#at the end of the day it all comes down to the intent

[reignpage]

Piercer!Geto

Manx Norton: going over the limit

Contents: 18+ mdni, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, blowjob, deepthroating, throat fucking, swallowing, marks the end of their pre-relationship story

“We need to talk,” you say. 

Geto looks up from his journal, slow and steady like he knew you would come here and at this time. He sets his pen down. His hair is tied up completely today and there are dark bags under his eyes that you can’t bear to look at, so you don’t. Instead, you settle into the seat, without being asked, and you cross your legs and your arms. 

You mean business. 

“Good afternoon, pretty. You look gorgeous.” 

Sighing, you ignore that fluttering in your stomach. There’s no point in getting carried away by his charm; it’s his instinct to be sweet, otherwise he wouldn’t have as many clients as he does. But you’re aware, faintly and right at the very back of your mind, that his words have a bite to them — they’re complimentary whilst also accusatory. 

“I need an explanation, Geto,” you state firmly. 

His left eye twitches. It’s not a flicker or a nervous tick, it’s a flinch. You have the power, just like your sister said, when you were throwing her shoes out of the window, and she was offering advice as a means to fight your murderous intent off. It didn’t work.

There’s always something shifting between you, something unstable, and it’s been difficult to manage — you’re new to relationships, so new to venturing outside your comfort zone that you’ve relied so much on him to guide you. But you’ve also had to step up and make decisions for yourself. 

Your friends weren’t very helpful; they insisted you quit or bring a new man to the studio to make him jealous, and as tempting as it is to be petty, you know they wouldn’t solve anything. It’ll just make you feel bad and icky. 

So, you’ve chosen the high road, providing him the opportunity to share his side, to explain why he let you down once again and why everything between you had been built on a lie.

Nodding, he opens a drawer and takes out a familiar sheet of paper. Then, in a conversational tone, he asks, “What do you see?”

“It’s my CV,” you answer. Truthfully, you have no clue what game he’s playing; there’s something in particular he’s looking for but all you see is the whites of the paper and the lines of ink. 

“Look at it from the perspective of an employer looking to fill a hole in their establishment,” is his reply. 

You’ve heard that tone often, every day, in fact. It’s the tone he uses on clients when he needs to go over payment plans, or on suppliers when he needs to negotiate a new contract. But he’s never used it on you. Distant and devoid of attachment, it makes you feel uneasy. 

Fiddling with a loose thread on your sweater, you furrow your brows as you read over the paper. Geto is leaning back on the chair, hands folded on his lap, the pinnacle of confidence. That used to be so attractive. Now, you’re just a little peeved off. You were supposed to be the confident one; you came here on your own volition, even prepared a speech you practised with your sister.

You should have known he’d sweep the rug from under you. 

Frustrated, you groan and smack the sheet. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to see! I have no time for this.”

Smiling reassuringly, Geto doesn’t bat an eye at your outburst and instead, begins a lecture, “What I saw was a CV lacking in relevant work experience. In fact, you had very little experience. Your most recent job was in high school, when you worked as a librarian’s assistant for a day. The other things on there were debate club and a certificate for being a neighbourhood ‘sweetheart’, and I’m not even sure what that means.”

“Oh.”

To your embarrassment, he laughs. A blush is growing on your face and suddenly you’re very aware of how some strands of hair are sticking to your forehead uncomfortably, how the sweater you’re wearing is a little scratchy and that maybe, just maybe, you’ve overreacted terribly.

Maybe you should have confronted him sooner. Perhaps just as soon as you overheard him tell Miguel that your sister owes him a favour for hiring you. However, in your defence, you were feeling a little hurt from having been left at the restaurant — you waited for an hour, watching people pass by and give you sympathetic looks as you sent text after text to a man too busy with a client to realise time passed by. 

A week has gone by since then, and you haven’t come to work at all, you dodged every text and call from Geto and ignored him when he showed up on campus and had the nerve to get upset that you’re hanging out with a classmate. Your sister tried to defend him, and herself, but you weren’t willing to hear her out. On many occasions, you’ve told her to butt out, to leave you to make mistakes and get hurt, because it’s your prerogative. 

She can’t protect you from everything and the more she tries, the harder you all learn that lesson. 

“Okay, fine. So, my CV sucks a little,” you huff, “but you should have never hired me under the pretence that I was good enough when the real reason was because my sister asked you. It’s unfair on me. I wanted to earn this job on my own and you two went behind my back to manipulate this whole situation!”

The man sighs and leans forward. You smell his cologne and it’s muddling your mind a little, so you lean back, away from him. He notices. “I understand you’re upset. And I’m sorry to have colluded with your meddling sister. But it really isn’t what you think, pretty girl.”

You hate how patient he sounds, like you’re the crazy one. And maybe you are. You don’t know anymore. In fact, you’re starting to think you know nothing at all. 

“Yes, it’s true she asked me to give you a job. But all I promised her was that I’ll give you a chance, like everyone else. And when you came for the interview, I thought a lot of things. One was that you are so different from your sister. Different from the people that tend to come through the door, from me. You’re much brighter, much warmer and lighter than everyone I’ve ever seen.”

There’s something in his eyes, a sincerity that makes you breathless. All the air has left the room and you’re leaning in without even realising it. Everything that he says is entrancing, he’s a pied piper playing a tune that fills your soul with a fire you can’t put out, and he’s leading you closer to him, away from everything you’ve ever known, away from safety and reason. 

You’re not afraid. 

“I had a look at your CV and thought, there’s no way I would hire you, not even if she begged or blackmailed me — I take great pride in my studio, I turned it from a little backroom space with flickering lights to what it is now. My clients trust me to provide quality service from beginning to end, and I will not let a woman, no matter how beautiful, get in the way of that.”

Geto reaches for your cheek, like he can’t help himself, and you let him. His hands are slightly calloused but otherwise smooth and soft. And that smile, the polite one he always wears, is gone. In its place is something that reflects how you feel, how you’ve both been feeling for a long time now. A frustration against the distance between you, the boundary that’s erected itself between employer and employee, boss and receptionist, and a man who’s seen it all versus a girl who knows so little. 

You aren’t meant to be. Everything about this relationship is wrong, it’s inadvisable, foolish, like Hades and Persephone, or Eros and Psyche. It’s a tragic love story doomed from the very beginning, the kind people talk about centuries later with a mix sense of awe and pity. You know all about it, have read so many variations of the same story with the same individuals who think they know everything, who believe they’re different, special and that the Fates will smile fondly on them. 

Except neither you nor Suguru are under the impression that you’re different, that this will turn out differently and that the cards you’ve been dealt are from a separate, fresh deck. You both know you’re playing a dangerous game. 

Neither of you care. 

“But then I talked to you. And you were so witty, so undeterred by my unrelenting questions, and so willing to learn as you go. You had the confidence of someone who’s worked a thousand jobs, who’s met a thousand people that, despite knowing better, I wanted to hire you on the spot.”

Carefully, with your eyes fluttering shut at the tentative touch of your skin, you breathe out, “Suguru, we shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

When your eyes open, you see his gorgeous, tortured eyes fall to your lips and you know what you want. 

Your lips meet his.

This kiss is so similar to the one you shared that night, but oh so new. It seems so long ago now, and when you feel his plush lips devour yours it feels like this is new to both of you and it urges you to push in further. His tongue touches yours and you don’t hesitate to intertwine it, to explore all that he’s laying out for you. 

Gasping for breath, you pull away with little success before he’s grasping the back of your neck and urging you over the desk, kneeing the papers there and hearing the pens and stapler fall to the floor with a dull clatter, you sit onto the desk and you hear his chair slam against the wall when he stands to press himself closer to you. He kisses you again. 

“Things work differently with me,” he says in between pecks to your lips. 

Whilst his mouth moves to your jaw, sucking at the skin by your ear, you giggle. “I know. My sister says you like control. Something about Christian Grey.”

Chuckling in your ear before nipping you there, he admits, “I’m not as insane as him. In truth, I don’t really know what I am, but I know it’s more intense than what most men ask for.”

“That’s okay, Suguru. We can work it out together, step by step.”

He kisses your pulse point. You moan. Goosebumps are rising along your arms; your back is arching to press as much of you closer to him. You’re barely capable of creating a single train of thought, you feel so lightheaded you don’t register how your legs are wrapping around his hips. 

“My smart girl,” Suguru muses against your skin. 

Your legs are wrapped around his hip, pulling him close until you can feel the bulge there push against your core. With a roll of your hips, the zipper of his jeans nudges your bundle of nerves. You gasp. And you seek out that pleasure again with slow, gradual grinds. 

Breathlessly, you say, “Suguru…”

He’s scraping his teeth against your pulse point, one hand kneading your thigh and the other holding himself up. Filling your senses, all you can think about is him and how there’s a growing pressure within that’s dying to be released. 

“Go on, pretty girl. Take what you need.” Tightening your legs around his hips, you grind harder, frustrated that there are layers between you. Your arch your back, chest rubbing against his. Like he knows what you want, his hand finds your breast, squeezing and groping. “No bra? Are you sure you came here to talk, angel?”

When his thumb brushes over your nipple, you cry out, body tightening as that coil inside snaps. You spasm, grinding hastily to draw out your pleasure. It’s much better than you any could have given yourself and you’re addicted. Hand flying to his hair, you thread it through, brushing out his hair tie until his silky hair cascades down.

He groans. 

In a blink of an eye, you’re being pulled and pushed down onto your knees. You grip his thighs, blinking fast as you desperately try to regain your bearings. 

“You’re asking for trouble, sweet thing. Can you handle it?” Suguru asks, a challenge glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. 

You bite your lip, thighs squeezing to subdue the regrowing aching there. With a sudden bravery, your hands make their way up, revelling in the marble like strength in his muscles before they find his zip. 

Hesitating, you feel something holding you back, an instinct within awakening. Awkwardly, you question, “May I?”

His smile widens, surprise flickering in his eyes, and then he’s threading his hands through your hair. It’s a rewarding pat, one full of warmth, and it’s empowering. 

“Such a good girl. You’re a perfect little angel, aren’t you?” He coos. “Of course you may, my pretty girl. Go on, go at your own pace.”

Nodding, you unzip his jeans, tugging it down with his boxers. And what springs out leaves your mouth watering. It’s huge and intimidating. It’s bad enough that he’s well-endowed, but nothing about him is typical. He’s different to the average man in every way. 

Starting with the metal piercing the underside of his dick, emerging through the head. 

Seeing the horrified look on your face, he chuckles, the hair soothing your head delving down to pinch your chin. Unperturbed by your reaction, likely expecting it, he explains, “I got it done a year ago, mostly as a dare. It took around nine weeks to heal and yes, it did hurt.”

“B-but I-I can’t,” you stammer and shake your head, adding, “there’s just n-no way.”

Suguru sighs, thumb grazing your cheek. “You don’t need to. I understand this is too much too soon, but I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You’re more than capable.”

You don’t want to disappoint him. And you want to prove you can do whatever you set your mind to. Recalling one of your sister’s drunken admissions, you know the trick is to pinch your thumb, so you don’t gag, to breathe through your nose and take a little at a time. 

“Okay, okay. I can do it.”

He gathers your hair and keeps them out of the way. Slowly, you wrap your hand around the base, gasping at the way your fingers barely touch. With no particular method in mind, you explore his length, thumb following a vein from bottom to top. He’s hot in your hand, almost burning, and the tip is shining with what you know to be pre-cum. 

It’s pearly white and you can’t wait to know what it tastes like; you lean in and scoop up the drop with your tongue. You both groan. 

Salty, you mull the taste over. It isn’t bad. And suddenly, you no longer feel scared. Your tongue fiddles with the bent metal barbell, surprisingly not minding the cold sensation against your hot tongue. 

“That’s it,” he groans, grip on your hair tightening. 

You widen your jaw, suckling the head, tongue pressing against the slit before it circles around, grinding the barbell back and forth. He groans louder, deep breaths vibrating through the room. 

When you push in further, you make the mistake of doing it too fast. You gag, eyes tearing up. 

“Slowly, pretty. Slowly. There’s no rush, okay?”

Coughing, you nod weakly, feeling embarrassed. Recovering your breath, you go back in, slower. Eventually, you work up a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, taking more and more of him but never quite making it further than halfway. 

Both hands on your head, he soothes your tears away with his thumb before he advises, “Relax your throat, sweet thing. I’ll guide you, is that alright?”

You tap his thighs twice in a yes. 

And then he’s pushing in, more and more until he’s filling your throat, muscles stretching to take him in. Tearing up once more, you mentally swallow that panic rising, the claustrophobia within forcing your nails into his bare thighs. 

“You’re doing so well, angel. So good -ngh- for me, hmm?”

Suguru pulls back, the piercing scraping your tongue. And then he pushes back in. Again and again, he builds up to a rhythm, allowing you to get used to it, before he gives you more of him. 

This is so overwhelming, the feeling of his piercing bumping at the back of your throat, the ache in your jaw at the stretch, and the salty taste filling your senses. All you can see and feel and hear and taste is Suguru. You can’t get enough of him. 

So, when he bottoms out, your lips tickling his skin, your eyes roll to the back of your head just as his do. 

