#he has a special folder just for his smutty writings about himself and you

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

SELF LOVE 101 (Gojo x Black!Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [REQUEST FILL]

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Black!Self-Insert!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers)

Synopsis: When you get invited to your coworker's Valentine's Day party, you have no intention of going. Especially since this particular coworker isn't exactly your cup of tea: Gojo Satoru is just too proud, too cocky, and too damn full of himself for a girl like you. But when you're persuaded to go and find yourself alone with him, Gojo will stop at nothing until you see that loving yourself is nothing to hate on. After all, a beautiful woman like you deserves to be loved on...especially on camera.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Coworkers to Lovers; Mild Enemies to Lovers; Secret Crush; Reader is a Self-Insert; Reader is Black, Fem & Plus-Sized; Foreplay; Mutual Oral; Spitting; Cunnilingus + Fingering; Deepthroating; Facefucking; Lipstick Marking; Heels On During Sex; Body Worship; Spanking; Begging; Dom!Gojo; sub!Reader; Breeding Position; Missionary; Dirty Talk; Eye Contact; Mutual Orgasm; Creampie; Reader Cums 2x; Sex on Camera/Nude Photos

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: A very special thank you to @curiouscutie143 for requesting my writing again for a V-Day special! I love writing about that sexy blue-eyed MFer & I hope you enjoy reading about him. -Jazz 🩷🩷🩷

**********

Commission Fan Art by greentforever on Fiverrrr

“So, V, you goin’ to Gojo’s Valentine’s Day party tonight?” 

You sit at your computer desk between the gray walls of your cubicle lined with photos of you with family, friends, and co-workers. One of them, your good friend Shoko, leans against the doorway to your cubicle in her black blazer, slacks that do nothing to hide her shapely ass, and blouse as red as her bold lip color. You, too, are dressed for the day of romance and love in your pink sweater paired with a black pencil skirt, nylon stockings, and pumps. 

She gives you an expectant smile as if she already knows your answer as she stirs sugar into her mug of coffee. You have your own coffee–iced despite the cold–that you sip as you sit at your desk, answering emails for the morning before the team meeting at 10 AM. This leaves you two hours to bullshit and gossip with Shoko which is one of your favorite points of the workday. “No,” you calmly reply. “You know I don’t do parties, Sho.” 

“But it’ll be with our coworkers,” Shoko protests. “You know these people! Gojo is inviting everyone from all of the departments, including our boss.” You inwardly roll your eyes behind your cat-eye glasses. Of course, Gojo would invite the bossman too. You always thought of him as a “boss’ pet” as well as a “people whore”, meaning he always makes it his mission to socialize and make everybody like him. Or maybe that’s just your strong distaste for his personality talking. 

“Sorry, girl,” you sigh, giving Shoko an apologetic smile. “It’s a no for me.” Shoko gives you a look between a glare and a pout. “Why? You’ve got plans? I wouldn’t doubt that your fine ass has a hot date.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you and snorts as you roll your eyes at her ridiculousness. 

Though you know that you’re a very attractive woman with your smooth, brown skin, plump frame, and an ass and rack that can stop traffic, you don’t do the dating thing. At least not right now. It’s too complicated. Too messy. Too distracting. You’re way too focused on your job, which you enjoy and are very good at, to be fooling around on dating sites and chasing after coworkers for some short-lived office romance. 

“Actually, yes, I do have plans,” you reply to your friend. “I have a date with my cat, TV, and Chinese takeout, thank you very much.” You then take a manila folder from the corner of your seat, stand from your chair, and give Shoko a tight-lipped smile. “Now, if you wanna continue pestering me with this, you’re gonna have to follow me to the scanner room.” 

And she does. She follows you, hot on your heels, as you walk through the office of cubicles holding your coworkers making calls, doing work, and sipping their morning coffee. She follows you into the scanner room with its dozens of scanning/printing/copying machines and boxes of extra office supplies. “Come on, V!” she groans. “I’ll be there too and we can have some fun! It would be the perfect time to work on your introvert tendencies.” 

You side-eye her as you begin to fire up the machine and put sheets into the scanner, one at a time. “A party isn’t gonna help with that,” you argue. “And it’s not like I don’t go out! I just don’t try to socialize with people I don’t know like you and…” Your words seem to die in your throat when you catch a glimpse of him through the scanning room’s doorway. 

You’ll never get over how tall Gojo is, standing a whole head taller than you with a lean, toned build that you can see even through his blue button-down shirt and slacks. His office attire is casual yet expensive-looking judging by his red bottom dress shoes. He keeps his locks of snow-white hair unstyled and slightly unruly as if he just rolled out of bed. It gives him a sexy look that you know drives so many of the girls in here crazy. Not to mention his voice––smooth, oh-so-sweet, and annoying like a song you’ve heard over and over again and can’t get out of your head. 

And then there are his eyes. They are an intense, electric blue that seems to shock you whenever you see them. Even now, when he turns his head slightly from chatting up a coworker, his eyes meet yours and you forget how to function. A small, crooked smile appears on his lips and he nods at you. You nod back in greeting––one of the only three ways you acknowledge each other. The other two are “good morning”s and unreadable glances across the office at one another. 

Shoko notices and bumps you with her hip. “And you can finally stop acting like you don’t like this man and get you some dick,” she sniggers. “You know he’d give it to you if you asked, V. The guy has pining after you for months now.” You give her a glare which she just laughs at. She swears that you have a “thing” for Gojo, but you will argue that down into the dirt until your very last breath. 

Shoko doesn’t understand that you and Gojo would not work. You and him are total opposites. He is extroverted and makes it his mission to go to every party, club, and kickback on the weekends while you’re more introverted and . rather stay home. While you know you’re attractive, you don’t constantly throw it in people’s faces like he does. He’s cocky and pompous and waaaay too into himself. 

You don’t dislike Gojo as a person, but you dislike his personality. And the persona he seems to put on for everyone else as if they are his audience. You’ve had the misfortune of seeing him drunk at your company’s Christmas party and left after an hour because of his constant jokes, loud singing, and how much he badgered you to take a shot. Despite this dislike, you don’t hate the guy. You both stay mannerable when your paths cross for any reason and sneak glances at one another but never speak beyond a “good morning” or about work. He works in a whole other department so you don’t see him often, but on the elevators or at company meetings, it’s a different story. 

Shoko can see you battling internally with yourself, so she stands in front of the doorway to block your view of Gojo, leaning her hip against the frame. “Listen, I know you have this whole love-hate thing with this dude,” she sighs, “but I promise you, he isn’t that bad. An attention slut, sure, but he means well. But I’m not here to talk about him–I’m here for you. I’ll be damned if you’re going to spend V-Day alone with your cat and takeout, which is why you need to come out with me, drink, shake ass, and make fun of our coworkers! Just for an hour, V, pleeeeease?” 

She folds her hands into a prayer, interlacing her fingers. You want to say no, but maybe she’s right. Maybe you can use a change. “One hour,” you firmly say. “One. Hour. And then I’m leaving.” 

Shoko squeals and presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving a red lip mark. “You won’t regret this, I promise,” she says though you groan indifferently. However, you can’t help but feel like maybe you won’t regret it either. 

********** 

You’ve never seen a house so big until your Uber pulls up to the estate Gojo rented out for the party. 

“Wow,” you whisper, staring up at the house in awe. After going down a trail lined with trees with bare branches to a forest that seemed to get deeper and darker, making you feel like you were entering a horror movie as you sat in the back of the car, the trees finally cleared and the mansion revealed itself. It’s more like a castle with its many floors, balconies, cobble-stoned walls, and glass windows. You spot a large pool on the right covered with a tarp, a tennis court, and a parking lot to the left filled with cars of all kinds. The lawn before it is clean, cut, and dewy, freshly cut and watered for the guests. 

The driver parks near the door and you pay him extra in cash despite also putting his tip on your credit card. “Keep it,” you tell him with a smile before thanking him and leaving the car. You press your wool trench closer to you as you walk up the path to the mansion in your heels that click against the cobblestones. The closer you get, the louder the party gets. Music and miscellaneous conversations drift to your ears, making you feel nervous. You want to turn around and run. 

‘No,’ you think, forcing yourself to keep walking. ‘You agreed to stay for an hour. AN HOUR, BITCH. You’ll be fine.’ So you swallow your fear, take a deep breath, and knock loudly on the door (ringing the doorbell for good measure). The door opens, revealing not Gojo but someone just as tall, built, and fine. He sports long, black locks of hair tied into a neat bun, gage earrings, and a tailored suit that he looks absolutely drool-worthy in. 

The stranger stares at you warmly but questionably with his chocolate eyes that you find yourself falling into. “Hello,” he greets you in a deep yet soft voice. “I’m guessing you’re here for the party?” Gulping, you find your voice and manage to answer the handsome stranger: “Y-Yeah, um, I’m V. Gojo’s coworker?” 

Recognition appears in the stranger’s eyes. “Oh, you’re V!” he chuckles. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Gojo has told me so much about you..and you’re just as pretty as he told me.” He gives you a wink that makes your stomach flip, but even more so that makes you react in such a way is the newfound information that Gojo has talked about you…and he thinks you’re pretty? 

You can’t mull over it for long though because the stranger moves aside to let you in. “Please, come in,” he says. “I’ll take your coat.” You thank him as you shed your coat, revealing your outfit of a red, curve-hugging dress that crosses over your chest, only giving viewers a peak of your cleavage. You curled your hair so it falls and bounces around your neck and paired your outfit with nylon stockings, pumps, a bold red lip and cat eye, and some small gold jewelry. You feel sexy and expensive. 

You take a moment to look around and admire the place. It’s something straight out of a movie with its polished marbled floors and walls, tablecloth tables covered in expensive snacks, fondue fountains, and champagne glasses, and a DJ playing slower songs as guests continue to show up. It’s truly a beautiful setup. 

“I’m Geto,” the stranger says once he’s finished hanging up your coat. “Suguru. I’m a friend of Gojo’s from high school and I own the place. Pretty, right?” You shake his hand when he offers it, noticing how large it is. “Nice to meet you,” you reply, “and it’s magnificent. I’m curious about what you do for work if you own a place like this!” 

He chuckles at the compliment and your curiosity. “I’m a business owner,” he explains. “I own one of the largest art companies in the country. We work primarily in setting up art exhibits, selling historical pieces, and keeping all art museums funded.” Ooooh…that means he got money. “I’ll have to tell Gojo that you’re here. He was so sure you weren’t coming.” 

