#for me the songs that are not in my liked library are

[pandapetals]

You're Too Good for Me

Logan has a nightmare which causes him to spiral thinking you deserve better. He hurts your feelings then tries to make up for it.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

a/n: request from anon and i ran with it. I’m on my period so im emotional. also i think the song head over feet by alanis morissette describes their relationship perfectly.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

Logan hadn’t had a nightmare like this in a long time—dark, violent, pulling him back to places he thought he’d managed to bury. He woke up gasping, drenched in cold sweat, fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He barely registered your hands on his shoulders, your soft voice coaxing him back to reality.

"Logan," you whispered, brushing a hand gently through his hair. "It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here."

As he sat up, breathing ragged, he could feel the old shame tightening in his chest, coiling around his heart like a vise. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to be woken up in the middle of the night to deal with his demons, his scars that never truly healed.

In the dim light, he glanced at you, your concerned eyes, the gentle way you held him as though he were something fragile. Something that needed fixing. And it cut deeper than he expected.

"Go back to sleep," he mumbled, pulling away from your touch, trying to put space between you. "You don’t have to… just go back to bed."

You watched him, hurt flashing across your face before you masked it with understanding like you always did. But that only made it worse. Logan felt like a burden, an anchor holding you down when you could be with someone lighter, someone whole.

It was selfish, he realized bitterly, for him to have married you. To drag you into his darkness, to let you tether yourself to someone so broken. You could have had happiness with someone who didn’t carry the weight of a hundred lifetimes, someone who wouldn’t drag you into his nightmares.

The day that followed was unforgiving. The mansion was chaotic with the energy of kids excited for the upcoming weekend, their laughter and chatter echoing through the halls. Normally, Logan found a certain kind of peace in the routine, in the noise and laughter. He’d steal a moment to find you, just to see the way your eyes lit up when you spotted him across the room, the way you’d smile like he was the best part of your day.

But today, he couldn’t bring himself to look for you. Instead, he kept his distance, trying to hold onto the feeling of solitude he hadn’t felt in so long. He couldn’t shake the gnawing thought that he was ruining your life, that every day you stayed by his side, you were giving up a piece of yourself for someone who didn’t deserve it.

Still, avoiding you completely proved impossible. In the late afternoon, he wandered into the library to drop off a book one of the students had left in his class, and there you were, seated at one of the old wooden tables, a notebook open in front of you, scribbling something with that quiet intensity he loved so much.

As if sensing his presence, you looked up and caught his gaze, breaking into a warm smile. "There you are," you said, your voice light, teasing. "I feel like you’ve been avoiding me all day."

The words hung in the air, playful but carrying an undertone of uncertainty. When Logan didn’t respond, your smile faltered slightly, concern filling your eyes.

"Logan," you started, your tone softening, "what’s going on?"

Logan let out a long sigh, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice gruff, "don’t… don’t try to make me feel better, alright?"

You blinked, taken aback. "I’m not… I don’t even know what’s wrong. I’m just… trying to understand." Your voice wavered, the usual confidence slipping as you searched his face.

He looked down, feeling the weight of his own words pressing on him, but they spilled out anyway, rough and raw. "I don’t know why you stay with me. You’re too good for someone like me."

The hurt in your eyes was immediate and stark, cutting through him like a blade. Usually, you would have brushed off his self-deprecating comments with a witty remark, or maybe a kiss, but this time…the pain was visible.

"Wow, Logan." Your voice was quiet, almost disbelieving. "I guess if you say it enough, maybe I’ll start to believe it."

He felt his heart clench as he watched you, saw the way you pulled back as if shielding yourself from him. Before he could say anything, you’d gathered up your things and walked out, leaving him alone in the library, the silence heavier than any nightmare.

Later that evening, Logan sat in Xavier’s office, staring at the floor as the Professor studied him with quiet patience. Logan had come here for advice, though he hadn’t known how to ask for it. After a few minutes of silence, Xavier spoke.

"She loves you, Logan," Xavier said gently, his voice filled with the kind of understanding that only came with time. "And yet you push her away despite being married for years now. Why?"

Logan swallowed, struggling to put his feelings into words. "She… deserves better than me," he muttered. "I drag her into my mess. She’s always the one tryin’ to fix me, to hold me together. I don’t wanna keep holdin’ her back."

Xavier regarded him thoughtfully, folding his hands. "Perhaps," he said softly, "she doesn’t see it as a burden, Logan. Perhaps you’re the one who’s still carrying that weight." He paused, allowing the words to sink in. "But by constantly questioning her commitment, by doubting her love, you’re hurting her far more than any nightmare ever could."

Logan’s jaw tightened, shame flooding through him as Xavier’s words settled in. He’d spent so much time convinced he was protecting you by keeping you at arm’s length, he hadn’t realized he was driving a wedge between you. He was the one putting cracks in your relationship, making you question the very foundation of what you’d built together.

Determined to make it up to you, Logan planned a small, thoughtful evening, something that would remind you of the early days, back when things felt simple and uncomplicated. He knew he’d hurt you, and there was no grand gesture that could fix it. But maybe he could start by showing you what you meant to him.

He set up a cozy picnic under the stars in the mansion’s quiet garden, the same spot where he’d taken you for one of your dates. There were blankets laid out, soft lanterns casting a warm glow, and a small table with your favorite food—he’d even found the wine you’d both liked that night.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you finally came outside, your expression wary but softened by curiosity. Logan’s heart thudded in his chest as he stood, waiting, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had on a battlefield.

"What’s all this?" you asked quietly, glancing around the setup with a mixture of surprise and hesitation.

Logan rubbed the back of his neck, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. "I… wanted to make it up to you. I know I’ve been a real jackass," he admitted, his voice gruff. "I’ve got this… damn habit of pushin’ people away. And I know I’ve hurt you by doin’ it. You didn’t deserve that."

Your expression softened, and you stepped closer, your eyes searching his face.

"There’s a… note," he mumbled, pointing to a folded piece of paper on the table. "I wrote it… y’know, in case I couldn’t say all of it right."

You picked up the note, unfolding it carefully. His handwriting was rough, scrawled across the page, and the words were raw, unpolished, but every line held the weight of his heart:

"I know I don’t say it enough, but you’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me. You’re my light, my peace, even when I don’t think I deserve it. I’d be lost without you, and it scares the hell outta me sometimes. I’m sorry for doubting what we have. I love you more than I know how to say, and I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you by my side."

You looked up at him, tears shimmering in your eyes, but there was a soft, unwavering smile tugging at your lips. "Logan… you don’t have to do all this to prove anything," you murmured, squeezing his hands. "I know how much you love me. I’ve always known."

Logan gave a half-shrug, but his expression softened as he took a tentative step closer, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "Maybe," he muttered, his voice rough, almost vulnerable. "But I’m a damn stubborn fool, and I know I don’t say it enough. Hell, I’m lucky you haven’t given up on me yet."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close until your foreheads were nearly touching. "Logan," you whispered, your voice steady despite the emotion welling up in your chest. "I knew exactly what I was getting myself into the moment I kissed you that first time. You seem to forget… this is a two-sided relationship. I chose this, and I chose you—all of you. The good, the bad, and even the ugly."

A small, wry smile crossed his face as he held you tighter, his hand splaying against the small of your back. "Guess there’s plenty of that last one," he murmured, his tone filled with self-deprecation.

You shook your head, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours. "I don’t want some perfect, easy life. This marriage hasn’t been easy—no one ever promised it would be." Your voice softened, and a flicker of pain crossed your face as you thought back to the late nights, the nightmares, the moments of doubt. "But I wouldn’t trade a single second of it."

Logan’s eyes softened, the weight of your words sinking in as he searched your face. There was a flicker of something vulnerable, almost boyish as if he still couldn’t quite believe that someone like you would stay through it all. "Even with all the times I’ve messed up? Pushed you away?"

"Especially then," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I chose you, Logan, knowing every scar you carry. I chose you because you’re worth it. Because beneath all that gruff and growl, there’s a man with a heart bigger than he’ll ever admit."

Logan’s gaze softened, his usual guarded expression melting as he took in the honesty in your eyes. His fingers tightened around yours as if grounding himself in the warmth of your touch.