“I’m going to cum, pretty. Do you want to pull out?” He asks, pleasure written all over his face, the veins in his arm bulging at his barely constrained urge to fuck your throat freely. Knowing that he’s so in control, so concerned over you, when he could use you how he pleased, could take what he wants makes you so wet. 

You blink rapidly. 

“No? Are you sure you -ha- can take it? I won’t let you spit it out,” he warns. 

Sucking your cheeks in, you suction him closer. His cock head is rubbing the back of your throat, piercing burning, and with a shallow thrust, he’s cumming down your throat. 

Hot liquid fills your mouth. 

Suguru pulls out and you swallow the thick cream he leaves in your mouth. Your head slumps against his thigh, gasping for breath, heaving like you’ve just ridden a rollercoaster. 

Hands tucking themselves under your arms, he lifts you onto his lap just as he sits back on his chair, boxers pulled up before you even realise what position you’re in now. 

He rubs your back, muttering encouraging words about how perfect you were, how amazing you did, and how he knew you’d do well for him. 

“Open,” he orders, bottom lip pulled down by his thumb. He inspects your mouth and smiles at what he sees. “Good girl.”

And then he’s kissing you, tasting both yours and his essence. 

“No wonder Miguel gave me a funny look when I asked how many piercings you have,” you whisper against his lips, a high pulsing through your veins. 

Suguru chuckles. “He’s a good guy, did all my piercings. Eased all my concerns every time and I knew I wanted him in my studio.”

You nod. 

Your eyes are heavy and you’re hiding your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in, and pondering the change between you. You’ve accepted that you’re entering an unconventional relationship, that he’s going to introduce you to a world none of your friends had seen a glimpse of, but you won’t be navigating it by yourself. 

He’ll lead you just as he had when you first started working here. 

Softly, gently and with so much patience, you’ll be free to stumble as often as you need until you know who you are, what you want, and what you need to be.

“Get some sleep, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

Is the last thing you hear before you fall deeper into sleep in his arms.

[lady-of-endless]

Front Man/Hwang In-ho (player 001) x player!reader headcanons (season 2)

Author's Note: This season cured my writer's block. I'm sorry but I'm down bad for this red flag. I hope you'll enjoy it! Click here for a masterlist because there's more to come.

- He infiltrated the game either to make sure everything goes accordingly, either for a sick wish to mess with the players because he's empty inside (but not for long), or both.

- Unfortunately for "player 001", his charm and manipulation are obvious to you and you're not that pleased to see him getting close to the team you're in. Gi-hun (player 456) team. What could you do? Manipulate the manipulator.

- A game within a game, a calculated and dangerous play. In-ho senses and accepts this indirect challenge from you. He's interested, he feels excitement once again after such a long time.

- However, that's not his priority. He will push away his aroused interest to keep his duties as the Frontman and keep the game going despite Gi-hun's tries to end it.

- But one day, he noticed your mask falling for a moment, a crack in the role you played with him and that got him hooked again. He wondered what it took to break through that facade of yours and see the real you.

- There's a thrilling dance of fake smiles and fascination between you two that no one else sees. Just two capable, trustworthy, charming players.

- In-ho has a very cold but intense gaze, especially when he's shamelessly admiring you. However, you can't tell if he's admiring you or scheming against you.

- When your glass is full, you come up with a plan to corner him and confront him about his intentions with the team, without alarming the others. The plan was flawless in theory. In-ho sensed that something was up from the moment you asked him to join you under the bed bunks for better safety during the night. He complied out of curiosity, with a smirk on his lips. Every plan that's perfect in theory, it's never perfect in practice. The closeness, the intimacy, the tension, and the pent-up frustration all lead to something else entirely. Your planned interrogation switched to pure instincts and denied feelings.

(If you like this idea, let me know, I'll write a one shot)

- Since that night, something has shifted in your dynamic. During the games, it seems that he's trying to... protect you? It was clear to you during the mingle game when he was dragging you forcefully with him no matter the number the speakers announced. You didn't question it, you just followed him. You didn't have a choice; his grip and determination were too strong. God have mercy on those who try to attack you to get inside the room with him. You already saw his impeccable fighting skills so it doesn't surprise you when you see him in action. However, it's shocking when he gets to even drastic measures for you (like eliminating other players, we've seen it).

- In-ho is guilty of many things and one of them is also jealousy. He's subtle with it though.

- There's something unsaid between you two. He doesn't know if it's attachment or not, thinking that he might not be able to feel that again. Especially for you. But he's wrong, and he sees that clearly when, during a risky game, you almost got eliminated. He was about to lose it; his fingers were digging into your skin when he embraced you to "congratulate you." It was more than that. There was something desperate in the way he held him against you and you could feel that.

- At night, after that incident, he tells you his reason for participating in the game. Even though you can't decide if he tells the truth or not, you can see his expression getting vulnerable and his eyes watery nonetheless.

- Since then, whenever he stares at you, he's thinking of a way to take you away from this mess, next to him. He also thinks of ordering the guards secretly, to make some circumstances in your favor during the next games.

[eddies-ashtray]

♡ meet cute.

There’s this alcove out behind the school. It’s deserted and quiet, right around the corner from the outside door to the woodshop. You can normally count on it being empty, a shaded refuge when you need a break during the school day. A secret place to slip away to when things get to be too much.

Once, Daniel Adams was there throwing wood scraps in the dumpster just before the bell signalling the end of second period. But he didn’t disturb you, just went back inside without a second glance. Other than that, it always lacked a population. 

Until today. 

When you round the corner, you see the trade off clear as day; a small pouch of white powder transferred from a heavily ringed hand being swapped for a thick wad of cash. 

The guy receiving the pouch slips it into his jeans pocket before he sees you. Then his green eyes make contact with yours and he books it back down the alley before crashing through the door to the shop. Subtle.

The guy with the cash is left there alone, but seemingly unperturbed by his customers sudden exit. You imagine you might run away too, if you were buying ketamine right behind your school at 11am on a Tuesday. 

You recognize him before his curly head whips around to locate the source of alarm. What other guy at Hawkins High has chipped black nail polish and avoids barbershops? More importantly, who else sells drugs at your school? Eddie’s got that job dominated. 

“Shit.” Is all he says when he spots you there. His tone is flat, deadpan. 

You ignore him in favour of sitting cross-legged on the pavement, gravel crunching beneath your soles before you press your back against cold brick. 

You just want him to go away. To be alone. 

Staring down at your scuffed Chucks, you begin to pull at a loose thread at the bottom of your frayed pant leg, winding it around the tip of your index finger until it turns white, then unwinding it so the blood comes rushing back with warmth. 

When you hear his heavy footfalls, you think maybe your luck hasn’t run out and he might be leaving. But the crunching of gravel does not recede down the alleyway.

Black Doc Martens enter your vision. You stop pulling at the loose thread and stare at the boots for a second before your gaze meanders up to his face. 

“Please don’t tell anyone, alright?” Eddie’s tone is non-threatening and hopeful. 

“Wasn’t gonna.” You shrug, couldn’t care less about the drug habits of the people you go to school with. Or how they acquire said drugs. Who would you tell anyway? The cops? Fuck that. 

Despite the confirmation of your silence Eddie stays put, feet shuffling across gravel, rocks scraping beneath the thick soles. 

You avert your gaze, will your voice not to break when you say, “Will you please just go?” But it betrays you, cracking just slightly on the final syllable. As your teeth dig into your bottom lip, you hope he doesn’t notice. 

Eyes burning and staring intently at a triangle-shaped pebble, you hold your breath, think, don’t say it, don’t say it, please don’t say it. 

“Are you okay?” 

Fuck.

Unwillingly, your face crumples and you bury it in your hands, face warming from being watched as you break down. Tears stream down your face silently, thick and hot as they wet your palms and slide down your wrists. 

There’s the crunch of gravel again, but he isn’t walking away like you expected anyone might. Who’d want to stick around with a stranger having an emotional breakdown? 

But then you feel warmth at your side as he crouches down and leans against the wall beside you, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. 

Any remaining energy you had has been spent on your short exchange with him, so you have none left to plead with him anymore. But as the tears keep coming and your shoulders keep shaking, you find that you don’t mind his presence so much. He doesn’t touch you or invade your space in any way, doesn’t ask why you’re crying or try to stop it. 

Eddie just sits with you. Stares out at the swaying trees in the forest beyond the school and silently sits. Even though your skin isn’t touching it’s like he’s holding your hand. 

While you never bought into any of the rumours you’d heard whispered about him in the corridors, you were never completely sure of his kindness. Though now you see he wears his eccentricities as armour. It seems Eddie is softer than the tough iron of his armor would suggest. 

His motives now are clear: he doesn’t want to leave you alone in the state you’re in. Which is more kindness than anyone at this school has ever shown you. 

In actuality, it’s the most attention anyone at this school has ever shown you. Unlike Eddie, you’re mostly just ignored, left alone. Eddie isn’t going to let that happen now. 

The pair of you are probably quite the sight. And not just because you’re openly sobbing next to him. The Freak and the Loner Girl. If you were seen together you’re sure your bored peers would have some more rumours to spread. 

When your tears dry up and you’re left with a snotty nose and dry eyes, you look out at the forest in silence with him. Staring out blanky at the shedding foliage, your breathing slows and the wind whistles. The wind kissing your cheeks is strangely comforting. Or maybe it’s just Eddie. 

In your periphery, you see him shift as he pulls his ringed hand out of the pocket of his jacket. Eddie–who you’ve only just noticed smells really good, like leather and fresh rain–shoves his hand beneath the leather to dig around in an inside pocket. 

For one silly, brief moment you think he might be about to offer you a small pouch of white powder. 

Then he pulls his hand out. It’s a tissue. 

Eddie Munson is offering you a tissue. 

The metalhead keeps tissues in his jacket. And drugs. But also tissues. 

Looking from the tissue to him, Eddie gives you a soft reassuring smile. You take it from him gingerly. “Thank you.” 

Eddie nods shortly. “Yeah.”

“You, um, you didn’t have to sit with me,” you say once you’ve wiped your nose clean, looking at him fully for the first time since you broke down. His eyes are so dark. You’ve never been close enough to notice until now. 

“I know.” A beat of silence follows his sweet sincerity where all you can hear is the sound of the trees gently whooshing in the wind. “But I’ve seen you around. You’re alone a lot.” 

“Oh.” He’s seen you around? 

“You don’t deserve to be, by the way,” he adds quickly. “Especially not…now.” 

You look away with a small smile and a soft breath through your nose. Though his delivery is a little awkward, the sentiment causes warmth to flood your chest. 

“Right,” you reply, chuckling a little as you meet his eyes again. When he smiles this time, a dimple pops into his cheek. Pretty eyes and dimples?

Smacking his thighs resolutely, Eddie pushes himself up off the pavement to stand in front of you, offers you his hand. You stare up at him, your own hands twitching in your lap, buzzing with anticipation. 

“C’mon,” Eddie prompts, nodding his head to the side. “Let’s go.” 

“Where?” 

“Anywhere you wanna go.” 

Drawing your lip into your mouth, you chew on it contemplatively. 

You don’t have to think long about your answer. Why on Earth would you stay here and wallow when this sweet, kind boy with melted chocolate for eyes is offering you his hand?

[vqler]

Stuck?

Zenless Zone Zero [switches Seth/Wise]

a/n: for one and only @wertzunge. happy belated birthday once again! your santa nicely showed me your wishlist a few days ago, so i decided to experiment a little. hope you'll enjoy ദ്ദി• ˕ •マ.ᐟ

ps: some tickly art under keep reading. i was writing it in a wildly sleepy condition, so forgive me mistakes brothers and sisters ________________________________

Night. Tail. A fluffy, large tail flickered back and forth. Back and forth... Almost hypnotizing a random passerby, who turned out to be Proxy’s Phaeton. Wise thoughtfully watched it, as well as the lower half of the body sticking out right from the wall.

“Ugh... Come on!... How…” an annoyed male muffled voice sounded from the other side reached Wise's ears. Although even without the voice it was clear who got into such an... interesting situation.

“How?..” Wise repeated, and Seth's tail, stuck in the wall, instantly wagged stronger.

“W-Wise! Manager, is that you?!” Seth rejoiced, slapping his palms on the wall from his side. He recognized his friend, but then continued sadly, “ugh, can't hear well. My ears are on the other side of this problem... Hopefully, it’s you.”

"Right, it's me, but...." Wise raised an eyebrow, looking at the fidgeting butt of the wall's victim, "...are you sure it's a good idea to rest in this hole instead of doing your night duty?"

If only he could hear the heaviness of the sigh on the other side, he would probably run out of air in his lungs himself.

"You may think this is absurd, but... it's all a cat."

"A cat?”, either not hearing, or not believing, Wise asked in bewilderment.

"Yes, a cat! White!"

"..."

"Not me," the policeman hastened to clarify, realizing that he was only burying himself deeper in a... hole. "A street cat was running here. It stopped next to me while I was on patrol, and seemed to want something. Well, I leaned towards it... And then it snatched my walkie-talkie."

Wise blinked with an idiotic expression on his face, listening intently to Seth's wagging tail.

"I tried to take it away, but it wasn't easy. After a couple of minutes of chasing, the cat saw this same hole and jumped through it. So this is how I..."

