#hope those match what you're looking for!

[kumkaniudaku]

Withdrawal Period

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 3.8k

MASTERLIST

Chicago was off the table. No harm done. Crisis averted. 

Enthusiastic courting waned into copy-and-paste follow-up emails a week after Kelvin pushed back against their initial offer with stiff negotiation terms. His mentor always told him not to take the first train coming. You're a black man in a white industry. Make 'em see your worth. They certainly saw something when he returned with an ask for around $10,000 more than the initial salary plus relocation compensation. 

Kelvin didn't hate their offer. It was more than he'd ever made in his life, and it felt fair for his level of experience. But, as he looked up at Asia with her head thrown back in ecstasy while she bounced in his lap, he could think of more than a few reasons to consider other options. 

Call it self-sabotage or plain ol' stupidity – Kelvin didn't care. She was worth a short-term loss for long-term gain. 

Late morning rain pattered against Kelvin's 6th-floor balcony, drowning out the constant ping of work notifications on open laptops. Cold breakfast dishes were abandoned on the counter, hoping their owners would return and finish what they'd started. 

Kelvin sat naked and wide-legged in the center of his couch, totally transfixed by the slow jiggle of Asia's breasts beneath a flimsy tank top she called pajamas. His left thumb dug into her hip crease to keep her rocking body steady, leaving his right hand free to sneak under the soft cotton and satisfy the intense desire to palm one of her fleshy distractions. 

"See, you didn't need me. You got it," Kelvin complimented, guiding his right thumb around her pebbled nipple before letting his jaw fall slack to match Asia's incoming moan. He swallowed to regain waning composure. "Right there, baby. You gon' cum for me?" 

Asia felt her stomach flutter and flip, ushering in a flood of heat between her thighs. She opened her mouth to speak but found nothing but "Ah…" in place of fully formed thoughts. After six days of unrestricted exploration, whole sentences were like needles in a haystack. 

Kelvin wanted to tell Asia how pretty she was, with her lips parted and swollen, while she practiced riding him into the sunset. He would've loved to say something so perfectly and descriptively nasty it put those Zane books he found in his mother's room to shame. If his mind wasn't so clouded with counting every thump, thump, thump of her throbbing core ripping the fabric of time and space, he could've blabbed on and on about how he thought he might be falling in love. 

He wished he could eloquently wrap his myriad feelings into a neat verbal bow, but his usual loquacious nature packed up and left with his common sense. All he could think to do was tug the top of her thin camisole down to free a pair of breasts he needed to get his mouth on. 

Hips bucked in his firm, one-handed grasp, the friction of thigh on thigh creating a deliciously painful burn to mix with a crescendo of pleasure bound to end in two raspy voices hitting the very edge of their vocal ranges. 

Like a Jack in the Box being wound too tight turn by turn, Asia prepared to shoot up in the air from pent-up pressure. Calculated swivels devolved into frenetic humping to satisfy her aching clit. She palmed the back of his head for leverage, pushing more of her nipple into his mouth. 

Kelvin's eyes flitted up to admire the beauty coming undone on top of him. It was cute, but not enough. If they were going to risk Teams bubbles turning from green to yellow, it'd better be worth the hassle of explaining their whereabouts. 

A bear hug with his wrists crossed at the small of Asia's back helped Kelvin keep her body in place as he rutted up into her like a man possessed. He bit into her shoulder, hoping to muffle the peculiar sound fighting to embarrass him in the worst moment possible. 

Broken moans became muffled with a searing kiss dominated by probing tongues until separate but equally explosive orgasms turned healthy 30-somethings into heaving, short-of-breath adults unable to contain competing loud sighs. 

Asia continued to rock into Kelvin, keeping his nose pressed into her clavicle until overstimulation made her thighs quiver beyond her limit. "Okay," she panted. "That one was better than last night." 

"But not better than Wednesday, right?" Kelvin asked as his palms roamed her backside. He put his back into that midweek tryst. No way it'd be usurped before the end of the week. 

"Mm," she hummed, thinking back a few days. "Wednesday loses points because you made me catch a cramp."

Kelvin huffed out a short laugh. "I didn't make you do anything. You gotta start stretching, babe. Eat your potassium. Something. Because I'm not stopping."

"Oh, really?" Asia's voice and eyes were low again to match her lazy grin aimed down at Kelvin. 

He smiled back before leaning up to kiss her lips. "Mm-mm. I like you too much."

"And I love that for you."

Sweet kisses pressed to plush lips in private had become their favorite way to communicate the feelings quickly ballooning past mild fondness. They moved like a couple without official recognition. Union was understood, but they still needed the explanation if either dared sidestep uncertainty and dive head first.

"You love me?" Kelvin asked, his eyebrow arching playfully. 

Asia verbally backpedaled to clarify. "No, no, no. I said I love that for you," she giggled. "I guess you're cool too, though."

Kelvin turned his lips up to hide a budding smile. "Yeah, yeah. Get off me. Some of us have real work to do." he joked before carefully separating their bodies. 

A light tap to her half-naked backside from her lover helped send Asia on her way toward the primary bathroom with giddy laughter and loose hips. Kelvin watched her until she disappeared, so enamored by her hips swaying he nearly forgot about the obligations screaming for his attention across the room. 

He'd felt the unexplainable tingle of joy before. Who hadn't experienced their heart soar from a baby's cherub-faced smile or finding money in their front pocket? The emotion wasn't new, but it was different this time around. Ubiquitous. All consuming like southern humidity in the middle of August. Having Asia in his life was nothing short of the kind of whimsy found in children experiencing the world for the first time. With her, everything was brand new and exciting. He'd go through hell and high water two times over to turn love's embers into a raging bonfire. 

Time apart to make themselves presentable brought them back together for more kisses and fondling that threatened to derail their second attempt at starting the workday. 

A left hand full of ass and a right haphazardly holding an expensive laptop kept Kelvin suspended between two worlds as he stood beside Asia. She leaned into soft kisses on her clothed shoulder while trying to make sense of missed messages. "I need to go home around lunch to get more clothes," she mentioned over quick tapping noises from her fingers dancing across her keyboard. "Need anything while I'm out?" 

"Nope. Make sure you get enough to stay longer this time. No sense in going across the city every two days." 

"You sayin' I should leave clothes over here?" 

Kelvin shrugged once Asia looked back at him to confirm. "Would it be easier for you?" 

"Sure," Asia answered, pondering the appropriate response to such a loaded proposition. "I guess so. Don't let me put you out of your space, though. It's okay for us to be separate sometimes."

"Who said we can't be? Leave some stuff, just in case. Either way, the drawer's gonna be empty if you wanna use it." 

Having spare undergarments and pajamas would make for a less cumbersome commute. More money going to her pockets and not into her gas tank was never a problem. There was certainly no harm in being prepared. Just in case, of course. 

Asia leaned close enough to kiss Kelvin's nose. "Okay. I'll bring a few things back." 

Victory. Kelvin completed an internal happy dance, the only physical manifestation resting in a megawatt smile as he stood straight up to pluck cold hashbrowns from a baking sheet on the stove.

"Make sure one of those is something for tonight," he called over his shoulder. "Still up for the game and a late dinner?" 

"Yeah, of course. Who knows? I might get tipsy enough to let you bend me over the edge of the bed tonight."

Near frigid shredded potato flew to the back of Kelvin's throat, temporarily blocking air from entering and leaving. Asia turned slightly to watch him in amusement until he could choke out a response. "Tonight?" He questioned, eyes practically bulging from his head. "You want to?" 

"Yeah. We can make a stop for extra…supplies. I didn't think we'd run out so fast." 

"You killin' the hell out the turtles, girl. Latex all in the ocean." 

Shock stretched Asia's jaw into an oblong oval. "Wow, so you gon' make me take all the blame? I should –"

Shrill ringing turned Asia's laptop into a blaring siren, reminding her she was a working woman with a long list of responsibilities despite being hours away from the weekend's short-lived freedom. 

Frantic hands shooed Kelvin and his shirtless body out of the camera's view while Asia previewed her surroundings in the pre-meeting waiting room. He reluctantly obliged, shuffling to the other side of the island on his way toward the bedroom to prepare for his own slate of back-to-back virtual connects. 

"Hey, hey." Savannah's familiar monotoned greeting filled the room once Asia connected, her voice far off while she rearranged windows between her monitor and laptop. When she finally looked up, her eyes squinted behind blue-light-blocking glasses. "Oh. I didn't know you were on vacation. What the hell are you doing online? Nice spot, by the way." 

Asia tried to remain cool. "I'm just working away from home today. Trying to get a different view. You know how it goes." 

Across the room, Kelvin complimented Asia's quick thinking with an approving head nod. She kept her face neutral to appease Savannah and to hide the stiff middle finger emphatically shot in his direction.

"No, totally feel that. I swear I've seen those exact cabinets before, though. All these buildings look the same now."

"I know, right. It's like, be original. That's how people get caught up." 

Silent laughter and a sarcastic thumbs-up greeted Asia once her eyes flickered up, working hard to snatch down the veil and expose her off-the-cuff ruse. She shooed Kelvin away without stumbling over her preamble, but not before noticing an air kiss tossed in her direction. 

She pretended to catch it and covertly pressed it to her cheek with a smile. "Alright. Let's jump in."

Home team wins paired well with fruity cocktails and starters shared over Top 40 radio playing far too loud for a restaurant. The only thing missing was the dessert requested before a second round could hit the table.

Asia and Kelvin shared peculiar yet tasty fusion dishes side by side, practically draped over each other, in a dimly lit late-night spot that Kelvin highly recommended. 

"How do you know about all these places? You're like the Black Guy Fieri." 

Kelvin chuckled in between chews of a popcorn shrimp. "I've moved around a couple times. Been a couple places. Might as well explore, right?"

"Ooh, Kelvin lore. My favorite!" The chance to learn more about him had Asia wiggling in her seat like an excitable child. "Tell me more."

Kelvin smiled back at Asia, taking time to admire all of her beautiful features under dim light. She was the girl of his dreams and didn't even know the half. He reached out to brush one of her double bangs out of her face before speaking. "After high school, I didn't know what I wanted to do. My dad was pushing seminary, but I knew I didn't want to be a pastor like him. I thought about music school, but music was just a thing I liked. I didn't love it," he recalled. "I moved to Houston to live with my sister for a year. Ate like crazy out there. Then I let some folks I met convince me to work in Portland before it was cool."

"What was that like," Asia asked, amazed by his journey.

"Shit weather, solid food," Kelvin laughed. "After that, I was a pescatarian with a girl I met during a summer abroad in Brazil. Full on vegan for another girl when I found some work in Miami. Then I came here and buckled down. Found copywriting then…you."

Asia grinned over her glass of water. "What do you plan on being for me?" 

"Honest." Kelvin's candor and steady eye contact stirred Asia's soul in a way she'd never encountered but didn't want to imagine losing. They met each other halfway, lips locking with no regard for patrons and what they might think about two people necking in public. Pulling away, Kelvin wiped away traces of him from Asia's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "You got any more questions for me? 

When can we get the check? "You ever thought about leaving here?" 

His decision to be an honest man wasn't supposed to yield an immediate test. Kelvin immediately and visibly tensed, knocking Asia off-kilter for a millisecond. "Yeah," he answered without much added flare. He leaned forward to grab his glass of water, hoping a long sip could cure his raging bout of anxiety. "I, um…I interviewed recently for something in Chicago." 

"How recently?" 

"Like a week or two ago." Before Asia could ask the question playing behind her eyes, Kelvin stepped in to offer an explanation. "It was before we said what we said last week and hasn't gone anywhere. Nothing to worry about. I promise." 

Asia let her thoughts briefly shift her eyes to a spot on the outdoor patio, then back to Kelvin. "Why didn't you say anything?" 

"I didn't want to bring it up until I was sure. Plus, we've been kind of busy since then." His joke helped deflate the tension balloon between them, earning an eye roll and smile from Asia. Kelvin gripped her knee and flashed a reassuring smile. "I wasn't trying to hide anything from you. We're good."

"I know. I get it. You're supposed to find something that fulfills you." Equally lovestruck smiles turned into puckered lips pressing against each other once, twice, then a third time to seal in deepening attachment. Asia's fingers danced across worn upholstery and up thick cotton to rest her hand on Kelvin's thigh. "Just make sure you don't go too far from me." 

A twinge of something he couldn't place turned Kelvin's low eyes and soft smile into a pensive expression. He could promise monogamy and effort, but sticking to one place was less certain. The constant search for inspiration wouldn't let him settle for long – not while he was still free to roam without the responsibility of family obligations. 

Kelvin watched Asia pull a loaded nacho from a plate at the center of the table, trying to convince himself to breech a difficult topic. "Is that a deal breaker for you?" His question came out as an incomplete thought, forcing him to quickly clarify. "The distance, I mean. Is long-distance a deal breaker for you?" 

"Deal breaker is strong, but I don't think I'd be interested. I think I like having my person a short drive away, you know? I wouldn't want to give that up." 

"Hm." A short grunt, not even a sentence, was all Kelvin could muster from a mind flushed with equal parts relief and dismay. 

Asia didn't seem to catch how he shifted in his spot, and Kelvin didn't allow himself to linger in racing thoughts. Chicago wasn't happening. No need to stew. No need to ask the question burning the tip of his tongue. 

"We could've tried, though. Right?" A mouth that liked to run far too much betrayed him before he could think.

An answer trying to break through all the noise in the room was quickly engulfed in a spectacle of dazzling sparklers and scattered murmurs as a carefully constructed plate of praline mousse and cornflake peanut butter crunch was escorted to their table. 

As she clapped and wiggled in excitement, the childlike joy in Asia's eyes reminded Kelvin that the night wasn't meant for complicated discussions. He had a more pressing question to ask. 

Will you be my girlfriend? The words written in milk chocolate on bright white porcelain weren't enough on their own. They needed a drawn-out monologue shouted on the tabletop with trumpets as a soundtrack fit for a woman who'd knocked the air out of his lungs and put it all back before he could make sense of what exactly they were doing. 

Kelvin leaned in to kiss Asia's cheek and rubbed his nose against the spot before speaking. "Is the drive between my place and yours short enough?" 

"Mhmm," Asia answered. Taking his chin between her index finger and thumb, she leaned in for a kiss he returned with deliberate softness. "I love this. Thank you." 

"You love it enough to say yes?"

"Yes! Yes!" 

Skin slapping against skin sounded like resounding applause in a room fortified with thick cement walls. Thank God for refurbished builds. 

Asia lay flat beneath Kelvin, her face contorted in needy pleasure against one of the pillows she'd claimed as hers while he plowed into her from behind. He'd long lost any semblance of the sweet, gentle Kelvin planning extravagant proposals in swanky establishments. This Kelvin was focused on using his pelvis to put the sweaty, tensing body under his through an expensive pillowtop mattress. 

He pressed his palms deeper into the space on either side of Asia's head for added leverage. "Yeah? You gettin' what you need, baby?" 

"Uh-huh," she moaned out, delirious from a range of sensations. The fullness. Her clit rubbing against the pillow lifting her hips to the perfect height. The precise push and tug of his body inside of hers. The feeling of his lips against her ear once he lowered onto his forearms to grind into her. 