You scowl confusedly at him, but before you can ask bout it, the man of the hour makes his grand appearance. “Getoooo!” his annoyingly familiar voice bellows. You turn, finding Gojo strutting over with a glass of champagne in a sleek, black button-up shirt, dress slacks, and red-bottom shoes. Darkened glasses sit on his eyes and his fingers and neck drip with gold jewelry. He looks expensive. And annoyingly good. 

He tosses an arm around Geto once near him, leaning into his friend.  “Where’d you get to, man? I’ve been looking for your ass for over 15 min…” He trails off when he gets a look at you and lowers his glasses down the bridge of his nose. You two stand there, silent, the music and noise swelling around you. “Huh,” he exhales, shocked. “And here I was wonderin’ who you were chattin’ up.” 

“Nice to see you too, Satoru,” you mutter. Sensing the tension, Geto clears his throat and takes Gojo’s glass from him. “I’ll just leave you two to talk,” he says before practically hurrying off. Then it’s just you two left alone. You don’t know whether to look at him or at the floor. “I can’t believe you actually came,” he huffs. “Shoko said you’d be coming, but I didn’t believe her. You never really come to any work-related events.” 

You flush under the lights, hugging your arms close to your body as a self-soothing mechanism. “That’s not true,” you protest. “I came to the Christmas party.” Gojo gives you a humored smile that irritates you for some reason. “But you left early,” he points out. 

“Well, maybe that’s because I don’t like seein’ my coworkers drunk,” you pointedly reply. “I’m just not a party person…but I did promise Shoko, so here I am.” You look off to the side to avoid Gojo’s gaze, but you can still feel him looking at you. Having no choice, you look back at him and find him giving you a soft, unreadable look. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” you ask, uncomfortable. 

“You just look…” He stops and bites his lower lip as if struggling internally with himself. It feels as if the room has gotten ten times hotter. “Really nice,” he decides, giving you a smile. “I’m shocked you’re not here with somebody.” 

“Well, I sorta am…” You begin to look for Shoko and find her in a green mini dress chatting up Nanami and Haibara from another department at your job. When she sees you, she gasps and immediately struts over you to you, a glass in one hand. “There she is!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around you. You sigh in relief, glad to have her here. “Is this guy bothering you? It’s okay, baby, I’m here now.” 

She turns to Gojo with a scowl, her arm wrapped around your plump waist. “So you can make your exit, Gojo,” she jokingly tells him. He puts his hands up in mock defense and backs away.

“Fine with me, just don’t make out in front of our boss. I’ll see you two around.” But as he says this, he looks dead at you as if making a promise. When he finally turns to walk away, you finally feel like you can breathe. “He’s got it bad,” Shoko chuckles. 

“Shut up,” you sigh. “I’m already uncomfortable here. I feel like everyone is staring at me.” Shoko titters, taking a champagne glass from a nearby tray and handing it to you. “Maybe it’s because you look fine as fuck,” she laughs. “Girl, just take a glass and relax! It’s a party! Those nerves will start to melt away the minute you get that champagne down the hatchet.” 

You do as she says and sip on your first glass of the night. And though you start to feel somewhat calm, you still feel disturbed. Mostly because of Gojo. Throughout the night, you become increasingly annoyed by his constant socializing and his noise. Why is he so loud? Loud when he talks. Loud when he laughs. Loud when he sings karaoke in front of his adoring, tipsy coworkers who cheer him on. 

Not to mention he constantly takes photos with everybody! Every person, including your boss, he takes a photo with, causing his phone to flash in your face every five minutes. Combined with the loud music and drunken laughter, you’re quickly becoming overstimulated (and not at all in a good way). 

Fed up with your snowy-haired party host and the noise, you down your second glass and text Shoko that you went to find the bathroom. But really, you just need to get away and be alone. Then you sneak away from the party and up the stairs until you are in the long hallway lined with paintings, oakwood vanities, and doors. Many doors. You push open the door that is cracked, leading to an empty study that is only lit by the big, round cheese moon outside the window behind the oakwood desk. 

The study is spacious and cozy with its polished bookcases of books on every subject, hanging paintings, and carpeted floor. The moon cuts through the glass window, creating a silvery square on the carpet and the wall near the desk where you see Geto’s name plastered on a college diploma. This must be his study. Hopefully, he won’t be upset that you’re in here, but the door was locked and you won’t be in here for long. 

You shut the door behind you and slowly walk into the study before stopping at the desk leaning against it. You feel so good to just be alone for a while, the sound of the party muffled beneath the floorboards. The only loud sounds are of your breathing and the hooting of a lone owl outside the window. It is peaceful. Serene. But not for long. 

The door opens before you can duck to hide and a tall figure stands in the doorway. He steps in, revealing himself to be the exact man you were trying to escape. “Shit!” you gasp, placing a hand on your leaping heart. “Don’t you knock?” 

Gojo stands there as if he didn’t just nearly scare you half to death. “I did knock,” he says. “Said your name too. Must’ve not heard me.” The door shuts behind him as he walks further into the room, slowly as if you’re a spooked animal. You don’t move from the desk, even when he comes to lean on the edge of it with you. 

“I was lookin’ for you,” he explains. “Shoko said you went to the bathroom, but that was over fifteen minutes ago.” He takes off his glasses to reveal his eyes, worry embedded in the crystal blue irises. 

“Oh,” you sheepishly say. “Sorry, I just…needed some time to myself. It was too loud down there.” He quirks one eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his pink lips. “Is that code for me bein’ too loud?” he chuckles. “C’mon, I know you were annoyed by me. I could see it all over your face. That’s why I came up here to check on you and tell you I’m sorry.” 

And he actually sounds genuinely sorry about it. It makes you feel incredibly guilty. “You don’t have to apologize,” you sigh. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I guess our personalities just clash…and I’m not too fond of a phone flashing in myself every five seconds when you take a selfie.” 

Gojo laughs at this, the sound pleasant to you. “Just taking advantage of how good I look,” he jokes, flashing you a pearly-white grin. You don’t respond, staring at your shoes. “You don’t agree?” he asks, taking your silence for disagreement. 

“I didn’t say that!” you protest, flushing. “I just don’t see the need in takin’ all of those photos of yourself just because you look good. I mean, who’s gonna see ‘em?” You shrug to yourself, not really liking this conversation. “I am!” he laughs. “It’s not always for others to see. Maybe I just wanna admire myself. Don’t you, V? Admire yourself, I mean?” 

Now you really don’t like this conversation. You don’t reply, your thoughts running a million miles a minute. You feel like you should leave…but at the same time, you like the quiet and you enjoy Gojo’s openness. You enjoy him when he isn’t someone else. “Lemme ask you somethin’,” he says, not waiting for a response. “Do you hate confident guys? Guys who know they’re good-looking?” 

You look at him then, your eyes sharp and pointed. “No; just the ones who are cocky and into themselves.” 

A twinkle appears in Gojo’s eyes that is illuminated by the moonlight pouting into the window. Unbeknownst to you, he loves your boldness. Your bite. It’s sexy. And more than anything, he loves to prove you wrong about him. “It’s not that I’m into myself. I just know I’m a strong, smart, sexy guy. And there’s nothing wrong with that! I have the kind of confidence that no one’s opinion of me can make me feel some type of way…I mean, other than yours.” 

You furrow your brows at this, confused. Gojo just laughs, shaking his head. “In case you ain’t pieced it together, I like you, V. I think you’re way too smart for your department and you’re not bad on the eyes either.” He tilts his head to the side, a puppy dog look in his eyes. “But for some sad reason, you just seriously dislike me.” 

“I don’t dislike you!” you protest, feeling even guiltier than initially. He must think you’re such a bitch! “I just don’t like how cocky and overly exaggerated you can be with your confidence. To me, it feels like you rub it in my face.” Gojo raises an eyebrow, shocked at this confession. “Why?” he asks curiously. “Don’t you think you’re just as good-looking?” 

You look away at your nails, hyper-fixated on how shiny and glossy they are. “Well, yeah, but…” You pause, pretty sure that you’re oversharing at this point. You do know that you’re beautiful, but taking photos isn’t your thing. You don’t even have an Instagram account! It just isn’t for you. But Gojo thinks this is a travesty. “But what? Do you not take selfies of yourself?” You don’t answer, too embarrassed to. Gojo honestly looks shocked. “How?!” he exclaims. “Do you not see how beautiful you are? Seriously, V, you’re a fucking knockout! Especially right now.” 

You feel his blue eyes roaming across your body, your curves, your dress, and suddenly, the room feels hotter. “Here, c’mere,” he suddenly says, pulling out his phone. He then scoots closer to you to which you move away. “What are you doing?” you ask, confused. 

“Takin’ photos with you,” he replies as he opens his camera. “What’s it look like? Just scoot in close and you can see how gorgeous you are.” He flips the camera lens around so they’re facing you and him, but you scoot out of the shot, hesitant. “C’mon, just a few pics!” he pleads. “Pleeeease? I’ll put the camera on auto flash so it’ll go off every 20 seconds.” 

He gives you those puppy dog eyes again and you sigh, knowing that you’ll regret this. “Alright, fine,” you huff and scoot closer to him, trying not to inhale his cologne or feel some type of way with his shoulder and calve rubbing up against yours. “Say V-Day,” he says before the screen flashes in your face. He smiles but you don’t though, keeping your expression stoic. 

Gojo hums in satisfaction at the photo. “See? Look at that gorgeous face!” You look between the two contrasting faces and facial expressions. “Mine or yours?” you ask. He smirks at you and you realize your mistake. “Yours, of course,” he chuckles. “Why? You think I’m gorgeous?” You tsk and nudge him, earning a cackle. “C’mon, another one! Smile in this one.” 

Though you roll your eyes, you do as he says and smile, big and bright, into the camera. When the camera flashes, Gojo all but cracks a smirk in the photo. “Shit, I wasn’t ready for that one,” he sighs. “Now you’re definitely the gorgeous one in this one.” You flush, mostly because you feel that he’s right––you do look gorgeous in the photo. 

After another photo where you’re both smiling, you start settling in and realize how funny Gojo is. He cracks jokes and makes you laugh as the photo flash goes off, leading to pictures being taken of you and him cracking up. Soon, you’re making silly faces at the screen which makes you both laugh even harder. “Okay, okay, lemme do this one normal,” you giggle and smile at the camera, feeling warm and happy. 

Gojo can tell and that is why he tells you exactly what he thinks of you, unable to keep it in: “Goddamn, you truly are beautiful, V,” he sighs. “Can’t you see us together?” You turn to him, confused and alarmed by his words, but you don’t realize how close you are. As the camera goes off, your lips touch his in a soft, quick kiss that is as fast as the flash of the camera. 