"Don't tell me you thought you would slide through this hole. With your sizes."

Seth went silent for a moment.

"It happened instinctively," the only thing he managed to mumble as an excuse.

Wise nodded understandingly, forgetting that the other one couldn't see him. He looked around and noticed that there was no end to the wall on either side. No wonder that Seth didn't go around — the cat would've long ago disappeared into the shelter, disassembled the radio into parts and reassembled it several times.

"And here I thought there should've been racial solidarity between you two."

"We are completely different species!" Seth shook himself and then sighed again: "Could you call Zhu Yuan or... anyone?"

“Sorry, I forgot my phone at home,” for some reason he wanted to lie and see what else would come of it.

“Oh? How so?! W-well... Then take it from my pants.”

So he did. Not as Seth expected though.

"W-Wise! It's in the back pocket!" the catman fidgeted from offbeat sensations when Wise tried to feel for the phone in the side pockets, and even somewhere in front.

"Ah, right," not feeling particularly guilty Wise moved his hand from the sides to his lower back muscles. And yet not here, since the outline of the phone was clearly visible and far from the proxy's cunning fingers. As his hand traveled down poor Lowell's backside, Wise felt a twitch and a puff every now and then. At first, he only found it cute, but along the way he quickly realized what was what, and came up with a plan.

"Tell me, hypothetically... If I called for help, but a little later? Would it be?.."

"...a violation of the law by a citizen in relation to another? Especially to someone who is a representative of the Security Service and who desperately needs help?" he somehow enthusiastically recalled. Seth loved rules. And he unconditionally loved to obey them, as well as subject others to them.

"Right. Would it be?.."

Seth would have gladly answered, but instead of words, a groan escaped his tongue. Wise moved his hand a little lower and tickled the root of the tail, while the other hand was playfully pinching his hips, as if "trying to find something". Seth, who was barely standing on his toes, instinctively tried to move away, but only pressed himself harder into the hole in the wall.

"Y-yes! Wise, aha- hahaha, please!" he already howled embarrassedly, twisting in another and senseless attempt to escape from captivity. "And... such actions are unacceptable!.. I can equate them to... to..."

"Harassment!" Wise jokingly exclaimed in a deliberately serious tone, and then began to actively tickle Seth right under the ribs.

Explosive feelings. Loud laughter and the thud of fists hitting the wall came from the other side of the hole. Seth wriggled as best he could, and if friction hadn’t gotten in the way, he might have slipped out by now, since any caught fish could learn such hardcore fidgeting.

"Yes!!.. Aha- HAHAhaHahaaa! Stah- thihis instant!!" Oh, how adorably pleasant this unknown laughter sounded to Wise's ears.

"Don't worry, Seth. I'm not doing anything unlawful. Just trying to help." Wise grinned and squeezed his sides upper, almost digging into the hole in a way to his armpits. Still, it was too tight. "Who knows when others will come if I call them. We can get you out with our own efforts!"

Seth continued to fidget and laugh desperately, but the mention of his own efforts tugged at his workaholic streak. He never liked to be a burden to anyone, and was always a hard worker, so he mentally agreed that he could try his best here too. But these thoughts were somewhere too deep, and it was they who stopped the rookie officer from yet another appeal to the law. On the surface of his emotions, Seth wanted to kill Wise.

"Yohou'll pay for thihis!!"

"Sure," Wise smiled to himself and went for the thighs. Seth’s body was almost built for squeezing everything in it, as Wise thought. And, fortunately, absolutely everything was incredibly ticklish for him, at least right now, when he couldn't even predict the next move of his "rescuer".

"By the way, Seth…" Wise started, looking down at the very enticingly standing flimsy feet. "I actually haven't seen you without gloves before. Do your hands and feet look like paws by chance?"

A blush spread hotly across his face, filling every pore with an embarrassment the guy had never known before. Seth understood where this dialogue was going and was momentarily horrified at the thought that he would have to go through tickling in the spot he himself can't touch without shaking. "Regular human feet, I swear! You don't have to check!"