You swallowed, feeling your throat tighten as you searched for the right words. "Besides, you act like you haven’t been there for me—like I’m the only one giving in this marriage. But that’s not true. You’ve carried me, held me up when I couldn’t stand on my own." A tear slipped down your cheek, and you felt a tremble in your voice as you continued, more vulnerable than you’d ever allowed yourself to be. "I guess… I guess I need to tell you much you mean to me more, because if I ever lost you—"

Your voice broke, the unspoken thought hanging in the air between you. Logan’s hand moved to your face, his thumb gently wiping away the tear that had escaped. He looked at you with a raw intensity, like he was seeing you for the first time and realizing just how deeply his presence affected you.

"I don’t know what I’d do," you whispered, voice barely holding together. "Without you, it’d be like… losing the part of me that makes sense of the world. You’re my safe place, Logan. I don’t want a life that doesn’t have you in it."

A faint tremor ran through Logan, and for a moment he just stood there, absorbing your words. Then, in a rare, unguarded gesture, he pulled you against him, burying his face in your hair, his arms wrapping around you as if he could shield you from everything—himself included.

"You won’t lose me," he murmured, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper. "I’m here. And I’m not goin’ anywhere. Not ever."

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palms. "Promise me," you whispered, your voice filled with both a plea and a demand.

Logan’s hand came up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he met your gaze, raw and steady. "I promise, darlin’," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "As long as I’m breathin’, I’m yours."

You nodded, a soft smile breaking through the tears as you let out a shaky breath. "Good," you whispered, a hint of your usual fire returning. "Because I’m not letting you go. You’re stuck with me, tough guy."

A smile finally broke through Logan’s serious expression, a low, rough laugh rumbling from his chest. "Well, I guess I got the better end of that deal," he murmured, his thumb tracing softly over your lips, his gaze warm and unguarded. "Lucky me."

You let out a laugh, sniffing as you swatted his hand away playfully. "No, I’m the lucky one, and don’t go thinking otherwise." You shook your head, the emotions bubbling up as you looked up at him. "You’ve seen the darkest parts of me, Logan. You know it wasn’t always easy for me either."

Logan’s smile faded slightly, his hand still cupping your cheek as he looked down at you, his brow furrowing. "Yeah… I guess sometimes I forget that," he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a hint of regret. "I… I let that damn nightmare get the best of me last night. Pulled me into my head, made me feel like I was poisonin’ your life somehow." He sighed, looking away for a moment. "I let it eat at me, let it convince me that I was only draggin’ you down."

He trailed off, his thumb idly brushing against your cheek, almost as if grounding himself in the warmth of your skin. "Guess I let that fear carry me away," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. "And I hurt you because of it."

Your hand found his, squeezing gently as you shook your head. "You don’t have to apologize for feeling like that. I know what those fears can do. I’ve had them too, remember?"

He frowned, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes. "You? I… I didn’t know you ever doubted us like that."

A soft smile played on your lips, tinged with a hint of sadness. "Oh, I’ve had my moments. There was a time, back when we were dating when I thought I wasn’t strong enough for all this." You looked down, your fingers tracing small patterns on his hand as you continued. "There were days I felt like I couldn’t handle the weight of what you carried… like maybe I wasn’t enough for you."

Logan’s hand tightened around yours, his gaze darkening as if the thought alone pained him. "I had no idea," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

You gave him a soft, reassuring smile. "Because you already had so much on your shoulders. I didn’t want to add to it. But… there was one night that changed everything."

He tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing in curiosity. "Which night?"

You took a deep breath, a nostalgic smile crossing your face as you remembered. "It was that night when I got that phone call about my dad being in the hospital. You remember? I’d barely told you anything about him, about my family, because… well, I thought it was easier not to talk about it."

Logan nodded, his gaze intense, recalling the way you had looked that night—pale, shaken, trying to hold yourself together. "Yeah," he said softly. "You were tryin’ to act like you were fine, but I could see you were fallin’ apart inside."

You laughed lightly, nodding. "Exactly. I was a mess, trying so hard not to let it show. But then… you showed up. I was packing a bag, trying to figure out what to do, and suddenly, you were just there. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t push me to talk… you just held me." Your voice softened a hint of awe in it. "And then you drove me to the hospital and stayed with me all night, even though I told you it was fine and that you didn’t have to."

Logan looked down, a faint blush touching his cheeks, as if embarrassed by his own gentleness. "Didn’t seem like you should be alone," he muttered, almost to himself. "Couldn’t leave you to deal with that by yourself."

"Exactly," you whispered, lifting his hand to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. "That night, you made me feel like… like I was worth being cared for. Like I could fall apart, and you’d be there to catch me. That’s when I knew I loved you, Logan. Not because you’re some ‘tough guy’ who protects everyone around him, but because of the way you love—with everything you’ve got, even when it scares you."

He swallowed, visibly moved, his thumb still tracing your cheek as he looked down at you, the weight of your words settling over him. "You’re tellin’ me that one night… that’s what made you fall for me?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "It made me fall more for you and since then, every time you’ve shown up, every time you’ve let your guard down just enough to let me in… it only made me love you more."

Logan exhaled, his hand slipping down to rest over your heart as if feeling the steady beat under his palm reassured him of something he could never put into words. "I don’t deserve you," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "But… God, I’m gonna try like hell to be the man you see me as."

You leaned up, brushing your lips softly against his, pouring every bit of reassurance and love you had into that kiss. "You already are," you murmured against his lips. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I wouldn’t trade you, or this life, for anything."

A soft laugh escaped him, full of relief and something tender. “Well,” he whispered, pulling you close, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m done lettin’ my own damn fears get in the way of us."

“Good,” you whispered. “Because marrying you was the best thing I ever did.” 

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss. His hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as if you might slip away. When you finally broke apart, he looked down at you with a gaze so soft, so full of unspoken devotion, it made your heart ache.

[logoleptic-since-06]

Love Thorns All Over This Rose

✮ Pairing: Satoru x Fem!Reader

✮ Content: Fem!Reader, Non-Sorcerer AU, College Setting, Mentions of Family and Financial Issues, Mentions of Other JJK Characters, Language, Smut (Fingering, Cunillingus), Slight Angst, Fluff, Dislike to Love, Mentions of Smoking, Slowburn, Not Proofread

Based On This Concept I Made

✮ A/N: I know I said I will not be writing fics for the concepts I made, but I love this trope too much to not have written it.

★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ -> Some songs this was inspired by (I know I listen to white girl music, what about it?) ✮ Also heavily inspired by the book The Deal by Elle Kennedy.

✮ Word Count: 4.6k

MDNI

“This was your last chance, Gojo, I’m gonna have to revoke your captaincy.”

“Please, coach,” Satoru’s usual cocky tone was replaced with desperation, “One more chance, please. My econ test scores came out today, and I’m confident I did well. Just consider this for once.”

Coach Yaga pauses for a second, “Listen, kid, I will consider it for now, but it’s really not on me. College rules say athletes can’t have more than three F’s. And according to that, I should bench you till you get your grades up.”

His eyes widen. “What? No, you can’t bench me, I’m your best player!”

“You know it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck…” he murmurs in frustration. His econ test, that he has already given, is his last straw. If he fucks this one up, he will be benched until he gets his grades up. Basketball tournament season is right around the corner, and being in his senior year of college means his professional recruitments will start this season. Being benched is far from an option he wants to go for.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

He fails.

He fucking fails the test that he was so sure he’d pass.

“And then he benched me,” he groans as he finishes telling the story to his friend group/housemates/teammates. He looks at Suguru, his oldest and closest friend, “Oh, and he made you the captain for the time being, by the way.”

Suguru simply shrugs. “Then get your grades up and re-secure your spot. I won’t even be going pro, you need this.”

"We are all rooting for you, Gojo," Haibara's over-enthusiastic voice speaks. Haibara and Nanami are in their junior year, and Haibara is probably Satoru and Suguru's biggest hype-man, despite playing in the same team.

“I’ve tried, you know I have. I don’t know what else to-”  Satoru stops as an idea strikes his head. He tilts his head towards Nanami, “Hey, Nanami.” “No,” he says simply.

“I didn’t even-”

“Whatever you ask, no.” “Tutor me, you’re like the only smart person I know.” “I’m your junior.”

“We have the same course, we study the same thing in the same class.”

“Fuck, you’re such a manchild,” Shoko’s bored voice speaks as she takes a puff from her cigarette.