You pull away as quickly as it happens, shocked and alarmed by how much you liked the kiss rather than by the fact that it happened. He’s a good kisser. Gojo stares at you in the same light like he can’t believe that that just happened and that it was with you. But he also looks at you in a way no one ever has: adoringly. Enchantingly. Like you’re the most beautiful thing in the room. Your eyes roam down his handsome face to his lips, soft and pink. 

Gojo places his phone down next to him before, silently, you both lean in again, your lips moving slowly yet passionately against each other’s. Scratch that “good”. Gojo Satoru is a great kisser. He moves his lips like it’s his profession, taking his time easing you into it. His hand caresses your face and holds your cheek, his touch making you shiver. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to become hotter and more passionate while your hands move along your bodies. At some point, his phone falls off of the edge of the desk and lands on the carpet, face-up. You can’t tell if the camera is still open and can’t care enough to check. Gojo’s lips move from your mouth to your neck, peppering your skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses. You grasp his shoulders and close your eyes, blissed out from the sensations. Despite him being your coworker, despite his personality, despite the party going on downstairs and you still being in another person’s room, you don’t care. 

You can’t care. Not when Gojo is giving you everything you’ve been craving. So when his hands inch to the zipper at the nape of your neck, you let him do as he pleases. He pauses, looking at you questionably, and you nod, wanting him to continue. He continues to kiss you down, giving you small lovebites as his fingers work the zipper down. “Gojo,” you exhale. It’s all you can utter as the dress comes off, only falling down from the waist up due to you still sitting. 

Gojo stares at you like you’re a work of art, eyes now dark with molten lust. “Fuck, look at you,” he whispers, drinking in your soft, brown skin. “Look at these.” His hands move to your breasts, big, soft, and juicy. You whimper softly at his touch, his thumbs moving over your hard nipples. “You’re absolutely beautiful, V,” he groans like it pains him. “How the fuck aren’t you with anyone?” 

You don’t answer, too horny to speak. All that is on your mind is him. “Well, it’s their loss. Now, I have you tonight…if that’s what you want.” His hands begin to leave your body, but you stop him, keeping them on your chest. “Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, I want this.” He smiles, a light sparkling in his eyes. He doesn’t begin playing with your titties just yet. First, he runs his piano fingers up and down your back as he kisses you again, soft moans traveling into each other’s mouths. 

Your hands find his body, touching and stroking his forearms; his chest; his sides; his waist. At some point, you brush up against his crotch where you feel his obvious hard-on pushing up against his pants. You gasp at the feeling and he lightly laughs into your ear. “Do you see? You see what you do to me?” 

He then stands in between your legs and latches his lips onto one of your hard, brown nipples. You gasp at the sensations of his wet tongue flicking the sensitive bud and swirling around the areola. “Fuck, Gojo,” you quietly moan, tossing your head back to the ceiling as you lean back onto one hand on the desk. He is so good with his tongue! Every flick against your nipple has you gushing, along with his fingers gently fondling the other breast he doesn’t have his mouth on. He switches, giving both of you girls equal attention. He is sloppy and greedy with it, just as you hope he is eating pussy. 

Gojo hums into your nipple, pulling away to look at you with a mischievous smile. “Rubbin’ that pussy against my leg, huh?” he chuckles. “You’re so needy, V, baby. Didn’t think that was possible for you.” Realizing that you’ve been embarrassingly rubbing your cunt up against his leg wedged between your thighs, you try to pull away, but Gojo firmly grips your outer thigh to stop you. “No; tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.” 

You know you shouldn’t. You know that having relations with your coworker at a party can only bring trouble, but the need that you have is desperate to be unbottled and overflow; not trapped again. “Taste me, Satoru,” you say in a soft plea. “I want your mouth on me.” The smile he gives you just about melts your pussy right off the bone. 

“You’ve got it, kitty,” he coos, using his thumb to gently play with your plump bottom lip, watching the way it bounces and jiggles slightly. “But on one condition: you be as loud as you wanna be. Don’t pull that quiet shit with me. The music is loud enough anyway…and even if it isn’t, fuck them.” 

Before you can argue or protest, he kneels between your legs so he is at eye level with your panties and pulls them to the side, exposing them to his naked eyes. He hisses at the way your arousal sticks to your panties as he does, your pussy lips so soaked that strands of your wetness stick to the fabric. “Shit, baby,” he groans. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” 

You bite your lip, embarrassment and arousal mixing within you. You hate how horny he makes you, but you can’t deny that you love it too. You’ve never had anyone make you feel this out of control before. But when Gojo finally proceeds to slurp up your pussy like his favorite meal, you just about lose yourself. “Fuck!” you moan, immediately grabbing his shoulder while the other grips the edge of the desk. 

Gojo is a master at eating pussy. He wiggles his tongue this way and that, stroking your lips and your clit. He just kisses the entrance of your pussy with his tongue, never quite venturing inside but you can still feel him stroking your inner walls. When he does that, his nose bumps against your clit, nudging it gently and sending sparks of pleasure throughout your entire body. It’s so hard to keep quiet or control your body because of the immense pleasure you feel.

“Oh, my God!” you gasp, earning a hum of pleasure from Gojo that he makes in your pussy. Your thick thighs clamp around his head, making him feel smothered just the way he wants to. 

God, he loves your thighs! He uses his hands to grip them; stroke the outside of them; even lightly spank them and the space where they meet your ass that he is more than eager to see in 3D. 

When he pulls away to spit onto your pussy and slurp it back up, you swear you nearly shout to the heavens, but you manage to bite your lip to keep it all in. Noticing, Gojo gives the meat of your outer thigh a light spank that makes you squeak. “I said let that voice out,” he mumbles into your pussy. “Come on, baby…ain’t this where you’re weak at?” 

He then begins to gently flick and rub your clit with his thumb, paying close attention to the way you respond. Judging by the way your moans echo throughout the empty study and your thighs quiver, he assumes he’s right on the money. “I guess it is,” he chuckles. “Let’s see what other pretty sounds I make you make with these fingers.” 

And he gets exactly what he’s looking for when he dips one of those long fingers into your tight, wet, delectable pussy and begins to stroke upward to rub your clit and G-spot at the same time. You’re unable to keep your voice hidden, each moan, whimper, and sob loud and unbridled. Thank God the music is loud enough to mask the sounds, but even if it isn’t, you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when Gojo’s tongue and fingers feel so good. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that knot in your core beginning to tighten with each stroke, lick, and slurp. When he pulls away to once again spit on your pussy and then slurp it back up while his finger continues to stroke your insides, you feel that tension about to boil over and grab his head to push into your pussy. He welcomes it, loving the feeling of being drowned in your wet cunt. You can’t even speak a coherent sentence. You begin to babble cusses and his name as you feel yourself about to cum: “Fuck, ‘Tarou! Shit, you’re gonna make me cum! You’re gonna…I’m gonna…oh, shit, shit shit!” 

“Mmm-hmm,” Gojo hums eagerly into your cunt, repeating this and becoming more eager the faster his ministrations get. The faster they get, the harder and faster you cum. You throw your head back and grip his white locks as you cream all over and into Gojo’s mouth. A loud moan from deep within you rises to the surface and exits your mouth, echoing throughout the room. You feel euphoric, tingles of pleasure coursing through you. 

Gojo doesn’t stop licking or finger-fucking you until he can feel your pussy twitch and weak moans leave your lips. He finally pulls away with a gasp, his chin and lips coated in you. He licks it all off eagerly and sucks on the finger he had inside of you, staring deep into your eyes as he does so. Your eyes trail down to his hardened cock which has now begun to pulse beneath his pants, desperate to be released…and you’re desperate to get it. “Need you,” you whisper breathlessly. “I wanna taste you too.” 

Gojo gives you a lustful, molten hot stare that nearly gets you out of the rest of your dress. “Not here. Follow me.” He takes your hand and helps you off of the desk before leading you out of the study and into the hallway. You walk all the way down the hall to an empty master guest room, spacious, clean, and comes with a balcony that overlooks the outside. The tree branches stretching their spiny fingers to the window cut across the floor in shadows, the moonlight shining through into the bedroom. 

You barely pay any attention to the room because you’re too busy kissing on Gojo. You wrap your arms tight around his neck as your lips move against one another’s, your tongues swirling and moans traveling into each other’s mouths. Gojo, skilled as he is, kicks the door shut with one foot and unzips the rest of your dress so it falls to the floor. His hands immediately go for your ass, groping, squeezing, and spanking your plump cheeks. He chuckles through your kiss at each soft moan and gasp you make, the sounds going straight to his groin. 

When he pulls away, his lips are plump from constantly kissing and his eyes are blown with lust. “My turn,” he says, smirking at you, and suddenly, he’s hoisting you up into his arms like you weigh absolutely nothing compared to him. He laughs at your cute little squeak as he carries you over to the humongous, neatly-made bed and tosses you onto the soft mattress where he hums seductively at the way you bounce against the bedsprings. Seeing you naked in just your heels is many things to him, one of which causes him to strip himself out of his clothes. Before he does, he leans his phone up against a charger on the nightstand so it faces you and the bed. You can’t tell if it’s on or not, too focused on him to even care. 

You watch him from the bed, turning over onto your tummy to lean against your elbows, your chin in your hands, and heels kicked up in the air. You’ve never seen someone take off his clothes so quick and in a flash, Gojo is completely naked. Your hungry eyes roam over his body, drinking in his muscles and lighter skin that contrasts with yours. They then go lower where they latch onto his big, thick, gorgeous, hard cock. You see veins and stark white pubic hairs that are trimmed short leading up to his toned stomach and V-line. You feel your body twitch with need, wanting him inside you in any possible way. 

Gojo takes a handful of his cock and begins to slowly stroke it in your face, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “You want this?” he asks. Slowly, you nod, unable to speak. “Then open your mouth and take it like a good girl.” 

You do so, inching to the edge of the bed so you’re able to reach him. You open your mouth and wrap your lips around him, emitting a needy groan from his luscious lips as you begin to suck and lick on his cock. “Thaaat’s it, baby,” he praises you, pushing stray hairs out of your face. “Lick it just like that. Like a lollipop…but just a little bigger.” 

Bigger, indeed! He stretches out your mouth and barely fits in your hands as you begin to stroke him, but you love his girth and length. You love how your dark, long nails look against his pale skin stroking him up and down. You love the sounds he makes, each moan and hum of pleasure encouraging you to give him major throat. So you bob your head and stare into his eyes as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks around his length. “Shit, baby!” he hisses, tossing his head back. “How are you this fucking good at suckin’ dick?” 