Obviously, Wise wasn't satisfied with this answer. Or maybe, on the contrary, he was more than satisfied? In any case, he felt the need to take off those shoes and check properly. First, by teasingly sliding there with one finger, and then briskly wiggling with the rest to the accompaniment of confused laughter, squeals and wall shaking... Of course, in the name of salvation.

~~~

Next day, Wise didn't receive any papers or messages about reporting to Security. Instead, Security came for him.

"Manager Wise is awake?" Seth asked his yawning little sister, who was just coming down from the second floor of the video rental store she and her brother shared.

Glancing at the Security officer in surprise, Belle took a step back, finding a higher step with her foot.

"Wise! What have you done tonight?! Here…"

"Thank you," Seth nodded briefly to the slightly frightened girl and went upstairs.

The open door obviously led to his sister's room, which meant there was another one. Seth walked in unceremoniously, and finding Wise just awake and confused by Seth's arrival, he defiantly took out handcuffs, to which Wise reacted with a frisky jump, as if he had been stung by a dozen bees in one soft spot.

"Seth! Are you seriously going to arrest me?!"

Wise was almost ready to tear out his hair: how could this be? Is this the end? He, of course, expected that sooner or later Seth would find out about something that he should have, but to repeat the scenario drawn in his head just because of a child's prank?.. Not even that. Because of helping a friend in need out of the kindness of his heart?!

While Wise was clutching his head, rethinking his moments of connection with Seth, the officer had already managed to handcuff him.

"Not a step. I came to punish you." Seth's voice was firm, it was unclear whether it was fake or sincere. The only thing that Wise understood very well now was that frowning Seth looked extremely cute. "Justice will prevail, and you have the right… uhm, only to remain silent… if it will be possible in your situation, of course," stretching out the words, Seth was speaking very closely to Wise's ear, almost running his nose over the guy's cheek. He placed his hand on Wise's stomach and dived under the longsleeve, suddenly tickling the belly of the detainee.

That's when Wise was struck by lightning. So this is what kind of punishment he had in mind! Well, of course, Seth was his friend. Be that as it may, he was sure that this Thiren still values kindness above the letter of the law. But still, now he wondered if a fate worse than arrest awaited him. The idea of being tickled by the cat's claws gave Wise an army of goosebumps and a cold sweat down his back.

"S-Seth! You don't have to do this! I swear, I only wanted to help!" Wise muttered confusedly, backing away, but Seth held the chain of handcuffs tightly. Without waiting for an answer, Proxy rushed wherever his eyes directed him, because of which the officer was taken aback and almost fell, but never let go of the handcuffs, running after the scoundrel.

"Stop right there! You'll only make it worse for yourself if you keep resisting!" Seth shouted, chasing and tickling Wise all the way, until his victim tripped over his own foot and loudly fell to the floor.

"Seth, haha! HAhaHahahAaa!! I'm sohorry, I- ahapologize! HAHAHA!~"

It was the moment when he found it ironic that got the right to remain silent, since for the next twenty minutes of his punishment the entire neighborhood could hear Wise fighting loudly, through laughter and tears, to actually gain that right. Well, deep down he knew he deserved it. Maybe not even that deep.

[annabelle--cane]

one of my pet passions for s4 is trying to figure out the exact timeline of when jon forced statements out of people, and I can never be quite sure whether the first one was between 123-124 or 124-125.

points in favor of the former: in 123 he mentions being two days out of a coma and already feeling tired, so presumably he hadn't properly fed yet and was not firing on all cylinders, meaning he would be Humgry. also, he'd probably need to go shopping to replace what got lost in the flesh attack fairly quickly after getting back, leading him to come into contact with the unfortunate cleaner. that would also make sense with what he says in 124 about simon fairchild being "an evil man tormenting and killing simply for his own pleasure, and to feed the power that sustains him," it sounds like he's projecting a bit.

points in favor of the latter: he ends 124 with that very cold conversation with martin, and having his last potential avenue for warm human contact so decisively cut off is probably as good a motive as any for going out and soul-sucking someone. it isn't until 125 that he says he finally feels "focused and ready," and his musings about the slaughter and free will are clearly pointed, particularly this bit:

I’m not sure what scares me more: the idea that deep down, everyone is in complete control of their actions, that everything is, on some level, intentional; or that ultimately we don’t have any control of ourselves at all, and the rest is just… rationalization

but that doesn't necessarily mean he took his first victim directly before this, it might have been a little while. my main point against this theory is that he takes another victim directly after melanie gets him with the scalpel, and that just seems super quick between feedings, like maybe two days, which feels like a Lot.

thoughts?

[pregobirthlvr]

4, cage⛓️, 4 (extremely slow labor), 4 (agonizing), 3 (owner), 5 (birth in cage), 1 (laying down), 1 (head first), 3 (brutal birth), birth denial, 3rd POV

The Cage is a Bit too Small

Word count: 2008

Her huge belly pressing into the bars of her cage as she laid on her side. She was pregnant at full term with 4 babies inside her, and now the cage was becoming far too small. The cage wasn’t very big to begin with, in truth it was a slightly larger dog cage, but it used to be just big enough for her to lay down.

She groaned out as she felt another contraction begin. The pain began to radiate through her abdomen. It made her grip at the bars around her. Her head then fell back as her groans turned into whines and panting breaths.

She had no idea how long she was in labor. The contractions felt like they had been happening forever. In truth, the contractions started last night and now it was almost time for dinner. Since she didn’t know the exact time her owner just went off when he discovered her laboring away in her cage. He claims she’s been in labor for 18 hours.

Once her owner knew she was in labor, he continued to come and check on her frequently during the day. Each time she begged him to let her out of the cage to birth her baby. And each time he denied her request. Claiming, “Good girls should be able to birth in their cage. Excited even.”

Her owner came around just as her latest contraction ended. She looked up at him over her huge belly and through the bars of her cage.

“I think it’s time to push,” She moaned out.

“Not yet,” Her owner said. “You don’t push until I tell you.”

She went to protest but he just kicked the cage to shut her up. She flinched which triggered another contraction. She attempted to swing her belly up so she was laying flat on her back. It proved to be quite difficult, she barely moved before her contraction was at its peak. She stopped trying to adjust and just focused on getting through the pain in her belly and the aggressive need to push.

She continued to try and lay on her back. With each attempt she would almost get the right amount of moment and leverage before a contraction would force her back to panting and clamping her legs shut. Each time left her more exhausted than the last.

She almost had lost hope before her owner appeared in front of her again.

“Need some help,” he asked, kneeling down to talk to her.

“Please!” She begged, she grabbed at the bars between them and groaned as the next contraction started.

He chuckled watching her struggle to not push, her whole body shaking. He opened the door to the cage just as the contraction reached its peak. He placed his hand under her contracting belly.

“Okay try and sit up,” Her owner ordered.

She looked at him in a panic. She was mid contraction and tried her hardest to keep a baby inside, but she knows this might be her only chance. She screams out as she heaves her massive frame up. Her owner's hands were just the trick to get her all the way on her back.

She was gasping for air by the end of it. The weight of her belly pinned her down to the floor of the cage. The pain in her back was doubled from the pressure of her massive belly.

“Push with your next contraction,” Her owner instructed, ignoring her grunts of pain from adjusting.

She didn't have to wait long before the next contraction started. She braced herself and pushed hard. The first of her four babies began to stretch her vagina open. Her owner watched intently, telling her which contractions she was allowed to push with and which she had to breathe through. The noise she let out when the head finally reached the largest point was that of a tortured animal. She was still allowed to push so she did, until the head popped free with a gush of fluid.

“Okay breathe through the next one,” Her owner said.

“Yes, Sir,” She mumbled.

She did as she was told and breathed through the next contraction. She could feel the baby turning inside her. She took a deep breath when the contraction finally began to taper off. She looked over at her owner and he nodded, signaling it was okay to push again. She did just that, the next contraction had barely started and she was already pushing the baby out. The rest of the baby came sliding out with the last hard push. Her owner lifted the baby up for her to see then set it in a bassinet nearby.

Now that the baby was out she could feel how exhausted she was and how much her pussy stung. Her belly had deflated slightly and the pressure on her back was a little better. Yet she was still pinned to the floor of the cage but the three babies that were still inside her.

She didn’t have to wait long after her first baby before the second was already starting to make its way down. The water for the second baby suddenly broke after a fairly nasty contraction.

“You can push, just don’t let the head pop free until I tell you to,” Her owner said after seeing her water pool underneath her.

She wasn’t able to answer him due to the increasing pain from her contraction. She was thankful she now at least knew what she was doing. She braced herself and pushed hard. The baby only slid down an inch. She collapsed back, trying to catch her breath before the next one.

She pushed again and again, With each contraction the baby moved little by little into her abused birth canal. Until she could start to feel the head being to part her pussy lips. She let out a loud whine and tried to stop herself from pushing.

“I can’t stop it,” she cried out. “My body won’t stop pushing.”

Her owner shook his head, “I can help keep it in. You just focus on stopping your pushing.”

He placed a hand over her opening. The baby came to a halt. She could feel herself push but it was doing nothing. He held her like this for a handful of contractions. Her body strained to get the baby out. Her back arching off the floor of her cage with each contraction that swelled inside her. She was already so tired from her first baby, she wished her owner would let her push this one out so she can rest before the other two.

When her owner finally felt like she behaved enough he began to slowly remove his hand from her pussy. The head immediately began to spread her open. She cried out and pushed hard. It took a few contractions but finally the head was at a full crown. It stretched her even further open from this baby being slightly larger than the last.

“The head… it’s almost..” She grunted out.

With one big push the head sprung free. She couldn’t wait for the next contraction before she was screaming the rest of the baby out. The rest of the baby slid out of her with ease.

“I can’t…” She gasped out. Years had started to stream down her face. “I can't do another”

“You have no choice,” her owner said unapologetically. “You still have two more in you that are going to come out whether you want it or not.”

She did have time to respond. Her third water broke before her second baby was even in the bassinet. She screamed when her next contraction built up. She was pushing as soon as it started. She was focused on getting this baby out as fast as possible. She bore down again and again, screaming, crying and begging for it to be over.

Her owner's constant presence between her legs was a reminder of why she was doing this. She was to give birth again and again for him until she could no longer. She couldn’t think about this too long, the head of her third baby was now starting to exit her pussy.

“It's coming,” She grunted out as she pushed.

The head slid forward until it was at its largest point. It wasn’t much bigger than the last but still managed to open her up as wide as she could go. She pushed again, the head bursting free. Then with another push a moment later the body followed.

With only one baby left inside her, her belly was now significantly smaller. It looked like a half deflated balloon. She rubbed the small bump that was left there.

“Just one more…” She let out breathlessly.

Enough time passed that she was able to catch her breath and relax just a little. With the pain from the contractions on the lower end she was unfortunately finally able to feel how bad her pussy ached. She flinched just a moment ago when she tried to readjust herself. Now she was trying to lay as still as possible, to not hurt herself further, and just wait for the last baby.

A few moments later she felt her last water break. Then she felt the pain of the last of her contractions start to ramp up again. She was too exhausted to get too worked up. She swayed her hips from side to side and let out deep moans. Her hand continued to rub her belly as a desperate attempt for some comfort. It didn’t take much for her to notice the baby was much bigger than all the last as it weighed heavily in her pelvis. Tears started to flow from her eyes when the baby’s head entered her birth canal.

Her legs limply hung open while she pushed. The baby was taking its time to emerge. The head was still only half way out and she was already on the verge of passing out. She let out a deep whine and when her latest contraction ended.

Her owner looked at her, “You have to keep pushing. I know it feels like it's stuck but it’ll come out.”

“Too tired,” She slurs out.

“Push.” Her owner commanded not wanting to hear her say another word.

She let out a sob and pushed hard with her contraction. The baby moved forward slightly. She pushed again and again. Until finally the baby's head was at her entrance.

“Don’t stop,” your owner orders. He starts to prod at her opening hole.

She could barely answer, instead settling on pushing again. The head was now starting to come out. With the end of her birth now in sight, she now has some new found energy. She pushed hard again with the next contraction. The head managed to move pretty quickly, but slowed down when the head began to stretch her already worn out pussy.

She screamed bloody murder as the head continued to come out of her red and swollen pussy. It burned the whole time she pushed. At a full crown her pussy was on the verge of splitting apart. She tried to not think about it as her body forced her to push again.

With one good push the head flung out. Her owner screamed for her to continue. So, she didn’t stop pushing. She screamed and pushed again and again to get the body out quickly. Her whole body shaking as the last of her baby slid free from her pussy.

She collapsed inside her cage. Birth fluid and sweat covered her body. Tear tracks ran down both her cheeks. She grimaced as the pain in her body caught up with her. Her pussy and muscles ached. She could barely sit up from being so exhausted. Her mouth was dry from screaming for so long. She didn’t even get a chance to meet her babies before she fully passed out.

Then not even 3 months later she was already showing for her next batch of babies.

[biibini]

steady eyes ‧ ♡*.✧

instances of mizu staring at you

tags: modern!mizu x f!reader, nsfw, more brat/teasing reader, eye contact, taigen frat bro makes another appearance, public teasing, sweet talk + dirtyyyy talk, neck kisses, mizu strapped asf

a/n: got inspired by this post analyzing her smiles… but like in a more silly way :P reqs coming out soon once im back home from break!

18+ content ahead!

modern!mizu loves to stare at you, whether its intentional or not

a quick glance or a longing, enamored gaze

during the first few dates with you, she would end up looking at you, her eyes slowly flicking up & down, a few times throughout the night

ima be honest she does the triangle method without even realizing it: look at left eye, lips, and then right eye

with the nerves and all, you ended up pointing it out and asked

“Is there something on my face?”

Mizu’s eyes met yours across the dining table, now alert and somewhat confused.

“What?”

“I asked if there’s something on my face.”, you repeated.

“Oh… um… there’s nothing.”, she responded with uncertainty.

Mizu looked down again, as her cheeks began to warm up. Thankfully, the flickering table candles shielded her flushed face.

“You just…look so beautiful.”

after that, you start to notice how long she stares at your lips without her even realizing it

modern!mizu has gotten caught staring at you when you change

not in a creepy way but more in a ‘wow my girlfriend looks so good’ way

when you pass by, she loves to place her hand around your hip, pulling you just a little closer to her

“Mizu! I need to go to class.”

“Mmhmm.”, she says, lazily reaching out, barely pulling your hips closer to her.

It just so happened that the space between the closet and the bathroom was close to Mizu’s side of the bed.

“Let goooo, or I’ll be late.”, you playfully argued as the feeling of her grip loosened.

You hear her groan, slowly stirring away. As nice it would be to sleep in and cuddle with Mizu until the late morning, you unfortunately needed to lock into this class.

And unfortunately leave Mizu behind.

While doing your skincare, you feel a pair of eyes staring at you from your side. You wipe your face with a towel, hoping to find that it was nothing but an after thought.

Nope. Not at all.

You find Mizu half awake, lazily watching you get ready. You smile, ushering her to go back to sleep.

“Honey, I’m just getting ready. Just stay in bed.”

She nods in response, yet still continues to watch you prepare for the day. Today’s class was more formal than usual due to the 2 guests speakers. That meant looking somewhat put together and somewhat professional.

With some combing and styling and face beating, you were able to leave your hair looking put together, almost ready for a professional interview. The last part was putting on your clothes.

At this point, Mizu was awake than ever, now sitting upright, watching her pretty girl get ready for class.

“Need help?”, Mizu asked, hoping to help with a button or two.

You come over to the bed, half naked with only underwear and a button-up on.

“Do you mind helping me button my shirt? I really need to rush out soon.”

Mizu quietly sat up on the bed, now on her knees to be able to button your top, hiding away the small marks she had made the night before. As you zipped up the long skirt, Mizu places her lips, leaving gentle kisses by the nape of your neck.

“You look…”

A soft peck.

“so good and…”

Another soft peck.

“honey, smell so good.”

Yeah, forget about going to class to find the optimal spot. You were barely late by 30 seconds, arriving in a swift rush of adrenaline from a quick pre-lecture make out session.

modern!mizu ‘s eyes tend to wander a lot too

in public, it’s mainly small glances to your face, chest, maybe behind from time to time…

she thinks she’s slick, casually checking out her girl, making sure she’s all safe and totally not glancing for something… right?

wrong!

you’re aware of this too btw.

that’s why you didn’t wear anything underneath before a party one night.

it was the usual house party hosted by taigen and his brothers: loud, obnoxious, great music to deafen everyone to the point where you need to speak into each others ears just to hear one another

typically, mizu and you would arrive a bit early with ringo, help set up, chill in the living room, and then leave when akemi got too tired or bored

this night, the living room ended up being the epicenter of the party, forcing you to sit atop of mizu’s lap with nothing but a top and a short, flowy skirt.

it wasn’t too tight or revealing. however, when sat on, it proved otherwise.

You sunk into Mizu’s lap as she lays back on the couch, sitting comfortably atop of her, letting your arm wrap behind her. As you planted yourself atop, Mizu felt something otherwise. Besides the feeling of your side wrapped by her arm, a warmth started to ignite atop of her lap.

Mizu looks down, finding your skirt lifted towards her, and a lack of a panty strap. Or any kind of strap at all.

Flustered, she immediately flipped your skirt down, shielding your hidden secret away from others. With a free hand, she pulls your leg close, caressing up and down your thigh. You feel the ridges of her hand stroke up and down your thigh, inching closer to your heated epicenter. Although her hand strokes were soft and gentle, the latter hand proved otherwise. You feel her grip on your hip tighten, sending one clear message to you: she knows and loves your little surprise.

You pull yourself closer to Mizu, staying at earshot distance as the beats thumped against the walls, the yells and noise of the crowd blended into a white noise.

“Like what you feel?”, you whispered into her ear, slyly shifting back and forth against her pants.

No one but her noticed the feeling. Everyone else was minding their own business.

Mizu’s mind can handle pressure. It has worked well countless of times on the road, at school, against Taigen, or in any other dangerous situations. It’s totally not the most ideal thing to control when her girlfriend is being a tease in public.