Measured breaths transitioned into shudders quietly released directly into eardrums, feasting on every sound. 

Kelvin mentally cursed the thin material keeping him from fully experiencing the truly mind-numbing effects of good pussy.  The combination of her arousal and a half-empty bottle of tingling lube got him damn close, though. Close enough to edge him toward premature release as he hunched into her until his legs started to give out from exhaustion and the damp spot below them expanded.

He dug into his energy reserve, riding her wave and his with frenzied strokes, rocking their bodies and the bed. Light, airy sighs and a barely audible squelch greeted his senses. "You hear her talkin' to me?" The question came in a low rumble only Asia could hear, turning her brain into mush as her eyes started to roll back. Kelvin smiled. "You think she like me? Hm?" 

"Yeah," Asia answered in a drawn-out breath. 

"I can tell. Look how wet she is for me. I like her, too." His lips found hers to speak directly into her mouth. "Shit, I might love her." 

Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses and pulsating walls pushed Asia and Kelvin over the edge within seconds of each other, sending shockwaves from crown to soles and back again. Oxytocin surged. Once lucid, thoughts felt like the loose liquid inside a hot lava lamp. Moans released in tandem became labored breaths from lungs gasping for any air left in the room. Skin grew hot from a lover's embrace. Tight muscles felt sore from overexertion. Still, neither of them was willing to end a night slipping away by the second. 

Asia gulped hard under Kelvin's weight and turned to see more of his face. "I need some water." Her raspy voice made them both laugh. "You got me sounding like fuckin' Doc Rivers." 

"Timeout!" A near-perfect impersonation of the famed NBA coach sent them into a gut-busting fit of laughter amid thick sexual tension. They knew this was only an interlude as Kelvin pulled out of Asia's warmth to roll over on his back and let her free. 

Already missing his touch, Asia shuffled over to rest her naked chest on top of his. He affectionately caressed her behind while she kissed the corner of his mouth. "Don't fall asleep while I'm gone." 

"I closed my eyes one time the other day! It was like two in the morning," Kelvin chuckled. The hand resting on Asia's backside lifted and came back down in the stinging smack she'd grown accustomed to. "Grab me one of those GU packets from the counter? Any flavor." 

"Of course." Tender kisses and a lasting squeeze against one cheek sent Asia on her way, leaving Kelvin to bask in the afterglow of a day growing more legendary by the second. 

Rational thinking would've told him to ignore the tempting glow emanating from his phone resting on the nightstand had he listened. Notifications littering the screen were nothing more than basketball final scores, text messages from his friends wanting the scoop on his night, and emails he'd get back to at some point. A sale reminder from his favorite art supply retailer caught his attention first. That 15 percent off was a godsend; he still had three days to take advantage of in-store savings. 

Kelvin should've put the phone down, closed his eyes despite his promise not to, and listened to Asia slam cabinets like she'd lost her mind while he waited for her to return. He shouldn't have continued to scroll. Stopping short would've saved him from seeing a response to his negotiation email sent during the fourth quarter of their night out with an opening line that looked a little too jovial for a rejection. 

His breathing paused for a second too long, sending him into a coughing fit loud enough to alert Asia in the other room. 

She called out to him. "You okay in there?" 

"Y-yeah," Kelvin sputtered out before tossing the phone to the floor as far away as possible. "I just – oh, shit – I could use that water right now." 

Bare feet padding across hardwood floors reminded him to fix his face before Asia appeared at the threshold with everything needed to keep an unforgettable night going. "Now. Where were we?" Hearing her carefully rehearsed line finally enter the atmosphere made her cringe. "That was corny. I'm sorry. Did I ruin the mood?" 

"Not with you standing there looking like that," Kelvin answered, a smile gracing his face despite the turmoil twisting his stomach in knots.

He beckoned her over, carefully retrieving items from her hands as she lifted herself onto the bed. He needed a distraction, and from the way Asia's body responded to Kelvin's slow kissing against her neck, she was more than willing to take his mind off the truth becoming abundantly clear. 

Chicago was still on the table. Harm may be done. Crisis not averted.

Reply if you'd liked to be tagged. DM if you’d like to be removed.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @thevelvetwhispers @wowitsafemale @kindofaintrovert @sexysativa605 @jvzmine19 @turn-thy-paige @lapateeserie @simplyzeeka @supremechae @palmstreesallday @blackmoonchilee @ovohanna24 @prettypynklemonade @gwenda-fav @itsash-okay @sparklytemi @blackchickinthedesert @miyuhpapayuh

[pricegouge]

prompt fill based off this request. can be read as a sister piece to unlucky foot

rat race

cw: simon x gn!fairy!reader. predator prey dynamic and i really mean it. implied deaths offscreen. MDNI

it's a new maze every time. peg board floor, the walls mounted to it shifting with each session to keep you confused and, lost amid the erratic angles and dead ends. sometimes they're mirrored, reflect your mounting dismay back at you with every turn. mostly, he likes other obstacles, small puzzles you have to solve before continuing on to the next part of the maze.

today's impediment is a little more dire.

you smell it before you see it, the familiar reek of soiled bedding and cloyingly strong aspen. you're not alone.

simon sees the minute you register your predicament, dark eyes becoming hyperfocused when you stiffen up, fear locking your joints. he looms overhead, bad omen hung double in the sky where the glass which prevents you and the rat both from climbing out catches his reflection just enough to mirror him again, superimposes his mask just there above you. inescapable.

you think maybe one of these days he'll make the maze the same and pray it's not this day. you'd rather starve to death within it's confines than let the rat live off your corpse for a few days longer. maybe that's where he'd gotten all those fairy specimen that lined his study, their little shadow boxes visible even now, his largest mount displayed proudly behind his desk, looking over his shoulder at you pityingly. maybe you'll get a spot of honor, too.

but not if the rat finds you, vicious teeth and ravenous appetite. it had come close a few times, clever little nose giving it a leg up on you. simon had never once moved to help as it had closed in, just leaning closer to watch as the rat closed in, eyes darting between the two of you with the sort of anticipation and excitement one usually reserved for a well-balanced match.

so you can't depend on his mercy - not that he's ever given you reason to, really, but you'd hoped -

the pegboard holes are just big enough to catch your toes. you trip as you scurry along, fingers trailing on the walls next to you lest you miss a turn in your haste. not that it really matters, not when each turn looks the same. simon used to leave you little hints, offerings of sweets which would guide you closer to the end. he'd long since stopped that, seemed content to watch you twist yourself into knots for hours before you found a way out if needed. you hoped that wouldn't be the case tonight. the rat rarely ever needed hours to find you.

you stop to catch your breath when you reach the next four-corners. it's a dangerous spot to be, what with all the straight shots where the rat might see you, but it also gives you the most options for an escape if it comes to it, something you've learned the hard way. your chest rises with effort, tiny cloud of condensation collecting on the glass above. beyond it, you see simon's eyes dart to your left with just a little too much excitement and you take off to the right before you can even collect yourself, wood paneling flying by as you run blindly, right, left, left again, one-eighty when you hit a dead end. you huff in frustration, a muted spark flying when your fists clench in frustration and fear. you have options, you know, but you don't like the odds and -

it's surprising how quiet your companion can be, when it suits him. you don't hear the quiet chuffing of his breathing, nor the gentle patter of his little paws as he creeps closer. it's not even the slithering of its tail that gives it away, but the subtle scrape of its whiskers against the paneling, the wall on your left seeming to swell closer as the beast stalks by on the other side of it.

simon had lied, that pointed look from before meant to send you scurrying in the wrong direction - right into the rat's clutches. you'd be more mad, if you had time to be.

the path to the right is short - doesn't let you wander too far away from the beast that dogs you before forcing you to turn left. you're running parallel with it now, or at least you would be if it had kept on its same path. but that's unlikely in this labyrinth, and one right hand turn could send it your way. another could have it barreling down the aisle at you. you dip right as soon as you're able, do it again at your next chance -

and stop dead in your tracks when you see the very end of its scaly tale disappear around a corner up ahead.

faltering where you stand, you take a minute to try and find your bearings, weigh your options as you see them. there's no exit behind, but death could be waiting before and it takes you a minute to remember that if it's not there, it will be around the next corner (or the next, or the next) until you find your way out of here.

so you creep forward, each step placed carefully lest you slip, bare skin squeaking off the cheap wood. you don't make a sound as you approach the blind, not even as you peek around the corner to find the rat still at the end of the path, strong nose raised as if to sniff out whatever might be on the other end of the wall before it. you keep your wits about you, pull your head back to collect a calming breath before darting past the gap while it's distracted, your footsteps coming a little more calmly, a little more confidently as you slink away. you can feel simon's heavy gaze on you, seemingly magnified by the glass overhead. he's rapt now, his unwavering gaze only adding to your stress, nerves a tangled ball of pollen you can't find the end of, can't get a grasp on.

maybe that's why you're too distracted to mind your breathing, the harsh pants of your panic alerting the rat to your presence. it chuffs in its excitement, long body struggling as it tries to turn around in the close press of walls that surround it. you hear the scrape of its little claws, a series of suppressed sneezes it would never emit if it was still in stalking mode. the gig is up.

you don't even bother to look behind you before you're off, feet slamming against the pegboard in your haste. simon's too excited to bother suppressing it, unwittingly leading you toward the exit by how he leans too far forward, a subconscious tell which you try to focus all your concentration on. anything to avoid looking back, avoid seeing the scurrying beast which tails you.

it's gaining is the worst part. you can take corners quicker than it, but it's faster on straightaways and it's only now, as you weave your way through row after row of them that you realize there are a lot of straightaways in this maze. simon's note taking wasn't just for show, it seemed.

right, left, straight, right and right again. teeth snatch at your clothes, sharp enough to tear instead of catch. a mixed blessing as it allows you to slip its grasp this time. you drive yourself harder, chest aching with your labored breath as you try to stay just outside of its range. it squeaks and squeals in its excitement, a terifying littany you can't quite drown out even with your blood pounding in your ears. you focus on trending right because that's the way simon's leaning, are just starting to worry you've misjudged him when you see it: sweet sanctuary, a perfect circle in an external wall, the sweet smell of candy sitting just beyond.

you leap through it as soon as you're able, shriek in fright when you swear you can feel teeth snapping at your toes. but simon shutters the door as soon as you're through it, dull thud of the rat slamming against it the last thing you hear of it for the night.

supine, catching your breath, you watch almost disinterestedly as simon stands and collects the massive box from off his desk, big meaty hands lifting it gently before carrying it off to the other side of the room where he takes a minute to extract the rat and return it to its cage. it nips him, retaliation for a pointless maze, but simon just chuckles darkly, calls it cheeky as he feeds it a grape from his pocket. when he turns back to you, he asks why you haven't had your treat yet and you just shake your head, stomach turning at the thought of sweets right then. or maybe it's because the thought of being treated like just another one of his lab rats leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

the chair groans under him when he sits back down, his fist heavy as it drags over the pad of paper before him, taking more notes. everything about him is heavy and he never lets you forget it - movements purposefully drawn out to emphasize it, as if he's any need for it. even for a human he's a large man, and there's nothing your paltry sparks could ever do against him. you're not stupid, despite what he thinks.

"almost got you that time," he grumbles as he finishes up. you're still laying on your back, processing your predicament. he just uses it as an excuse to slide the paper you're laying on closer, his palm planted frimly next to you, framing you between forefinger and thumb. you don't bother arguing with him, don't see the point.

over his shoulder, some long-dead kin seems to agree.

"you'll be a wet specimen, won't you?" his mask hides his expression when he says it, but his eyes are just as animated as they'd been when he'd lead you astray, gleaming darkly in the low light of his banker's lamp.

you can only pout up at him, confused until he picks you up, turns you so you face the cupboard, one of its door's hanging slightly ajar, the low glint of glass glowing from within. even static it seems to dance, and you imagine the jarred contents within rippling, the mangled little corpses preserved in formaldehyde bobbing along. you shake your head adamantly, fear bubbling back to life in your belly. you'd only seen inside the cupboard once but it had been enough, shelves full of gored little fairies haunting you ever since, constant threat.

simon tuts, as if you're being petulant and contrary. "you'd best shape up, then. can't mount a half-eaten fairy."

[pedricos]

Can you please do Hector Fort boyfriend headcanons? Thank u.

Héctor Fort – boyfriend heacanons .ᐟ

a.n: i just think abt him so much is unhealthy...

warnings: none this time, pure fluff!!

₊˚ bf!Héctor who lets you color his tattoo.

₊˚ bf!Héctor who cant wear his ring during the matches, so he tattooed your inicial on his ring finger.

₊˚ bf!Héctor whose always serious around his friends, but with you, he just can't stop smiling.

₊˚ bf!Héctor who plans the best vacations spots ever!!! islands on the summer and the cities in winter.

₊˚ bf!Héctor who always bring you and his mother together to go shopping!!! he loves the womans on his life.

₊˚ bf!Héctor who is the jealous type. a guy is looking too much at you? he's kissing you passionately. unnecessary touch from a friend? he's cutting the guy off in seconds.

₊˚ bf!Héctor who always asks you to be the one taking his photos. he thinks you're the only one that know his angles the best.

₊˚ bf!Héctor who loovess to play with the kids in your family and keeps looking at you foundly, imagining a family.

₊˚ bf!Héctor who looves taking pictures of you sleeping. he may or may not have a secret fold of only you sleeping in weird positions.

₊˚ bf!Héctor who said that wanted to take things slow but asked you to be his girlfriend on the second date.

₊˚ bf!Héctor who's love language is quality time!!! he doesn't care what you two are doing, as long as you're together, he's already enjoying it.

₊˚ bf!Héctor who secretly made an tattoo appointment to tattoo your eyes!!!

₊˚ bf!Héctor whose job, alongside being a player, is your personal annoyer. he always find something to annoying you during the day.

₊˚ bf!Héctor who asks you for gossips of your college. he doesn't know any of those people, but he know about that hidden pregnancy of the girl in your third period.

héctor is ONLY 1 month and 3 days other than me.. can you guys believe this?

requests are open!! please request pedri and fermin guyyss my shaylass.. bye bye, hope u like it 💋

[taissasspidergirl]

red eyes

gn reader (i made sure there were no pronouns used. let me know if i somehow still managed to make a mistake, my brain is so weird)

minors and ageless blogs dni.

a/n: this inspiration behind this is insane. which is why it may look rushed, or not long enough. this was purely self-indulgent as wanda can save us all. proofread but i wrote this as i went so there might be mistakes left. enjoy reading leave any feedback if you have any lets gooo

w/c: 3.7 k ish

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, questions about drug consumption. gay reader. gay wanda. shuri and riri trying to play matchmakers. reader being a mess. makeout, reader and wanda match their freak. that’s about it i think? let me know if i missed anything!!

It starts below the cut :)

She was like a dream. Angel. Dream angel? You had no idea what she could be because your eyes were focused on hers. How they could lead you into a never ending forest that you’d gladly get lost into. Your legs nearly gave out when she tucked her hair behind her ear and fixed her suit. A simple action. And yet it was enough for you to act like a teenager all over again.