You just answer by continuing your work, loving how good you’re making him feel with your mouth and hands. After letting you do your thing for a while, Gojo slides out of your throat with a groan and gently slaps his cock against your lips dripping with spit, smearing it and your lipstick around your mouth. “So pretty,” he sighs dreamily, giving you a hooded gaze that makes you gush. “Look at how much you marked me, kitty.” 

He nods down at his cockhead ringed in your red lipstick which only makes you want to make more. “I wanna mark you too,” he says in a sultry, breathless voice. “I wanna fuck your throat, baby. Is that okay?” Is that okay? He may as well ask if it’s okay to fuck you! “Yes,” you reply, staring up at him through your lashes. “It’s okay…use my throat, ‘Tarou.” 

Your voice and nasty words make his dick twitch excitedly. He wraps his hand around himself and taps the head lightly against your tongue, making light, wet smacking sounds as he does so. “Just tap my hip or my thigh twice if you need to breathe, okay?” he coos to which you nod. And then he’s gripping your hair as he slides deep, deep, deep into your throat, nearly making you choke. A loud, needy moan leaves his lips as he settles into your tight, wet mouth and begins fucking it, bumping his pelvis and heavy balls against your face and chin as he does so. 

“Oh, my God,” he groans, fucking your throat like it’s a fleshlight. “Oh, my fucking God, baby, you’re so good at this shit! So, so good at suckin’ cock. Why the fuck didn’t we do this a long time ago?” You can only gargle and gag around his cock in response, earning a pleased chuckle. “Those are the sounds I like to hear,” he huffs. “You’re doin’ so well for me, baby, takin’ this big cock. You love gettin’ that throat fucked, don’t you? Maybe that’s all you needed to see things my way.” 

After some time of fucking your throat and leaning forward to plant some smacks on your ass to watch it jiggle, Gojo slides out of your mouth, giving you a chance to breathe. Spit and pre-cum drips from your mouth and chin, dribbling down to your tits and onto the bed. Gojo stares down at you, cheeks flushed, eyes narrow, and pumping his hard cock wet with your spit. “You still want this?” he asks. “We can leave it here if you want. No pressure, baby.” 

But you want all the pressure he can give you. So you position yourself onto your back and open your thighs for him, your heels planted on the edge of the bed. His intense, blue eyes immediately flick down to your gorgeous, edible pussy shimmering in the moonlight for him. “I want this,” you whisper into the dimly lit bedroom. But Gojo doesn’t move. He just stands there, still stroking his cock. “Do you not want this?” you ask uncertainly. 

“No, I wanna fuck you,” he answers easily. “I just want you to beg.” He grins at your gobsmacked expression. “That’s right, kitty: beg for me. Beg for this cock nice and pretty for me.” The heat of embarrassment crackles at your cheeks and skin, but it also makes your pussy quiver. “Please,” you whimper, swallowing your pride. “Please fuck me, Satoru. I need you. I’m so, so wet for you.” You begin to lightly play with your pussy in front of him, rubbing your clit and coating your lips in your wetness. 

It’s enough to make Gojo go absolutely insane. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty clit for me,” he demands before taking your ankles and yanking you to the edge of the bed. You gasp as he does so, but it turns into a moan as he slides himself home inside of you. Your body instantly tenses at his girth stretching out your walls, but he doesn’t move immediately. He watches you intently, waiting until you relax to start moving. And even then, he doesn’t fuck you hard and rough straight off the rip. He is gentle and slow, giving you strokes that are careful but still draw moans out of you. 

You can feel every inch of him inside of you, feeling unbelievably full. As you continue to rub your clit, the pleasure begins to build and your body becomes comfortable with Gojo’s cock, adapting and molding into a shape just for him. Gojo notices and grips your hips as he continues to roll his hips nice and tortorously slow into you. “This okay, baby?” he huffs. “You need it faster? Harder?” You nod, whimpering pathetically. 

Smack! His hand collides with the outside of your thigh, making it jiggle. “Nuh-uh, baby,” he growls. “Look at me. Say it to my face.” You open your eyes, just slits, and look at his handsome face slightly gleaming with sweat, as he bumps his hips even slower into you. He cackles at your groan of frustration, not giving up until you give him what he wants. “Please!” you whine. “Please, Gojo, baby, fuck me harder!” 

That’s when he holds you close by your hips, hoists your legs over his shoulders, and puts your ass straight into the mattress. Your eyes widen and your nails dig into shoulders as he fucks you rough, gripping the flesh of your thighs and fucking into you with a speed and precision that has you seeing stars. You’ve neve been fucked so good before. You pussy squelches and gushes all around his cock the more it pummels into you, drilling you just the way you need. 

It’s so good. Too good. Your eyes squeeze shut at the overwhelming pleasure, moans and whines leaving your lips to echo throughout the bedroom. You then feel Gojo’s hand gripping your chin, squishing your cheeks together. “Look at me, V,” he demands. “I said fucking look at me when I’m fucking you!” At his tone and volume, you weakly open your eyes and stare into his that remind you so much of the oceans in the Bahamas. 

“Keep lookin’ at me,” he orders but it sounds more like a plea. “Don’t look away. I wanna see those pretty eyes while I fill this pussy up.” You have to force yourself to keep staring, mostly because of the vulnerability. You’re here being splayed out and stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey, your heels dangling in the air and pussy squleching around his cock! And here he is, wanting to see every single cute little expression on your face and in your eyes. It’s too much. It’s too intimate. 

But it’s so intoxicating. So addictive. And the feeling is mutual. Gojo commits your body and the way your tits jiggle as he fucks you into the bed to memory, wanting to give you good dick any time you want as long as it’s his. “This is all it took, huh?” he chuckles. “You just needed some dick to see how beautiful you are? How much you deserve a guy like me?” He holds your face in his hand, forcing you to keep looking at him. “Do you see how good we are together, V? Huh? Do you see it now?” 

You must be delicious from the dick because you do. You do see it and you’re desperate to make it known as he speeds up, plowing into that pussy again and again until the bedsprings creak. “Fuck, ‘Tarou, yes!” you sob. “I’m gonna fucking cum! I’m so close!” You can’t stop the way your pussy clenches and your clit swells as you continue to toy with it. 

But then Gojo stops, stilling his movements. “Me too,” he warns. “But not like this.” He suddenly hoists you up farther onto the bed and edges onto it with you on his knees. He grips your ass as lifts your legs up onto his shoulders, leaning forward so your knees are pressed against your chest. “Need to make it count,” he grunts. “Need to be closer to you…need to be deeper.” 

You’re confused at fist, not sure what he’s doing. 

That’s when he proceeds to fuck you into a breeding position, his hips slamming down against yours with his feet planted firmly on the bed. “Oh, my God!” you practically scream as his cock pummels in and out of you at a breakneck pace, causing every part of you to jiggle and move with the force of his fucking. Now you understand why so many women are crazy for him: he’s amazing in bed. He has such stamina being able to fuck you in such a position without hiring, feral moans and grunts leaving his lips as he fucks you stupid. 

Now you have no choice but to cum. You’re completely trapped beneath him with no place to go, your pussy quivering and twitching around his cock. “G-Gojo!” you stutter, gripping his shoulders for dea life. “‘M g-gonna cum! Gonna…you’re g-gonna m-make me…” You can’t even speak, your tongue heavy and mind blank with pleasure. But Gojo understands. “Cum for me, baby,” he begs, staring deep into your eyes. “Cum with me. Give it to me like a good girl!” 

And you do. As soon as he bursts inside of you with a loud moan of your name, your pussy clenches and you cum all around his cock, drenching him in your juices. Gojo grips you to him, making you feel restricted and trapped with just his arms and his body. You gasp as you feel him fill you up with his nut, warm, wet, and endless. He groans as his cum drips out of you and leaks down your thighs and his balls, soaking you both in the aftermath of your sex. Your sex. You just had sex with a coworker. 

As the fog of your orgasm fades, you feel nothing close to bliss and everything close to mortification. Gojo finally releases you and stands up straight, hissing as he does so. “Ah, shit!” he groans. “Think I overdid it.” He puts a hand to his lower back, winching. You just stare up at him, trying to make sense of him and everything that just happened. “Sorry,” he sheepishly says, smiling down at you. “Did that ruin the mood?” 

Your eyes roam over his naked, toned body to his semi-hard cock still soaked in your and his cum. You quickly look away to your clothes and bag, feeling the urge to throw up. “No, I…fuck!” The gravity of the situation hits you like a freight train. “I can’t believe I did this,” you murmur to yourself. “I can’t believe we did this.” 

Gojo chuckles, laying next to you on the edge of the bed. “Believe it, baby; the hair speaks for itself.” He runs a hand through his unruly, sexed-out locks of silvery-white hair. “You were so, so good,” he sighs happily. He goes to touch you, but you move away, immediately feeling guilty for doing so when you see his saddened eyes. But you can’t bring yourself to touch him or snuggle. Aftercare doesn’t matter right now when all you feel is guilt and confusion. “I-I’m sorry, Gojo,” you weakly say. “I have to go. I took things too far with you tonight.” 

It was the alcohol, you try to reason. And you were trying to distract yourself from the noise of the party. You were vulnerable. You try to think of every reason this happened instead of just blaming it on the fact that you’re very attracted to Gojo Satoru. He lays on the bed now, scowling in utter confusion at you. “Wait, huh?” he asks as you scramble to leave the bed. “Wait, V, don’t go! Let’s sit down and talk about it!” 

But you don’t want to talk about it and you can’t talk about it. If you do, you’re sure that you’ll start crying. You can already feel the tears building. But as you rush to the door, gravity has other plans for you and you knock right into the nightstand, causing Gojo’s phone to fall. “Shit!” you gasp, immediately bending down to pick it up. His phone sits faceup in your hand, the screen glowing at you. 

There, you see his camera roll. And in it, every new picture taken by Gojo tonight. You see photos of him and your team; him and the boss; and him and you. Not just the ones you took side by side in Geto’s study, but also…other ones. More intimate ones taken every 20 seconds of you both. Naked. Having sex. Heat runs through your veins and up to your face, creating a permanent blush. ‘No,’ you think. ‘No, no, no!’ 

You open all of them, each one becoming more embarrassing and lewd than the previous one. You see photos taken from the floor in the study where Gojo is on his knees eating you out; photos of you getting your face fucked at the edge of the bed, your heels kicked up and his hand gripping your hair; you on your back legs spread wide and face contorted in pleasure as Gojo fucks you into the couch; you and him together, locked into a breeding position, your eyes locked on each other’s as the moon glows against your skin. 