Her grip on your thighs now tighten, attempting to stay calm. The heat of her palm keeps your legs together, safe in her grip. Her hand by your hip pulls you close, your ears now in range of her voice.

“Do you want to test me?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”, she scoffs, playfully mocking your response, “I’m not sure that’s the right answer, honey.”

You feel her grip on your thigh inch upward, practically centimeters away from your throbbing entrance. She then pulls back, tapping on your thigh as a signal to get off.

You stand up, carefully pulling down your skirt around the others who were too deep into n their own conversations, or too deep in each others throats. Right behind you stood Mizu, one casually placed hand by your hip, and the other more carefully gripping your ass check, giving it a firm squeeze before the leaving the party.

“Let’s figure it out back at home, hmm?”

after getting fucked out all night, i think you’ve learned your lesson with her

from getting fingered in the backseat to filled on the bed to moaning out her name as she ate you out, you promised yourself to never tease her that much ever again

unless you wanted to see god

modern!mizu ‘s eye contact during sex is intense

especially when you’re below her, taking her all in, she’s focused on observing your reaction

she can’t help but stare

and maybe the way your boobs jiggle is another factor too

You feel her eyes glaze down your body, ocean blue eyes taking in the sight of you getting fucked out by none other than a strap of hers. She easily penetrates you again, swiftly entering, lubricated by your liquids. She fills you up, her grip on your waist tightening from how wet you are, your cum smeared all over her thighs.

You groan out her name, grasping onto the sheets with every thrust. Looking up, you meet her gaze, orbs shimmering a light blue against the moonlight. She swiftly enters you again, fully enveloping in your throbbing mess, making your back arch in response. You feel her eyes stay glued to your body, as she rapidly sped up each thrust, further exploring every inch of your insides.

“M-Mizu…”, you moan as she continued to drill your insides.

“Mm, hon, you’re doing so well”, she cooed, cupping one of your boobs with your hands, her grip now loosening on your waist.

You feel her thrusts slow a little, as she gently began to squeeze the softness, her palm warming up against your hardened nipple. Her thumb caresses it, softening the surrounding skin with a circular motion. She enters you deeply, every thrust making the boob in her hand bounce without any handiwork.

Mizu curses to herself, still in awe of how beautiful you are as she watches your reaction, listening to every groan and moan hoping to milk out of you throughout the night.

modern!mizu enjoys waking up earlier than you

everything is at peace when you’re asleep

if you’re more of a heavy sleeper, she doesn’t mind watching over you while quietly sipping some morning tea

if you’re more of a light sleeper, she’ll attempt to slip away with without waking u up. if u do end up stirring awake, she’d tell u to go back to sleep, promising to come back soon

no matter how messy you may look, she likes the peace and quiet whenever she gets the chance to buy breakfast in bed for you two

either way, she’ll be quietly watching over you until you arise :)

[franollie]

do you personally think that fandom brings up misogyny unnecessarily and even when it has nothing to do with the issue at hand?

like some people get up and arms if you don’t ship batcat or brutalia (you’re not obligated to like anything for any reason) or if you ship bruce with someone else this topic will come up for whatever reason even though when there are actual instances of blatant misogyny in fandom and it’ll go fully ignored by these same people.

a point of bruce’s romance is to establish that he can’t really be endgame with any one person so i personally ship him freely. i don’t know why fandom is so obsessed with tokenizing certain shippers as certain prejudices when i’m sure that they genuinely have never interacted with said shipper one on one in their entire life

sorry for taking so long on this i have a LOT of thoughts on the topic

ok so in short: yes, i do think fandom loves to cry misogyny.

that being said, fandom operates in a blatantly misogynistic way (see how in large fandom favors men over women regardless of whether or not that man had more or less screen time than the woman). misogyny in fandom is a very real thing, but it is more a fandom as a whole problem than an individual problem. the only way the problem of misogyny in fandom can be solved is by actually engaging with the women in whatever franchise you're enjoying (writing for them, making art, reblogging art, writing metas, etc). show them the same amount of love that you show other characters

with that in mind, it is also important to note that sometimes you just don't gel with a ship or a character. i agree that people are drawn to certain dynamics and relationships, and you are allowed to ship what you ship. let's take the brutalia/batcat v bruharvey/batjokes because they are similar in dynamic (batman and one of his rogues). it wouldn't be fair to call a bruharvey or batjokes shipper a misogynist just because they don't ship brutalia or batcat. now, if they ship batjokes but hate talia for killing, then you could play the misogyny card. really it's just a matter of how you specific people interact with characters. i think a better example of this is superbat v clois.

i'm gonna try and stay as unbiased and objective as possible because superbat fans scare me lmao but a lot of the criticisms for superbat are about how it ships these characters at the expense of their relationships specifically with the women in their lives. to be even more specific, clark's relationship with lois. it isn't fair to say that "all superbat shippers are misogynist because they ignore lois" because i don't know why every superbat shipper ships superbat. maybe superbat is nostalgic to someone because they grew up reading justice league comics or the world's finest comics, maybe they haven't read or watched that much stuff with lois/clois in it, maybe they just think the idea of superbat is fun, who knows what the reasoning is. the problems really arise when they begin to change lois's personality and character to fit their ship whether it's by writing her as some bitchy ex of clarks or as a "girlboss who doesn't need a man and is superbat's biggest shipper uwu".

i do think when it comes to comic book fandoms in particualr there is another added layer of fandom superiority when it comes to shipping where there are the "correct" ships and the "incorrect" ships. but that's a whole other topic for another day

just to reiterate: fandom misogyny is a very real problem (look at the top 10 ships on ao3 for the past 5 years and that becomes abundantly clear) but the only way to combat it is by actually creating and sharing works positively featuring the women you like.

[14dayswithyou]

no way you dropped the biggest river lore in the tags and moved on like it was nothing 😭 can i ask if this is still your intentions with him? bc it sounds like you changed your mind halfway 🤔

im ngl though i really enjoy how ren and river are similar and different to each other, but does that mean river would hurt his angel but leave our friends alone the same way ren would never hurt his angel but would unalive all of our friends? since they're suppose to be each other opposites. i really hope this makes sense 😬 my final question is what is ren doing on thursday? i want to go on a cute pier date again 🩷🌸

@secretkoa asked: and can i hear more about what unsent memory is suppose to be about or is that off limits? idk if i asked this in my previous question so ignore me if i did! thank yuo and remember to drink lots of water 🐸🌱

⌞♥⌝ For those who haven't seen the original post, I want to quickly clarify once more that while River was originally my OC, he's since been picked up and revamped by my friend Jesse/@unsentmemory!!

However, now that Jesse has stepped away from the yandere community, River's fate (and da fate of Unsent Memories) has kinda been put on the sidelines for the foreseeable future.

‼️ Massive Unsent Memories and River spoilers under the cut ‼️ CW for: mentions of gore, torture, mutilation, self-harm, etc.

With all of that being said, yes, Jesse's original intention for River was for him to be your standard "serial killer-turned-yandere once he accidentally catches feelings for his latest victim (Bunny)". The only main difference is that I originally planned for River to be a generic murderer first, whereas Jesse had him become a yandere right off the bat.

You also asked to know more about Unsent Memories, and I think giving a general synopsis(?) would be fine?? ^^ But basically... After getting involved in a car accident, Bunny wakes up with amnesia and gets tricked into thinking that this random guy — whom they've never met before — is their loving, supportive boyfriend named River. In turn, he convinces Bunny that staying in their shared home would be more beneficial than staying in the hospital as it might rekindle some old memories, he'd be able to take care of them, and it would be easier for them to recover at their own pace. But surprise!! River is actually a frequent patron at the Murderer Motel™ and now has trapped Bunny in his Torture Basement®!!! <3 He also maaaay or may not've been the one who hit them with Ren's car as well... ^^ Oopsie daisy hehe

And yeah!! Similar to what you've said, River was also supposed to share (somewhat of) a narrative foil with Ren!! I personally wanted them both to have similar, complimenting vibes with each other — all while having completely different/separate motives and incentives when it comes to the object of their affection. I'm glad to see it was conveyed well enough; even after Jesse's additions to River's characterisation :3 I know I already shared some examples in the previous tags, but I can share a few more:

Where Ren puts Angel's feelings and opinions above his own, River purposefully ignores Bunny's and does everything for his own personal benefit. Essentially, "I'm doing this for you" vs "I'm doing this for me".

While Ren would never dream about harming Angel in any capacity, he's perfectly happy to kidnap, extort, torture, and kill everyone else... In contrast to River, who's accustomed to torturing and brutalising others for his own twisted enjoyment and sees it as a way to show his interest in Bunny.

Kinda silly how Ren claims to be a freelance programmer (but is actually a hacker) and how River claims to work at a music shop (it's a coverup for his second torture chamber lmaoooo).

[CW: implications of SH] Ren is willing to go as far as mentally and physically hurting himself if Angel asks him to, whereas River is willing to physically mutilate Bunny if it means keeping them by his side. [end CW]

With that being said, you can assume that Ren is easily swayed by Angel's words, opinions, and emotions, whereas River can easily sway and manipulate Bunny due to his own feelings and emotions.

This is something I've actually mentioned before, but Ren always prefers things to be tidy, so he often cleans himself up after disposing of his victims. Compared to River, who casually wears the bloodstains with pride and blames it on getting a bit rough with someone else during a boxing match.

It's no secret that Ren is willing to change every aspect of himself to earn Angel's love, and River is willing to change his serial killer ways to return Bunny's love. Da power of friendship and repressed childhood memories gksdgjh T_T /silly

Ren pretends to be a Normal Guy© with tons of empathy to spare, whereas River pretends to be a Regular Person℗ with the heart of a himbo.

I could go on but you get da point lol

So, yeah!! This is essentially the vibes we had planned for River (and Unsent Memories) before Jesse stepped down /pos ^^ I feel like talking vaguely about UM is fine since River only has a small cameo in 14DWY — and I'm sure that if Jesse ever returns from war (/silly), they'll give River muuuuch more justice than I possibly can :3c

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

[longagoitwastuesday]

I actually like the last chapter. I think the ideas are very good. I have my qualms on how some things were managed, as I always do, but I think shonen authors get tangled in the expectations of a shonen to the point it jeopardises their writing, often even when they're not lacking in skills

[deiscension]

It's very important for me to say this and explain what I mean but SQX is not someone who can just leave you wanting. You want to dance? Then they'll dance with you, no music needed. You want to break something? Well, make sure it's not something that can't be replaced-- here, take this trinket from them, it's delicate and won't hurt your hands too badly if it snaps in the wrong places and they can always get another one so don't think too much about its value. You want to wander? Wander with the blessing of the wind always against your back to lighten your burden; it will never go against you, it will never create more hardship for you. You want quiet? They'll sit in silence, a hand's breadth away, and they might fidget a bit but they'll preserve the peace without letting the quiet become too loud. You want to cry? It's a little awkward, but that won't stop them from winding an arm around your shoulder and saying "there, there" not just to placate but to offer sincere solace.

That's not to say that they'll always know what to give and when to give it, much less always be the right person for what it is you need. They're generous to an almost offensive degree (why are you tossing out all those merits? isn't that at the expense of your believers' ardent prayers and offerings?). But if you want, why can't they give? They have an overabundance of everything. There's no use in letting the water of an overflowing cup spill onto the ground and create mud.

SQX themself has been cared for to a choking degree. The type of care with confines that shrink and expectations that grow with each milestone passed. Nothing they have has necessarily been earned by right or work. It might be an insult for someone like them to hear your want and offer their means. How aware they are of this is entirely dependent on the situation. Even so, it's no excuse for them to not try. No matter who is at the helm of it, the wind is a constant no matter what, isn't it? It's always there cooling the sweat on your brow, always there chafing your lips, always there to tug at your sleeve. That's who they are. Even at their worst, they are just so full. It's lonely to be that kind of full for too long without trying to share. How can they not give when there is want? So they don't deserve all they have. That doesn't mean you don't deserve them holding their hands out and saying 'take it, take as much as you like, I'll be here next time too.'

[loadsofcats]

Hate hate hate digitalisation hate only being able to pay with credit cards hate touchscreens instead of people hate cashierless shops hate how ai is causing less jobs and less privacy and hate generated art and generated stories and aaaaaaaaagggghhhhhhhh

[kavehater]

Every time my mum throws yet another hissy fit although I can understand she’s being stupid and I let her yap to her hearts content cause she can never quit complaining, for some reason I’m so mildly bothered that the irritation makes me angry at every other thing.

For example : the fact that so and so hasn’t responded in 51 years, fifty more people haven’t even given so much as a single darn to ask why I haven’t replied yet or use those two brain cells of theirs currently fighting for third place to realise huh, maybe she’s going through a hard time ! Maybe you know like a decent fucking human being I could leave her a little note saying she can answer whenever she feels fit enough to do so but that I care for her, and the fact that I am irate by how care and compassion is offered on a silver platter to so many yet for me I have to beg and do the most absurd and pathetic displays to achieve even the slightest speck of kindness, and if I DONT do all of that in the one in a trillion possibility of me receiving kindness for free it makes me so disgusted and afraid because why the fuck would you do that, in fact why the fuck would anyone even do that even if I gave them my whole heart and soul anyways. All I am is less than dirt by way of reason given how I have been treated, and although I’m unsure as to why I am and that I can never fully understand the reason for why I’m not worth a single thing, and why I am worthless, i understand that that’s how the world works and I ought to adapt to my role and take it because nobody will stop for me

[loaksky]

— come a little closer

hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]

synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.

content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.

fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi

author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, who’s rare to come by these days.

Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.

In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.

Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.

Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.

You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.

She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.

The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.

And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.

The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.

With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.

She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.

“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”

You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.

The step creaks under pure muscle.

Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.

The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.

But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.

It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.

“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.

Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.

“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.

“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.

And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.

“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”

She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.

You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.

“________,” you offer.

She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.

“And you go to school here?” she asks.

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.

“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”

Vi’s floored.

“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.

“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”

“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”

You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.

“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”

“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.

And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.

Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.

“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.

No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.

The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.

You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.

“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.

“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”

“So?”

“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”

Her teammate snorts.

“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”

The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.

Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.

From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.

“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”

Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.

“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.

“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.

“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”

And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.

Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.

You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.

Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.

The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.

“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”

“I am.”

“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.

Vi could melt.

“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”

“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.

Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.

“You’re fucking joking!”

The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Maddie,” you whisper.

“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.

“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”

“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”

You look around in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”

“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”

It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”

You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.

Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.

If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.

Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.

“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.

“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.

Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.

“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.

Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.

“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.

It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.

You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.

“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.

“Huh?”

Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”

You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.

Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.