“Don’t smoke in our house,” Satoru scolds her, causing her to flip him off.

“Although,” Shoko sits up from laying against the couch, “I might have someone that can help you. My roommate.”

Shoko doesn’t live with the others, but Satoru has never heard of her roommate before. “Your roommate, huh?” he repeats lazily.

Nanami snorts, “Y/N? She’s in my year and I doubt she’ll ever help him.”

Shoko nods, “You can try if you’re desperate enough.” She takes another puff of her cigarette. “Offer her tons of money.”

Satoru thinks for a second, “She can be convinced using money? That’s perfect, I have money.” 

Everyone except Haibara rolls their eyes.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Having finished your last assignment of the day, you relax back against your chair, taking in the hushed ambience of the library. It was a stressful, but productive day. You only relax for a split second before a wave of anxiety gushes over you– you’ve recently lost your job at the local barista due to it being shut down. It was the only place close to the campus you can get a job at, and there is no way you could afford a living on campus without a job.

You decide to get up and head to your dorm room instead of musing upon your issues. As you begin to pack your things into your tote bag, you see a tall, white-haired figure sit across from you at the table with a bright smile on his face that shows off his dimples. 

Satoru Gojo?

The star athlete is Shoko’s childhood best friend. Ever since she became your roommate in your freshman year as a sophomore, you’ve only heard tales of him and Suguru Geto. You’ve seen them around the campus, of course, but you’ve always chosen peace over any interaction with them. People flock around them like a group of fans rushing over to buy tickets for a sold-out concert. Arrogance seeps out of him every time he walks through a door, making every head turn towards him.

“Hi,” he says, looking straight into you. You look behind you, trying to see if he is talking to someone else. “No, I’m talking to you. Y/N, right?”

The sound of your name in his voice sounds weird. How did he know who you were? 

He continues, “I am–”

“I know who you are.” You cut him off for a reason that is unknown to even yourself. He tilts his head in confusion, but you can tell it's not from the knowledge of you knowing his name but rather from the fact that you are wearing an annoyed expression on your face right now. You almost feel bad but it's not like you can help it, you just lost your job and it is not easy for a girl from a middle class family to survive in this environment filled with some of the richest brats in the city, Satoru Gojo included.

“I need your help.” Every word that comes out of his mouth sounds so foreign, you wouldn’t have imagined them in your wildest dreams.

“My help?” Why is he talking to you?

“I need you to tutor me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We are in the same classes together. I need someone to tutor me because I’m failing my classes and if I’m benched and won’t be able to play until I pass them. And if I don’t play this season, I won’t be recruited to go pro, so basically my entire future is in your hands.”

Your disturbed grimace is probably a little too noticeable, because the next words that come out of his mouth are, “Why are you making that face?” He says it with such innocent confusion, you almost give in.

“I don’t even know you,” you finally say, your voice sounds bored.

“But you are the best I can find.”

“Why can’t you hire a professional tutor?”

“Because then my parents will know, and they can’t know.”

“That’s not my problem.” “God, you’re insufferable,” he exasperates, “I’ll pay. A lot.”

That gets your attention. You raise an eyebrow. “How much?”

He sits up and excitedly takes a piece of paper and pen, writes down an amount, and slides the paper towards you.

One look at the paper and your eyes go wide. He wrote an hourly rate and as you do the quick math in your head, you realize this would pay twice the amount you got as a barista.

You clear your throat before speaking. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he says firmly.

“And you will cooperate?”

“Of course, I need this, Y/N.” Will you ever get used to your name on his tongue?

“When and where?”

“Five days a week, so all working days. My house? It’s off campus. Give me your number, I’ll send you the location.” “I know where you live, I’ve dropped Shoko off to yours before. And yeah it works.”

“Great! Thanks so much, Y/N; you’re a lifesaver.” In the blink of an eye, he gets up and leaves you stranded at the library table.

Lifesaver… The word echoes through your head. You’ve been called that so many times, it doesn’t even mean anything anymore. You’ve been a lifesaver to your classmates for sharing your homework with them, or giving them answers during a test; you’ve been a lifesaver to your parents when you volunteered to look after your younger siblings, or when took care of dinner; you’ve been a lifesaver to your siblings for helping them study, or for solving any problem they’ve had. 

Even now, as you study in an elite university where the annual tuition is more than what your family earns in a year, you push yourself to work hard and maintain a scholarship, and work two jobs while simultaneously being a full-time student– just so you don’t have rely on someone else for anything, even if they’re your parents.

At least Satoru Gojo is willing to pay you a good amount for being a so-called ‘lifesaver’. Sure, there was a time when you thought money couldn’t buy you happiness, but spending so much time amongst your classmates made you realize it’s quite the opposite. Money brings you respect and recognition, and one day, you will have both of them, you are sure of it. For now, you are at peace with the fact that you are nothing but a phantom made up of invisible smoke, haunting the hallways until someone needs her.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The next day, you find yourself on the doorstep of your new student’s house. You shake off your unwanted anxiety and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, the door opens, revealing a tall figure with long luscious dark hair.

Suguru Geto, certified asshole number two (one is Gojo, of course). He looks down at you with a slight smirk. Seriously, what’s so funny? He motions you to come in.

“Satoru’s upstairs in his bedroom,” he drawls.

“Can you call him?”

He pauses for a second before answering, “Sure thing.” His gaze doesn’t avert from you as he calls out his name. Why is he so ominous? Why is Shoko friends with them?

Gojo comes out of his bedroom and stands by the stairway as he calls you up enthusiastically. You head upstairs and he leads you to his lavish bedroom and closes the door behind the two of you.

“So,” he says as he plops down on his bed, “Where do we start?”

“Let’s go through your assignments first.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

After an hour of tutoring, Satoru is officially done with his first tutoring session. He thinks you are a little odd with your bored yet annoyed expressions, yet he can’t stop but think you’re cute. He clearly gets the vibe that you aren’t the biggest fan of his as whenever he asked you a question about anything other than studies in the past hour, you had simply glared at him. It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever.

It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever. Since every question that he asks you about basketball is also either met with a glare or a “Finish this first, then we’ll talk.”

Your annoyance doesn’t matter to Satoru– if anything, he’s loving the fact that he’s getting on your nerves. It isn’t just you– annoying people has always been his specialty. Despite being the captain and the strongest player, his cheery demeanor is always met with eye rolls or groans of displeasure. 

Sure, girls around him would die to be with him– even for a moment– but if it’s not for sleeping around, he isn’t quite ever wanted. He tells himself he is okay with it, that if they don’t want him, he will turn himself into someone they need. Which is exactly what he did; and now, without him, the team will fall apart.

Once the tutoring session is over, he hits you with a similar question, a cheeky grin plastered on his beautiful face. “So, you ever been to any of our games?”

“No,” you answer simply.

“Why not?”

“I’m not interested in sports.”

“None at all?”

“None at all.”

“What ECAs did you have in highschool?” You look up at him. “I had plenty. Why do you wanna know?”

He shrugs. “Curiosity.” You sigh. “I was in the debate club, I worked for the school magazine, hosted multiple events, wrote articles, did internships, signed up for a bunch of award programs.”

Satoru’s eyes go wide. “And your SATs?”

“1560.”

Fuck. Satoru back in highschool was even bigger of a menace than he is now. With an SAT score of 1230 and basketball as the only ECA, it almost seems unfair to him now that both you and him are in the same university– one earned while the other given. Satoru never feels bad for exploiting his family’s money, after all, that’s the only thing they are willing to give him. But seeing someone work this hard– even harder than Nanami– to get to where they are is something Satoru can’t help but be impressed by.

And Satoru isn’t one to be impressed easily.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

A few weeks pass in a breeze and the air now carries the hint of winter, the first fall of snow just around the corner. Students are locked inside their rooms, their heads buried in textbooks trying to prepare for the upcoming exams.

“You better pass this one, Gojo,” you tell him one day as you both are sitting in his room.

“Yes, ma’am.” He makes a salute gesture, causing you to stifle a small smile.

“I don’t wanna be that person, but why don’t you smile much?” His question takes you aback. “I’m not saying you should smile more; do whatever you want. I’m just asking why.”

You shrug simply, the guards you have around you have weakened a little in the past few weeks, but they’re not completely shattered. “I don’t smile without a reason.”