Gojo slides off of the bed to check on you, seeing you staring at his phone completely in awe. “What?” he asks, curious. “What is it?” Wordlessly, you pass the phone to him and he sees the photos. His blue eyes widen an inch as he scrolls through each one. “Oh,” he just says. “Well, at least you look hot in all of these. But I can delete ‘em if you want.” 

And you realize that he’s right: you do look hot in all of them. You drink in your smooth, brown skin glowing in the moonlight; your thick thighs spread and ass looking so delectable; your pussy stretched around Gojo’s cock as your pretty face contorts beautifully with pleasure, spit and red lipstick smeared around your open mouth. It’s still embarrassing, but also liberating. And a turn-on. You see yourself just as Gojo sees you in those photos: sexy, beautiful, and meant to be with him. 

“No,” you reply. “Send them to me.” He gazes at you, shocked. “You’re right: I do look pretty hot in those…we both do, actually.” You give him a shy smile to which he returns, a slight blush adorning his cheeks. “Well, I’m glad you see it my way, but I can’t send them to you. I don’t have your number.” He actually looks sad to give you the bad news. 

But you smirk, one step ahead of him. You put your hand out, palm up, for his phone. “Then I guess you’ll need my number then,” you purr. He stares at you for a few seconds, his mind slowly processing your words, and then hands you the phone. He continues to give you that laughable look as you put your name and a cute heart emoji beside your name into his contacts, along with your number. 

When you pass it back to him, your heartbeat has accelerated, your stomach fluttering with butterflies. “You can use that for a brunch date too,” you add, feeling somewhat shy. “Or the movies.” You silence yourself, letting Gojo piece your words together. 

He stares down at your number and then at you before breaking out into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on a person. He tosses his phone onto the bed before engulfing you in a tight embrace, picking you up off of the ground. You squeal as he tosses you both onto the bed, kissing you all over on your face; your neck; your shoulders. “Finally!” he laughs. “Finally, you’re mine!” You laugh with him, feeling giddy like a schoolgirl who just found out her crush likes her back. 

You lean up to kiss him, but stop when a knock interrupts you. “Yes, finally,” Shoko agrees. “I was waiting for the day you two finally stopped acting like you weren’t crazy about each other and just fucked.” You gape at the door, mortified that your friend is behind it. Did she hear you two? Did anyone else hear you two?  

“As happy as I am for you Satoru, can you at least clean up my bed when you’re done in there?” Geto asks. “And come down for the party toast in about fifteen minutes.” 

Gojo presses a finger to his lips, signaling you to keep quiet while he’s silently dying with laughter. “Sorry, Sugu!” he calls. “We promise we didn’t break nothing!” 

“Uh-huh,” Geto replies blandly. “You’re lucky you’re my friend because I would’ve tried to scoop her up myself. She’s a keeper, indeed.” You flush as you hear him and Shoko finally leave, no doubt going to give the others a good story about the noise…but you also find that you don’t care if anyone knows. You want them to know. 

Gojo gazes down at you as you lean against his chest, feeling so small and so safe against him. 

“Now let’s get back to that snuggle. We’ve got fifteen minutes to spare and I’m not wasting any of ‘em.” He then leans down to capture your lips with his and you remind yourself to treat Shoko to lunch for persuading you to come to this stupid party. 

THE END.

[slutforsans]

Stretch writes novels and fanfiction.

[pynkhues]

Please recommend some of your fav Rio fics!

Of course, anon! Since you asked for Rio fics, I'm going to guess you meant Rio POV fics? If not, I'm sorry, haha, because that's what I've collated, but I hope you give these a shot regardless! They're all fics I think are pretty great. ;-)

Below a cut, because this got long.

But when he does reappear at the store—she still doesn't hear him coming, she needs to work on that—she's wearing a fuckin' dress, and he's glad she hasn't seen him yet because he can't stop himself from grinning.

Maybe it ain't for him, but given the fact that he doesn't think he's seen her legs since he came back—aside from that one night at the bar when she was definitely feeling herself—it seems like this is an intentional break in the pattern. Either way, he fuckin' loves the idea that she's been dressing up all week, not sure if he's coming but wanting to be ready if he does.

Now Use Both Hands by ms_scarlet / @mego42 6k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Ooooof, this fic causes me physical pain, but I love it a whole lot. Meg really captures Beth and Rio at their most acidic, their most sharp edged, while also managing to balance that with the feelings they desperately don’t want to have. It’s a bit magic, and the fact that she follows this up with another fave, Listening Through the Air Shaft is *chef’s kiss*.

- - - -

When he wakes, he's in a hospital bed, mouth dry as bone and he can taste blood, stale and metallic, on his tongue. The pain in his chest has been dulled by the drugs, but it still lingers, a persistent ache that spikes with every breath.

By all rights, he's a dead man walking.

Ten hours, they had him in surgery. From the look of his chart, he'd flatlined twice, and he can feel the consequences of that, see it in the bruises on his chest, the exhaustion lining the faces of his family. He'd woken to a little hand in his, Pop's cheeks damp with tears, and shit, it'd been close. Too close.

Bury a Friend by @ejunkiet >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

Pivoting from 3.01, this fic is a wonderful, quiet character study that looks at Rio in the aftermath of the shooting before he explodes back into Beth’s life. It pulses with emotion and with the promise of catharsis, and it’s just a really special little fic. The Rio voice is terrific too.

- - - -

He finally gets what he needs one day when Elizabeth’s wearing this tight black sweater with a keyhole that shows off just enough to make Rio’s jaw rock. It’s so out of the ordinary, so unlike her ugly li’l sweaters or her surburban mama button-ups, he does a double take, head whippin’ around so fast that she catches it immediately. Then she catches where his gaze lands, where it keeps landin’ through their whole stilted, irritated conversation, and he sees her chest pinken til he can count her freckles. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and her lips fall open just the smallest bit, and then she looks up at him.

Eyes locked on each other, Rio takes a step closer. Elizabeth doesn’t back away.

I Will Collect You and Capture You by @foxmagpie 17k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

I feel like I've recced this fic 1,200 times at this point, haha, but it really is one of my favourite fics in the fandom. It has this sort of grip on you as a reader that almost embodies Beth's grip on Rio in the story, and the way it builds and builds and releases only to build and build again is really delicious, affecting writing.

- - - -

“Com’n her and her lady friends were shakin’”

“Shakin’ about the lemon on the fuckin’ granite, sure.”

They chuckled as the car rolled on, the suburbs slipping away with the sun.

“Think they’ll pay up?”

There was a groan as Rio shifted in his seat, flexing his fingers along the dash.

“Neighborhood like this? Everybody knows someone who knows someone with a trust fund.”

Mick’s lighter flickered, followed by long, rasping inhale. “And a boat.”

Smoke swirled lazily through the open window up into the purple sky.

“And a boat.” Echoed Rio.

Drivin' through the Suburbs by gangfriend / @00gangfriend00 5k words. Teen+. Mick + Rio friendship, Beth x Rio. Canon compliant.

It takes a lot to make me laugh out loud in a fic, but this one does multiple times. It's just insanely fun, and captures Rio and Mick at their most boyish in a way I find utterly charming. It's really, really delightful.

- - - -

She’s got her crimes wrapped up and categorized in folders with labels and post-its. Wrapped up in gift paper with a big blue bow on it. And she’ll probably ask Turner do you want freshly baked cookies or some shit when they go raiding her kitchen.

Rio should really get it under control. Her, get her under control.

She opens the door and slumps onto the front seat, her eyes set angrily on him. Nineteen voicemails and she’s still got things to say: he sees it in the twitch of her hand, the restless, frustrated pattern. Any minute now she’s going to settle on new words to voice her complaints like he’s here to listen. Like he’s got the time— like he cares. Like he’d better.

It’s a Work Thing by isoldewas >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio. 2.12 canon divergent.

I'm a bit of a sucker for a good canon divergent fic, and this one pivots the car break up in 2.12 in a smutty way that just works unfairly well. It's such a great little fic that really settles well into Rio's headspace during the messiness of s2, and I love it.

- - - -

They settle in their respective places and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times but she devours at every opportunity. Then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.

He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.

A Bit of a Stretch by @septiembrre 5k words. Teen+. Beth x Rio. Established relationship.

Beth and Rio do a yoga class together! There’s such a lived-in feel to this fic that it feels impossible not to fall a bit in love with it – their relationship is explored in a way that feels true to who the characters are, while sanding down the edges to create something that feels sweet in the way they usually aren’t in canon. It's a great fic, but more than that, it really just works in a way that's a lot more complicated than it looks, and it’s all the more charming for it.

- - - -

He’s happy to keep kissing her like this. To savour it. Realises she’s undone the last few buttons of his shirt at some point as she shoves it down his shoulders. Doesn’t have a second to think about his ugly scars pressed to her skin. Can just feel her little hot palms snaking up his back and grippin’ him tight. Refusing to let any light between them as they kiss for what feels like hours.

He realises these are the lips he’s been tasting. Searching for in other women when his night’s got too unbearably quiet, hunting for an echo of the thing he really wanted. Comin’ up short every damn time. Sweet and soft and lethal. Unique to her.

It’s longing in a way he’s never felt. This is the taste of it.

As Good as This by @riosnecktattoo 5k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. 4.05 canon divergence.

Okay, I know I just said how much I loved canon divergence fics, but it bears repeating – I love canon divergence fics, haha. This is such a great alternate take on how the wire scene in 4.05 goes down, and it simmers with tension from the opening line. The way it escalates as Rio navigates this newest betrayal works really well too, and it results in a pretty sexy and surprisingly emotional sequence. Magic!

- - - -

“Do we have a deal?” She asks.

When he turns to look at her she’s smiling, and that’s when he realizes he’s absolutely fucked. He’d just fucked himself out of almost a quarter of a million dollars. He lets his eyes drop down her body, licks his lips and nods.

“I choose the place,” he says and turns on his side to face her. “You owe me half - with interest,” he says and slides a hand into her hair. She’s damp, the sweat slowly cooling.

“That’s not what - “ she opens her mouth to protest and he takes that opportunity to slide his mouth across hers and lick into her mouth.

Long Nights by zetuslapetus / @querenaxx 2k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Rio and Beth bone while negotiating a deal! What's not to love, haha. This has such a fun checks and balances feel to it which just makes me want to peel my skin off, it's so good. It's exactly the way I like my Beth and Rio - hot and snarky and constantly trying to get a leg over the other, literally and figuratively. It's the best.

- - - -

He should go out and find someone to fuck. Maybe text one of his hookups. See if Jen’s working. He has options.

He knows what he should do.

But it turns out fucking other people is a worse hell than the one they create when they’re together.

And now that he’s yielded to this wicked ecstasy, he knows he’ll do anything to keep sitting in the fire with her.