You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.

You decide to fold your cards first.

“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”

No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”

You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.

“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”

She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.

“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”

And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.

But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.

You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.

Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.

You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.

A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.

When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.

Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.

The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.

“Violet.”

Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.

She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.

“V—”

“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”

“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”

Vi’s smile is crooked.

“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”

“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?

You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.

She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.

“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.

You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.

“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.

“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.

“Sure, anything.”

“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”

And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.

Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.

“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.

You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”

Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.

It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.

“Hungry?” you ask.

“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.

Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”

Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.

“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.

You shake your head.

“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.

It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.

“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”

Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.

“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”

“God, marry me now.”

She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.

“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.

“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”

Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.

“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”

You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.

“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.

“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.

You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.

“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”

And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.

That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”

“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.

“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.

You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.

If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.

“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”

Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.

You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.

“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.

But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.

Cute. So fucking cute.

You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.

“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”

You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.

“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”

And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.

“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.

You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.

“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”

“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”

She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.

“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”

You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.

“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.

“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.

Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.

“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.

“Vi,” you whimper.

And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.

She resists a smile.

“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”

You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.

Test the waters, cop a feel.

Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.

She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.

“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.

“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.

Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.

“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”

You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.

Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.

Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.

It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.

It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.

5—4.

The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.

She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.

You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.

They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.

Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.

The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.

“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.

Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.

“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.

Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.

So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.

She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.

“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.

“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.

She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.

“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”

You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.

“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”

She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.

Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.

“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.

When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.

You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.

She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.

“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.

It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.

You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.

You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.

“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.

“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”

“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.

She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.

“Leave it.”

Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.

The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.

She winks.

You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.

You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.

You should come, I can pick you up.

But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.

Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!

“Yeah?”

Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.

“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.

Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.

You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.

You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.

“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.

Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.

“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—

“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”

You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.

“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.

“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”

It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.

You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.

“You okay?” she hums.

Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.

You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.

When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.

You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.

You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.

Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.

As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.

You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.

“What do you like to do?” she asks you.

All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.

“Uh.”

Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.

But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.

Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.

“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”

“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”

And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”

It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.

She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.

She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.

It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.

“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.

She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.

And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.

“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”

Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.

You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.

“Can I?” she husks.

You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.

Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.

Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.

You’re staring, hard.

Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.

She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.

You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.

“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”

Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”

She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”

Your heartbeat skips.

“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.

Vi’s grinning wide.

“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”

And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.

It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.

“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”

“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.

“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”

“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”

“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”

“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.

“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.

“I admit it was a little strange, but—”

“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”

And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.

You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”

And you’re running.

Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.

She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.

sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.

I’ll see you next week.

But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.

She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.

She sighs. Hard.

You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.

It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.

violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3

You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

.

.

.

Then you add, We can smoke.

Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.

You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.

Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.

She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.

“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.

It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.

You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.

Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.

“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.

“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.

“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.

Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.

This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.

“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”

“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.

“Like?”

“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”

You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.

“Uh-huh?”

“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”

You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.

Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.

You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.

“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”

You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.

“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”

And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.

Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.

“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”

She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”

I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—

“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”

Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”

One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.

“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”

Oh.

Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.

“But?”

The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.

“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”

“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”

“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”

Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.

“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”

And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.

“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”

“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”

“You really believe that?”

“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”

Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.

“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”

And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.

“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.

You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.

“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”

It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.

“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.

Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.

You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.

sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.

She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.

Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.

And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.

It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.

“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.

“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.

“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.

Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.

“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”

You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!

Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.

sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.

You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.

You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.

She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.

“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.

“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”

Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.

It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.

This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.

You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.

And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.

You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.

xxxx: i really miss you.

You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.

You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.

“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”

You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.

“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”

Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.

“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”

You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.

“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.

The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.

You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.

The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.

Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.

“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”

You humph.

“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”

“And that’s my problem because...?”

“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”

“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”

“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”

You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”

Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.

“Violet’s in love with you.”

And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.

“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.

“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”

“There’s a video.”

Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.

She reaches a palm out.

Show me.

You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.

She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.

Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.

She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.

“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”

The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.

Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.

It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.

And there, front and center of the student section is you.

Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.

At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.

“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”

Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.

“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.

And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.

7—5.

The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.

She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.

Her bracelet.

You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.

Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.

Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.

“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.

“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.

Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”

Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.

She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.

“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.

“Hi,” you squeak.

A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.

And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.

“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”

You swallow.

“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”

You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.

“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.

“I know.”

She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.

“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”

Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.

“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”

“I don’t,” you admit.

Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.

“We could start off with the obvious.”

One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.

“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”

You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.

“Vi.”

“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.

She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.

“Pl—ease.”

“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”

“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.

The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.

Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”

“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”

“Oh–”

One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.

You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.

Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.

“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.

Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.

“Fuck.”

“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.

And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”

“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.

“Vi.”

Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”

You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.

And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.

She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.

“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.

You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.

She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.

You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.

“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”

Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.

“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.

“Nnngh, fuck!”