“I crack jokes.”

“You’re not funny.”

He rolls his eyes with a slight smirk tugging up his mouth.

You check the time and your eyes widen. “How long have I been here for?”

He leans back against his chair, “Almost three hours.”

“Shit, I was gonna call Shoko to come pick me up.”

He laughs when he hears that. “Yeah, good luck with that. It’s exam season, she definitely has her phone turned off right now.” Catching the worried expression on your face, he adds, “Do you want me to drop you off?”

You think for a while, trying to figure out other possibilities. Once you fail to do so, you feel your guards cracking a little more as you answer, “Okay.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The drive from his house to your campus dorm is a short one. Yet, something in you makes you want to stir up a conversation.

“So what made you start playing basketball?”

His eyes don’t drift from the road when he answers. “You know my dad, right? He was a professional basketball player. It’s all I’ve known ever since I can remember.”

You won’t admit it out loud, but you are impressed to see him be so passionate about something. “So, you’re close to your dad?”

The chuckle he lets out sounds almost bitter. “No, no, I’m not. I was sent to a boarding school when I was very young. Grew up there. Met Suguru and Shoko. Been home very less. My school’s coach was more of a father figure than my own dad ever was.”

Something pangs in your chest as you let his words sink in. “I’m sorry…”

“Nah, don’t be. It’s cool, you know? My parents were too busy with their own lives, I was busy with mine– it’s just what I’m used to.”

“So you don’t contact them?”

“When I need something, sure.” He pauses for a second. “I know what you think of me, okay?” His voice has a hint of sincerity now. “You think of me as some spoiled brat who loves to spend daddy’s money. And you know what? You’re absolutely right. I am that, shamelessly. But this is only because I realized at a very early age that money was the only way they would be present in my life, so I decided to exploit the shit out of it.”

You don’t have an answer to what he said. His experience of family is unique and unrelatable to you in every way. “I would’ve done the same if I were in your shoes,” you say, not quite believing your words. “You shouldn’t feel bad. You’re doing a great job.”

He looks at you like you hung the moon. “You think so?”

You try to hide your surprise at his reaction. “Yeah, I mean, you’re the captain of the team and the strongest player. You’ve been working so hard to get your grades up this semester, I’ve seen your dedication.” 

He smiles at you– not his usual cheeky smirk, but a genuine, heartfelt smile. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Don’t thank me, Gojo, I’m just stating an observation.”

“Satoru.”

“What?”

“Call me Satoru. It’s what my friends call me.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Are we friends?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were nice to me just now. I doubt you’re nice to a lot of people.”

“Well…” you trail off.

“Well…?” he echoes as he stops his car in front of my dorm building. 

You unbuckle my seatbelt. “Maybe a conversation for another day. Thanks for the ride, Go– Satoru.”

He smiles for a split second before it is wiped away and replaced with a pondering expression. “Wait–”

You stop before you can open the car door. “Yeah?”

“Let me walk you to your room.”

It’s your turn to smile now. “I can walk myself to the dorm, Satoru.”

“It’s late.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“Come on.”

He’s so cute– wait what? Why would your mind go there? That’s Satoru Gojo, a certified college whore.

“Fine, walk me to my dorm room,” you hear yourself say. What is wrong with you?

The two of you get out of the car and begin to walk towards the building gate. The midnight air sways against your face while your cardigan protects the rest of your body. The place is quiet, only crickets heard amongst the trees. The moonlight reflects on the cars parked in the parking lot as you and Satoru walk through it.

“So you were saying?” He breaks the silence.

“What?”

“You said ‘Well…’,” he points out.

You chuckle softly as you look away to the ground. “Nothing really… you said you doubt I’m nice to a lot of people; I was gonna say I don’t talk to a lot of people to begin with.”

He looks at you with his head tilted in confusion. “Why’s that?”

You shrug. “Not a lot of people approach me here, you know? I just… exist, I guess. I mean, I’ve got Shoko. I talk to Nanami and Utahime sometimes. I’m not completely friendless, so that’s nice.”

“Three people in a college with around 20,000 students isn’t really… you know…” He trails off.

You feel the walls around you crumble a little as you speak. “I know, I know. But like I said, no one approaches me, which makes sense. And I’m not one to randomly approach people. Not great with social cues.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Why would you say it makes sense for no one to approach you?”

Why was he asking you so many questions? You can’t remember the last time someone had been interested in getting to know you in this way.

“I’m a scholarship student, I’m not exactly…” You try to think of a word, “relevant in your social hierarchy.”

He is quiet after you say that, probably trying to figure out how to respond to that. So instead, you continue, “It doesn’t matter to me. I always think that if they don’t want me, I’ll make myself needed. I’ll become an important person. My parents may not be rich, but who says I can’t be?”

“So you’re really ambitious,” he says. “I mean, I kind of got that from er– your constant hustle.”

You laugh at his remark, appreciating his humor instead of showing you pity like most would. 

The two of you begin to walk up the stairs to your floor when he asks, “Which floor is it again?”

“Second.”

“Right… I’ve never been here. Shoko’s always coming over to ours to hang out.”

“The three of you must be really close.” He nods. “Yeah, well, five now actually. Nanami and Haibara came along during our sophomore year when we moved in together. They are good athletes, so I thought keeping them close would be good for the team.”

You nod as you reach your dorm room and ring the doorbell. When Shoko doesn’t answer, Satoru says, “She’s probably at the library. Or with Suguru.”

You nod at the possibility as you take out your copy of the keys. The jingling echoes through the empty hallway. You unlock the door to reveal your room filled with darkness. Turning on the lights, you politely invite Satoru in, to which he happily obliges.

He casually plops down on your bed, his legs swinging down.

“Make yourself at home, don’t be shy,” you say sarcastically. His phone rings. When he picks it up, you watch his demeanor change as the person on the other side of the phone speaks.

“No, I told you guys to not attend any parties for a month,” he says in a serious tone that’s very unlike him. “We have practice first thing in the morning every day before the season starts, and I will not stand any mishaps.”

Listening to him scold his teammates and watching him be a good captain stirs something unknown in you. It’s so attractive for one to be this responsible and laidback at the same time. Your eyes roam around his big biceps, stopping at the hand that holds the phone against his ear. He has nice hands, you think, wondering how it might feel inside you. 

Snap out of it.

You will not throw yourself to him only to be tossed aside. You remind yourself why you’re with him– for a job. A deal that benefits the both of you equally. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then why did you tell him things you’ve never admitted to anyone?

What bothers you more is the fact that he was so interested in getting to know you. The way he is always so grounded around you makes you wonder if your previous perception of him being an arrogant asshole was just a misconception.

He hangs up the phone and smiles sheepishly at you, his dimples denting his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says. “It was Haibara.”

“It’s fine,” you say as you subconsciously move forward and sit beside him on your bed.

“Hi,” he says as his blue eyes pierce through you.

“Hi,” you smile back at him, unable to stop yourself from wondering what the hell he was doing in your dorm room of all places he could be right now. “Did you have to be somewhere?”

He scrunches his brows. “No, why?”

“No, I thought Haibara needed you or something.”

“Oh no, that’s been dealt with, don’t worry.”

When did you both sit so close together? You can almost feel his breath against your skin. “You have practice early in the morning.”

“I can function with less sleep.” He is almost too quick to answer.

Your faces are only inches away when his eyes fall to your lips. You close your eyes and feel his lips brush against yours. You kiss him back immediately. 

Once you give him the green light, he deepens the kiss and you let out a low moan. His tongue enters your mouth as he hovers over you on the bed with you lying on your back. He trails his kisses down your jaw while pressing down to your tit with one hand.

His other hand trails to your inner thighs and you feel the heat pool between your legs. You let out a needy gasp, causing him to contact his lips against yours again while his hand unbuttons your jeans and slides inside them. He rubs your clothed pussy and intoxicated bliss spreads over you.

“Ahh, fuck, Satoru,” you whine. He takes that as a sign and slips his fingers inside your panties. Your eyes roll back when you feel two fingers thrust inside you while his thumb works on your clit.

“Nghh, Satoru, fuck, hahh don’t stop,” you don’t even know how loud you’re being, neither do you care right now.