To Sit in Hell with You by @daydreamstew 2k words. Beth x Rio. Explicit. s4 canon divergence.

Canon-divergent from 4.06 – Beth and Rio keep hooking up after the time at his grandma’s place. It’s fun and sexy while also keeping the complicated push-pull and lack of communication at the heart of them. Deeelightful.

- - - -

“Does it make it easier?” Maddie asks him once they’re spent, maybe emboldened because he has already brought her into their bed. Which may be unfair, because Lee had been in their bed from the beginning.

“What?” He seems lost in his thoughts, his arm behind his head. In a few minutes he’ll get up and get ready to get back to the factory. Like always, she’ll be looking for her keys so she won’t be late for work.

“Getting it out of your system before you see her.”

Rio glances at her. “I don’t always see you when I see her.”

It’s so rare for him to explicitly mention this woman, however tenuously, and Maddie waits for more. Rio’s gotten like this about a few women in his life but it doesn’t happen often.

Sure am Using You by aniara 2k words. Explicit. Rio x OC, Rio x Beth.

It's not for everyone, but I absolutely love fics that feature characters with other people in ways that tell you something about the characters' feelings about somebody else. In this fic, Rio's fucking one of his childhood friends, but it's all about Beth really, and the way both Rio and the OC negotiate that is really compelling writing, and feels so in character for Rio. I really love it.

- - - -

Rio dreams of her that night, again. It’s irritatingly pedestrian – Elizabeth’s kissing him deep and then, ah, suddenly his gun’s in her hand and she shoots him, with a double encore. It’s always variations on the same futile theme. When he wakes it’s not that he’s freaked, unaware of reality or his whereabouts. But he’s been soaked in anger for so long. He can’t think straight, not on her. It’s honestly terrifying. Cos stubbornly keeping his head on right is – that’s him. Maybe her entire raison d’etre is destroying every single one of his attributes though.

He ain’t sure if his subconscious is desperately screaming that he’s made the wrong move, letting her live. Or if it’s the total opposite. Could be fucking neither. It’s not – it’s not getting any easier. And that main reason for not biting the bullet, that he’d be mad as hell for being mad as hell at himself over killing her, it's not smelling any less idiotic.

Climbing up the Walls by s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe 8k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Another canon divergence from 2.13 and an interpretation of how s3 could've gone, and another one I really love. There's a throughline of chaotic frustration to this fic that rings true to Rio's character for me, and the way that that reverberates through his moments not just with Beth, but alone and with other women, feels really textured and interesting and real. It's pretty great.

[crescentmoon223]

When This is Over

As promised, my Stella/Scully quarantine fic. Heads up, it’s SUPER SMUTTY - you’ve been warned lol.

Tensions run high when Stella and Scully are forced to self-isolate together at home during a global pandemic. How far will Scully go to convince Stella to take her on a belated honeymoon once this is over? (Hint: bedroom hijinks!)

Read it on AO3 Note: This is set in present day (spring 2020), post Two Worlds Collide and after their wedding. When I write the sequel to TWC, it will be set during the summer and fall of 2019, directly after the epilogue (and yes, it will include their wedding!) Sorry if this is confusing, but it’s the only way the timeline made sense in my head lol. Obviously, I would rather write the TWC sequel first (and I do hope to write it next month!) but the idea for this quarantine fic hit last weekend, and I decided to go for it while it was relevant. I hope you enjoy! xx

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There were certain sounds that Scully associated with this new chapter in their lives. The clatter of fingers on a keyboard. The murmur of newscasters from the television in the kitchen. The flute music Stella listened to while she did yoga. And currently, the bump and clatter of her obsessively cleaning their flat. Scully looked up from her laptop with a smile as Stella entered her line of vision. She wore gray yoga pants with a black tank top, her hair tied back with a red polka-dot bandana. She wiped down their already sparkling countertops, spraying and scrubbing at spots only she could see. Everyday Stella was a neat freak and a bit of a germophobe. Stella during a viral pandemic was next level. “Nice ass,” Scully called as Stella bent to wipe down the front of one of the cabinets. Stella shot her an exasperated look, but she turned, leaning over the sink to rinse her cleaning cloth in a way that pressed her breasts together, emphasizing her cleavage beneath the snug-fitting tank top, and it certainly wasn’t accidental.