“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”

“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”

She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.

“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.

And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.

Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”

You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”

“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”

She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.

The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.

It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.

Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.

“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”

She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.

You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.

You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.

“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.

“I know, I know.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.

You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.

You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.

But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.

The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.

You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.

You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.

She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”

You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.

“Thought you left,” you croak.

Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.

“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”

You whine.

“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”

Violet groans.

“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.

“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.

“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.

Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.

She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.

And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

neng © 2024

[kamitv]

▷ Impatience

Sypnosis . What happens when you come home late to them when they’re needy. / Pairings . (Separate) Gojo x f!reader, Geto x f!reader, Toji x f!reader, Choso x f!reader, Nanami x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, non-curse au, dirty talk, unprotected sex, established relationships, oral sex f!receiving, dry humping, spitting, etc. / wc . 7.8k

[ MDNI ]

★ Gojo Satoru

“Fuuuuck, I missed you so much today,” He’d groan directly into your mouth, aching cock slipping in between your dripping folds so perfectly, “Missed’ this pussy, fuck.” Gojo whispers against your lips.

You’d let off a whine and your brows would pinch together at your boyfriend’s words, “W-Was only gone f-for an-, ahh, a-an hour longer, ‘Toru,” Your cunt narrowed around his long cock as he continued pushing into you.

To come home to a needy Gojo always ended the same— you laid out on the nearest surface beneath him as he worked his dick inside you and forced you to tell him about your extended day.

“Mhmm, I know,” He’d frown, sharp cerulean eyes boring down into your own so carefully, “Felt like forever though,” Gojo explains, nudging himself in inch by inch and watching how your eyes flicker and your lips part to release a sigh.

“You’re s-so,” Gojo rolls his hips down into you and you moan at the way his cock presses into the depths of your pussy— filling you up so perfectly, “Dramatic,” You finish, words coming out as a breathy moan.

Gojo bit his lower lip to conceal a smile. Oh how he loved watching your face contort into pleasure, he could watch the stress fading out of your eyes and being replaced with lust forever.

“M’not dramatic,” He huffs. The two of you were on your shared living room couch as he couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, needing to be inside you as quickly as possible.

Gojo’s got one hand intertwined with yours, pressing your fingers down into the soft couch cushion as he starts working up that pace of his.

“I missed my girlfriend,” Gojo groans, hips drawing back ever so slowly before he listens closely to the loud squelch of your cunt as his cock pushes back in. Biting his lip yet again, he smirks a bit, “Seems’ like she missed me too.”

Your neck arches a bit and you moan, the sound like music to his ears. “Toru, hahh-, you’re so big,” You mumble out due to the sheer stretch of his cock.

He can’t help but crack a full smile, his mind spinning a bit as your plush walls pulse around his veiny shaft. “Yeahh, but you take me so well every time, pretty girl,” Gojo praises, “Needy lil’ pussy’s always huggin’ my cock juuust right.”

Those lewd words of his make your face twist up but you can’t help but moan yet again as he slams down into you all at once.

“Hah, now tell me what held you up at work again?” Gojo requested amid his thrusts, despite watching you lose your breath.

You whine, “M-My coworker, mmgh-, h-he-“

Gojo’s cock twitched inside you, shifting slightly and purposefully angling into your cervix, “He?”

“M-Mmh-, y-yes Satoru, he!” You cry out, your hand squirming beneath his as Gojo’s larger fingers squeeze yours, “H-He… aagnh, fuck-, he messed up on some-, nngh, paperwork,” You just barely manage out.

The man above you tilts his head, eyes narrowing, and thrusts growing heavier. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just peers down at you with this look in his eyes.

You’d swear those blue irises of his were glowing with how intently he looked at you. Not that you were allowed much time to dissect that though as Gojo began fucking his cock down into you a bit harsher.

The sloppy sounds of his thrusts echoed throughout the room, all of which were followed by your moans and pleas for him to slow down.

Gojo swiftly moves his free hand in between your body and his, finding your clit without batting an eye and quickly pinching it, “So another man kept you from me?” He eventually breathes out.

He sounded upset, which kinda explains why he’s growing so rough with you— angry cockhead pounding into your cunt so viciously, as if to remind you of who you belong to.

“Toruu,” You whimper, “P-Please-, h-he’s, aah! H-He’s just a c-coworker,” You try your best to explain it to your lover but all your whines go through one ear and out the other.

Gojo rolls his eyes at you, “Yeah, a coworker who took up my girl’s time,” He argues, “Y’know what, call in sick tomorrow.”

“W-What?” You exhale heavily. With eyes as wide as ever, you couldn’t believe your boyfriend right now.

“W-What?” Gojo mocks you before you feel his thick cock shove impossibly deeper inside you, “You fuckin’ heard me. I said call in sick,” He voices out lowly. It was more of a command rather than a request at this point.

An airy little noise of disapproval leaves your throat, “Hhgn… I c-can’t just-“ His thumb swirls over your clit as his dick continues to split you open, your cunt wetting up his cock more and more with each thrust. Then his pelvis clashes down into yours a bit harder and your eyes roll back, “Ohmygod-“

“You can,” Gojo protests, pulling his hips back until he nearly slips out of you. Then he’s drilling right back in such an animalistic way.

“Toru,” You moan sweetly, his pupils dilating even more at the sound.

Even so, he has no plans on changing his mind, “Nah, it seems you forgot how I feel about other guys gettin’ in the way of us,” Gojo grunts. The sound of his heavy balls smacking against your ass as he beat his lengthy cock deep into your pussy was so overwhelming.

Your legs began to quicker a little and your back was lifting off the couch, “But h-he’s not-“

“Shut up,” Gojo cuts off. And you do, shutting your mouth obediently and whining instead, “Good girlll,” Gojo praises in that low voice of his. Then he pants and you swear you feel him in your stomach at this point, “Now hurry up ‘nd cum f’me, we gotta make up for lost time.”

★ Geto Suguru

Who allows you to get into your shared home perfectly fine at first, helping you take off your shoes, speaking in such a soft tone to you as he requests the events of your longer day.

You’d answer him honestly and explain how there was an error you had to stay and fix— to which Geto would soothe you with his understanding nature and gentle words.

Yet, the very second you sigh a little too heavily for his liking, he’s dragging you off to the bedroom and offering himself as a stress reliever.

“Suguruuu,” You mewl out, thighs spread over his handsome face with his big hands latched to your legs, fingers pressing into your skin as he aided you.

Those pretty purple-hued eyes of his would gaze right up into yours as you faced him, his tongue delving into your cunt and lapping up your sweetness into his mouth. His deep groans were like heaven against your cunt.

"Use me, princess," Geto groaned just before flattening his tongue against your dripping pussy and lapping it upward so very tenderly that it had you twitching and squirming above him.

You pant heavily, hips grinding over the wet pink muscle below for more friction in such a needy manner. Geto's thick fingers slid up along your body, caressing your tensed skin beneath his touch before he grabbed ahold of your hips and forced you to ride his face faster.

Although you couldn't see it, constantly was your boyfriend lifting his hips into the air as he feasted on your cunt like a man staved, his cock pressing up into the fabric of his sweats and giving himself the slightest bit of friction needed.

A sticky bit of precum was wetting up his boxers where his tip was, his fat cock so very desperate for you. But, he'd force himself to wait, your pleasure was more important at the moment.

Which is why his jaw is dropping a bit and his lips are cupping your pussy as he slurps your juices into his mouth, some slipping out from the corner of his lips and dribbling down his face. Not that he cared of course, especially not when you were above him whining and moaning so beautifully.

"Fuck Sugu-, that f-feels so good-, hhggn... ah!" You whine desperately above him. He's been at it for a minute now but his tongue is so damn skillful and long that you've got no idea how much time has truly passed.

Geto retracts his head only a little bit before spitting a fat glob of saliva up onto your cunt, "What a messy girl you are," He comments, his breath tickling the insides of your thighs, "Drippin' all into my mouth even when I'm not even moving."

Then he's leaning up again, his lips pressing into your sensitive clit and making you jump at the contact. A jolt of pleasure shoots throughout your body as he plants a bunch of messy kisses to your clit before suckling it into his mouth.

The tip of his tongue dashes around the sensitive bud and you reach a hand down, fingers curling into his hair as you roll your hips forward against his face for more.

"Mmmgh," Geto hums against you, "Yeahh, ride my fuckin' face, baby," He encourages, his words making you impossibly wetter as you do just that.

His tongue sinks back down and slithers into your cunt, searing against your plush walls as he moans into you. Your legs begin to close around his head and his fingers dig into your skin, "F-Fuck, m'gonna cum Sugu."

He just nods below you, lidded eyes revealing his zero intent on slowing down or stopping anytime soon. Your taste was so addicting to him, he could eat you out for hours and hours and never get tired.

Geto would have his mouth latched to your pussy until his jaw locked, and even then he'd still keep going. You could squirt on his face, beg him to give you a break, or even try pulling away from him but he'd always drag you back to him, tell you to take it, and request that you wet up his face again and again until he's satisfied.

Even as you cum in his mouth, his dick is throbbing in his sweats, twitching all over the place as it aches to be inside you. When you finally come undone and begin to pant softly above him, that's when he slows down.

"You can give me one more, yeah?" Geto hums with a sly smirk on his face, having yet to move an inch away from your pussy.

You shake your head, "M'tired Sugu..."

He frowns, "C'mon, you can't be tired after one orgasm. I thought we worked on that stamina of yours?" Geto whispers so softly as he turns slightly to kiss the inside of your thighs.

Pouting, "I had a long day..." You explain.

"Uhuh, and I'm trying to relieve you s'more baby," He tells you with an innocent look on his face, "C'mon, gimme a few more 'nd then I'll leave you alone."

"Suguru... you never leave me alone afterward," You huff out as you recall all the past times this exact scenario has played out.

Geto snickers, "That's because I've got a needy ass girl who likes beggin' for my cock afterward."

"I-," Your frown deepens, "I do not..."

"Yeahh ya' do..." He argues, "But it's alright, I like it when you're all needy 'nd start beggin' f'me."

With a slight groan, you shift above him a little, "...Shut up."

He tips his head back against the bed below and smiles, "Shut me up, c'mon. Put that pretty pussy on my mouth again."

Heat rushes to your face as he says that and almost instinctively, you just listen to him and sit right back down on his welcoming mouth.

★ Toji Fushiguro

Oh he hates when you come home late, as if he doesn’t do so himself all the damn time.

But the problem is that he’d be texting you begging-, no, never begging but, telling-, or ordering you to come home. Plethoras of I need you’s & look at what you’re doin’ to me’s followed by roughly five pictures of his thick and aggravatingly hard cock would ping to your phone while you’re in the middle of a meeting you didn’t have to attend.

And yes, you’ve explained this to your impatient partner Toji but does he care? Of course not.

So that’s why when you finally come home, you could barely into the damn house before he’s got that large veiny hand of his wrapped around your throat, tugging you into your household and slamming your body back against the front door to close it.

“Toji-“ You barely even get a chance to speak before he’s shoving his hot tongue into your mouth and shutting you up.

Your fiancé doesn’t care to hear your excuses, you’ve already texted them to him so, he’s grunting into your mouth and his free hand is moving to lock the door you’re up against.

His lips are hot and heavy against you, cologne dizzying your senses, bigger and much bulkier body pressing against you, and his hand limiting your oxygen.

“Told’ you I fuckin’ needed you,” Toji groans into your mouth as he trails a hand down and around your frame, quickly moving to grab a possessive hold of your ass, “Y’know how long I’ve been waitin’?”

You whine as his fingers curl into your ass cheek, squeezing so harshly before moving his lips to your jawline. “T-Toji, please, that meeting was-“

“Don’t care,” He hums so casually as he dips further down and to the side of your neck, sucking eagerly on your skin, “Forty-five fuckin’ minutes I’ve been waitin’ for you.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re such a big-, baby,” You stammer out as his hand shifts to your hip and he tugs you so that his one larger leg can press in between yours.

Toji scoffs against you and his hand leaves your throat, “I’m a big baby? Says the one who starts cryin’ from jus’ the tip.”

You grit your teeth and your hands go to his broad shoulders, “I do not…” You gasp as his thigh presses up against your clit, “You’re exaggeratin’.”

“Oh am I?” Toji chuckles, pulling his head up so he can look at your face, “Look at’cha now, can’t even handle a couple of kisses without lookin’ all fucked out.”

You frown at the man, “You couldn’t even let me get past the damn door before your hands were all over m-“

He shuts you up by lifting a hand to shove two thick fingers into your mouth, “God, you talk too much.”

A pout pulls at your lower lip as his fingers sink into your throat and press down on the back of your tongue. Your eyes gloss over a little and you gag.

His scared lip pulls up into a smirk, “Look at that fuckin’ pout… Aww, you mad?” Toji taunts.

God, you cannot stand him. Well, you can, that’s why you’ve got an engagement ring on your finger now— but still, he never fails to piss you off. And you’re pretty sure he likes pissing you off. He definitely gets a kick out of seeing you upset.

You move to graze his fingers with your teeth and he raises a brow.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Toji warns.

You groan against him before letting out a tired sigh and slithering your tongue in between the two fingers lodged in your mouth. He flashes a smile at you.

Then he nods approvingly, “Yeahhh, tha’s it.”

Oh his cock was in pain due to how hard he was. And it doesn’t get any better when you pull your head back a little before pushing forward, sucking on his fingers like the obedient little fiancée he knows you to be.

Toji licks his lips in almost slow motion, “So fuckin’ sexy, doll. Y’know that right?”

You smile against his fingers briefly before you nod, “Mhmm…”

He sighs heavily as he watches you suck on him, cock twitching in his sweatpants every time you throat his fingers and bat those pretty eyes of yours at him.

Then, he practically loses his mind when you pull off with a loud pop before taking his wrist into your hands, spitting on the tip of his fingers, and then taking them right back into your mouth.

Toji groans at the sight, “Nasty lil’ slut,” He huffs out, “Suckin’ on my fingers like it’s my cock… you’re enjoyin’ yourself, huh?”

You smile yet again and nod, “Mmh…”

“Fuck, keep lookin’ at me like that ‘nd I’m gonna cum without even seein’ your pussy.” He warns.

That makes you far more eager than he expects it to and you tilt your head to the side and really start sucking on his fingers like they’re his dick.

Then, you pull off for a moment just to speak, “Put three in my mouth,” You request, sticking your tongue out and watching how his lips part and he nearly moans at the request alone.

Toji tips his head back ever so slightly, eyes getting lower as he shifts to hold three fingers to your lips, “You’re so fuckin’ nasty,” He whispers before pushing his digits in and feeling you hum against him, “Gonna make me cum from this, pretty girl…”

You twist your head a bit as you suck on him, running your tongue all in between his fingers, drool escaping out the corner of your lips, and one of your hands suddenly dropping from his wrists. Toji’s eyes flicker when your free hand grabs ahold of his cock through his clothes.

“S-Shit,” He hisses, “God, I love you,” Toji hums as your hand strokes his aching cock through his clothing.

You were all too perfect for him, sucking on his fingers, rubbing your palm against the outline of his clothes— he swears he’s never found himself about to cum from something so simple before.

Your mouth furthers on his fingers and your hand moves to slip into his sweats, making his body jerk forward when you grab his thick cockhead and run your fingers over it so teasingly.

“Fuuuck,” He groans with his jaw going slack, “The hell would I do without you-, mgh,” He grunts deeply as you stroke his tip carefully.

Toji’s hips buck into your touch and he’s trying so hard not to moan— he was really aching for you more than he’d let on.

A messy slick of precum gets all over your hand but it makes it easier for you to start jerking him off, your mouth still latched to his fingers for a moment before you pull off.

Then you kiss him and smile, “C’mon big guy, go ahead ‘nd cum f’me so you can fuck me properly.”

Oh he practically loses his sanity at that, body folding over and toward you as he rests his forehead on your shoulder and finally lets out that sexy moan he’s been keeping in.

You snicker as you jerk him off and you can feel his cock throbbing in your hand, the messy sounds of your fingers sliding along his thick shaft filling the air.

Toji tilts his head and his lips press against your skin but he doesn’t kiss you, just opens his mouth and pants, “M’so close, doll. Don’t stop, d-don’t you fuckin’ stop,” He groans against your neck, breath hot and body tense because of you.

You smile, “You’re so needy Toji…”

His teeth graze your neck for a moment as he nearly sinks them into your skin, “Don’t call me fucking needy.”

“But you are,” You voice out so sensually that it makes his head spin

Toji grunts and you swear you hear a different noise almost escape the back of his throat as your hand squeezes his cock. “M’gonna fuck the shit outta’ you after this,” He huffs, “Gonna make sure you can’t even-, aagh…. walk tomorrow.” He stammers out.

You move to whisper in his ear, “Mhm, I’m sure you will.”

“I’ll show you fuckin’ needy,” Toji utters through gritted teeth, your hand just jerking and jerking— his legs were starting to stiffen because of how good it felt.

“Stop talkin’ ‘nd cum f’me so you can fill me up,” You whisper teasingly.

Toji’s eyes roll back, “I’ll put a baby in you if you keep talkin’ like that.”

“Maybe I want you to,” You giggle.

Then your hand focuses on his leaking tip and he just couldn’t take it anymore, groaning at both your skillful hand and your teasing words before hot and thick ropes of cum are spurting out.

His hands ball into tight fists as he does so and he pants heavily beside you. And his groans were so loud, he was really worked up.

In one quick motion, he lifts his head from your shoulder and presses his lips into yours, “Fuckin’ love you,” Toji grunts into you.

And you’re smiling against him, “Mhm, love’ you too, ya’ big baby.”

Toji scoffs before pulling away from your lips, “Alright, call me a big baby one more time ‘nd see what happens.”

You stare at the man, noticing the slight smirk he has, “…But Toji… you are a big baby— never satisfied ‘til you get what you want.”

“Seems like you’ve got the roles here reversed, doll,” He huffs before pecking your lips one more time, “S’fine tho’, I’ll fix that soon enough.”

★ Choso Kamo

Coming home late to your needy boyfriend Choso is never a bad thing. If anything, you think you stay longer at work on purpose to tease the man.

When you get home wee hours into the night, all the lights in the apartment would be off, there'd be practically no sound throughout the place and you'd wonder if Choso was sleeping.