As you say that, he takes his hand out of your pants, which makes you squirm needily. He positions himself such that he is facing between your legs. He reaches for the hem of your jeans as you lift your hips up and he pulls them down, followed by your panties, leaving your bottom bare in front of him. 

He finally brings his face closer to your heat and licks a long stripe along the slit your pussy. You moan out in utter pleasure, spreading your legs further for better access. He begins to nibble at your clit, making you see splashes of euphoria in front your eyes. The pleasure is too all-consuming for you to even think of what’s right or wrong, of what you should or should not be doing. And you couldn’t be bothered to care about any of it right now. 

He adds two fingers deep in your cunt, hitting the g-spot repeatedly as his mouth sucks on your clit. You feel the pressure build up like waves. “So close, Satoru, don’t stop,” you cry out. The waves crash over the shore with a loud moan escaping your lips. 

You lay there panting, recovering from what you would call the best orgasm you’ve had in your life, as he sits up and looks down at you, a proud expression masking that pretty face of his, now all glistening in your juices.

The realization of what you just did hits you the moment the high dies down. You quickly close your legs and sit up, trying to find your panties. 

“What happened?” Satoru asks in a concerned tone. You ignore him and put your underwear on. 

Once you are done, you finally look at him. “Get out,” you state simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out.”

“Did you not like it?”

“Gojo, leave.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

“What’s wrong?” you echo his words. “Everything about this is wrong. I’m your tutor. I work for you.”

“So?”

“So, we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s inappropriate.”

“Are you serious? I thought we–”

“No, I don’t know why I told you so much about myself. Starting tomorrow, everything is strictly professional, or I’m gonna have to quit.”

“Y/N, you can’t just say that, you know that, right?” Satoru sounds determined.

“Yes, I very much can. I’m sorry but I simply won’t let you think you can have me like that just because you’re you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What I mean is that I know you hook up with like hundreds of girls, and I just don’t want to be another name you tick off on your list.”

He looks exasperated. “You think that’s what you are? A name on a list? First of all, I don’t have a fucking list. Secondly, I don’t hook up with hundreds of girls. I haven’t done that since freshman year.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t have the time to hook up with anyone.”

“You haven’t had sex since your freshman year?” Your voice is softer now.

“Not once.”

“Then why did you…” You don’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand it.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, really. It felt right.”

You would be lying if you say it didn’t feel right for you. But you don’t tell him that. Instead you ask, “Since when have you wanted to?”

He reveals his dimples at that question, “Since you asked me if I would cooperate with you if you tutored me.”

This brings a chuckle to your voice. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, something about you bossing me around was… you know.”

You laugh at his words. “You’re a dumbass,” you say as you lean forward and take his lips to yours.

[oacest]

(with enormous thanks to @noandneuron for their tremendous scholarly work taking pics of the library print version of this article, which seems to otherwise not exist online. original post with pics can be found here.)

LIAM WANTED ME TO MARRY HIM AND HAVE HIS BABY... BUT NOEL TORE US APART

SINGER FELL FOR WICKED SEX LIES ABOUT LOVER

by Phil Taylor, Chief Feature Writer (News of the World) (Sept 8, 1996)

Oasis idol Liam Gallagher's jilted fiancee opened her heart to the News of the World last night and told how her wedding plans were torn apart by his scheming brother Noel.

“Liam was the love of my life and we planned to get married and have children,” seethed Cerice Blakeley. “But Noel wrecked our relationship because the most important thing in his life was Oasis and he felt that I was in the way. I will never, ever forgive him. Noel deviously told his brother the most hurtful allegation that he could about me—that I had betrayed him and had sex with the band's cocaine supplier. I never two-timed Liam. But he believed Noel and was absolutely devastated. To this day he doesn't know the truth. Now Liam's with Patsy Kensit. I wonder if Noel will do the same to her.”

Life had all looked so different when Cerice first met the brothers who were yet to take Britain by storm. It was in a marquee near Oldham in May 1992—and it was Cerice's 21st birthday.

“I was heavily into the Manchester music scene,” she said. “And I was friendly with a band called the Inspiral Carpets—at the time Noel worked for them as a roadie. When he came along with the band I wasn't attracted to him at all. I hated his haircut—it looked as though someone had used a bowl. But I took one look at Liam and it was love at first sight.

“He wore blue cords and a dark navy kagoule and looked adorably different. I got quite flirtatious with him and later we arranged a date. Liam couldn't drive and was living at his mum Peggy's council house in Manchester. So I picked him up in my Citroen and we went up on the moors. Liam gave me the most amazing kiss I've ever had. It seemed to go on for ages and my mind was in a whirl. I felt so turned on I wanted to have sex with him there and then. I know he felt the same.

“But we decided to do it properly, so we booked into a lovely country hotel. I've never felt so excited in my life as we finally curled up on the bed and smoked a joint of marijuana. We kissed and kissed and I was ready and willing for Liam to make love to me. But to my disappointment, he suddenly stopped and told me, 'I respect you too much.' I couldn't believe it. It was so unlike a Manchester bloke. But I was very touched and it made me love him and want him even more.”

Liam later invited Cerice home to meet his mum. Then, she said, after a cup of tea and a chat they went upstairs to Liam's bedroom... and made love for the first time.

Cerice sighed: “Liam was only 19, two years younger than me, and was very nervous in bed. I wanted to strip him off, but he was so self conscious. He wouldn't take off his cream woolly jumper because he felt his chest was too puny. So I tried to break the ice and joked: 'Don't worry about your chicken chest, you've got lovely footballer's legs.'

“It worked. He relaxed and we made love to Hey Jude, one of his favourite Beatles songs. I felt wonderful afterwards and spent the night in Liam's bed. Then, the next morning, he brought me up a cup of tea and we chatted for ages.

“Then he ran a bath and started putting handfuls of salt in it. I couldn't believe my eyes and asked him what he was doing. He told me, 'It helps strengthen my bones.'

“Afterwards he spent ages doing his hair... he was always using his mum's hairdryer. I told him, 'You're going to end up like Mick Jagger.' Then I asked him if he wanted to try my mascara—and he did. But he went one step further and squeezed into my size 8 velvet jacket too. Then he put on the Rolling Stones record Satisfaction, pouted his lips and started strutting around the bedroom like Jagger. I creased up laughing. I'm only 5ft 5ins and Liam is 5ft 11ins. The jacket was so tiny on him, the sleeves rolled up around his elbows. But he loved it and it turned him on. He fell on the bed and we had fantastic sex for 45 minutes. Afterwards, Liam told me, 'I'm not gay or bisexual. I'm just in touch with my feminine side.'”

Cerice saw Liam and Oasis rise from obscurity to stardom. “I went to the studio with them while they were recording their album Definitely Maybe and knew they were going to be massive,” she said. “It went to No. 1.”

Two years after they met, Cerice's life seemed complete. “We had just got back to Liam's mum's house from a gig in Sheffield,” she said. “Liam looked really nervous. He told me, 'I have got something very nice to ask you. Will you marry me? I want you to have my children.'

“I was thrilled. I gave him a big hug and said, 'Of course I will.' We celebrated with a glass of his favourite drink. Jack Daniel's and Coke. Then we went round to my home and he told my dad. Liam said to him, 'I love Cerice and I want her to feel secure, so I've asked her to get engaged.'

“Being a practical, logical man, Dad asked Liam how financially secure he felt he was going to be. At the time, Liam was only getting £100 a week from the band. And he told my dad he couldn't even afford to buy me an engagement ring. But he said he was saving up to get me one. Dad wasn't too impressed. But he gave us his blessing because he wanted me to be happy.”

Liam's brother Noel, she said, was less pleased. “Noel nicknamed me Yoko Ono,” she recalled bitterly. “He felt I'd pull Liam away from the band, just as Yoko did with John Lennon and the Beatles. Nothing could have been further from the truth.”

Cerice and Liam rented a flat in the Didsbury area of Manchester for £75 a week and moved in together. “He put his favourite posters on the ceiling of our front room,” she said. “They were of John Lennon and the Stone Roses, one of his favourite bands.

“I would do the cooking—Liam's favourite meal was steak and Walker's crisps—but he'd always do the washing up and we would take turns with the hoovering. The only thing that annoyed me about him was that he always left his wet towels on the bathroom floor.”