Read the rest on AO3

Scully closed out of the software the university was using for its virtual classroom. She’d been teaching forensics online for a week now, and it had gone relatively smoothly, although she missed the face-to-face interaction with her students. Setting her laptop on the table, she returned her attention to her wife. “Planning to stop cleaning anytime soon?” Another sharp look from Stella. “I’ll stop when it’s clean.” Scully knew better than to argue with her. She fought a smile as she remembered the abject horror on Stella’s face after she’d been told that as Detective Chief Superintendent, a position which required little to no field work, she was one of the non-essential Met personnel who would be expected to work from home until the self-isolation period had passed. In the days since, she had quickly demonstrated why she was not a good candidate to work from home. Unable to go to the office—or the pool—she’d covered the living room table with Met paperwork, file folders and notebooks filled with her ingenious musings. When she wasn’t working, she alternated between cleaning fits, ill-fated yoga sessions that tended to end in a lot of swearing and whiskey drinking, and watching entirely too much news BBC coverage on COVID-19. In short, she was driving Scully crazy. For her part, Scully had a more pragmatic approach. She’d suffered through many less pleasant quarantine situations than this one during her time on the X Files, and she’d already faced the potential end of the world as she knew it…more than once. She was perfectly content now to teach from her home office, run her own data on the progression of the virus, and spend plenty of time with her wife. If only she could get Stella to settle. “I need to check on my mom, and then we should start thinking about dinner,” Scully told her. “There are steaks in the freezer,” Stella said. “I’ll put them in the sink to thaw.” “Perfect.” Scully picked up her laptop and opened FaceTime to dial her mom. Maggie’s face appeared on the screen, and Scully felt something deep inside her relax. Probably the hardest part of this mandatory self-isolation was being trapped an ocean away from her mom, who was in a high-risk category due to her age. Thankfully, Maggie had lots of people checking on her. “Dana, I was just thinking about you,” she said with a smile. “How are you today, Mom?” “Oh, I’m just fine. Fox dropped by earlier. He brought me groceries, that sweet man.” Scully’s heart clenched. Mulder was a sweet man to check on her mom for her, not that she’d ever doubted this about him. They were family, in every way that mattered. She made a mental note to call him in the morning to thank him, and to make sure he was taking care of himself too. “He didn’t come in, did he?” “No. He left the groceries on the porch and then sat and talked with me for a while through the window.” Scully smiled. “That was nice of him.” “He talked a lot about increased UFO sightings, particularly in areas with the highest rate of infection.” Maggie’s eyes widened. “Mom.” Scully shook her head in exasperation. “It’s not an alien virus. In fact, it originated from bats.” “Well, he was very convincing, is all I’m saying,” Maggie told her. “He always is,” Scully agreed. “You’re still feeling fine? No symptoms?” “I’m as healthy as a seventy-six-year-old woman could expect to be,” Maggie said. “I even went for a walk around the neighborhood earlier, and before you ask, yes, I kept my distance from everyone else.” “Good,” Scully said, wishing more than anything that she could reach through the screen and give her mom a hug. “Remember, there’s no reason to panic if you do develop symptoms, but it’s extremely important that you get tested right away. Tests are hard to come by in the US, but I know people who can pull strings for you.” “I know, I know,” Maggie said, waving her hands impatiently. “How are you and Stella?” “We’re fine,” Scully told her, glancing toward the kitchen, but Stella was nowhere in sight. “Just a bit stir crazy, but who isn’t?” “I imagine this is very difficult for Stella,” Maggie said with a knowing smile. Scully grinned. “You got that right.” “Did I hear my name?” Stella emerged from the hallway, having changed into a white T-shirt and drawstring pants, her hair loose over her shoulders. She sat on the couch beside Scully, waving politely at Maggie. “Hi, Stella,” Maggie said warmly. “How are you?” “I’m fine, despite what Dana may be telling you,” she said, giving Scully a look. “And how are you, Maggie?” “The very same,” Maggie said with a laugh. Stella joined the conversation for a few minutes before excusing herself to the kitchen to check on the steaks. “I’ll talk to you again tomorrow, Mom,” Scully said. “And call me anytime, for any reason, no matter the hour. Promise?” “Will do,” Maggie said. “Good night, Dana. I love you.” “Love you too, Mom.” She ended the call and closed her laptop. Her gaze caught on the gold band glinting on her left ring finger. She was thankful for it for so many reasons, but right now, it symbolized a vitally important connection between her and Stella. If the worst were to happen and one of them became sick, they would have spousal privileges at the hospital. Stella was her next of kin, with visitation rights and the power to make any difficult decisions that might need to be made. And Scully would do the same for Stella. Both of them had living wills and all their wishes already clearly defined, but it gave her an extra sense of peace knowing they had each other. She touched the ring with a smile. “What do you want to do until dinner?” Stella asked, rejoining her on the couch. “Oh, I’m sure we can think of something.” She smiled as Stella’s fingers traced the seam of Scully’s jeans from her knee slowly up her thigh. They’d always enjoyed an active sex life, but being stuck at home together had made them even more insatiable than usual. She reached for Stella, sliding one hand into her hair as she pulled her in for a kiss. Stella smelled like lemons and soap, her lips soft and pliant against Scully’s. She stared into the azure depths of Stella’s eyes as her mind flipped all the way back to their first kiss against the side of Stella’s car over twenty years ago. They’d shared a lifetime of kisses since, two continents worth, from London to Maryland to Wyoming. Lately, she’d been wanting to add someplace new to that list. She pressed her lips against a sensitive spot on Stella’s jaw, feeling the shudder that ran through her. “You still owe me a honeymoon, you know.” “This isn’t enough for you?” Stella quipped, hands roaming beneath Scully’s shirt. “Endless weeks trapped here at home, fucking each other senseless?” She shook her head, gasping as Stella sucked at the spot beneath her ear that had always been her undoing. “I’m serious. If we survive this pandemic—” “If?” Stella interrupted, her tone sharp. “When,” Scully corrected. “When this is over, we owe it to ourselves to take a real vacation, one that has nothing to do with work or family. Just you and me, celebrating our marriage somewhere special.” Stella said nothing, instead swirling her tongue over Scully’s neck while she teased her through her jeans. But despite her already-wet panties, Scully persisted, because seduction as a form of distraction was the oldest rule in Stella’s book. “Paris,” she said, sliding into Stella’s lap. “There are so many museums we could explore, so much art. The Mona Lisa…” Stella arched her hips so Scully could move against her, friction building through their clothes. “I’ve seen the Mona Lisa.” “But I haven’t.” She slipped a hand between them, touching Stella through her pants, pleased as Stella’s breath hitched, nipples hardening beneath her T-shirt. “Take me, Stel.” “Yes,” Stella said throatily. “Take me to Paris,” she clarified, fingers moving over the soft cotton of Stella’s pants, already damp with her arousal. “We’ll see,” Stella hedged. She thought vacations were a waste of time and money, an extravagance that could be better indulged in fine liquors, fabrics, and other luxuries right here at home. Scully was generally inclined to agree with her. They both worked hard and traveled often enough for work or to visit family that a separate vacation just for the two of them sometimes felt like too much effort. But this was different. She’d already lost too many years to unpredictable viruses and quarantine protocols. She deserved a trip to Paris, at the very least. They both did. But if sex was Stella’s preferred means of communication at the moment, maybe she could use that to her advantage. Scully bent her head and kissed Stella, hands sliding behind her back to hold her close. Her tongue slid into the welcome heat of Stella’s mouth, tasting whiskey. “Picture it, Stella,” she murmured against her lips. “Sidewalk cafés, wine and cheese and melt-in-your-mouth pastries on our balcony.” “Mm,” Stella said noncommittally, hands gripping Scully’s ass. “Versailles,” Scully whispered against the pulse point on Stella’s neck, watching as goose bumps rose on her skin. “Gardens. Flowers. So many beautiful churches.” “I hate church,” Stella said breathlessly. “I’m not asking you to sit through a service with me, just admire the architecture and the stained glass.” She swirled her tongue over Stella’s collarbone, rewarded by a sharp inhale. “Let’s go, when this is over.” “Dana…” Stella’s body stilled beneath Scully’s. “We don’t know when that will be or what the world will look like.” “I know that.” She sat up, taking Stella’s chin in her hand to force her to meet her eyes. “I know that better than almost anyone.” “Then why are you pushing me for a trip right now of all times?” There was a fragility to the fierceness in Stella’s gaze. She was afraid. Scully softened at the realization. “The world will look different when this is over, and it will be a while before we can go to Paris, but it’s good for morale to have something to look forward to, and I would imagine the economy will need a boost from tourism when all is said and done.” “I can find you plenty of architecture and stained glass right here in London.” Stella popped the button on Scully’s jeans, pushing down the zipper with a soft metallic hiss. Scully pressed closer. “Not the point.” “Agree to disagree?” Stella’s fingers dove down the front of Scully’s underwear. Her hips rolled against Stella’s hand as a soft whimper escaped her throat, and a wicked idea took hold in her mind. “I’ll play you for it.” “What?” An adorable wrinkle appeared in Stella’s brow. Scully sat up straighter, grinning. “Sex games are your specialty, are they not?” Stella’s eyebrows lifted. “What kind of game?” “If I can make you come first, we go to Paris. If you make me come first, we stay home.” She dangled the bait, knowing Stella would be unable to refuse, even as she also knew her chances of winning were slim. Stella’s self-control was legendary, after all. But it would be fun to try, and it might even distract Stella from the reality of their situation for a little while. Sure enough, the flame in Stella’s eyes lit. “You’re on.” * * * Stella pushed Scully onto the bed and climbed on top of her, both of them still fully clothed. Now that Scully had made this a game with their honeymoon as the prize, they were both eager to take things slow. Frankly, Stella couldn’t imagine a better way to spend what remained of the afternoon than to slowly and relentlessly tease Scully right over the edge…repeatedly. “You smell good,” Scully murmured, shifting beneath her so that Stella’s right thigh slid between her own. “I took a quick shower while you were talking to your mother.” Stella pressed her thigh more firmly against Scully, rewarded by a little moan. She liked this position, being on top, in control, a feeling that had been in short supply since she’d been sent home from work. Stella hated laying low, waiting the threat to pass. Her every instinct screamed for her to get out there on the frontlines and fight this thing. She’d fearlessly stared down every kind of evil imaginable over the years, but this one was different. There was no bravery in going outside now, nothing but her own stupidity to blame if she allowed the virus to catch her. There was a helplessness to being trapped at home that was slowly eating her alive. She’d cleaned everything she could get her hands on, the only way she knew to fight this faceless threat. She’d checked on Fran nearly as often as Scully called her mother. She’d watched while Scully analyzed articles and data, showing her graphs that scared the fuck out of her, while Scully herself faced their uncertain future with a kind of serenity that made Stella want to scream. Distantly, she wondered if Scully knew all of this, if she’d manufactured this sex game to get Stella out of her head for a little while, to give her a sense of power here that she couldn’t find elsewhere right now. It wouldn’t surprise her, but she wasn’t going to let it ruin this moment either. She slid a hand beneath Scully’s top—a crisp black button-down she’d worn for her online teaching earlier that day—and cupped her over her bra. She brushed her thumb back and forth, feeling Scully’s nipples harden beneath her touch. Scully deftly untied the drawstring on Stella’s pants, slipping a hand inside. “Stella,” she said in a scandalized tone. “Did you FaceTime my mother without underwear?” “Easier to get undressed afterward.” She swallowed a whimper as Scully’s fingers slid over her bare skin before retreating to palm her equally bare breasts. “I’ll say.” Scully pushed Stella’s shirt up, helping her slide it over her head. Stella straightened, tits bouncing as she rocked her hips against Scully’s. The coronavirus was outside her control, but this—her body, her pleasure—this she controlled. That she would win was already a forgone conclusion. She could hardly believe Scully had even offered the challenge. “This might be a better view than anything I would find in the Louvre,” Scully said, gaze locked on Stella’s tits. “All the more reason not to go.” Stella began unbuttoning Scully’s blouse, pausing after each button to kiss the newly exposed skin, leaving a wet trail down the center of her chest and over the clasp of her bra. She continued all the way to the waistband of Scully’s jeans, her shirt now hanging open at her sides. Scully looked down at her, chest heaving, bottom lip pinched between her teeth. “Well, don’t stop there.” “Wasn’t planning to.” Stella eased the shirt down Scully’s left arm and then the right before tossing it to the floor. She helped Scully wiggle out of her jeans, dipping her head to kiss her through her underwear before she stripped those away too, followed by her own pants. Once they were both naked, Stella turned her attention to worshipping every inch of Scully’s bare skin. She kissed her breasts, teasing Scully’s nipples until they had tightened into tight rosy buds, which she flicked with her tongue until Scully moaned. Stella looked up and caught her gaze as she began to kiss her way down Scully’s stomach, making sure to pay special attention to all of her most sensitive spots, like that little patch of skin just below her left hipbone, the one that made her whimper and squirm as Stella’s tongue swirled over it. “God, Stella,” Scully groaned, hands fisted in the sheet. “Mm,” she murmured as she flicked her tongue against Scully’s clit, causing her hips to buck upward with a gasp of surprise. Stella was torn between the desire to drive Scully straight over the edge or to hold herself back a bit and at least give Scully a fighting chance. In the end, she wanted this to last as long as possible. Power games in bed were a huge fucking turn on. Just thinking about what was to come had her throbbing in anticipation. She teased Scully with her tongue, licking and sucking but never giving her as much pressure as she knew Scully preferred. She pushed a single finger inside her, thrusting in time with her tongue, toying with her. Scully’s gasping breaths became increasingly labored, her hips shifting restlessly, her arousal fueling Stella’s. She reached between her own thighs, pressing two fingers against her aching clit. She stroked herself once, twice, just enough to give herself