“Are you opening a tab or…?” The bartender asked, pointing towards your drink, interrupting any further thought your brain could conjure about the stranger.

“I’m…I think I’m good here. Thank you.” You mutter more than you speak, too entranced by the redhead who’s leaned against the wall, twirling a drink in her hand. Sliding a generous tip as an apology for the amount of zoning out you've been doing, you slide off the barstool and shake off your nerves.

Why were you even feeling like this?

The music was blasting so loud that you can feel the vibration of the bass traveling through your body, a pleasant distraction from the current shivers. You wonder where Shuri and Riri went off too but are slightly grateful that they lost you. You're not sure you could handle their teasing on top of your current state. Which would be painfully obvious that something was going on.

As you walk through the crowd of dancing bodies you allow yourself to relax, following the rhythm. For a minute it works. You ignore the stranger’s entracing presence. Or it could just be the alcohol traveling in your blood that’s making you think this way. Either way you’re successful at forgetting her, so much so that you don’t feel a pair of hands around your waist.

“I almost lost you.” It’s like time froze. You don’t know much what to say, much less think. What can you even do in this situation? It almost felt like an eternity before you take another drink of liquid courage and turn around, mentally steeling yourself. Right. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve ever flirted with someone, right?

“Ah, there you are.” Shuri playfully pushes you away. You nearly choke, eyes widening to see that the mysterious woman you feared was in fact, your best friend.

“You can at least pretend you’re happy to see us.” Riri chuckles as she notices how lost you looked.

“It’s not that. You just caught me by surprise, that’s all.” You make another attempt to drink before Shuri stops you in midair.

“I hope it was a pleasant surprise.���

“Hey, you were the ones who abandoned me.” 

“Uh, I thought you told us that you’d join us later on?” Riri furrows her brows. Shuri checks your temperature before leaning in to whisper closely in your ear. “Did you take anything else other than alcohol? Because seriously–”

“What? No, no, I didn’t, I’m just…”

And there she was again. This time she’s dancing with someone, with her hands around them. You can’t tell their exact gender but you know they’re lucky. You yearn to feel the heat of her body against yours, those hands to guide your movements and those eyes to devour you.

“Yeah, okay. We’re putting you on water from now on.”

You can hardly hear what Shuri is saying, your eyes trained on the redhead. You never wished you were someone else until now. She whispers something to them, making them laugh and you feel a swirl travel uncomfortably to the pit of your abdomen.

“I don’t know Shuri…I think it’s more of a girl problem than a high problem.”

“What?”

“Look at what’s happening.” Riri points to you, who’s looking at the woman who is now looking at…you. She doesn’t even blink, instead pulling the person she’s with closer, staring at you, nearly challenging you to break your stare. And that seems to be enough to get you out of your trance because you shake your head, grounding back into reality. 

“What is…what?” Your heart is racing uncontrollably, in all sorts of different patterns. 

“Damn. I wish I could've filmed that. You were in another world.” Shuri snickers as she waves a hand in front of you. You hardly blink, making Riri look at you in concern.

“Okay, seriously what is going on with you? You sure you didn’t take anything?”

“I’m afraid Cupid shot that poor heart of yours.” At Shuri’s laughter you blink hard, turning away from the green eyed woman to your friends.

“Who?” Yeah. You definitely need a seat because your legs are completely giving out. That and you feel delusional, you think you’ve seen a hint of a smirk but that could be a trick of the light and your brain going hazy.

Your friends look at each other before guiding you to the bar, sitting you down. You appreciate their concern but it’s nothing big. You’re just being dramatic. Your ears barely register what they are saying. You hardly see the glass of water in front of you, her eyes still stuck in your mind, nearly enough to make your skin stick with sweat.

Downing the drink in one go, you take a deep breath, leaning into Shuri’s comforting touch.

“I did not expect to have to play matchmaker on my trip. Say Riri, are you down with me?

“Woah, woah, woah. No one is playing matchmaker. There is no match to be made. And we’re here to make you enjoy your vacation, not give you any work.” You interrupt, downing your glass of water in one go, choking miserably as the woman– stranger, angel? approaches you. 

“Are you sure? Because right now you’re– Wanda?”

“Shuri. It’s a pleasant surprise to see you. What gives?” Wanda, you’ve learned, leans in and hugs Shuri, offering a polite handshake to Riri. You could listen to that husky voice and her accent all day on tape.

“I’ve been on vacation from Wakanda, and my good friend here offered me a place to stay.” She gestures to you, which you take as a cue to act normal. But how can you when you feel like you’re going to melt at any moment because right now Wanda is looking at you and offering her hand. God her hands are so soft.

“Wait, you all…know each other?” 

You mirror Riri’s question in your mind, trying not to look too overly interested, you think you’ve already done enough with your staring.

“We go way back. Wanda was in a college exchange programme in Wakanda. A little before we met.”

“And how do you know each other?” This time Wanda turns to you and you nearly choke on air. You really needed to get a grip on yourself.

“Uh…college…volleyball?” You uncontrollably drop your voice to a whisper. Your whole body trembles under her gaze, a shiver trembling throughout your entire body. It’s uncomfortable, yet addictive.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” She leans her ear closer to your lips and it takes all the courage to not stumble on your words. Her scent invades your senses. It’s something sweet and floral, yet so heady that it’s entrapping.

“Volleyball. College.” 

You were better than this. You don’t think out of all the people you’ve spoken to you were this miserable. Fortunately for you she doesn’t pay any mind. In fact she almost finds it amusing. It’s refreshing to most overly confident and shallow people she’s met. You were refreshing, in a way.

“It was a tie, if you’re asking.” Shuri nudges Wanda, trying to hold back her laugh from how absolutely of a mess you are right now. You wonder if she’s trying to put in good words in your honour. 

“From what I heard it was pretty impressive.” Riri adds as she signals the bartender for another set of drinks.

“It was forever ago. Besides, with the internship at The Daily Bugle I don’t think I have much time.” You steal her drink, ignoring her look of indignation. 

“But I heard you still play occasionally? Next week we’re going to train with other friends, just for the good memories. You can join us if you want, Wanda. Besides, we have lots of catching up to do.”

“How could I not?” And right now she was staring directly at you. This time, you choke on your drink.

“Shit, are you okay?” You feel your heart beating out of your chest at the way she rubs your back. Air. You need air.

“I think…outside. I need to go outside.”

“Do you need our help?” 

“I’m fine, Shuri, I just need a quick breather…”

You need more than that.

“Why don’t we go outside? Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, I think you two need to go outside. Riri and I will stay here and look over our things.”

“Is that okay with you?” Wanda turns to look at you for confirmation and you numbly nod your head. Honestly, you’d go anywhere she asks you to.

As you walk away they subtly shoot you a thumbs up, only replacing with a wave and a farewell when Wanda promises to get you back.

She leads you to a set of stairs, the sound of music slowly fading away. She has her hand on your back the whole time. Not too forceful but guiding. As you reach the final set of stairs she leads you to a balcony. The cold air is inviting, instantly cooling your nerves. Wanda lets go of you and you almost…no. Be honest with yourself. You miss her warmth.

“Feeling any better?”

If she keeps on talking with that accent and that voice you don’t think you’ll be.

“I’m alright. Just…y’know. Those evenings. One of those evenings. I mean I’m not always like this, I’m chill. I mean not chill chill, but…” You were rambling, waving your hand as you cleared your throat. 

“I get you. Got too overwhelmed?”

“Yeah…” There is no way that a question could take that long to answer.

“Mhm. That happens. It felt like everything was closing in on you, right?” 

“Yeah. Like I couldn’t escape.” You’re not sure how she can still hear you with how low you’re speaking. Maybe it’s because you’re missing how close you got.

“Well. I’m wishing that’s not the case for you right now.” How did basic human decency turn into a new standard for you? With the way she was smiling softly at you and keeping a careful eye, you think you have your answer.

“I’m alright, thanks…Wanda.” Saying her name felt so good. God you’re weird. She probably thinks you’re being weird right now.

“I’m glad you are…?” She trails off, waiting for you to finish her sentence. What could she want? Your name? Right. Your name. 

After giving her your name she tries it out. You’ve never paid much attention to it up until now and you swear you only want to hear it out of her. In all the ways you can think of.

“It’s nice to officially meet you. Shuri’s never done a presentation for her friends before…looks like I’ve been missing out.”

“Oh, you didn’t miss out much. I mean I’m the least interesting out of the bunch. Really.”

This is not the coolest way to introduce yourself.

“Says who? In the little amount of time I got to know you, I know you’re a competitive volleyball player. And you’re interning for a company? I think that you’re more interesting than you let on.”

“That was a longtime ago. I don’t have any more of my reflexes anymore.”

“I think reflexes stay with us forever. The more you practice the more it stays. Muscle memory kind of thing.”

“Right. Right. I totally get that, I mean…it stays…but I’m not sure. I don’t think I am as good as I was before.”

“Really? But aren’t you going to play next week?”

How the hell did she remember that?

“The girls are just saying that. I’m not sure if I’ll even be there. I might be there to watch or coach, but that’s about it.”

“You coach?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“I could see that. You seem to be observant. And you were pretty much…observant back there.” She laughs, the sound echoing softly in the air. You almost forget what she said…something about you being observant? wait. Observant? Shit, you’ve been caught– “I was wondering what it would take for you to talk to me. Guess all you needed was the right incentive.”

Woah, woah…what exactly is happening?

“You’re making up too many ideas.” It was so nonsensical but her gaze darkened at your trembling tone, completely indifferent to your words. She hasn’t felt that chase in a while. Or a feeling so strong, so indescribable, that it’s almost hypnotising. She felt your stare on her. She felt your presence. It was so ridiculous but she needed to know you, to have you. Maybe she’ll ask Shuri questions about you. Or just skip the questions entirely.

“I’m never one to make up ideas or lie.” 

“You’re…so impossible.” Your body feels a random wave of warmth. You’re not entirely sure if it’s the alcohol taking its effect if it’s just her.

“Most people like that about me.” She leans against the railing, smiling that same smirk you could’ve sworn you imagined. Just having her like this felt real. A gust of wind flew past her hair and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring. And it’s like she knows, because the minute you’re about to speak she steps closer to you.

“There you go with the staring again.”

“I’m sorry. I really am, I didn’t…I’m sorry. It’s just you’re so…”

You really are awful at this.

“So…what?” The redhead mock grins, her laughter making your stomach swirl with need. The air hardly even cools you anymore, your body is now at an all time heat. She held so much energy that you nearly felt intimidated. It felt like all oxygen was sucked in and she held you completely still. It’s a fate you’ll gladly accept. “There are so many things going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“You’re so pretty I can hardly even focus.” Your heart races so fast you’re nearly out of breath as you finish speaking. “And I don’t know what’s wrong with me but you’ve got something about you that’s making me forget everything I know. You’re the only one I ever really want to know about. I know how crazy I sound, I mean I…” You don’t even stop to think before you talk. You realised how fucked you are when she raises a hand to interrupt you.

“Slow down for me, alright?” 

Yeah. You’re so fucked. She’s probably going to tell your friends how much of a fucking weirdo you are–

“Look, for some weird reason I feel…I feel the same way too. And this is going to sound so weird but I think it’s perfectly normal for you to feel that way. You’re going to think I’m insane but I’ve been thinking a lot that something like this’ll happen.”

Silence ensues. A thousand alarm bells ring through your mind. And through hers. She should just apologise and leave it as it is–

“I think it’s…more than just normal. I mean I’ve been feeling this weird energy too and I thought if I spoke about it to Shuri she’s probably going to overextend her stay.” You speak clearly, not out of breath. You hold her stare, feeling brave, and safe. It’s so unexplainable. Maybe one of those theories you’ve heard of, or something more.

“I take it we got each other under our spell.” The redhead sighs with relief, drawing even closer to you and tentatively taking your hand in hers. You allow it. For some reason the touch feels more electric than before. It’s a pleasant shock. One that you don’t want to find letting go anytime soon.

“I think you’re the one who’s got me more under a spell than anything. Totally threw me off.”

“Oh, I did?”

“You did.”

You find yourself stepping closer to her, reaching for her other hand, tracing her pulse. You miss her low murmur, how she’s silently encouraging you to do more. To say more.

“You just have this pull to you, Wanda. If…you want to, I’d like to know more about you. And take you out sometime, maybe. If that’s what you want?” You were deflating again, your voice wavering. Just when everything was going perfect…

“I’d like that.” Her touch is so slow and tender it feels like you’re not even here.

“Huh?”

Her hands move to cup your cheeks, feeling the warmth of your skin. She doesn't say the words, not yet, but silently lets you know that you’ve got her right where she wants to. Just as you have her. Even then…just for you, she would repeat anything you need to hear.

“I said I’d like that. A lot, actually. I don’t know what this feeling is… But I want to find out more about it. With you, in our own time.” She speaks so softly that you can’t help but step closer, impossibly closer than what you already were. She truly has you under a spell.

“Then…good.” You smile, lifting her hands to your lips before gently kissing each knuckle.

“Good?”

“Good.”

“More than anything?” She leans in, her lips barely brushing against yours. Her hands let go of yours, wanting to feel your heartbeat

“I promise.” Your voice wavers as her eyes flit into yours, dropping down to gaze at your lips, before she gazes back at you again, silently asking you for permission to kiss you.

It’s a request you grant.

Her fingers tugs your shirt, your lips playfully brushing together as she smiles against them. She switches positions, tugging on your shirt as she walks backwards, leading you further away from the balcony, until her back hits the wall.

“Wait, Wanda…is this what you want? You know we don’t have to–”

“Kiss me, please.” It’s like your brain is wired to listen to her. You break the distance, your lips colliding. She’s aggressive. Carefully aggressively. Her lips taste of strawberries, making you hum softly. They’re so sweet you can hardly feel them against yours. Until she traps your bottom lip with her teeth, teasingly pulling back, keeping steady eye contact with you.

It’s like you forgot how to breathe entirely.

Her pupils are so blown you can hardly see the colour of her eyes. You try to resist the urge to stare at her heaving chest, wanting nothing more but to slowly take her apart right then and there. A swirling sensation at the pit of her abdomen, her hands itching to pull you impossibly closer to her, to feel you against her. It’s a feeling she’s rediscovering again. And it’s driving her mad with want, desire…and something more. She pulls you in again, her hands digging into your hips, making you groan into the kiss, completely unable to return it probably. You’re almost too drunk on her. It’s uncoordinated, messy, and yet…still so addictively intoxicating. Your hands move wherever you can touch, rapid and sporadic. It’s like you’ve known each other before, seemingly able to map out your sensitive areas.

Eventually, reluctantly, you’re both gasping for air, using each other as anchors. You laugh after a while, feeling your heart rate slow down to a normal rhythm. 

“I’m taking you out on a real date, alright?” You press your forehead against hers, relishing in the way she wraps her arms around you.

“I know you will.” She whispers, kissing the tip of your nose before capturing your lips one last time. You lean against her, dropping your head to her shoulder. As you close your eyes images come wafting through her mind, images of realities that have yet to happen soon. 