It was in that flat, said Cerice, that the couple planned a family. She sighed, “I said I wanted a little girl and told Liam I hoped she'd have my hair, my brain, and his tenderness. He joked that he wanted a little boy who loved Manchester City, then said, 'I really don't mind what sex it is. I just want to have a baby with you.'”

And all the time, she confessed, their sex life became more and more intense—fuelled by drugs. “I must admit we took our share of cocaine through a £10 note,” she said. “It was extra special when we got in bed together because Liam was away on tour more and more as the band got bigger and bigger. I saw them play before 100,000 at Glastonbury and they were phenomenal.”

In the summer of 1994, Cerice and Liam drove to Scotland together for the massive Tea In The Park festival. “As the journey went on we were feeling friskier by the minute,” she said. “After four hours' driving we couldn't wait any longer. We were travelling on the M74 through Scotland when we saw a big wood. We looked at each other, smiled, and both had exactly the same idea.

“I pulled over, parked on the hard-shoulder and we ran off into the woods. Then we lay down on the soft moss and made wild, blissful love. It was the first time I had ever had sex outside and I think it was for Liam. We were there for nearly an hour writhing among the undergrowth before we finally got up and made our way back to the car. But as we walked back close to the motorway, holding hands and beaming smiles, passing motorists saw us and started beeping their horns. It was obvious what we had been up to and I was blushing bright red. So was Liam.”

They were never to be as happy again. After the concert, Cerice went backstage to congratulate Liam on his performance but could only find Noel. “I asked him where Liam was and he told me, 'He had to leave to catch a plane from Manchester for a concert in Germany tomorrow night. We're performing in Hamburg and he unexpectedly had to catch the flight tonight. I'll be flying over in the morning.'

“Bewildered, I went back to Noel's hotel where I met Simon, the band's cocaine supplier, and a record company executive. He told me he could get keys to Noel's room and I could sleep there. There were two single beds. I fell asleep in one and Simon and this fella slept on the floor, keeping the other one free for Noel.

“Then, at about 6am, Noel came into the room with a blonde and said, 'Oh, you're all in here.' Then he got into his bed with the girl and I went back to sleep. At 9am Noel got up and said, 'I'm going to Hamburg. I've told Liam you're OK and you'd phone him tonight.”

Later that day, Cerice phoned the Gallaghers' mum and she told her that Liam had phoned to pass on his apologies for missing her in the Scottish crowd. That night, Cerice managed to contact him herself.

“He was really angry and abrupt,” she said. “He told me, 'I need to talk to you face to face and not over the phone.' Then he slammed the phone down. I was distraught. He'd never spoken to me like that before and I couldn't understand why. Now I know. Noel told Liam I'd cheated on him and slept with Simon. A friend of mine told Liam it wasn't true. But he wouldn't believe her because it came from his own brother. He was shattered and went completely off the rails afterwards.

“We met just once when he returned to Manchester from Hamburg. I told him he shouldn't have treated me so badly. But we were both so angry and upset we couldn't even row. Instead he walked out of the door and out of my life. I haven't seen or heard from him since. He has never answered my calls. Noel must be delighted.”

After their split in August 1994, Cerice left Britain for Australia to get over the trauma. “It was while I was there that Oasis released Don't Look Back in Anger,” she said. “I tried to relate it to my own circumstances, but I can't look back in any other way. I have no anger towards Liam. But for Noel I have. I despise him. After we split up Liam was shattered and went completely off the rails. He simply hasn't been the same since.”

[writerwhat]

Thanks for tagging me @fantasticstoryteller

Last song:

Favourite color: yellow

Last book: Where the crawdads sing

Last movie: Venom the last dance

Last TV show: Moon knight

Sweet/spicy/savoury: Sweet and savoury

Relationship status: single

The last thing I googled: Is Pierre from Stardew Valley a pedophile? (My friend said he is xD)

Current obsession: Stardew Valley

I. Have. To. Play. It. Everyday. *deranged smile* I also like to watch Stardew Valley themed videos.

Looking forward to: Reading books I've borrowed from friends and the library.

Non-pressure tags: @adsdragonlover @sycsct @amazingspiderfield

Ten People I'd Like To Get To Know Better

(OG post by @/ off-brand-halloween-ghost)

Tagged By: @im-not-buying-it-ether

Last Song: Harpy Hare by Yaelokre

Favorite Color: Blue!!

Last Book: Jurassic Park by Michael Crinchton

Last Movie: Venom: The Last Dance

Last TV Show: Young Justice (shhh i'm new to the fandom)

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Sweet!

Relationship Status: Single and happy :)

Last Thing I Googled: "Galarian Rapidash Pokedex entry”

Current Obsession: Billy Batson/Shazam and Matt Murdock/Daredevil

Looking Forward To: Pokémon Legends Z-A and Daredevil Born Again

Tagging: @shrugsinchinese , @feebisart , @wonderjanga , @lavena , @billybatsonmylove , @kenandeliza , @aroace-madness , @wxth3r1ngflxw3r , @puppetwoman17 , @leesbian42

[queerdesire]

🎶 Spotify Wrapped tag game 🎶

Fuck your top Spotify Wrapped songs, put in the tags your top 5 songs that are NOT in your Like Library

[yuenity]

no piece of media has ever made me feel like that montage at the end of s3e7 of Dark made me feel

[blues-valentine]

Don’t get me wrong because I genuinely think Taylor Swift is a talented lyricist but she really has not artistic growth… She has written the same exact songs four hundred times but now she just puts a random words generator. Like, some of those lyrics sound AI generated. And she’s 34 years old but her albums still speak on the same things. There’s zero evolution. Some of those lyrics feel targeted to a 19 years old that is in her “indie aesthetically bad boys that get high and I think I can fix phase” which is basically the same as her old material but way more cringey for some reason. And I’m not trying to compare but Beyoncé at that age was making Lemonade. It’s hard to think this is the biggest pop star the world has to offer us. This is white mediocrity. The songs are fun to edit over fictional characters but when you put into perspective her whole work is so lackluster. So utterly boring and predictable. Maybe she needs to take a break (?). And somehow, people and white music critics will pretend this album is comparable to the likes of Cowboy Carter.

[mixtpecas]

samruby/destiel - the kiss of judas

approaching visions of things I can't recall a familiar smile awakes the pain...

[karpachev]

Kittens :')

Ax is telling this sick-ass story just to impress her (it's working)

[acadieum]

girlhood is a spectrum

[vizabel]

the great art of family, lies, and debt

[lynxfrost13]

Maybe I’ll finally Wanze post soon

[isaut]

𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 — dehya x fem!reader. 3.5k. ao3.

dehya got you a present. but it's porn without plot strap-ons, mommy kink, taking lewd images, no beta, written on cab sauv so written with my pussy. there's probably more in here than i'm mentioning so please let me know if you need something tagged. minors & blank blogs dni.

Three hours ago, when Dehya had complimented your ability to hold still as she carefully slid eyeliner across your lid, good girl had seemed innocent enough. Flirty, from the way her lips had ticked up and one of her sharp canines showed through a lopsided smile, but innocent enough. 

From your lounged position on Dehya’s bed, you absently follow the intricate stitching of her duvet, watching as she finishes the work you’d started. Her shirt is tossed somewhere around the room, breasts swinging with every movement as she slides her belt out of the belt loops with a shwip sound. 

You press your thighs together, adding pressure to your core as you shift around on the bedding. Her miniskirt joins her belt and shirt on the floor, adding to the pile of your clothes that was already on the wooden floors. Glinting blue eyes meet yours as her fingers hook around the thin straps of her underwear. 

She slowly slides the skimpy fabric down her tanned thighs until it rests in a puddle on the floor. Strategically, you rest your chin in the palm of your hand to not involuntarily moan or worse, unattractively drool at the sight. 

Dehya’s smile echoes the one she gave you hours earlier, only this time with a sharper, more predatory edge to it. Reaching behind her, she slowly pulls open her underwear drawer. 

“Want them?” She asks, gently nudging the discarded underwear with her toe towards you. 

Eyes widening, you shake your head, pushing your gaze up off the floor and following the length of her leg, her thigh, the soft bushiness of her mound and its little happy trail, the curve of her hips, the softness of her belly. Your thighs shift against each other again. 

Dehya laughs, filling every corner of the room as she turns her back on you. The dimples of her back move with her spine as she rummages around for her harness. 