Of no surprise to you, he isn't when you make your way to the living room and see his legs spread as wide as ever as he watches some show playing on the large TV on the wall across the room from him. You'd carefully make your way around the couch and notice he's got his eyes shut and his head is rested slightly back on the couch.

How cute, he'd fallen asleep waiting for you. So what do you do as his loving girlfriend? Well, you move to straddle him and take a very comfortable seat in his lap, his entire body jolting awake at your presence.

The smell of your perfume would seep into his nose, the feeling of your thighs spread over his would make his body tense, and the way you'd wrap your arms around his neck as he woke up would have him letting out a sigh of relief.

"Hi Cho," You'd greet so lovingly, voice caressing his ear just before you plant a cute lil' kiss near it.

Choso's hands move on instinct, two large pairs of fingers grabbing onto each side of your waist. Then, before he even gets a second to say anything, you're tipping your head down to kiss him on the side of his neck like you always do.

He groans immediately and you feel his cock jump at the sudden kiss. Then he's gripping onto your waist tighter, "Missed' you baby..." Choso tells you in that deep voice of his, the sound making you shift against him.

Your kisses trail up and you find yourself right below his jaw, "Missed you too, Cho."

He inhales sharply as you then lick him before sucking on his skin a little, "Yeah?" Choso teases, sleepily dragging his hands down a bit and grabbing ahold of your hips before squeezing, "You stayed at work longer than normal..."

"I know, I know, m'sorry," You coo as you try to make up for it with the constant kisses to his neck.

And he's so sensitive too, squirming all over the damn place as you do so. You could feel his dick growing beneath you and the feeling encouraged you to get more comfortable in his lap.

Then you lift your face from his neck and meet those low brown eyes of his, "Heard me? I said I'm sorry Cho."

He stares at you for a long moment before cocking his head to the side, "Are you?" Choso asks.

You blink, "Of course I am!"

"Prove it t'me, baby," Choso requests, voice as deep as ever.

You could feel yourself twitching every time he spoke, the look in his eyes and faint touch on your body driving you crazy. "How do you want me to prove it to you Cho, hm?" You ask softly.

Just as his voice made you ache, your voice made the tip of his cock leak. He's lifting his hips up into yours without a second thought and he doesn't miss the way you gasp softly at his clothed cock pressing up into your cunt.

"Ride me," Choso says calmly, "If you're sorry, make it up t'me by makin' me cum."

You smile at the man, "That's it? Choso you're acting like I haven't made you cum without even touching you before..."

He scoffs slightly and leans back into the couch so lazily— a sleepy, but sexy smile spreading across his face as he does so. “You tied me up, that was different, baby.”

Tilting your head, you smile back at him, “Was it?”

“Mhm, ‘nd when I say ride me,” Choso’s hands slither down along your legs before finding a place on your thighs, “I mean jus’ like this.”

You just stare with wide confused eyes, “…What do you mean just like this?”

“Dry hump me,” He explains with a slick smirk on his face.

A pout pulls at your lower lips, “Like a damn teenager Cho? Why can’t we just-“

“Knew you weren’t sorry for stayin’ out later,” Choso huffs out as he turns his head to the side.

Again, you stare at him— trying to figure out if he’s being for real right now or if he’s just teasing. But, based on the aching cock you’re sitting on top of and the way Choso’s fingers are holding your thighs, you get the idea that he’s dead serious.

So, with a sigh, “Fine,” You tell him, earning a quick turn of his head to you.

Choso comforts himself a bit more, slouching back into the couch further and rolling his hips upward to get comfortable. Though, his little movement only causes his dick to press up into your cunt.

The layers in between you and him weren’t really helping how stupidly aroused you both were. With a soft sigh escaping from your lips, you start off slow— gently rocking your hips forward as if to test the waters a bit.

Your boyfriend, Choso, quickly lets out a huff. Nothing could beat that teasing sensation of your clothed cunt rubbing against his aching boner. His eyes lowered and despite a cute lil’ shade of red taking over his features, his fingers grip onto your thighs tightly.

“Yeahh, like that, baby,” He whispers.

You hum sweetly and lean forward, pressing your chest against his as you meet his low gaze, “This’ all you want?”

Choso nods carefully, licking his lips in almost slow motion as you just rock your hips back and forth in such a mesmerizing manner. You had such a good rhythm with your hips, perfectly rolling your cunt in small little circles over his cock and gasping every once in a while.

He soon let out a groan and tips his head back, “Just… keep-, mmgh, keep doin’ that.”

You smile at your all-too-sensitive boyfriend before leaning forward and connecting your lips to his neck, “Choso… Baby,” You whine,” Are you really gonna cum from this?”

He barely even nods at your words, hands slithering further up your body to grab ahold of your waist once more, “F-Feels like you’re actually— fuckin’ me,” His voice was husk already, deep but laced with the faintest whine just as you liked it.

“Yeah?” You utter tauntingly. Then you began bouncing slightly, rutting against his cock with more vigor as he humped up into you reflectively.

“Hahh…. Princess,” He whines, “S-Shit, I… I wanna fuck you.”

You lick a long and almost languid stripe up along his neck, stopping at his jaw and giggling, “So fuck me, Cho.”

All that’s let out from him is a groan before he’s flipping the two of you over, his much larger frame in between your legs as he stares down at you so very hungrily.

Then Choso’s drawing his hips back only a little before he presses down into your clothed pussy, the outline of his dripping cock nudging right in between your folds and making your eyes flutter for a moment.

Choso shakes his head at you, “Why’d you come home s’late?” He mumbles.

You let out the faintest moan as he works up a needy pace of humping his dick against you. “C-Choso-“

“Answer my question,” He breathes out as he leans his face down to your aroused expression, “Hm? Why’d you come home late? Y’know I missed you, right?”

You nod and he rolls his hips down into yours, cock mashing into your cunt and even grazing your clit, “H-Hahhh, I-I know Cho… I just-, mmh! Remember t-that promotion I told you about?”

He stares for a second before shrugging, “Yeah…”

“I needed to show… h-how serious I am about it,” You moan as you explain and your jaw goes a bit slack as he weighs his body down into yours a little and Choso grows a little rougher.

“Is a promotion more important than me?” He huffs out, whispering gently to you.

Your head shakes, “No, of course n-not-“

“I texted you, baby,” Choso cuts off, his face growing closer, “Told you I needed you.”

“Cho-“

“Needed your cunt on me,” He huffs out mindlessly, “Needed this, aagh…” His words are emphasized with a rougher thrust against you.

Your body jerks a bit and you have such a lewd expression on your face— almost as if you were getting fucked for real, “Choso,” You moan as he swipes a hand down and rubs over your clit through your clothes.

“I missed her,” He hums, “Missed’ how she talks to me…” All as he rolls that thumb of his over your clit and continues rutting his cock down against you, “You gonna cum f’me, baby?”

“M-Mhmm,” You whine as your hips lift into his movements.

Choso smiles a little, “C’mon then, give it t’me so I can fuck you for real.”

“Choso…” You murmur as his words go straight to your core, your body hot and aching for sweet release.

He nods and his eyes never once leave yours, “Uhuh, keep sayin’ my name.”

Your back begins to arch off of the couch and he grows faster with the way he humps his cock down into you, “Cho,” You whimper.

“Mhm, I’m right here baby,” He coos lovingly, “Act like I’m n’side you, cum just like you would on my cock, princess.”

And just like that, you were cumming, legs closing around your boyfriend as he watches your face and body twist up.

Then he starts kissing your neck and sucking on your skin possessively, “That’s my fuckin’ girl,” He whispers into you.

Then, once your body stills, he leans up and quickly pulls his shirt off, staring down at your wide glossy eyes. A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he drags his hands down and tugs on his drawstring.

“Ready t’see how much my cock missed you?” Choso teases as he tauntingly pulls on the waistband of his sweats.

You just nod, almost dumbly as you peer up at him, “Mhm.”

Then he’s smiling again, “Alright but, don’t start cryin’ when you can’t take it anymore, ‘kay?”

★ Nanami Kento

Okay, he’s literally the reason you come home late.

Because of course, working at the same company as your husband isn’t always the best idea. And yes, everyone knows Nanami hates working overtime.

But, when his pretty wife comes into his office after sending teasing messages for the past hour or so about getting home and taking a soothing bath together— Nanami finds himself straining through his clothes.

You’d walk in with that tight pencil skirt and lowly unbuttoned blouse, a way of dressing you know drives him insane.

Then there’s your voice caressing his ear as you walk around his desk and wrap your arms around his neck, whispering an oh-so-sweet, “Need any help in here, sir?” And you know what that honorific does to him when coming out of your mouth.

It all makes him shift in his seat, moving to lean over and rest his chin on his knuckles as he places his elbow on the armrest of his chair, “Yes but not with anything on this damn screen,” Nanami huffs.

You smile, knowing exactly what he means by that but deciding to play dumb anyway. Then you turn and press your lips into his cheek, “Awh,” You coo, glancing over to the neatly assorted paperwork on his desk, “Then, could it be that pile of work you need help with? It is almost time to go.”

Nanami sighs and lifts his head from his hand, turning to look at you whose eyes are busy elsewhere, “No, not that either,” He hums in that honeyed voice of his.

You turn to face him, your eyelids lowering as you find yourself a bit closer than anticipated, “Then what is it, Ken?” Your question comes off as innocent and you tilt your head.

His eyes narrow at you and he scans your expression momentarily. After which, his gaze meets yours, “You are so beautiful,” Your husband suddenly compliments.

And it never once fails to make your heart swell and a smile brightens up your face, “Thank you, hun,” You say before moving to peck his lips, “But where is this sudden sentiment coming from, hm?”

Nanami leans toward your face a little just as you pull your lips off of his and you find it so very endearing how clear it is what he wants from you. “I can’t compliment my wife?” He asks.

“You can.” Giggling, your hands retract from him as you stand up straight— watching how his expression sinks a little due to the loss of your touch, “But I’m just curious is all…”

Your head turns to that stack of paperwork again and you reach for the paper at the top of the pile, skimming over it as you do so.

Nanami watches, falling deeper in love with your every move and trying his best not to think with his cock and act on impulse— though he’d done it before, lord knows he wanted to bend you over his desk and-

“Ken, I thought we discussed this contract here,” You utter, breaking him from his lewd thoughts.

Nanami shakes his head and clears his throat. Then, he reaches a hand over and grabs a light hold of your free hand, trying to gain your attention, “We probably did but,” You turn and look at him as he lifts your hand to his face and lands a kiss across your knuckles, “Can we please discuss that later?”

You gaze at your husband for a long moment, finally noticing the bulge in his pants. “Oh. Is that what you need my help with?” You emphasize as you place the paper in your hand down and point to his crotch.

Nanami moves to intertwine his fingers with yours, “I know it’s unprofessional but, yes.”

You turn your body to face him and he tries to pull you closer but you don’t move. “Ken… if I handle that now we’ll be here longer than we’d like.”

He nods, “I’m aware.”

Frowning in disappointment at your impatient husband, you let off a sigh and push forward, stepping in between his legs. “I wasn’t aware I married such a needy man.” You tease as you draw your hand away from his.

Nanami quickly sits back in his seat, the chair creaking a bit as he does so. He’s got this almost pained look on his face, as if another second without you would kill him.

“Me? Needy?” Nanami huffs, clearly not aware of the look on his chiseled face.

You smile and begin to get down on your knees, the sight making his cock jump within his pants. “Yes, you.” You scoff, “Who else?”

Your husband parts his thighs further for you and smirks, “Between you and I, I am not the needy one in this relationship.”

You nod slowly as your fingers trail along his muscular thighs, the teasing movements causing his tip to drip so messily against his clothing. “So what do you call this then?” You utter, nodding your chin toward his erection.

Those delicate hands of your trail up to his belt and you begin to undo it so slowly that it pains him not to rush you. “You caused it,” Nanami argues.

You smirk, “That doesn’t answer my question, husband of mine.”

“Well, wife of mine, I don’t have time to answer questions right now,” He mocks, tipping his head to the side and watching you like a hawk as your hands finally near his cock, “M’Too hard to think straight.” He grunts.

And then finally, your hand is tugging his throbbing cock out, your eyes widening at the sight as if you hadn’t seen it a million times before. Nanami loves the way you admire him though, he just watches in awe at how your gaze travels along his thick and lengthy member, your mouth salivating in such a hungry way.

“C’mon, I don’t have all day…” Nanami rushes, to which you glance past his length and up at his face with a pout. “Oh don’t look at me like that, we’ve already been here five minutes past our working hours.”

You snicker and lean your face close to his cock just to push your lips to his weeping and flushed tip, “And whose fault is that?” You whisper before you kiss him.

He inhales sharp enough for you to hear, “Yours,” Nanami groans out to you.

Your lips move to wrap around the tip of his cock, tongue quickly swiping in between his slit and making the man shudder above you. Then, you pull your tongue away and look up at him again, “Mine, he says…” You hum to yourself before tilting your head.

Then you’re trailing kisses down the side of his dick until you get to the base, gently sucking on the underside of his cock where he’s sensitive and earning a deep groan that makes your cunt throb.

“…As if you’re not the one begging me to suck you off,” You huff out.

Nanami lands a heavy hand down on your head as you shift to drag your tongue upward along his length until you get to his pretty pink tip, swiveling your tongue around it and pulling off slightly to spit onto it.

“Oh don’t act like you didn’t want to do this,” Nanami argues back to you. Your gaze meets his and he stares at the way you open your mouth slowly, but… not to say something back to him.

Instead, your mouth is closing around his cock before he has time to process— yet another groan leaving his lips and echoing throughout his office. Inch by inch by inch, your mouth furthers down his dick with no problem.

Even as his cock enters your throat and your lips reach his base, you don’t gag or even choke. Nanami’s eyelashes fluttered at the tightness of your throat around him, trying not to groan too much despite it being hard not to when your mouth was so warm and wet around him.

“Fuuck,” He curses deeply, fingers curling into your hair, “I trained this throat well it seems…”

You whine against him and his body twitches. Slowly, you start to lift your head before you work up a pleasureful pace of bobbing your head— sucking on his cock all too well.

Nanami’s free hand grips onto the edge of his armrest as you go to work on him and his eyes begin to lift to his ceiling. Looking down at you with your mouth stuffed full of his cock would only lead him to cum too soon.

The wet sounds slipping from out your mouth as you sucked and licked on his dick filled the air, your eyes lowering as pleasing your husband like this only turned you on more than you already were. The two of you had been teasing one another all day.

Even from earlier that morning when Nanami woke you up by kissing at your neck so lovingly, whispering sweet nothings against your skin in that deep and sexy morning voice of his. He’s had you worked up since then so now, you’re sucking him off like you want him to pass out from it.

And he might because goddamn your mouth is like heaven around him. Your head bobs and twists, your throat opening up to take him in deep every time you push down, and a moan vibrates against him as his hand tugs at your hair every now and then.

Then there’s your tongue, slithering up and down and left and right, slicking against each vein in such a way that tells him you remember every single one.

“Oh fuck,” Nanami curses yet again, hips unconsciously bucking up into your mouth for more, “So good… Your mouth feels s’good on me, love.”

You give his cock one long and hard suck until you pull off with a loud pop, sticking your tongue out for a moment as you move a hand to jerk him off. “Yeah? Couldn’t wait til’ we got home, huh?” You tease.

He just shakes his head at you and watches through lidded eyes as you tap the tip of his fat cock on your tongue, smiling a little as you do so.

He pants, “Hahh… not when I have a perfect cocksleeve of a wife t’help me out…” Nanami says lowly.

And your face twists up at that, eyebrows pinching together slightly and pout pulling at your lower lip, “Ken…” You whisper, your hand tightening around his shaft as you give him quick pulls.

“M’sorry,” Nanami apologizes quickly, making you smile. “I-, aagh… I didn’t mean t-that….” He huffs out, clearly out of it as you jerk him off so perfectly, better than he ever could on his own.

You lean forward and purposefully suck on only his top, tongue lulling around it, in between his slit, pushing saliva out of your mouth and making it all the more messy before you pull him back into your mouth.

Then Nanami moans into the air, “Fuuck, n-no, I meant that…” He corrects, “You suck me off like a goddamn-“

You pull off for a second and smile, “Say it…”

“Whore,” Nanami grunts and you moan as you sink your mouth down onto him again, making his abs tense up beneath his shirt.

Your eyes gloss over as you take him all the way in, closing your throat around his cock and practically sucking the soul out of him. Then your hands sneak down and you cup his balls in your hand, feeling how some of the mixed saliva and precum has slipped down.

Nanami nearly kicks something as you do so, his head flying back as he moans out your name. The sound makes your pussy so unbelievably wet, eyes glancing up to get a good look at your husband who was so close to finishing in your mouth.

Then you see him take a shaky hand and tug at that bright yellow tie of his, yanking it loose and messily unbuttoning some of the buttons on his shirt so that he could breathe properly.

Not that that really helps him escape that damn mouth of yours. As you lift your mouth to breathe, both of your hands move to make up for it, your lips and tongue focusing on his tip all over again.

“Goddamn-,” Nanami’s breath hitches and his eyes begin to roll back, “Y-You’re gonna make me-,” He groans again as you slurp his tip into your mouth sloppily, hands twisting and tugging at his cock so damn deliciously that he actually does accidentally kick his desk in front of him.

There’s a thud that follows but neither of you pay any attention to it. You’re too busy making his head spin with that mouth of yours and Nanami’s trying not to-

Whatever the hell he was trying not to do, he does— abrupt and warm ropes of cum shooting into your mouth. Nanami’s body hunches forward as he does so, almost as if he were trying to escape your mouth for a second.

Your hands only move out of the way though, mouth sinking all the way down on his cock so that you don’t miss a single drop of him.

Nanami’s chanting your name lowly over and over as he cums, small little I love you’s and you’re so perfect’s flowing out his mouth as he does so.

Once he’s done and you finally pull your lips off of his cock, you’ve got a mouth full of cum and you purposefully don’t swallow yet. Looking up at your husband with wet eyelashes and batting them at him, you roll your tongue around in your mouth and show him what a mess he’s made in there.

Nanami practically chokes at the sight before averting his eyes, “Don’t do that…” He hums, “J-Just…. Swallow it.”

Your hands go to his knees and you push up a little to lean toward his face, forcing him to look at you. Then, his eyes fall on your mouth and he watches as you close it and gulp loudly, sticking out your tongue afterward for him with a cute ah sound following.

Nanami shakes his head at you and scoffs, “Nasty slut.” He degrades.

You flash him a smile, and lean up for a kiss, “You know you love me that way,” You murmur as your lips near his.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he moves a, still shaky, hand to your jaw and tugs your face to his, “I do. I really do,” Nanami says before kissing you passionately despite his taste on your tongue.

After which, he pulls away and gazes deeply into your eyes. You reciprocate the stare and even smile at him again.

He grins, “Promise I’ll thank you for this properly when we get home.”

You nod, “You better.”

“Mh,” He hums before tilting his head, “Or I could lay you out on this desk and repay you now?”

Blinking, you shrug, “Up to you, Ken.”

He stares for a moment, licking his lips at the thought of being in between your legs. Then, he shakes his head, “Nope, I’ll make you wait ‘til we get home.”

Your eyes go wide, “But-“

Nanami chuckles, “That’s what you get for calling me needy.”