[beef-brisket]

Adam waved to Bel as he lect the room and smiled when he saw Lucifer in the waiting room.

When Lucifer locked eyes with Adam, he stood and smiled. He could tell he looked more relaxed and had his thoughts about him.

Lucifer gave him a kiss: Hey, love. How did it go-.

Adam pulled him in for a hug: I'm sorry for how I've been acting... I'm getting myself together for you and Avery. You guys deserve better than what I've been giving you.

Kissing Lucifer, Adam pulled away, but held onto his hand: I-I love you Lu. Really.

Lucifer: I know you do, Addy. It makes sense that things from Eden and Earth would still affect you. I don't blame you, love. Would you like to book another appointment?

Adam: I've already got three booked in. Ones next week.

Lucifer: Oh! Very good. Shall we get something to eat, then?

Adam: Sounds like a plan.

-

Seeing as they were in Sloth, Lucifer found a nice cafe that had the best views. It was cozy and pretty much empty, so they got their food and drink quickly.

When they were eating, Adam felt his baby move again. He decided to breathe through it, trying to keep his panic levels down.

Lucifer: Ad? You okay? Y-you're not in pain, are you?!

Adam smiled as best he could: I'm fine Lu- Av's moving again... I'm just... trying different ways to deal with it.

Lucifer smiled: Would you like me to breathe with you?

Adam: Oh... uh... I mean, if you'd like.

Smiling, Lucifer joined and matched his breathing with Adam. Watching his face, Adam could help but chuckle.

Lucifer: What?

Adam: Nothing! You just look like one of those cock birds.

Lucifer laughed: "Cock birds"? I hope that's a good thing!

Adam: It is! Their adorable- uh... what are they called... cockatiel!

Lucifer: Oh, I see! And why do you say that~?

Adam blushed and pocked Lucifer's red cheeks: These and your hair. It kinda stands up when you're angry.

Lucifer: Does it, now?

Narrowing his eyes, Adam laughs as Lucifer's hair bristles and stands up. Hot as high as the bird, but you can see the difference.

Adam: Yeah! Like that!

Lucifer laughed and kissed Adam's hands.

Adam: Do you think Av will have your cheeks?

Lucifer smiled: You knows, love. Charlie is pretty much my little twin. Maybe Avery will be your twin. Or a mixture. Or maybe she'll look like some of the other angels. Genetics are strange, darling.

Adam smiled, thinking of his daughter, and for the first time, he rested his hand on the slight curve of his stomach.

Adam: I... I can't wait to see her.

Lucifer: Me too, Addy. Me too.

I really need some FtM Adam feeling comfortable wearing a dress.

I'm having some gender issues, so I'm craving some trans!Adam.

Rp of sinner!trans!Adam??

Oh are you okay? We can do that! ☺️

-

Adam brushed off any little crumbs that were on his dress, it wasn't very often that he wore feminine clothes anymore since transitioning but something about a nice dress every once in a while made him feel so fucking hot.

Not to mention that it was just his color, Adam swore he was meant to be rich why else would be look so fucking amazing in gold?

He should probably finish getting ready, his husband was waiting on him downstairs.

Adam slipped on some gold heels and earrings before going down to meet Lucifer.

Lucifer: There you are I've been-...... Wow

Adam: Looks nice right?

Lucifer: You look gorgeous my dove.~

Adam blushed as he took his hand and kissed it.

Adam: Worth the Wait?

Lucifer: More than worth it. You'll put everyone to shame at that party. Kinda wish we didn't have to go now, so I could poke around up your skirt.~

Adam giggled: Luci!!

Ugh, his voice cracked that hadn't happened in a while. But that's how flattered he is! Cheeky man working him up.

Lucifer: What?~ There's always time in the limo.~

He took Adams hand and they got in the limo. Lucifer put up the tinted window divider so the driver couldn't see them. Adam laid back in the long seat, he bit his lip as his husband went up his dress and pulled his panties down before disappearing underneath to eat him out.

((Adams outfit))

[delta-piscium]

Trying? Trying??? By learning. By succeeding!

(about this and my text under the cut)

this is very nice actually thank you so much <3 <3 and like, i probably do need to give myself more credit in general but also i am still very much learning and stumbling and figuring digital art out (and for the most part it is so fun)

I’m gonna ramble about this a bit so bear with me and also i apologize lol, but that art was done after a month of getting increasingly more frustrated with everything turning out so badly and eventually realizing that I was trying to 1. copy a certain look/style that i’ve internalized is what fanart and digital art should look like and is very far away from my style/comfort zone 2. i was trying to do everything digital allows without being comfortable with it or understanding it

so (and this took me a month to realize ? ??) i did what i already knew from doing acrylic and oil painting in the past and could somewhat easily transfer to digital without having to know more than the basics, like i didn’t use a lot of the things digital provides or allows for. i used layers for my own peace of mind but without actually needing them and did some color adjusting (honestly, the color adjusting digital lets you do is such a blessing to me) but the only fancy way i really utilized the medium was making it a gif (which is so fun and a lot easier than i would have thought, like honestly watch me make any future art into gifs too) but there are so many things you can do with the medium with settings/effects, different brushes, tools to use in the process etc that i just do not understand what they are or how to implement them so i am very slowly learning digital art as a whole new medium rather than just being able to use it to adapt what i already know

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

the setting itself can be the monster... but also... a lover? much to think about

[sugoroo]

#AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES...

ʚɞ summary: the chronicles of what happens when you share a living space with the jjk men: expect tension, embarrassing revelations and (of course) séx! . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + nanami.

warnings. fem!reader, masturbation, panty stealing, plushie humping in choso's, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, oral (f receiving), 18+ minors dni.

SATORU GOJO — THE LOUD ONE!

satoru gojo is the most irritating, annoying and overly loud roommate you could possibly have.

at all hours of the day, he can be heard through the thin walls separating your rooms doing one (or all) of the following things: shouting down the phone to his bestfriend suguru, raging at his teammates for losing a match in a video game... and even jerking off.

yes, that's right.

and whatever satoru is doing to himself in there simply cannot feel good enough that it warrants the sheer amount of obnoxious moans that he releases; you're sure of it. he has to be playing it up purely to get on your nerves — and to his credit, it works.

so eventually, after yet another hour of trying to focus on doing some work on your computer but being unable to get anything done due to the noises coming from the other room of the apartment, you decide to do something about it.

without stopping to knock, you unceremoniously barge through his door, mouth already open in preparation of the spew of complaints you have ready to throw his way.

but, rather embarrassingly, once you lay eyes upon what he's currently doing, any and every word in the english language disappears from your mind without so much as a puff of smoke.

satoru, for his part, doesn't react at all save for looking mildly amused at your reaction. in fact... you think the pale hand he has wrapped around his cock even speeds up its languid strokes at the sight of you.

"girl, finally!" he sighs dramatically, lips spreading into a wide, impish smile as he beckons you with the curled finger of his other hand. "been waiting for you to get the hint for months now. i was starting to think you didn't want me too, honestly."

"you— what?" you push out awkwardly, wincing through your confusion as you fight the fruitless battle to tear your eyes from his unnecessarily big cock and meet his bright eyes.

"you heard me," satoru hums with an easy shrug, letting out one of those all-too-familiar, almost pornographic moans when he squeezes his own hand around the leaky tip of his shaft. "...or do you not want me too?"

sighing, you raise your thumb and forefinger to rub your stressed temple, shaking your head at the sheer audacity of this man. "you're ridiculous, gojo. i was hoping you were just pretending to jerk off in here— but no, of course you actually are."

"mhmm," he groans raspily between increasingly loud squelches of his cock. wait; is your scolding only helping him get off even faster? oh, you can't make this shit up. "keep talkin' to me just like that, baby."

"first of all, don't call me baby," you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction with a scowl etching its way onto your features. "and secondly, if you're gonna do this... stuff right next-door to me, can't you atleast try to keep it down? some of us have work to do."

satoru rolls his eyes at this, as if he's somehow the one being inconvenienced here; but any real irritation quickly evaporates into pleasure when he starts fondling his heavy balls, tongue lewdly lolling out of his mouth like a bitch in heat.

"i-i'll keep quiet. shit— i'll do whatever you fuckin' want if you just... just get me over the edge here, pretty girl. hah— help a guy out, would you, roomie?"

and damn if that isn't an enticing offer. finally getting rid of the noise around here so you can actually submit a work assignment on time for once?

yeah... you're definitely on board.

"fine," you mutter, attempting to sound as uninterested as possible as you shuffle closer to the bed. "what do you want me to do, gojo? and don't even bother asking me to suck your dick or anything, because who knows the last time you properly washed that—"

satoru snorts out a strangled laugh, shaking his head quickly and peering up at you with wide, darkened cerulean eyes. "n-no... not that. just— just talk to me, please? and call me satoru, not gojo, damn."

"okay..." you huff thoughtfully, brainstorming what you can say to get this over as quickly as possible. eventually, you purr: "are you gonna be a dirty boy and make a mess all over your hand for me, satoru? hmm?"

and, to your surprise and... arousal? that's all it takes to get him to explode, thick ropes of sticky white cum trickling from the reddened tip of his cock as he whines in ecstasy.

huh. maybe your work can wait a little longer.

SUGURU GETO — THE ONE WHO MAKES YOUR PANTIES GO POOF!

suguru geto is a man of many talents.

but in his humble opinion, the one he is most proficient at? oh, it has to be stealing various pairs of his cute little roommate's panties without her even taking notice.

yeah; that's right, his entire underwear drawer is not actually filled with articles of his own clothing, but rather with scraps of material he has swiped from your room over the past few months.

"ugh, i lost another pair of panties!" comes a frustrated groan from you room; you must be on the phone to one of your friends, suguru muses. "i swear, it's like there's a black hole at the bottom of that washer or something."

ah, if only you knew.

if only you knew that while you're busy stressing over the mystery of your missing underwear, suguru is slumped just against the other side of the thin wall that separates your rooms, one of the aforementioned pairs wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock.

he does this more often than he would like to admit — waits until he hears you get on the phone to jerk himself off. why? well, because then he can listen to your pretty voice while he bucks up into his fist. that's why.

"such a clueless girl..." suguru mutters under his breath as his eyes flutter closed, letting himself get lost in the combination of the soft fabric of your panties surrounding his shaft and the sound of you speaking ringing in his ears. "has no idea where her precious underwear keeps wandering off to."

meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, you have a mischievous smile pulling at your lips as you pretend to be utterly oblivious about your panty thief to your confused friend on the other end of the phone.

as if you wouldn't work out it was suguru snatching them — after all, who else could it possibly be? but you figured it was better this way, letting him think he's holding all the cards in this situation.

it only makes it all the more enjoyable for you.

leaning a little closer to the wall, you can faintly hear the familiar sounds of him getting himself off as you slowly dip a hand beneath your own skirt; and you're not wearing underwear, of course, because you don't have a single pair left thanks to your roommate.

you end up dropping the phone carelessly to the ground when suguru's deep, satisfied groan sounds out from his room, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as his orgasm swiftly brings you to your own.

so lost in your own pleasure are you that when the door softly clicks open, you don't have time to compose yourself before suguru strolls right on in, seeming much too casual for someone who just came in his hand.

"well well well," suguru hums smugly, tilting his head to the side and peering down at you with a condescending smile. "what do we have here, hmm? did you really think you could outsmart me, beautiful?"

oh.

maybe you really are clueless if you genuinely thought he didn't know you were pretending to be as such... but would it really be such a bad thing if he decides to punish you for your attempt at deception?

TOJI FUSHIGURO — THE ONE WHO NEVER PAYS RENT!

toji rarely (if ever) pays his part of the rent for your shared apartment.

he doesn't even bother trying to lie to you and tell you he'll scrounge up enough cash to cover it next time it's due, because he already knows you wouldn't buy that for a second.

so, instead, he offers you something else to keep you sated. something that he can say without a shadow of a doubt he can give to you better than anyone else could even hope to.

cock.

because if he keeps you in a perpetual state of bliss underneath the sheets of his bed, how can you possibly have any time remaining to think of such trivial things like paying the entire monthly rent on your own?

"mmm... what was i saying again, toji?" you slur, voice just delirious with pleasure as he pounds into you from behind, one strong hand effortlessly keeping your face pressed against the mattress.

"nothin', baby," toji lies easily, threading his thick fingers through the back of your hair in a distractingly tender gesture as his mean hips keep up their ruthless pace. "just relax and let y'erself feel me, yeah?"

"but—" you protest weakly, followed by an involuntary hiccup as his pudgy cockhead reaches that spongy spot inside of you once again. "i have a feeling it was important..."

"nah," he grunts dismissively, free hand snaking down to where your bodies are connected to rub messy, stimulating circles around the puffy bud that is your clit. "don't worry about it, pretty."

"...okay. if you say so." you mumble eventually, brain far too hazy from his skilful ministrations to bother putting up much of a fight against his convincing words.

toji's scarred lips spread into a victorious grin behind your back at how easily you give in. he just loves having you like this — so cockdrunk you can't even remember what you were talking about from one moment to the next.

and when the time inevitably comes for you to pay the rent on behalf of both of you yet again, he already knows you won't bat an eye; because, in the big scheme of things, what's a little cash matter if it means you get to have access to his sinful dick game whenever you so desire?

yeah... he'd say it's a pretty fair trade.

but the best part of all is that toji thinks he's the mastermind behind this little arrangement when in reality, if you were looking for a roommate who could pay their rent, you would never have picked someone who looks as jobless as he does in the first place.

but you'll continue to let him believe it was his idea; because, after all, he fucks you better when he's feeling proud of himself.

CHOSO KAMO — THE SECRETLY PERVERTED ONE!

choso doesn't mean to be perverted; not really.

but whether intentional or not, he finds himself desperate for anything that reminds him of you each time he gets himself off: a t-shirt, a pair of underwear, or even one of the cute little plushies you have lined up on your bed.

he wonders, fleetingly, what you'd think of him if you could see him humping one of your stuffed toys while you're out at work — would you be disgusted? would you kick him out and start the search for a new roommate?

or would you, just maybe... take pity on the poor boy and lend him a helping hand?

by the benevolence of some undefined higher power, choso doesn't have to mull over the answer to his question for much longer. because apparently, he was so desperate to release the desire coursing through his veins that he forgot to check the time before starting like he usually would.

so when he hears the tell-tale sign of the door opening and indicating that you've just come home from work, he has nowhere near enough time to cover up what he's been up to in your room while you were gone.

well, shit.

"hey cho, what are you doing in my— oh." comes your dumfounded voice as you peek your head around the slightly ajar doorway, eyes widening in a manner akin to a cartoon character at the sight of his sinful state.

choso blushes profusely, attempting to hide his face by ducking it into his shoulder with a muffled whimper of embarrassment. to his horror, his pathetically hard cock is fully exposed to your view, nestled between the soft limbs of one of your plushies where he had previously been thrusting.

you both stay completely silent for a few long moments, neither of you daring to move a single muscle... but it isn't long before your body is climbing onto the bed to join him before your mind can even begin to process your movements.