The leather of it is soft, a burnt red with gold detailing that’s losing the stain around the edges from use. It slides up her hips with practice, pressing into her skin and leaving divots that you want nothing more than to sink your teeth into. Her fingers, stained with henna, slide underneath the straps around her hips, hoisting it up and over the bones. 

She stretches her arms above her head, shaking her hair so it rests down her back. As she lowers her arms, she drags her gaze along your body, shameless as she takes her time. 

You whimper when Dehya places her hands back on you, slowly rolling you onto your back. Her brows furrow together in a mocking worry. 

“Poor thing,” She murmurs, “Did you get lonely all by yourself?” 

Her lips find the pulse point on your neck, and work against the soft skin. Your reply is drowned out by soft little moans, emphasized by each nibble against your skin. 

When Dehya pulls away, she swipes her thumb along the wet, darkening patch on your neck, admiring the claim upon your skin. Her hand slowly travels up your throat, swiping along your bottom lip and tugging lightly at it. 

Dehya pouts at you. You pout right back. 

She clicks her tongue, straddling your stomach and gently lowering herself down. It’s obscene, the way you can feel how wet she is, bare cunt against your stomach. Out of reflex, your muscles twitch. 

She lowers herself down again, to capture your lips in hers. She swipes her tongue into your mouth, wrapping it around yours and pressing your bodies together. One of your hands slides between your bodies, eager to feel one of her large nipples harden beneath your fingers. At the first swipe, she groans into your mouth, the soft leather of the harness digging into your tummy. 

Dehya pulls away, and cards her fingers through the nape of your neck and into your hair. Without hesitation, you follow her up, tongue swirling around her pebbled areola before latching your lips around her nipple. You press your face into her breast, moaning into it. 

As you move to her other breast, you hum around her softened nipple, gently coaxing it to life. Dehya’s nails scratch against your scalp, a punched out whine leaving her throat. She lets you have your fun, sucking at the soft underside of her breasts, pressing your face against the lotioned and delicate skin, darkening bits when you let your lips rest around one area for too long. 

Dehya presses against your shoulder to coax you back, despite your whines. She tilts your chin back with her hand, forcing you to make eye contact with her. 

“Let me feel what I do to you,” Dehya murmurs, “Let Mommy feel what she does to you?” 

You bite your bottom lip, feeling your core churn at her words. Nodding, you spread your legs for her, shifting your hips slightly. She moves with your movements, spreading her legs as she slides back between your legs. 

There’s only a quick glimpse, all you see is shine for the brief moment her legs are open and exposed, spread over yours. Her middle and ring finger sit on either side of your lips, and slowly she pulls apart the mess. 

She exhales, biting her bottom lip before looking back up at you. “Let me remember this.” 

It’s perfectly timed, the way she gets off of the bed to rummage through her nightstand for her Kamera, and ‘happens’ to find a neatly wrapped package, complete with a bow and decorative paper. 

“Oh, this is for you,” She says, gently setting it between your breasts. 

“Don’t open it yet,” Dehya warns, sitting back between your thighs and using both hands to spread your knees further apart. “I saw it while I was in Ormos, and it reminded me of you.” 

“Is it naughty or nice?” You ask, picking it up to feel its weight, no stranger to Dehya between your thighs. It makes your pussy clench around nothing, however, as Dehya spreads your lips once more. With her lack of attention to your cunt, she’s overcompensated with the wetness provided. 

Dehya picks the Kamera up with one hand, balancing it properly to be able to take a photo with it. 

“What do you think it is?” She asks, sitting herself back on her heel to provide some kind of stimulation as she quickly clicks the Kamera at your wet pussy. 

“Dehya!” You squeal, mostly out of reflex as your knees come back together. 

She laughs and sets the printing Kamera over on the bedside table, chest passing right in front of your face. “Wanna suck my tit to make up for it?” She asks. 

“Yeah.” Accepting her peace offering, you sink your teeth into the one closest to your face, right on the meaty part that swings above you. 

“Hey!” She huffs, pushing you back by the forehead. You laugh, all too pleased with yourself. “You’re going to have to make that up to me.” 

“Can I open my present now, please Mommy?” You ask, batting your eyes up at her in an over exaggerated manner. 

Dehya nods, sitting back so you can sit up. Keeping your legs spread, one dangles off the bed as you carefully undo the ribbons on the box and lift the lid. You gasp as you see the contents– Glass with waves blown into it, and a flat bottom, pressed against a  velvet inland fit for jewelry. 

Picking your eyes off the dildo in your hands, you look back at Dehya, whose face is nothing but excited. 

“Feel it,” Dehya urges, and you’re nothing if not one to give into her whims. 

It’s cool against your fingers. Suddenly, all you can feel is the chill in your hands and the press of the duvet in your pussy. 

“You like it?” Dehya asks, softer. 

Mindlessly, you nod. You set the box on the nightstand, next to the developing photo of your cunt covered with your own wetness. You lean forwards, and Dehya lends back on her elbows, letting you do the honors. Carefully, you undo the snaps around the ring of the harness and remove it, sliding the metal around the dildo. Your fingers tuck under the harness, sliding against the coarse hairs of her bush as you click each strap back into place. 

Attached to your lover’s body, the dildo seems larger and smaller at the same time, and a thousand times more erotic. You slide it between the knuckles of your first and second finger, giving it a little tug to make sure it wouldn't come loose. 

“I do,” You finally say. The sight of Dehya, leaned back with her breasts falling to either side, stirs something within. Slowly, you begin to roll over on your front, ready to present yourself to her. 

Abruptly, Dehya stops you, grabbing you by the hip and forcing you onto your back once more. 

“Nuh-huh,” Dehya tuts, “You gotta say sorry for biting me.” 

“Sorry for biting,” You quip, and then begin to roll back over. However, only your torso moves, as both of Dehya’s hands hold firm on your hips. 

She shakes her head, and slowly shimmies her way above you until the tip of the dildo is resting centimeters below your chin. 

“Sit up a little and give me a kiss,” She purrs. 

Rising to your elbows, you make sure to maintain eye contact with the woman above you. It’s hard to do, as your gaze keeps flickering down to where her breasts press against her chest, nipples half erect and puffy. Dehya shifts her hips forward a bit so you don’t have to strain as much to press a kiss to the tip of the dildo. 

“Good girl,” Dehya murmurs. She cups your jaw with her hand, sliding her thumb against your cheek. “Now tell me you’re sorry again.” 

“Sorry, Mommy,” You murmur against the cool tip of the dildo. 

“There we go.” Dehya takes a deep, composing breath before pulling away, giving your nipples a little twist as she slides back down your body. “That’s all I was looking for.” 

Her hands slide over the backs of your thighs, as she presses them against your tummy to expose your pussy to her. The air is cool against the warmth coming from within you, and you can tell Dehya takes pleasure in watching the way your hole twitches from the smirk on her face. 

She blows cool air against your clit, just to watch the jump of your hole as you clench around nothing. 

“Empty, baby?” Dehya asks, brows furrowing together in worry. 

You nod, hands sliding around your thighs and lacing over her fingers. “Empty, mommy.” 

Dehya exhales, an audible woosh of breath from her lips. Her fingers glide around your lips, spreading them apart. 

“Let’s fix that, baby,” She promises, sliding her middle finger into your hole. An involuntary, gentle moan leaves her lips as she feels the way your gummy walls suck her in and pulse. 

“Feel like you missed me,” Dehya teases, pumping her finger in and out a few times before boldly sliding a second in to join. There’s a wet sound each time her fingers slide in and out of your pussy that causes your face to heat up. Dehya’s next words are strained, chest rising and falling quicker. “Sounds like you missed me.” 

“Doesn’t feel as good when I do it,” You reply, whining with each curl of Dehya’s fingers inside you. Each press against the spongy spot inside you has your moaning, enough to the point that your hand flies down to grab her wrist. 

“Dehya, Dehya, I’m gonna–” 

“Gonna what?” Dehya asks, tilting her head. Her hair falls over her shoulder, pooling on your thigh. “Gonna cum?” 

You nod. Dehya doesn’t change the rhythm of her movements. 

“You think you should?” She asks. 

You nod. Dehya hums. Abruptly, she pulls her fingers from you. 

