapping his stomach, red and sore – dribbling pre-cum like there was no tomorrow.

You grinned to yourself. You crawled onto the bed, Oscar watching your every move. Your hands trailed over his legs, moving up and up, grasping his thighs while your hot breath grazed over his cock, leaving him squirming.

You looked at Oscar, tilting your head, eyes wide like a doe, innocent thought you were anything but. "I'll let you choose, pretty boy," you murmured, hands roaming his chest, leaving him breathing unevenly. "There's a condom in my purse. Or... you can have me raw."

"Raw," Oscar said almost immediately. His voice torn. His chest heaved. He leaned up, kissing the column of your neck. "Please, please, please... raw. Fuck, I wanna feel you so bad, princess.'

You smiled, pleased. You pushed his back onto the bed, thumb trailing his swollen lips. "Such a well mannered boy. You deserve a reward."

You didn't give yourselves any time to adjust. No more teasing. You couldn't. You needed to feel him too. You hovered over him, legs on either side of him while you grabbed his cock, aligning it with you.

Oscar had to remind himself to breathe at your touch and not just cum already. He swallowed thickly, eyes glued to the space between your drenched pussy and his hard cock. You slowly sunk down on his cock, walls stretching to adjust to his thickness.

"Fuck," he cried out, hands flying to your hips like he needed to steady himself. Shit... you felt too good. He wouldn't last long.

"So big, pretty boy," you praised, moaning quietly at the way he filled you. You could feel him everywhere. So deep.

"Feel so good," he grunted out, trying to prevent himself from moving already.

You chuckled lightly. "It's okay, Osc," you cooed, patting his cheek softly. "You can come if you want. I'll just make you come again and again and again..."

Oscar's cheeks and ears flamed at your words. His stomach churned as you lifted your hips, coming off his cock before slamming down. "Shit," he mewled, head lurching forward into your breasts. The feel of your pussy clenched around him like a vice and it was driving him crazy. He could feel every part of you pussy, hips flushed with yours while the tip of his cock nudged your cervix.

Oscar watched you ride him, your body moving up and down like you were imprinting your name on his cock. Your breasts bounce against your chest, enticing him to suck them, praying it would silence his moans.

Your hand travelled to his locks, grasping his hair while the moans tumbled out of your lips.

"Tell me," he breathed against your breasts, cock pulsing in your pussy. "How do I feel? Tell me I feel good."

"So good," you groaned, eyes clenched, grinding your hips against his cock. "So deep, I could let you breed me."

Oscar's hips began fucking up into you, whimpers escaping his throat. "Yeah, you like that? Wanna come in me, pretty boy? Coat me from the inside? Let me know what's mine?"

"Yes," he whined, stomach clenching at the sight of the cream ring around his cock. The weight of you was fully resting on his cock, taking in every inch of him. The sounds of your skin slapping against one another filled the air.

Oscar swallowed, bringing his thumb to your clit, cursing at the way your pussy tightened around him even more. "Come for me, princess. Show me how good I make you feel."

Your jaw went slack, moans turning silent, vision blurring as your body trembled and convulsed around his cock, hips bucking to ride out the high. "F-Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Oscar moaned, his own hips increasing the pace. His hands gripped your waist tightly, your folds clenching over him still. "Shit, I'm going to come!"

He tried to hold off, thumb rubbing your sensitive clit in quick circle, rubbing your arousal all over you. "Come with me, please, princess," he panted, cock filling you in all the right places.

Your eyes rolled back, body shuddering once again while you felt his hot cum spill into your walls, his hips stuttering up into you. You fell against his chest, your own heaving.

Oscar pulled out of you gently, watching his seed drip out of you. He moaned, lifting you so you sat on the bed. He spread your legs, fingers collecting his cum before spreading it around your puffy pussy.

Your body shivered, overstimulated. You sunk your teeth into your lips when you felt Oscar push his cum into your pussy, three fingers pushing right into that spot.

"O-Oscar," you stuttered, walls clenching around his fingers while your hand reached out to grip his arm.

"One more, please," Oscar begged, fingers thrusting in and out of you. Curling and rubbing your insides. "I can make you feel so good. Look how you take my fingers. Just like my cock. Like I was made for you."

"Oh fuck," you moaned, hand tightening around his arm. The obscene squelches of your pussy told you both what you knew: you were so fucking wet.

His fingers plunged into you, thumb circling your clit. His speed increased, digits curling into your g-spot. Oscar groaned. He could feel your pussy pulsing around his fingers.

"Oscar," you panted, almost drawing blood from your lips, feeling him coax the liquid from you.

A cry fell from your lips, thighs shooting to clench around his hand while your legs trembled. Your vision was entirely white. Mouth open, pants eerily silent as heat flooded from your pussy, hot liquid coming out in spurts from your folds, onto his hands, and the mattress.

Oscar, who had been rutting his hips against the bed quietly, felt his cock twitch, his cum spilling again at the sight of your juices drenching him. "Oh my God," he whined, eyes shut, riding out his orgasm.

"Christ," you swore, head falling back to your pillows while you tried to catch your breath, legs collapsing while Oscar fell next to you.

You turned to him, sucking in a sharp. "You made me squirt," you breathed out in disbelief. "I came four times," you sighed, shuffling closer to him.

Oscar smiled gently, tucking your hair behind your ears. Both of your bodies stuck to the blanket, sweat, his cum, and your juices covering the both of you. "That was just four. I can give you eighty one."

You rolled your eyes, smacking him lightly. "Piss off," you chuckled, feeling his body shake with amusement as well. You pursed your lips, caressing his cheek. "Still feeling shit about Silverstone?"

"What's Silverstone?" He queried, a dry smile on his face as he pulled you closer to him.

You grinned. "That's what I like to hear."

"You wanna hear about Monaco?" Oscar teased, pressing his lips to your shoulder.

You groaned, cheeks burning as you tried to get out of his arms. Oscar laughed softly, keeping you close to him. "Okay, okay," he murmured. "Now let me at least take you out on a date. I'm not usually a sex first guy."

"What can I say? I bring the worst out of people," you quipped with a cheeky grin, tapping his nose lightly.

Oscar smiled while you sighed loudly, hand idly rubbing down your body. "Our publicists are going to kill us," you mumbled, already fearing the wrath of your own.

"It'll be fine. Everyone already knows how much of a loser I am for you. They'll probably be relieved, if anything," he snorted. "Have I mentioned that I really like you yet or..."

"Not really," you commented, warmth spreading over your body at his words.

Oscar grinned, clearing your face of any loose strands to he could see you clearly. "Well then," he whispered, thumb trailing over your lips. "I really really really like you."

You smiled. "I like you too... even if you're an absolute idiot."

"Okay... rude," Oscar nudged you, still grinning.

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 smut #op81 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic

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