"w-what are you doing?... are you gonna hit me? because that would be okay, you can d-definitely hit me if you want!" choso squeaks hurriedly, peeking out from his shoulder and looking for all the word like a puppy who just got caught doing something naughty by its owner.

"i'm not gonna hit you, choso," you chuckle softly, carefully tugging your abused, slightly sticky plushie out from underneath him and tossing it away. "i wanna help you. don't you wanna try doing that to something other than a stuffed toy, hmm?"

"...oh, f-fuck!" he whines loudly, hips rutting just once against the mattress before his cock cruelly betrays him and spurts buckets of cum at the mere thought of being inside of you.

choso hides his face in shame again, figuring he must've absolutely ruined his chances with you now. because there's no way you would still want to help him after witnessing that little display, right?

wrong.

when you tug his head away from his shoulder by one of his scraggly pigtails and pull him into a searing kiss, he realizes maybe his pretty little roommate was just as perverted as him all along.

KENTO NANAMI — THE RESPECTFUL ONE!

kento is very fond of you; his sweet roommate who always wakes him up for work in the morning if he happens to accidentally oversleep and leaves him homemade dinner in the fridge to cheer him up after a late shift.

he figures these things making him feel attraction towards you is fairly normal — but it's the other, not-so-intentional things that make him go crazy for you the most.

when he spots you walking around the apartment in nothing but one of his oversized shirts and a pair of socks because your clothes are in the communal washer... or when he silently observes you bend over to grab something from the bottom cupboard in the kitchen?

yeah, those are the things that really make it hard for him not to pounce on you like some kind of feral animal.

it all comes to a crux when you come home in tears one night, babbling about your fool of a boyfriend having the audacity to cheat on you. hmph, nanami never liked him anyway.

but there's no time for petty jealousies now — no, now is the time for him to make you realize that what you've been craving has been here all along, living in the room right next-door to yours.

so he pulls you into a gentle kiss, pouring all of his pent-up affection into the gesture as he effortlessly lifts you up onto the kitchen counter, positioning himself between your spread legs.

"i want to make you forget about him, beautiful," nanami whispers, voice rough with sincereness as he places a soft peck on the corner of your lips. "may i?"

and you're nodding shakily, but it isn't enough. he reaches up with a large hand to grasp your chin in a firm yet tender grip, thumb stroking over your skin. "use your words for me, dear. come on, i know you can do it."

"y-yes. please, kento."

and that's all it takes for nanami to fall to his knees, brushing his lips over the insides of your thighs as he slowly works his way upwards. god, he's wanted to do this for so long — if for nothing else then to thank you for taking such good care of him and never asking for anything in return.

but oh, is he going to give you something in return now; specifically, in the form of his hot mouth attached to your cunt, tongue lapping up every drop of your translucent juices as if it were the finest wine on the menu of a high class restaurant.

he can't help but wonder, while he's buried nose-deep in your sweet pussy, why on earth a man would choose to cheat on a goddess such as yourself.

but he supposes it doesn't matter, if it means that he's the one who finally gets to worship at your altar from now and for as long as you'll allow him the honour of doing so.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ guide you all the way down, be your nightlight ❞

up to the challenge : ⌞no nut november⌝ edition [ pt 1 - pt 3 - pt 4 ]

☾₊‧⁺...ft. : n. kento + h. hiromi + k. choso

☾₊‧⁺...cw: fingerfucking, squirting, dirty talking, begging, deep throating condom breaking, excessive cum, riding, kento being lovey-dovey, hiromi nearly loses his mind, choso being whiny and desperate, reader is on birth control but choso is just worried about the mess of no condom, choso's part is very long and indulgent

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : to the anon who requests choso and nanami, i hope you don't mind i threw higuruma in here too, i really wanted to include him since he gives the vibes of being in the middle between nanami and choso 🖤 thank you so much for the request !

✧ n. kento lasts : entire month

you were the one to bring this up to kento, mentioning in passing that gojo wouldn't shut up about this 'challenge' he and geto were going to participate in. with a hum, he asks if you were trying to suggest something to him. if you wanted him to try this little 'game,' he wouldn't mind...as long as you'd let him pamper you all month. and he really does; he's breezing through each day as though nothing is wrong. kento's still as sweet as ever, constantly cuddling you, taking you out on formal dates, and telling you how much he loves you. he manages well the entire November, only showing weakness whenever you try to tease him. but of course, if you're going to try and break his streak, he just spreads you out on the bed, fingerfucking you until you squirt all over his hand. eventually, the whole month flies by, and kento genuinely feels relief that it's over. but he's a little shocked when he comes home, and you're dressed in a pretty, yellow matching lingerie set as you drag him into the bedroom that's filled with candles and roses...he pampered you all month, now it was his turn to be pampered.

"kentooo~" having you between his legs like this, cooing his name so sweetly, causes a shiver to shoot down his spine. you look so adorable, so gorgeous on your knees and pressing kisses up and down his length. those pretty kiss marks would be burned into his mind for weeks. but what makes his stomach flip the most? is that look in your eye. that needy, desperate, loving gaze...it made his cock twitch in your hands. "darling, please," he sighs, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek. you smile at him, you fucking smile at him like you aren't peppering his cock in kisses. with a little nip to his thumb, you giggle, nuzzling into his palm. "just focus on me, okay, ken?" he nods, sucking in a breath when your lips press against the tip of his dick. "fuck, princess, god, when you suck me down like that-!" the calm, sweet environment was gone now, with the way you sloppily sucked his cock. it was so fucking messy, your lipstick smearing all over his shaft as your manicured hand cupped his balls, softly massaging them as you felt your spit dripping down to your hand. "yes, yes, just like that, princess, k-keep going. oh, you're so fucking beautiful with my cock in your throat, 'm gonna cum soon in that pretty throat," he oh-so gorgeously moans for you, throwing his head back as he tries not to buck up into your hot mouth. for being such a refined, put-together man, kento loves when you give him such messy head, seeing how your lipstick is smeared everywhere, your chin dripping with precum and saliva. you could feel him throb in your throat just from the view. your kento is so sweet like this, doing his best not to fuck your mouth. but could anyone blame him when your mouth is so hot and wet? god, he never wants you to stop, not when you make him feel so greedy. each time you take him down your throat, kento swears he's going to cum, his head lolling back again as he lets out a deep groan of your name when you take all of him down like it's nothing. he wanted nothing more than to grab you by your hair and fuck your mouth like he wanted...but he wouldn't. no, he's going to keep letting his darling pamper him how she wants...but when he keeps just moaning your name so sweetly, begging you to let him cum... "p-please, honey, I'm so close, let me cum, my pretty girl, let me cum, I'll do anything-!" how could you say no to that?

✧ h. hiromi lasts : entire month

by the end of the first week, hiromi realizes how much he fucking regretted doing this. dealing with his cases has him so stressed he's surprised he didn't go completely grey. every time he comes home, he just wants to love on you, his darling little wife, but he can’t because he’s already dedicated to beating this foolish challenge. so while he can't cum, he is sure to take his frustrations out on you. but it literally crushes him each time he makes you cum, whether it be with his hands, mouth, or dick, and you look at him with those cute pleading eyes, softly whining for him to let you take care of him and make him cum too.

you are too cute for your own good, nearly causing hiromi to cave in several times as the month progressed. even you can see how it was affecting him, as he gets more and more desperate to make you cum, his eyes always zeroed in on your face to ensure your feeling good. he was a prideful, strong man, but fuck, he was so frustrated and pent up that he started to beg you to cum. "you're close, right? i can feel it, sweet thing. just listen to your pussy, she's so wet and sloppy, just from my fingers," he groans into your ear, sounding so wrecked and needy, and he hasn't even touched himself once. but you can hear it, the annoyance in his tone. hiromi is so close to breaking, to giving up and you nearly beg him again to just fuck you, but your eyes catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. 12:27 am. it was december. he did it, he fucking made it, and you were desperately clawing at his wrist, trying to get his attention. "'romi, 'r-'romi! 's december, you made it, please, pull it out, t-take your dick out, 'romi, need you in me so bad!" with a quick glance to the clock to make sure you weren't fucking with him, hiromi lets out a delirious laugh, undoing his pants enough to pull his throbbing cock out, and he easily folds you in half, sliding his tip through the sopping wet mess between your thighs. "i made it, didn't i? i made it. so now you're gonna reward me, right?" you squeal when you feel the tip of his cock get caught on the entrance of your hole and nudge in juuust enough for you to cry out his name, gushing from the little stimulation it gives you. "look at you...I've been neglecting this little cunt, my fingers aren't enough, my mouth isn't enough. no, no, she needs t' be stuffed with a thick, fat cock to make 'er cream...isn't that right, angel?"

✧ k. choso lasts : 30 minutes

choso was stupid. he was so fucking stupid for even thinking he could do this challenge. he literally heard about it from yuuji before but had no idea what it meant. so here he was, looking at the calendar on his phone. it was mid-morning, and 5 minutes ago, he decided to do this challenge. choso should've remembered that he was a desperate man when it came to you because the second you come out of the bedroom, rubbing your eyes as you sleepily greet your boyfriend, he knows he's fucked. but seeing you in his black t-shirt and likely nothing else and choso let out a shaky sigh. just looking at you has his mind racing with all the different ways he wants to have you. you’d look really cute in his lap with a blissed-out smile on your face. with a needy whine, he stands up, dragging you back to the bedroom as he greedily kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth and moaning against your lips.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, 'm sorry, you look s' cute, so pretty, m-my pretty baby, y-your cunt is sucking me in—!" choso is a mess, fucking into you from behind. his hands grip your hips, keeping your ass up in the air as his cock abuses your insides, his hot, thick tip smushing against your cervix. he's fucking you into the mattress, his moans mixing with yours and those sweet, wet squelching sounds coming from your pussy, sucking his cock back in with each pull out of you. "moan louder, please? m-move your head, stop muffling yourself w-with the pillow," he whines, his body hovering over yours. you can feel drool dripping from his mouth onto your back, and just the feeling makes your eyes roll back. knowing he was so needy and desperate just to get his dick wet inside of you that he was drooling all over you made your walls clench so hard around him. "c-cho, 's too fucking deep, b-baby, 'm gonna cum," you sob, hands clawing into the pillowcase. instantly, you feel choso grip you harder, barely pulling out of you as his hips slap against yours in a bruising fashion, your body jolting up the bed with how hard he was fucking you. "don' run, please,, don' run from it," he whimpers, choking on a sob as he feels himself twitch inside your gummy walls, his hips stuttering against yours when you keen, pushing back against him when he hits a spot that feels so good. "fuck, f-fuck, 'm cumming, your pussy's so good, so wet, so fuckin' hot, 'm sorry, 'm cumming-!" despite his orgasm rushing over him, he keeps fucking you, his eyes rolling back as he moans your name over and over again, begging you for...something. he doesn't notice the sudden change, but you do, suddenly feeling warm and full inside as he keeps pounding into you. your eyes snap open, and you whine, turning a little to press your hand against his chest. "cho, h-honeyyyy! t-the condom, you broke the condom, you're cummin' in me!' you can't lie, it feels so good, and you feel your head swimming as he pumps thick seed into your needy cunt. it's another minute until he's done, and he starts to pull out but sees how creamy his cock is...and the way the condom is ripped at the top. he...he just came in you. his thick cum was starting to drip out of you, and your hand came up to press against your hole, not wanting to drip it onto the mattress. but he only registered it as you wanting to keep it inside...you wanted his cum? you wanted him to fill up that pretty pussy? he didn't even realize he was speaking out loud, quickly peeling off the broken condom and lining back up with your creamy cunt. "i-i don't mind it, choso, b-but t-take the condom off b-before you-chooo, babyyy, w-wait, that's so deep-!" "s-shhh, s'okay, you can take it, take it for me, 's okay, i always make it fit, i-it fits so good, pretty cunt, 's all mine, 'm gonna cum 'n you over and over again until your a creamy little mess, baby, i-i'll eat it outta you too, promise, promise, just let me stuff you, please!" hm, maybe he'd tell you later this was supposed to be a challenge...maybe not and just pretend like he needed you real bad today.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[flowersforbucky]

i got it bad

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4.9k

summary/prompt: logan can't help that he has super hearing and overhears you - wade's seemingly sweet, shy neighbor - telling vanessa what you fantasize about doing to him. believing that you won't ever act on it, he takes matters into his own hands.

or - getting yourself off on logan's abs

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, reader is afab, no use of y/n, logan's pov, porn with a little plot, male masturbation, teasing, nipple/breast play, some tit slaps, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, cream pie

Ever since Logan first met you, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his fucking head.

Which is really unfortunate for him, considering you seem indifferent to his existence.

Wade says that you're just an introvert, and that it takes you a while to get comfortable around new people, but after living across the hallway from you for the last few months, Logan is sure that you have no interest in him outside of simple, polite conversation whenever the two of you run into each other.

He first notices you from across the room when you enter Wade and Althea's apartment – his apartment now, too, he supposes. The small space is crowded, but you're impossible for him to overlook. He instantly recognizes you from the polaroid picture that Wade had showed him in the Void.

You’re greeted by Vanessa, who kisses you on the cheek and shoves a drink in your hand before dragging you over to where Logan is listening to Wade and Althea bicker about – what were they bickering about again? All he can focus on is the way your dress hugs your curves and the lipstick imprint that you’ve left on the champagne flute in your hand.

He needs to get out more. Go to a bar, get a job, maybe even try out one of those dating apps that Vanessa has suggested to him – something to get him out of this fucking apartment that he's stayed holed up in since arriving in this universe, because he should not be this flustered by a complete stranger.

“Earth to Peanut,” Wade snaps his fingers in front of Logan’s face. He barely processed anything Vanessa had said while she introduced you. Blah blah, neighbor, something something, lives down the hallway. “Jesus, did you get into the white powder under the floorboard? Your pupils are as big as saucers right now.”

“Oh, go easy on him, Wade,” Althea scolds. “It’s natural for pupils to dilate when looking at a pretty girl.”

The expression on your face matches how Logan feels – surprised, embarrassed, slightly mortified.

“You don't even know what she looks like. She could look like me for all you know,” Wade snorts.

“She brings me homemade cookies and she always smells good,” Al retorts. “I don't need to be able to see her to know that she's pretty.”

“Nice to meet you,” Logan finally speaks up with a forced smile. Leave it to his two roommates to make a simple introduction as awkward as possible. “And no, I am not high on cocaine,” he adds with a pointed glare at Wade.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Logan,” you return the sentiment with a chortle and shy smile. “And don’t worry, I never pay attention to anything Wade says.”

Yukio and her girlfriend with the long ass name that Logan has yet to memorize then walk up and gain your attention, leaving Logan wishing he could redo the entire interaction.

He spends the rest of the night hoping for an opportunity to talk to you again, and feeling disappointed when that doesn’t happen.

The next couple of months go similarly. He runs into you frequently – in the elevator, and the communal laundry room of the apartment complex, and when you’re both checking your mail at the same time.