You gasp, then throw your head back against the pillow. “M–”

“That was quick, even for you,” Dehya grins, climbing your body and resting one hand above your shoulder. The other, she presses her wet fingers against your lips. Without hesitation, you take them into your mouth and slide your tongue through and around. Dehya watches with lidded eyes, posing her next question. “Did you cum while I was gone?” 

You shake your head and continue working your mouth and tongue over Dehya’s fingers. 

“Poor baby,” Dehya says, voice filled with sympathy. She slowly pulls her fingers from your mouth, watching the strand of saliva break and rest on your chin. She wipes your spit-covered fingers on your breast, over your nipple and squeezes the soft flesh. 

A gasp leaves your lips. 

“I want to watch your lips on me,” Dehya murmurs, plucking a container of oil off the nightstand. “But I think you’re going to want to feel the chill.” 

“Can always clean you up, Mommy,” You offer. 

Dehya’s eyes soften at the offer. “Aren’t you sweet.” 

“You tell me,” You say, reaching a hand between your thighs and spreading your pussy for her. 

Chuckling, Dehya leans down and presses a light kiss to your clit. “The sweetest.” She gently moves your fingers to rest on your clit and circles them carefully. Your stomach flutters at the attention. 

“Keep doing that for me while my hands are full,” Dehya instructs, keeping a careful watch as your fingers swirl your clit while she unscrews the container of oil. 

Careful to not get any on her duvet, Dehya slicks up the dildo and spreads the remaining oil over your hole. As her fingers pass, you almost seem to try and pull her in. 

“Easy, baby,” Dehya murmurs, “I’m comin,’ you just gotta be patient.” 

“Missed you, though,” You whine, spreading your legs to make more room for her. Dehya reaches up beside you and grabs a throw pillow, shoving it up under your hips. 

“Missed you too,” Dehya breathes, “Dreamt about you, you know. Did nothing but think about you.” 

On her knees, Dehya lines up at your entrance, the cool head of the dildo catching on your hole, then up to catch your clit, then back down. Each chilled pass has you gasping. 

Dehya places her fingers back over yours, which hover a bit above your clit. She pushes back the hood with her free hand and places your fingers against your clit, resuming the gentle circles from before. 

“Don’t stop, okay?” Dehya instructs, taking your free hand in hers. “Want you to feel good.” 

“‘M not as good at it as you–oh,” Your complaint gets cut off as Dehya slowly sinks into you, thighs straining and core tightening as she keeps herself from slamming into you. 

Everytime she sinks into you, her brain always works faster than your body, always jumps to the sounds you make when she's fully inside of you, the unrestrained moans as you bunch beneath her and the feeling of your cum all over the strap and herself. 

But she restrains herself, keeps her eyes on your face to watch for pain but is rewarded as her face only expands into pleasure. Eyes rolling back, fingers forgetting every uneven beat to circle your clit. 

You feel full. That’s the only way to describe it. Full and wanting. You let out a long moan as Dehya sinks herself in further, the wave of the dildo expanding before shrinking. With an exhale, Dehya takes the largest part slow. Once she’s fully sheathed inside of you, your pussy sucks the rest of the strap inside. 

Dehya moans when she looks down and sees a little trickle of cum already sitting around the toy, and your still hand. 

“Feel good?” She asks, sitting back and gently sliding her hand over your stomach. 

You nod, eyeshadow messed up. “Stretch felt too good,” you breathe. 

“Felt too good?” Dehya asks. 

You nod once more, opening up your eyes. Your lashes are pushed together with tears. “Think I came, Mommy.” 

Dehya grins and chuckles at that. “I think you did, habibti. Let’s make a habit of it, alright?” 

Your lips pull up in a smile. “Please.” 

“Let me know if it hurts,” Dehya says, grinding against you. You nod, agreeing with her without second thought, consumed in the way the toy stretched within you. 

Dehya withdraws her hips and watches the dildo slowly exit, watching as your hole stretches around the girth before sliding back in. Your hand leaves your clit to cover your mouth as your eyes pinch chut in pleasure. 

Without a second thought, Dehya pulls back out halfway again and removes your hand from your lips. “Let me hear you.” Her request is more of a demand, and not a hard one to fulfill. 

As soon as Dehya sinks back into you, a low moan is pushed through you. With the way the toy rests inside of you, you can feel every motion, can feel it against your gut. With each pass, with each rock of Dehya’s hips, your pussy molds against the dildo and each of its soft waves, making it easier for her to keep a steady and smooth pace. 

Your long moans turn punched, pushed out of you each time Dehya sheathes herself back inside. You try to match her pace, but end up so off rhythm that Dehya has to take your hips in her hands and guide you back down on her strap. 

“Mommy, mommy, feels different” You say suddenly, as your stomach starts to coil up on itself in the most delicious way possible. Your legs wrap around her waist, thighs tensing. 

“Feels different?” Dehya asks, but doesn’t stop her movements. 

You nod, letting out a little whine as Dehya presses up against your g-spot again and rolls her hips before picking up her previous rhythm. She lays a hand over your stomach and another to support your lower back, gently tipping your hips up. 

The new angle has you crying out Dehya’s name, feeling her in your throat. “Oh, oh, oh, Mommy,” You get out, throwing an arm over your eyes and hiding in the crook of your elbow. 

“There it is,” Dehya mumbles, mostly to herself. It only takes a few more strokes before you’re cumming all over her strap, spraying over the leather harness. Dehya’s jaw drops slightly, and she continues to fuck you through the aftershakes, rubbing a hand over your thigh as it trembles under her touch. 

Once you’ve relaxed, Dehya slowly slides out of you and gazes up at your blissed out figure. She leans up to press a light kiss to your lips, then grabs the Kamera off the edge of the nightstand. 

“Let me get a picture, then you can clean me up,” Dehya says, carefully resting the strap against your puffy pussy and taking a photo, the shutter loud against your heavy breaths. 

When Dehya rests the Kamera back on the nightstand, she’s not surprised to feel your lips lazily mouthing against the soft tissue of her breast. She runs her fingers through your hair, keeping her hips raised so as to not press the dildo against you too hard. 

When you come back from the floating space of your orgasam, you gently push Dehya to roll over on her back. She goes willingly. 

Sinking between her legs, you let your hands feel up the thick muscle of her thighs, the defined abs on her middle. The glass of her strap is warm against your lips, heady with the smell of your essence coating it. You give it a little lick to taste, before dotting it with kisses all up and down the shaft. 

On your descent, you find yourself pressing a kiss to her clit, your tongue worming its way between her wet lips. Each pass of your tongue gives off a wet smack. Dehya’s hand curls in your hair, pulling you closer into her heat. 

You rest your hands on her stomach, stretching out your back in a perverted resting pose from a yoga class as your lips never leave her pussy. Each breath you take is enhanced by the smell of her.  

Dehya is vocal above you, all gruff grunts and soft moans and calls of your name. Her heel digs into your back as she gets close, all but stepping on you as her hips cant higher and higher as she chases her release. Your jaw aches as she comes, warmth spilling into your mouth is rhythmic spurts. You lap it all up, eager to taste the fruits of your labor. 

Sitting back, you rest a hand on her knee and another causally on your own breast, absentmindedly playing with your nipple and the piercing. 

Dehya sits up on her elbows, tummy rippling with the movements. Her eyes, still slightly glazed from pleasure, watch as you play with your breast. 

“Need more?” Dehya asks. 

You nod, grinding yourself back on your heel. “Got me worked up again, Mommy.” 

[sodrippy]

mwah thanks @hyperstellar for tagging me in the 'pick a song for each letter of my url' thing i love sodrippy and i love music and i love YOU<3

sending me ur loving / the jungle giants

one of those nights / key

darkroom / dios

rock it / little red

ice cold / half•alive

pasoori / ali sethi + shae gill

polaroids / paul conrad

you / haruma miura

tagging @pendraegon @babygirlgeralt @torsamors @tiberius-kirks @mnwlk @dripdropv @redrockbutch and YOU 🧑‍🤝‍🧑

[pinofdnp]

it's been a while since i posted the link to my dnp edits playlist, so here it is for everyone who's interested !!

(i'm updating it every time i post a new edit)

[untimelyambition]

now that we’re on the topic i would fucking love to read through the sheet music for nerdy prudes must die… not even to play or try and put on my own performance but just so i could read it and follow along with the show to try and work out all the harmonies