momentary relief from the tension building there before returning her hand to Scully’s body, letting her own need drive her as she focused on her wife. She nipped Scully’s clit, drawing a strangled cry from her lips, before trailing a string of wet, open-mouthed kisses down her inner thighs until Scully was writhing beneath her. “Stop,” she mumbled, pushing at Stella’s shoulders. Stella smiled as she complied, sliding up Scully’s body to kiss her on the mouth, tongues tangling, bodies pressed together from head to toe, spreading heat with every movement. They kissed for what felt like hours, and Stella was lost in the sensations, the warmth of Scully’s breath on her cheeks, the weight of Scully’s breasts against her own, the teasing rub of her skin against the parts of Stella that ached for release. And then Scully was moving, shimmying down to position herself between Stella’s thighs. She inhaled sharply, everything inside her tensing in anticipation. Scully was talented in too many ways to name, but the wicked pleasure of her mouth was something that still overwhelmed Stella in the best possible way. She began with one long, slow lick, and Stella felt herself arching off the bed, her body instinctively seeking more. Scully centered the heat of her mouth over Stella’s clit, swirling there until Stella was dizzy with desire, unaware of anything but the hot press of Scully’s tongue and the powerful need coiling inside her. She moved her hips, rocking against Scully’s mouth, allowing herself this moment of surrender before she slid sideways, rolling to face Scully. Need pulsed wickedly inside her, invigorating her, burning away the ugly things that had built in her chest during the day. “Touch yourself,” she demanded, feeling a shiver of excitement as she watched Scully push a hand between her thighs in response. Scully stroked herself, slowly at first, gradually picking up speed. Her lips parted in silent pleasure, and Stella watched, entranced. Scully stared straight into her eyes as she moved, pleasure apparent in the flush on her cheeks and the slightly dazed expression on her face. “You too,” Scully said breathlessly. “Touch yourself.” Stella did, bringing a hand between her thighs, which were already slick with a combination of her own arousal and Scully’s recent attention. She kept her touch light, careful not to give herself too much stimulation, not when Scully had already brought her so close to the edge. She skimmed her fingers over herself as her core clenched, seeking the release she so relentlessly denied herself. “How close are you?” Scully asked, gaze dropping to Stella’s hand, watching as she touched herself. “Not very,” Stella told her, which was technically true, although she could get herself there quickly enough if she allowed it. “On a scale of one to ten,” Scully persisted, her own fingers still moving, stroking. “One being barely aroused, and ten being the point of no return.” Stella smirked. “Six.” “Oh.” Scully slowed her fingers, looking pained to do so. “And you?” Stella couldn’t help asking. “Eight.” She whimpered slightly. “Maybe a nine.” “Interesting.” Stella reached for her, drawing her close. She pushed Scully’s hand aside, replacing it with her own, and fuck, Scully was so wet. It sent a hot thrill through Stella’s body, shooting straight to her clit. Swiftly, she rolled, sliding a thigh between Scully’s in a move streamlined by years of practice, intimate knowledge of exactly how to position herself so that their pussies pressed together for optimal pleasure. Immediately, Scully began to move, grinding vigorously against Stella. “Nine,” Scully gasped. “Definitely a nine.” Stella was headed there pretty quickly herself, her clit thrumming with need beneath the hot, wet slide of Scully’s body. She watched as Scully surrendered, shuddering in her arms, her pussy pulsing against Stella’s as she came, whimpering, hips jerking, and it was so powerful, she nearly took Stella over the edge with her. She began to move against Scully in earnest now, chasing her own release. She arched her hips so that her clit rubbed against Scully’s pelvic bone with each thrust, and yes, this was it. This was perfect. So fucking perfect. Need coiled hot and tight in her core. Scully rolled away with a wicked grin. “I demand a rematch.” “Well, that’s hardly fair,” Stella said, attempting to steady her voice as her thighs pressed together uncomfortably. “Not exactly a level playing field now, is it?” “It’s perfectly fair,” Scully told her. “You deserved to start with a handicap.” And well, she had a point. Even in her current state, Stella could probably still win their bet. She blew out a long, slow breath. Strike that. She could definitely still win their bet. She could win it three times over if she had to. The game was all part of the thrill for her, and as long as it lasted, she didn’t have to think about what was happening outside their flat, the invisible threat she didn’t know how to fight. “All right.” Scully gave her a smug smile, but Stella kissed it right off her face as she moved in, getting right down to business this time. She fucked Scully hard and fast with her fingers, not letting up until Scully was writhing against her all over again. Once she had her sufficiently worked up, Stella withdrew her hand, trailing her glistening fingers over Scully’s stomach, thrilled with the way she trembled beneath Stella’s touch. “And now?” she asked. “Where are you on your little scale?” “At least a seven.” She pressed a thigh between Stella’s legs, angling her hips to give them both some much-needed friction. “You?” “Same.” Stella pressed herself firmly against Scully’s thigh, attempting to hold still, but Scully stymied her with her own movements, causing her thigh to rub rhythmically against Stella’s already hyper-sensitive clit. She gripped tighter with her thighs, allowing it…for now. “You’re so gorgeous when you’re this turned on,” Scully said reverently, tracing a hand over the contour of Stella’s face. “Makes me want to tease you like this forever.” Stella exhaled, hearing the hitch in her breath. Her thighs, still clamped around Scully’s, began to shake. Scully’s hips stilled, bringing them both to a gasping halt. Stella unthreaded their legs, channeling the energy inside her into a blistering kiss, her lips devouring Scully’s, tongues thrusting in an imitation of the act their bodies craved. This kiss was deep and ravenous, feeding a hunger that only grew with each passing moment. Stella could lose herself here, every cell in her body achingly, breathtakingly alive, adrenaline coursing through her veins, all centered in the pulsing ache between her thighs. They moved together, never quite allowing their bodies to touch the way they needed, instead letting the whisper soft brush of skin against skin stoke the fire blazing between them. “Stella,” Scully gasped, fingernails biting into Stella’s back, causing her to exhale sharply in pleasure. “Do that again,” Stella demanded, her voice low and hoarse. Scully’s nails bit into her skin, dragging slowly down her back to dig into her ass, hauling her up against the welcome heat of Scully’s body. Their hips pressed together more firmly now, and Stella couldn’t help but gasp as Scully thrust against her. “Fuck,” Scully mumbled, and Stella grinned against her lips. Despite her best intentions, Scully had very little willpower when it came to postponing her pleasure. “Nine again, hm?” Stella asked. “Yes.” Scully’s movements became increasingly frantic. Stella arched her back, separating their hips, causing Scully to swear. But Stella wasn’t quite ready for this to be over. Not to mention, Scully was also incredibly, impossibly beautiful when she was this turned on. Her blue eyes gleamed with desire, cheeks flushed, breath coming in irregular gasps. Stella slid down to lavish her breasts, licking and sucking as Scully writhed beneath her. And then, Scully rose, flipping Stella beneath her and pinning her to the bed before she’d realized what was happening. “Time to get you to a nine,” Scully panted, and Stella shifted restlessly against the bed. Truthfully, she’d already been there a few times, and it wouldn’t take much to bring her back…or to carry her over the edge. She held herself still as Scully crawled down her body, giving her a heated look before she closed her mouth directly over Stella’s clit, sucking hard. Stella’s hips bucked, and she held her breath against the urge to beg for more. Scully was on a mission, her tongue licking, flicking, swirling with such an intensity that for several long moments, Stella completely lost her wits, grinding shamelessly against Scully’s mouth. Scully pushed two fingers inside her, expertly stroking her upper wall, and just like that… “Nine,” Stella gasped, pushing Scully away as her core clenched desperately against the emptiness left behind. “Oh, I definitely like you like this,” Scully said, eyes burning hot as they raked over Stella’s body, scorching her everywhere they touched. It was all she could do not to bring her hand between her thighs and let Scully watch as she fucked herself right over the edge. Instead, she pounced, hands gripping Scully’s hips as she evened the score. She held nothing back, nipping and sucking at Scully’s clit as she pushed two fingers inside her, followed quickly by a third. She showed no mercy, working Scully hard and fast, dimly aware that she wasn’t even trying to slow Stella down this time. Scully came in a wet rush, her pussy clenching around Stella’s fingers as her body shook and her hips bucked, followed by a long, low cry of relief. Stella rolled to the side, one hand already between her legs, fucking herself as hard as she’d just fucked Scully. “Wait,” Scully gasped, rising unsteadily as a smile stretched her cheeks. “No,” Stella protested, even as her hand stilled. She could wait. She could keep this up as long as Scully wanted to play. But she was ready to come. Her body shook with the effort not to. “I won fair and square. Twice.” “Yes, you did.” Scully planted a hot kiss against her lips. “And you deserve to be rewarded properly for your efforts.” “Do I?” she asked, one hand still pressed firmly between her legs but not moving, holding herself on the brink of release. “Yes,” Scully said with a brisk nod. “Hands off.” Stella complied, desperately curious as to what Scully had in mind. She steadied her breathing, trying to relax, pushing back her need so that she’d last long enough to properly enjoy her reward, whatever it was. Scully scooted to the edge of the bed and opened the drawer where they kept their toys. A fresh wave of arousal rushed through Stella, and she pressed her thighs together. As she watched, Scully took out the hot pink strap-on that was possibly Stella’s favorite possession. Scully slipped into the harness before turning to face Stella, pink cock jutting in her direction, and she couldn’t help it. She moaned. If it was possible to come from anticipation alone, this would be the moment. Scully squirted lube onto one palm and slicked it over the cock, warming it beneath her palms with long, sweeping strokes while Stella clenched her fists in the sheet to keep from touching herself. She ached to be filled, desperation making her weak. “Ready?” Scully asked as she crawled onto the bed, and Stella nodded, thighs parting in anticipation. “You’re so wet for me, Stella,” Scully said as she allowed the head of the cock to brush against Stella’s entrance. “Mm,” she agreed, gripping Scully’s ass, pulling her closer. “Impatient, are we?” Scully quipped, rocking her hips so that the head of the cock slipped inside Stella. She whimpered, too far gone to argue. Scully pressed forward, testing Stella as her body adjusted to the toy before she drew back and slid home, filling Stella completely. She moaned in relief, falling back against the mattress as Scully straddled her, thrusting into her hard and fast, just the way Stella liked. Scully reached between them, stroking Stella’s clit in time with the movement of her hips, and Stella was done for. Her eyes fell shut as she rocked up to meet Scully, barely able to breathe past the need rising inside her, throbbing in her core, building hotter and stronger with each thrust until she thought she might burst from the power of it. “More,” she gasped. Scully picked up the pace, pounding into her as her fingers circled Stella’s clit, harder, faster, and then she was coming, arching off the bed with a moan as the orgasm rushed through her, leaving her hot and tingly in its wake. She lay there, gasping for breath, still impossibly aroused by the feel of the cock inside her and the woman on top of her. Scully paused, allowing Stella a moment to catch her breath before she resumed her movements, this time tilting her hips so that the head of the cock rubbed against Stella’s G-spot on every stroke. She swore as need rose inside her again, impossible stronger and more urgent than before, so intense she could only writhe and swear beneath Scully as she carried Stella swiftly toward a second orgasm. “Come for me,” Scully whispered, and Stella did. Her core ignited with release, pulsing through her with such an intensity, she almost thought she was having an out of body experience. A high, keening cry tore from her throat as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her. It kept coming, she kept coming, as her body released all the tension she’d built up during their game. When she regained her senses, she was limp and shaky, her body covered in sweat, her pussy still tingling with aftershocks of pleasure. “Wow,” Scully whispered. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you come that hard.” Rather than answering, Stella pulled her in for a deep, drunken kiss. She wasn’t entirely sure she could form words just yet, let alone move, so she just lay there, panting for breath, as Scully climbed off the bed and went into the bathroom to clean their toy. She returned a few minutes later and tucked the dildo back into its drawer before sliding into bed, a pink cloth in her hands. She pressed it against Stella’s flushed face. The cloth was warm and damp, and it felt so good as Scully gently wiped the sweat from her skin. She worked her way down Stella’s body, washing away sweat and sex. When she’d finished, she tossed the cloth toward the bathroom and crawled in beside Stella, one arm thrown over her stomach. They lay like that for a while, both of them calm and sated. Scully’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Stella’s skin. “We’ll have a lovely honeymoon here in London when this is over,” she said softly without a trace of disappointment in her tone, true to her word. Stella looked down at the gold band on her finger. She tightened her arms protectively around Scully as teared pooled in her eyes. Despite their self-isolation, what if the virus managed to penetrate their home? What if something happened to Scully? Stella couldn’t bear the thought. Scully closed her eyes, resting peacefully in Stella’s arms. Was she daydreaming about their honeymoon? Stella tried to imagine it, but she found herself picturing Scully sipping champagne on the Eiffel Tower, eating pastries at a sidewalk café, spouting scientific details as Stella showed her magnificent stained glass in Saint Chappelle and Notre Dame, so much stained glass it would take her breath away. If they survived this—when they survived this—how could Stella possibly deny her the honeymoon of her dreams? How could she deny either of them that chance? She held Scully tightly, burying her face in the floral-scented depths of Scully’s hair. “But not as lovely as Paris.” Scully pulled back to give her a baffled look. “You were right,” Stella whispered. “We should go to Paris.” Scully beamed at her with a joy so pure, it warmed even the darkest, most fearful parts of Stella’s heart. “Really?” “Really.” She drew in a breath. “But it will be a while before we can go, Dana, and I don’t—” “I know.” Scully brought their lips together for a gentle kiss. “It took us twenty years to get married. However long we have to wait for our honeymoon, it will be worth it.” Stella nodded as a tear slipped over her cheek, knowing in her heart that it was true.