You always greet him with a smile and ask the typical casual conversation questions – how he's liking his new job (he’s not, but he tells you it’s going fine), if Wade is staying out of trouble (no), and how Laura is doing (she’s doing great, actually), but it never progresses much past that.

As soon as the conversation starts to venture into more personal territory, you seem to shut down. You’ll make some excuse about having somewhere to be, wish him a good day, and then you’re gone.

He can’t help himself. He sees how carefree and talkative you can be with Vanessa and hell, even Wade – and he wants that. At least then he may feel a little less crazy for spending so much of his free time racking his brain for ways to get closer to you.

Maybe it’s because it has been so long since he’s had a crush on anyone, but sometimes he thinks he might be losing his mind with how often he thinks of you – your smile, your eyes, your scent, your voice, and the way that having a five minute conversation with you always leaves him feeling for the rest of the day.

That’s why when he’s walking to his apartment one evening, and hears his name come from inside your apartment, he stops dead in his fucking tracks.

God, he knows he shouldn’t listen. He knows he should keep walking, go into his apartment and close the door.

But it’s not like he has his ear pressed up against your door. It’s not his fault that he has super hearing and that the apartment building has paper thin walls.

His brain is yelling at his feet to move but they stay planted firm right where they are.

“He thinks you don’t like him, you know,” Vanessa says. Logan doesn’t need to be able to see to know that there’s a smirk on her face.

He’s tempted to cause some kind of commotion in the hallway and then dash into his apartment, just to stop Vanessa from saying whatever the hell she’s about to say.

“Logan?” You sound appalled. “Of course I like him.”

“I know that you like him,” Vanessa chuckles. “But I can see why he would think otherwise. You act like you can barely stand to be in the same room as the guy for five minutes.”

“That’s not true.” Your voice shoots up several octaves higher than normal.

Logan sends a silent prayer to whoever the fuck is listening that no one walks down this hallway in the next few minutes and sees him standing still as a statue next to your apartment door.

“It’s not that I simply can’t stand to be in the same room as him,” you continue, lowering your voice back down to its normal volume. “It’s that being in the same room as him makes me want to jump his adamantium bones.”

For a second, he really believes that his two hundred year old heart might stop beating.

“I’m fucking pathetic around him,” you huff. “Last week, I saw him pull his t-shirt off in the laundry room to put a clean one on, and ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about grinding my pussy against his abs. Something is seriously wrong with me, Nes.”

But Logan doesn’t hear Vanessa’s response, because he speed walks away while she’s still cackling. By some miracle, Wade isn’t home, so Logan darts past Althea and locks himself in the bathroom.

What the fuck, Jesus Christ, and holy shit all play on a loop in his mind while he tries to ignore the bulge that has quickly formed in his jeans.

The last words he expected to hear anyone say today were jump his adamantium bones and grinding my pussy against his abs – but the fact that he heard those words come from your mouth in your sweet voice has his cock throbbing so hard that he can't think of anything other than you doing exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about.

Images of you straddling him with your bare, wet cunt rubbing against his happy trail, getting yourself off on his body as he plays with your pretty tits –

He let’s out an audible growl and rips the shower curtain open before turning on the water – straight to his normal hot temperature, too. He knows a cold shower isn't going to do him any good right now.

Standing beneath the hot stream, he thinks of what has transpired in the last five minutes and strokes himself in his hand until warm, white liquid follows the water down the drain.

When he finishes, he stills hears your voice in his mind and gets hard again within minutes.

••••••

Logan hasn’t seen you in three days. Three days might not seem like a long time to go without seeing your neighbor, but it feels like a long fucking time for him. In fact, it’s the longest he’s gone without casually running into you since he first met you months ago.

There’s a reason for this, though – he hasn’t checked his mail in days, hasn’t taken any of his laundry down to the basement in days, and has generally tried to avoid leaving his apartment as much as he can out of fear that he’ll see you. He even went as far as to pretend to be napping when you came by with some fresh baked brownies for Althea yesterday.

He wants to see you, of course. Goddamn, does he want to see you. But after overhearing your conversation with Vanessa earlier this week, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to look you in the eye and pretend like he hasn't been making himself cum to the thought of you on top of him every time he takes a shower.

But after three days, he finds himself missing you too much to keep up his attempt at distancing himself from you.

What if he’s being ridiculous, staying cooped in this apartment to avoid you? What if you’re just down the hallway, thinking about him at the same time he’s thinking of you?

He's tidying up the kitchen when he sees the pink Tupperware container that you’d brought the brownies in yesterday sitting in the sink. The brownies were long gone – they’d all been eaten by him, Wade and Al within the same hour that you brought them over.

Taking the Tupperware back to you would be the nice, neighborly thing to do, right?

With Al already retired to her bedroom for the evening, and Wade out with Vanessa, he takes it upon himself to wash and dry the container.

It’s a Friday night, so he knows there’s a chance that you’ve got plans and might not even be home, but he still takes a few minutes to fix his hair and swipe some deodorant on before walking down the hallway towards your apartment.

As he approaches your door, he realizes that you are home. There’s light spilling from the crack at the bottom of the doorframe and he can hear low music playing inside. A mix of anxiety and anticipation sets in, but he clears his throat and knocks on your door before he can chicken out.

He hears your footsteps approaching and attempts to wipe any sign of nervousness from his face – he’s just returning your Tupperware, for Christ's sake.

“Logan,” you breathe as you open the door. “I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you greet him. He can’t help but relax at the smile that grows on your face when you realize it’s him. “What are you up to this evening?”

You lean against your doorframe, and Logan has to force himself to maintain eye contact. You’re wearing a matching pajama set – a cute pair of velvet shorts and tank top that shows more of your skin than he’s ever seen before.

“I – uh,” he stammers, holding out the Tupperware container to you. “I just thought I’d bring this back to you. They were great, by the way.”

Your smile spreads to your eyes at his compliment.

“Oh, thanks,” you beam. “I’m glad you got to have one. Wade told me that you were asleep when I came by yesterday so I figured he’d have them eaten by the time you woke up.”

“I’m sure he would have, but Al made him save one for me,” he laughs.

He tries to focus on the conversation at hand, but the fact that you look fresh out of the shower definitely isn’t fucking helping. Bare faced with the scent of your body wash and lotion on your skin, his thoughts begin to stray into dangerous territory fast.

“I don’t wanna interrupt your night, though. I’ll let you get back to—”

“You’re not,” you say quickly as he begins to step backwards. “You're not interrupting. Are you doing anything tonight? I just ordered a pizza and there’s plenty. I was gonna watch a movie, if you want…” You trail off, glancing back and forth between him and your apartment behind you.

He can't help but notice that your voice sounds hopeful.

The invitation excites him more than he cares to admit. Sure, the two of you have hung out plenty of times, but it's always been in a group setting – at one of Wade’s get togethers or movie nights, surrounded by other friends.

But never just the two of you – definitely never in your apartment.

He could never think of saying no to you. Especially not when this is what he's been hoping for since he first me you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd really like that.”

You hold the door open for him, letting him enter your apartment. Right away, he notices how different it is from the one that he lives in. Then again, there’s three people cramped into Althea’s – you're the only person who lives here, so you're able to make it entirely your own.

It’s cute, and cozy, he thinks. From your furniture adorned with throw pillows and blankets, to all of your shelves stocked with books, knick-knacks and candles, to the various plants occupying space throughout the living room, it feels endearing and welcoming right away.

“So, where’s Wade at tonight?” you ask as he ventures into the living room. He notes a large cardboard box with an untouched pizza in it on your coffee table. His stomach growls at the sight, and it hits him that he actually is fucking starving.

“He���s out with Vanessa. Fourth time this week,” he answers, turning to find you retrieving two plates from a cabinet in your kitchen. You're angled away from him, and when you raise your arms to grab the plates, your tank top lifts enough to give him a clear view of your midriff. He quickly averts his gaze, pretending to find something on your bookshelf particularly interesting.

“I’m just really glad that they’ve worked through things and seem to be happy now,” you sigh. “He wasn’t in a good place after their breakup. Barely ever left his apartment for the longest time.”

“They’ve got something special, that’s for sure,” Logan agrees.

You hand him a plate, walking past him to your couch. You toss some of the decorative throw pillows to your recliner, making room for him on the sofa. You pat the empty space beside you, an invitation for him to make himself at home.

“Who knows, maybe they'll even get their own place soon and I won’t have to share the living room with him anymore,” he says as he sits down beside you.

It’s a pretty small couch – really more like a loveseat – so it’s a snug fit for the two of you. The skin of your exposed kneecap brushes against the fabric of his jeans as you lean forward to grab yourself a slice of pizza.

“Sounds like you just want Blind Al and Mary Puppins all to yourself,” you tease. You hand him a piece of pizza and close the box before propping your feet up on the table. You lean back, looking at him with a smirk and raised brows.

“If he moves, that dog is going with him and you know it. There’s no way he’d leave her behind,” he shakes his head.

“There’s no way Althea would let him take her. She's grown to be as attached to her as Wade is. I think even you like her more than you care to admit.”

“What can I say? She has a way of weaseling herself into your heart,” Logan sighs.

“Oh, it’s definitely the tongue,” you shrug through a bite of pizza.

Logan grimaces as a vivid image of Mary Puppins French kissing Wade awake flashes through his mind, but he can't help but laugh.

You turn on some action-comedy that Logan has never heard of, and the two of you eat and take turns making comments about whatever is happening on the screen for the first half of the movie.

He tries to stay focused on the film, he really does, but every now and then you readjust your position on the couch, causing him to catch a whiff of your perfume or your thigh will brush against his and he'll have to force his attention back to the characters on the screen.

No matter how distracting he may find your mere presence beside him, he's enjoying himself. This is by far the longest the two of you have hung out together, without the additions of his roommates and other friends. He dreads the moment that the movie ends and he’s obligated to tell you goodnight before reluctantly going back to his own apartment.

During the second act of the movie, he wonders what you’re thinking - if you could possibly be feeling the same way as him – when you randomly sit forward, grab the box of the leftover pizza off of the table in front of you, and stand to take it to your refrigerator.

It's then that he picks up on an odor – not the light floral aroma of your perfume but something new. A scent that answers the question of exactly what you had been thinking about. It’s musky and pheromonal, and even though it’s been a while since Logan has been intimate enough with a woman to smell the scent of her arousal, he recognizes it right away.

When you sit back down beside him, the sweet smell washes over him again and he bites the inside of his lip so hard that he tastes blood. The wound disappears as quickly as it’s formed, but the same can’t be said for the erection that begins to strain against the confines of his boxers.

He eyes the pile of small, decorative pillows that you had tossed to the side and wishes that he could grab one to place over his lap.

The words that you’d said to Vanessa a few days ago begin replaying in his mind for the thousandth time since he’d first heard you say them, reminding him this isn’t one-sided. He may be sitting here attempting to conceal a raging hard-on by shifting his position and subtly adjusting his pants, but Logan’s heightened sense of smell tells him that your underwear are probably starting to feel as uncomfortable as his do at the moment.

Without turning his head, he risks a glance at you. Your eyes are on the movie, and your face is neutral, but your posture gives you away. Your arms are crossed over your chest, the tips of your fingernails digging tiny crescent shaped indentations into the flesh of your upper arm. You have one of your thighs crossed over the other, locked together tightly but that doesn’t stop him from being able to smell how fucking wet you are.

“You know, if my sense of smell is as good as my sense of hearing, then I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’re thinking about right now,” Logan starts, his voice low and gruff. He watches from his peripheral vision as you freeze, your form going rigid.

“But I’d really like to hear you say it.”

You turn to him, your eyebrows quirked but your face otherwise impassive.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. What exactly is it that you’d like to hear me say?” you ask innocently. You give him doe eyes that make his cock finish filling with blood.

He huffs a laugh, picking up on the way that your heartrate accelerates when you look at him.

“I'd like to hear you say what you said to Vanessa a few days ago,” he hums. “I can’t remember exactly, but I think it had something to do with you rubbing your sweet little cunt on my abs. Does that sound familiar to you?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “That doesn’t really sound like something I'd say.”

He knows you’re trying to play it cool, but there’s certain things that you just can’t hide from him – like the way your heart is beating a mile a minute and the way your nipples have pebbled beneath the thin material of your tank top.

“You’re right. It doesn't sound like something you’d say,” he snorts, and leans in so that your face is just a few inches from his. “So imagine my surprise when I walked by your apartment to hear you talking about jumping my adamantium bones.”

He doesn't miss the way your breath catches in your throat or how your eyes flicker to his lips.

“You gonna do it? Or you just gonna keep thinking about it while you're sitting beside me?”

For a second, you say nothing and Logan struggles to read your expression. Then, without taking your eyes off of him, you slowly stand in front of the couch. You reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up.

Logan's mouth goes dry. Suddenly, he's all out of smart remarks.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your pajama shorts, pushing them down your thighs along with your panties, and let them both drop to your feet all while holding his gaze.

With you now stark naked before him, he leans forward, grasping you by the backs of your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. You straddle him, gently pushing him back against the sofa.

He tugs his own shirt over his head while you undo his belt buckle and pop open the top button of his jeans, your hands fumbling when he sheds his shirt.

Logan doesn’t typically think too much about his physical appearance. He knows he’s in good shape, and thinks he’s conventionally attractive enough. But he could see himself getting a bit of an ego, if he had someone looking at him the way you are right now on a regular basis.

You help him shimmy his jeans and boxers down far enough for his cock to spring free. You take him in your hand, using your thumb to smear the thick bead of pre-cum across the head.

“You should be careful listening to people’s conversations outside of their doors,” you hum as you pump him in one hand. You hunch over, lowering your mouth enough to spit down his shaft, lubricating the length. You smirk, glancing up at him from beneath your thick eyelashes. “Other people might not react as happily as me.”

Fuck, he knows it’s been a long time since he's even felt anyone’s hands on him, but he feels a little pathetic at the way his balls are already tightening and feeling so heavy just from the way you’re languidly stroking him.

And as much as he’d love for you to keep your hands on him, there’s time for him later. Right now, what he wants more than anything is the feeling of your pussy on him.

He pulls your hand off of him and then tugs you over his erection, trying his hardest to ignore the way the wetness between your legs glides against the tip of his cock, until you’re flat against the hard expanse of his lower stomach.

“This is what you wanted, yeah?” He grunts. You whimper in response, tightening your thighs around his sides and rocking back and forth with the smallest amount of friction. “Don’t be holding back, wanna feel you make a mess on me.”

His words seem to erase any remaining reservation that you may have had. You brace your hands on his chest and begin dragging your center across his lower stomach, your slick coating the thick trail of hair that goes from his belly button to his waistline. With every backstroke, the head of his cock juts against your ass.

You glide across him easily. Soft, wet, and warm, Logan thinks that if you feel this good on his fucking stomach then there’s no way he’ll be able to handle being inside you.

He leans his head forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. You hold his head in your hands, tugging on his hair with your fingers as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth.

He pulls his mouth away from your breast with a wet pop. “You like this? Using me to get yourself off?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod frantically, your answer coming out as a moan. He gives a quick, firm slap to your other breast. Judging by the sound it draws from you, you like it, so he does it again.

He'd pictured this exact scenario a shameful number of times in the last few days, but his thoughts hadn’t done you justice. Every little noise you make, every little whimper and moan as your clit brushes against the thick bulges of his muscles again and again, sounds sweeter than he could've dreamed.

He places his hands on the meat of your hips, guiding you forwards and backwards across his abdomen at a fast pace.

“Fuck,” you gasp, clenching your thighs around him as tight as you can. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“That’s right,” he coos. “Come on, cum on me.”

You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, drenching the hair on his stomach as you ride out your orgasm on him with a cry of his name.

You collapse against his chest, going still with your face in the crook of his neck as you steady your breathing.

“Look at me,” he whispers after a moment. It hits him that despite the fact that you just humped him until you came all over his abdomen, he somehow hasn’t even kissed you yet.

You pull away from his neck, looking down at him with a dazed expression. He brings your face to his mouth by the back of your neck. He wastes no more time, instantly slipping his tongue past your lips.

He holds you by the globes of your ass, which hovers just above his erection. You grind down, causing the tip of his cock to nudge against your entrance. He groans into your mouth, his cock past the point of feeling like it’s going to explode if he doesn’t fucking feel you.

“We can stop here,” he murmurs against your lips when he breaks the kiss, even though the thought kills him. He doesn’t want to stop kissing you, touching you, tasting you. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this and the last thing he wants is for it to come to an end. “Don’t have to go any further if you don’t—”

“No,” you exclaim with a breathy laugh. “No, I don’t want to stop. Do you want to stop?”

He grins up at you, taking his length in his hand and teasing it through your folds from below you. He coats the head in your juices before nudging it against your hole.

“Definitely don’t wanna stop, sweetheart.”

You sink down onto him at the same moment that he tilts his hips up enough to slip inside you, causing the entirety of his length to fill you at once.

You both go still, adjusting to the new sensation of each other. Your walls, velvet soft and so warm, constrict around him like a vice. He knows you’re likely tired from riding him through your first orgasm, so he begins thrusting his hips slowly, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

“You’re big. So, so big,” you moan – something between a whine and a praise.

“I know, but you’re doing so good, honey,” he encourages as he eases himself in and out of you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You latch your lips to his again, and it’s hard for him to hold back. The feeling of your tight, perfect cunt around him and the taste of your tongue in his mouth is overwhelming. He wants to memorize every movement, every sound you make.

You snake your hand between your bodies, your fingertips finding your swollen clit and massaging languid circles. He feels you flutter around him as you start meeting his thrusts with movements of your own, and he knows you’re close.

“Not gonna last much longer, honey,” he grunts with a sharp thrust. “Feel too fucking good.”

“Cum with me,” you murmur against his mouth.

Your command causes something in him to snap. He releases a throaty growl, pistoning his hips upwards at a harsh pace as he fills you up from below. You constrict around him, crying his name into his ear as you ride out your climaxes together.

You collapse against his chest once more, his cock still nestled inside you. He loses track of how long the two of you stay like that, neither of you wanting to be the first to move.

“Remind me to eavesdrop on your conversations more often,” he huffs a laugh, still slightly out of breath.

You bring your lips to his, smiling as you give him a light kiss.

“I’ll know if you do. I have a doorbell camera. You didn’t notice that?”

thank you so much for reading <3 comments and reblogs are super appreciated. here are a few more of my favorite logan pieces that i've written ✨️

for always and ever is always for you - old man logan x healer reader

diet pepsi - old man logan x reader limousine sex

lavender and velvet - worst variant logan x neighbor reader

[pseudowho]

When you moved in with Nanami Kento, despite having spent countless days and nights there prior, he insisted upon orienting you to the penthouse.

"The rubbish is collected on Tuesdays, unless there's a public holiday, in which case it's collected on Wednesday," Kento droned, as if he'd rehearsed his lines in advance.

You followed him, pulling a suitcase behind you with a fixed expression of earnest interest. You pursed your lips, trying not to laugh every time he turned his back to you, before schooling your expression again the second he looked back.

"Okay, Kento. Wednesday, got it. Anyway, I thought we could order some takeout, and celebrate--"

"No." He snipped, turning back to you with narrowed eyes, "Tuesday, unless there's a public holiday, in which case--"

"--it's collected Wednesday. Okay. I hear you."

Kento narrowed his eyes a little more. You stood to attention. A heartbeat passed.

"Good." Kento looked down, ticking something off his list, and you felt yourself wither and die with equal parts adoration and exasperation.

"Next, fire safety."

"Oh, god--"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, god, I love fire safety!"

"Good. We have lots to cover. First of all, the designated fire exits are marked on the map, here, here, and here."

"This, er...this laminated one?"

"Yes. I have one too."

"Oh, we match~<3"

"It's important that we're both adhering to the same protocol."

As Kento continued, highlighting fire doors, and escape routes, and emergency contact details, your mind began to wander. His voice, while deep and smooth, ran monotonous when left to run for too long, and your eyelids drooped, your arm sagging on your suitcase handle, and--

"Are you listening?"

"Me? God, yes, I love...water based fire extinguishers. I use them on everything."

Kento prickled, a shiver rippling up his beige suit from toe to shoulder, "I certainly hope not, water can only be used on wood fires, or--"

"--or my flaming hot pussy, because this is really getting my engine goi--"

"--I feel like you're not taking fire safety seriously."

"Kento...please--"

"Because it excites me when fire safety is taken seriously."

When Kento turned his back again, you turned too, dropping your suitcase and dragging your palms down your face, a silently screaming oil-paint figure on a bridge.

"Regarding bathroom etiquette," Kento toned, his voice flat, as you thudded your head once against the drywall. By the time he leaned around the corner to look at you, you smiled, bright and attentive.

"What was that noise?"

"I...jumped. Out of...excitement."

Another silence. Another narrowing of the eyes.

"Good," Kento pipped, "as I was saying, regarding bathroom etiquette, I hope you're not one of those reprobates that squeezes from the middle of the tube--"

"Oh, no, I prefer to suck it straight from the tube--"

"--I beg your pardon--"

"--Kento, are you anxious?" Kento froze with his back to you. The toothpaste lid squeezed off with force in his hand, clattering across the bathroom floor. A slow coil of toothpaste squeezed out of the tube, to slug down his clenched fist.

You crept closer, and slipped a hand under Kento's suit jacket to his lower back, and stroked it. You felt the tautness in the muscles beneath his shirt, as rigid as a door of oak.

"Are you anxious about me moving in?" You repeated, your voice soft. Kento swallowed, hard.

"How...how could you tell?"

You sighed. When you turned Kento to face you, he could hardly maintain eye contact, looking anywhere but at you. You could see the worry beneath his thin facade.

"Nothing's going to change," you whispered, cupping his cheeks in your palms, "and if it does change, it'll change for the better. And I can't wait. I can't wait for...for every late night, and every early morning. I can't wait for every hug, and every argument, and every day off where we can just wake up in each other's arms, and say good morning instead of texting each other good morning."

Kento melted into your touch, his palm rising to cup yours against his cheek. His voice was tight, exerting control in what little way he could.

"I'm just determined to get this right. You're everything to me, and if I got this wrong I'd never forgive myself."

"There's nothing to get wrong. Or, if there is, it doesn't matter, because we know we're safe together. We'll forgive each other. Alright?"

Kento sighed through his nose, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Just tell me one thing."

"What is it?"

"...do you really not know which fire extinguisher to use for an electrical fire--"

"You are joking, Kento."

"I never joke about fire safety."

[orangeblossomsintheair]

oh could you write something cute about the reader and Lando please, maybe something funny where the reader says "oh yeah I'll do this but for that you'll buy me a Porsche" and Lando actually buys her a car 💜

BRAND AMBASSADOR | LN4

wc : 3k

an : slowly working through my requests yippie! im not too sure about this but i hope its alr :'>

It was meant to be a joke. Really.

But Lando didn’t know how to take a joke.

For weeks, he’d been pestering you to do a photoshoot with him for Quadrant.

“Brand image, baby!” he insisted, arms flailing as if that explained everything. “Power couple vibes! You and me, absolutely dominating the internet. Imagine the engagement!”

“My manager would actually drop dead if I did a hoodie campaign.”

“Oh come on, baby, just one photoshoot,” he pleaded, leaning so far over the kitchen island that he looked like he might slide right off. “Just a few pics in Quadrant stuff! Hoodie, joggers, maybe the bucket hat if you're feeling spicy-"

You didn’t even look up from your phone. “Lando. I’m booked for the next eight months. Vogue is flying me to Paris next week, and Dior wants me in Milan by the weekend. I don’t have time to play influencer in your gamer merch.”

“It's not gamer merch!” Lando gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. “It’s- it's… lifestyle! Culture! Gaming and racing fusion!”

“That’s cute,” you said flatly, scrolling.

Lando narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t even look at the new designs I sent you.”

“Because it’s just another hoodie, baby.”

He gasped again, louder this time. “Just another hoodie?”

“Oh, I’m sorry- hoodie, but make it Formula 1.”

“Wow.” He pointed at you. “I cannot believe this slander. From my own girlfriend.”

“Your supermodel girlfriend,” you corrected without missing a beat.

“And yet, I’m still here, humbly begging for crumbs of attention.”

You didn’t even blink.

And that’s when you heard it. The soft shuffle of socks against hardwood floors.

You looked up just in time to see Lando drop dramatically to his knees in front of you, arms sprawled over your thighs like some lovesick Victorian maiden.

His chin rested on your knee, staring up at you with those big, stupidly pretty eyes.

“Please.” His voice dropped to a pitiful whisper, like he was auditioning for a charity ad. “Do a Quadrant shoot with me.”

“Oh my God, Lando- get off the floor!”

“No. I live here now.” He clung tighter. “Photoshoot. Please, baby. You could be the face of the brand! Imagine it: you in my merch, absolutely carrying. We could finally replace Max’s ugly mug on the website-”

“Lando!” You laughed, swatting at him.

“It’s true! The customers deserve better!”

“You own the brand. You’re supposed to be the face.”

"But you’d look so good in my hoodies," he said, practically drooling at the thought. "God, you in joggers? Maybe one of those cropped sweaters? The internet would lose its mind.”

You stared at him. Long. Hard.

“…Fine.”

His eyes lit up, stars in aquamarine. “Wait, really?”

“But it’s gonna cost you.”

Lando blinked. Sat up straighter. “How much?”

You smirked, dragging your perfectly manicured nails through his curls, watching him melt like butter.

“A car.”

His entire posture changed. He sat up straighter, interest piqued. Now you were speaking his language. “Which one?”

You almost choked. “Excuse me?”

Lando leaned in, eyes sharp now. “Which. One.”

Oh, he was serious.

You blinked, regrouped, and leaned back like you were simply ordering off a menu.

“LaFerrari.”

Silence.

“The red one. Wine red. Matches my nails.” You admired the burgundy polish glinting under the light. “I’d look good in it.”

Lando didn’t even blink.

“Deal.”

Your head snapped toward him. “What?”

“Done.” He stood up, dusting off his sweatpants like you hadn’t just asked for a multi-million-dollar hypercar. “I’ll have the keys for you next week. Photoshoot’s on Friday.”

“Lando, that’s a LaFerrari-”

“And?”

“It’s like… a $3 million car!”

He tilted his head. “Do you want it in the garage or delivered to your place?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…You’re insane.”

Lando leaned down, smirking, and kissed your forehead. “And now you’re stuck with me.”

“…I want full creative control over the shoot.”

“Baby, you can set the studio on fire if it makes you happy.”

“And you’re paying for my glam team.”

“Obviously.”

You stared at him, still trying to process how you had accidentally hustled a hypercar off your billionaire boyfriend in under five minutes.

“And I want full rights to veto any photo where I look bad.”

“Oh, baby, you never look bad.”

You squinted. “If I show up and it’s just me in some hoodie in front of a brick wall-”

Lando’s hands cupped your cheeks, deadly serious. “You will be in a hoodie… in front of a gaming PC.”

You slapped his hands away.

—

You were never supposed to take it this far.

The photoshoot was meant to be a joke.

A little bargaining chip to shut Lando up for five minutes. You didn’t think he’d actually pull it off.

Yet here you were.

In a studio. In a Quadrant hoodie. In sweatpants.

And to make it worse, Lando was treating this like he was shooting for Vogue.

“Okay, okay- pause! Can we fix the lighting on her left side? I need more contrast, more mood. She’s selling the hoodie but not the vibe.”

You slowly turned to glare at him. “Lando. I am wearing a hoodie. There is no ‘vibe.’”

“There’s always a vibe!” Lando spun around to the photographer. “Tell her there’s a vibe.”

The photographer, who was clearly riding the paycheck wave, gave you an awkward smile and a less than enthusiastic thumbs up. “Yeah. Big vibe.”

You groaned and adjusted the hoodie, tugging the hood up over your head. “Lando, I walked for Dior last month. Dior. And now I’m here, dressed like a Twitch streamer in front of a gaming PC.”

Lando gasped. “First of all, streamers WISH they looked this good. Second of all, don’t disrespect the setup. That’s a triple-monitor, RGB-lit, water-cooled rig worth more than my life.”

“Yeah, well, it better be. Because I’m dying inside.”

“Okay, can we get a shot of her sitting on the desk? Like, casual, but make it fashion. Maybe holding a controller? No- headset! Baby, put on the headset.”

You stared at him. “You want me to wear a gaming headset in a fashion shoot?”

“Yes. Gamer girlfriend aesthetic. Internet eats that up.”

“I haven’t touched a console since the Wii came out.”

“And that’s the fantasy!”

—

Lando couldn’t stop staring.

The moment you put on the damn headset, he knew he was in trouble.

He’d been so smug, so proud of himself for getting you to agree to this ridiculous photoshoot.

But now? Now he was fighting for his life.

Because there you were, sitting on the desk in a Quadrant hoodie, wearing his brand, looking so effortlessly good that it was like the universe was punishing him for ever thinking this was a good idea.

It wasn’t just the way the hoodie hung on you, oversized and perfect, or the way you pushed the headset into place like you were made to wear it.

It was the thought behind it.

You were wearing his stuff.

And that did things to him.

Very Dangerous things.

Lando dragged a hand over his face, trying to snap himself out of it, but it was no use.

His gaze betrayed him, sliding back to you as you leaned back on the desk, legs crossed, your smirk telling him you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“Lando,” you said, your voice teasing and smooth, “you okay over there, baby?”

He tried to play it cool. “Yeah. All good.” His voice cracked halfway through, and he coughed to cover it up.

But he wasn’t fine.

Not even close.

His hands were clammy, his heart was pounding, and he was hyperaware of the fact that he was growing harder by the second.

Oh, this was bad.

You shifted on the desk, leaning forward slightly, the motion drawing his eyes to your legs before snapping them back to your face.

That cocky little smirk was still there, your stupidly pretty eyes glinting with amusement.

You were enjoying this. Brat.

“You sure?” you pressed, tilting your head.

His voice was higher this time, strained and barely holding it together. “Yep. Fine. Totally fine.”

You didn’t buy it for a second. “Lando…”

“That’s it,” Lando muttered, voice tight, cracking slightly with frustration. “Break! We’re taking a break.”

His words were sharp, a contrast to the usual smooth confidence he exuded.

Without waiting for any response, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you away from the set with a sense of urgency that didn’t match the cool composure he usually carried.

“Lando, what the-”

“Not now,” he interrupted, low and tense, as he pulled you into a nearby storage room.

The door clicked shut with an almost deliberate force, the sound of the lock turning echoing in the small space.

You barely had time to gather your thoughts before he was in your space, his breath coming fast, his chest rising and falling against yours.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” His voice was low, strained, his hands finding your waist, gripping tight, enough to bruise.

A slow smile spread across your lips. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

Lando’s forehead pressed against yours, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as if trying to center himself.

His breath fanned across your lips, shaky and uneven, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his chest seemed to rise and fall faster with every breath.

“You’re a brat,” he muttered under his breath, voice raw, yet edged with something almost desperate.

“You’re the one who wanted me in your merch,” you teased, your fingers curling into his hair as you leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body.

“Yeah, well…” His hands slid lower, pulling you closer, his fingertips burning against your skin. “Now I’ve got more than I bargained for.”

The words barely left his lips before his mouth found yours.

The kiss was messy, urgent, his lips urgent against yours, like he couldn’t get enough.

You didn’t need to think. Your body responded immediately, hands moving to pull him closer, the heat building.

The press of his body against yours was relentless, hard and desperate, as he deepened the kiss.

His hand slid down your thigh, pulling it up to hook around his waist, while the other traced a slow, deliberate path along your jaw.

His breath fanned across your skin, shallow and uneven, each exhale carrying a heat that set your nerves ablaze.

“You don’t fight fair,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, edged with a hunger that made your stomach flip. His mouth moved to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his teeth grazed your throat.

Your lips curled into a smirk, your nails raking across his back just enough to make him shudder. The sound of his sharp inhale sent a rush of power through you.

“Neither do you,” you whispered, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his as your fingers found the hem of his hoodie, tugging it higher, your touch skimming over his skin.

“God, you…” His voice broke, his words catching in his throat as he crashed his mouth back to yours.

The kiss was harder this time, almost frantic, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

His hands moved with purpose now.

Demanding, claiming, leaving no part of you untouched.

Your nails scraped against his back again, dragging another groan from deep in his chest, a sound so raw and desperate it made your knees weak.

His hips rocked against you, slow and deliberate, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

“Careful, Norris,” you teased, your voice breathless but still carrying a hint of mischief as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. A quiet intensity that you'd seen more than once.

“You’re starting to look a little… well, territorial.”

For a moment, he froze. His chest heaved with every ragged breath as if he was trying to regain control.

Then his lips twitched into a sly, almost dangerous smile, one that sent a thrill through you.

“Maybe I am,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word carrying weight. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, making any distance between you disappear.

The words sent a shiver through your spine. But it wasn’t fear. It was something else, something exciting, something that only made you want more.

His lips found your neck again, pressing soft, burning kisses against your skin.

His teeth grazed over your pulse, just enough to send a jolt through you, sharp and unexpected, making your breath catch in your throat.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered, “Everyone’s going to notice, you know. You weren’t exactly subtle when you dragged me off like that.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a grin, but it was dark now, and there was a sudden pressure in his hands as he adjusted his position against you. “Let them notice,” he said, his voice thick with something unspoken.

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin. “I don’t care. They can see whatever they want.”

The words sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, your nails scraping lightly over his back.

—-

When it was over, you leaned back against the wall, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breath.

Lando, however, was already standing in front of you, his hair tousled, his hoodie still hanging off his frame in a way that somehow made it look even better on him than it ever had before.

He bent down casually to scoop your underwear from the floor, dangling them in front of you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Come on, love,” he said, his voice rough and teasing, still thick with exertion. “Don’t leave me hanging. Put these back on before we go out there.”

You shot him a glare, snatching the fabric from his hand and hurriedly slipping it on, feeling the heat rush to your face.

Lando leaned back against the wall, watching you with a cocky, self-satisfied grin. “Still dripping with me,” he murmured, but the rasp in his voice made your stomach flip. You felt your cheeks flush even more.

You rolled your eyes, tugging the hoodie down to hide your body and fix your composure. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with a wink. “Guess that says something about you too.”

The studio lights were still dimmed as you walked back in, legs slightly unsteady. You caught yourself on the doorframe, trying to keep your cool, but the feeling between your legs was still fresh, raw.

Lando followed you, smirking like a cat that had just caught its prey. He leaned against the wall, eyes on you as his grin grew wider. “Fix your hair,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “You look like you just got fucked.”

You barely suppressed a laugh, brushing your fingers through your hair and pulling it back into something that at least resembled “done.” “Gee, I wonder why,” you muttered under your breath.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you were still trying to play it cool. “Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to retort when Lando took a step forward, his smirk never fading, and pulled you close. He kissed you softly, lingering, the kind of kiss that made it hard to remember where you ended and he began.

“Come on,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, the mischief still dancing in his eyes. “We’ve got a photoshoot to finish.”

—-

Months passed.

The LaFerrari didn’t show up.

Not that you cared. Really.

Sure, it had been a fun little joke—“Pay me in a LaFerrari or I’m not doing this shoot”—but you never expected Lando to actually follow through.

He said he would but Lando also forgot to stock up on groceries some days so you didn’t take it to heart.

Besides, it wasn’t like you had time to think about it.

Your schedule was relentless: fashion weeks in Paris, Vogue shoots in Milan, fittings for Dior in New York.

You were barely home long enough to unpack, let alone pine after a car.

It wasn’t a big deal.

Until one night, after a particularly grueling flight back from London, you pulled into your driveway and-

You slammed the brakes.

Because there it was.

A LaFerrari.

Burgundy red. Like aged wine. Like sin and velvet had a baby and parked it outside your house.

It gleamed under the porch light, shameless and expensive.

For a full minute, you did nothing but stare, slack-jawed.

Then you slowly got out of the car, leaving your bags in the trunk.

“Lando,” you muttered, pulling out your phone.

You called.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, baby- what’s up?”

“You left a LaFerrari on my driveway.”

“Oh! You got home?” He sounded way too casual.

“Lando. There is a multi-million-dollar car parked outside my house.”

“Yeah, about that. It’s yours. Obviously.”

“…You’re joking.”

“Would I joke about something this expensive?”

“Yes.”

“Fair. But not this time.”

You stared at the car again.

“Are you serious? After months?”

“It takes time to deliver a LaFerrari!” Lando said, his voice way too serious for a man who had just been exposed.

“I had to get it customized, too. Your name is literally engraved on the side. And then there was the whole issue with cargo. Did you know they’re super strict about how cars are transported? I had to make sure it wasn’t gonna get dented, and the shipping company I trust didn’t have any available slots until-”

“I thought you were joking, Lando!”

“Well, I wasn’t,” he replied confidently. “You said you wanted a LaFerrari. You said ‘make it red wine,’ so I made it red wine. I also got the seats customized with carbon fiber inserts and-”

You groaned in disbelief, interrupting him. “You literally bought the car, customized it, and shipped it to my house."

Lando blinked, unfazed. “Well, yeah. Obviously. Did you think I was kidding about that part?”

“Yes! It’s a LaFerrari! Who even does that?! It’s absurd!”

"Clearly me.” He paused. “Check the glove compartment.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Suspicious, you approached the car, heels clicking on the pavement. You opened the door.

God, even the door sounded expensive- and popped the glove compartment.

Inside was a tiny Hot Wheels car. A red LaFerrari.

Taped to it was a sticky note.

“Just in case this one wasn’t enough. - Lando”

You stared at it.

You looked back at the LaFerrari, glinting under the sun like some ridiculous, over-the-top love letter.

“…I’m taking it to the Dior fitting tomorrow.”

“You better.”

“…Is this why you were ignoring my texts last week?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you! I was busy coordinating with Italy!”

“Oh my God.”

[werecreature-addicted]

going to underground fighting rings not to place bets or to drown your sorrows in cheap booze and blood sport but because the werewolf who fights in the cage matches is so. fucking. hot. You're no better than a sad man in love with a stripper. but you come back every week, you sneak in after dark and stand in the jeering crowd looking up at the hulking monster and watch him fight. Sometimes you hope he'll look down and see you, most nights you're too embarrassed to show your face.

There's something about watching that werewolf tear into the other opponents that sets your blood on fire, the blood, the sweat, the way his lips curl back in a snarl when you're close enough to the cage you can hear him pant and growl, every punch he throws makes your knees weak. It's better than porn. you almost never make it through the entire match. Not when he's the one fighting at least. You watch the werewolf punch the other guy so hard he's lifted off the ground and your brain goes fuzzy picturing those big hands lifting you up by the hips, pinning you against the cold metal grate of the cage that surrounded the fighting ring, you picture him forcing your thighs apart with those scared hands of his and drop you down on his cock.

You push your way out of the crowd and to the dingy bathroom. You can't help it. You really can't. you lock yourself in one of the stalls and touch yourself, fingers quick and messy just trying to be quiet as you picture The fighter breaking your nose and licking up the blood. choking you with his big hands while he mounted you from behind on the dirty floor of the ring. One time you'd seen him bite another opponent and now the thought of him biting you like that, sinking those sharp teeth into the side of your neck or into your thigh was the only thing that could get you off. You thought about it now, feverishly touching yourself with one hand, the other covering your mouth, still, little whimpers of pleasure escape you.

You need to be more careful, more people are coming in and out of the bathroom, the fight must be over. someone's going to get pissed that you're taking so long soon. You're surprised when a half-hard cock pokes through the glory hole an inch in front of your face. You jump. In all your time masturbating in this shit-hole bathroom, you'd never noticed the hole in the side of the stall wall.

You stare at the cock for a second, hand still in between your legs. it's too big to be human, and the half-swollen knot throbbing at the base makes you think of your fighter, your werewolf.

"I know you're in there, i can fucking smell you, just like i can smell you getting horny in the crowd, fucking surprised you don't leave a puddle on the floor slut." he snarls and bangs on the side of the stall.

"Go on take what you want, suck this dirty cock you've been drooling over," You lean in and smell him, it's almost enough to make you cum right there. You should do what he wants, blow him like a good whore, but you are so so bad at denying yourself. Instead, you run your tongue over his balls, whimpering at the taste, you're drunk off of the musk of him, and the low groan he lets out is almost enough to make you cum right there. Eventually, though you move your mouth up, kissing and licking his shaft, and take the tip of the werewolf's cock into your mouth. He wastes no time thrusting into you, fucking your face. You let him, really it's the least you can do for the champion.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ love language, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: joe burrow was made to be a husband. your honeymoon is proof enough that loving you is his love language.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: inspired by a couple of anon requests! another addition to the joe can't shut up when he's in love agenda. no real plot, no real substance. took me a solid month to write this so i tried to incorporate as many reqs as i could <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, sexual content, excessive usage of husband and wife/mr. and mrs., breeding kink, reader mentions ovulating, massage, cheesy dialogue, oral sex (fem receiving), mention of butt stuff but no actual butt stuff, backshots!!, mirror sex, praise kink if you squint.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x wife!reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 8k.

In the bustling backroom of the grand ballroom, you stood tall and radiant, your brown eyes sparkling with a blend of excitement and exhaustion. The scent of your bouquet of baby breaths filled the small space, mingling with the faint aroma of Joe's cologne. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the wedding gown you had spent months choosing.

Joe, dressed sharply in his tuxedo, leaned against the wall with his arms folded, his blue eyes dancing with amusement as he watched you fidget with your dress. "You look like you're about to jump out of your skin," he said, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, a laugh bubbling up from your chest. "You have no idea," you replied, your voice filled with energy. "I've been holding it together for hours, and now all I want to do is kick off these heels and dance like a lunatic."

Joe chuckled, his sarcasm giving way to affection as he stepped closer to you. He reached out and took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gentle caress. "Well, Mrs. Burrow," he began, his voice low and teasing, "once we make our grand entrance, the dance floor is all yours."

Your eyes lit up at the sound of your new title, a grin spreading across your face. "And what will Mr. Burrow be doing?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Joe shrugged, his own smile growing. "Probably tripping over my own two feet. You know I'm more of a 'sway and hope nobody notices' kind of dancer."

"Not tonight, Joey." You said with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Tonight, you're dancing with me like you mean it."

Joe feigned a dramatic sigh, but the joy in his eyes was unmistakable. "Fine," he drew out the vowels, rolling his eyes playfully despite the unmistakable grin that was spreading across his face. "But only if you promise not to laugh when I get a few drinks in me."

Your laugh was music to Joe's ears, and he felt his own tension start to unwind. "Deal," you said, leaning in to kiss him lightly. The kiss was chaste, but it carried the promise of a million more to come, each one more passionate than the last.

The door to the room swung open and in barged a rush of laughter and chatter as your wedding party piled in. "Alright, Mr. & Mrs. Burrow," your wedding planner called out, her voice a mix of hurry and delight. "It's showtime!"

-

"You're up to something," Joe murmured, catching the mischievous glint in your eyes as you sauntered into the hotel room. The evening air clung to your skin, carrying the faint scent of your wedding flowers with you. He was lounging on the plush bed, scrolling through his phone, his muscular form stretched out in the white cotton pajamas that matched your own.

"Me? I'm not up to anything," you retorted, your laughter twinkling in the quiet space. The sight of you made Joe's heart stumble, the way you filled out those pajamas like they were tailored just for you—they were. He knew that look, though. The way you bit your lower lip and your hips swayed just so. You had something on your mind, and it sure as hell wasn't sleep.

Joe set his phone aside, settling deeper into the pillows. "You're smiling too hard for it to be nothing," he said, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You prowled closer, your smile deepening with the grin that spread across your face. "Maybe I'm just happy to see my husband," you said, your voice a purr that sent a shiver down Joe's spine. "My shiny, new husband."

He knew better.

That glint in your eye was the same one you had before you tackled him into bed back home. Before he could say anything else, you straddled him, your thighs pressing into his hips, palms pressing him into the hotel bedsheets eagerly.

"Your wife is ovulating, Mr. Burrow," you whispered into his ear, your hot breath tickling his neck. Joe couldn't help but laugh, his hands instinctively reaching to grip your waist.

"And that means?" Joe replied, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your body. Despite his amusement, there was a flicker of interest in his eyes.

"It means I want you to do something about it," you said, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. You began to rock your hips against him, the friction making you wetter by the second. Joe's laughter died in his throat, and he stared up at you, his eyes darkening. 

"I know how much you love it when I'm like this," you cooed, your hands sliding under his shirt to trace the contours of his solid upper body.

"Is that so?" Joe said, his voice thick with amusement. He couldn't deny that there was something about you at your most aroused that made his heart skip a beat. It had become a secret little card between the two of you, one that you loved to play when you knew he was at his most susceptible.

"Mmhmm," you murmured, your teeth grazing his earlobe. "Remember that time you said I smell like heaven when I'm ovulating?"

Joe couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips. "I might have said something like that," he admitted, his voice a low, playful rumble.

You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his skin. "Well, heaven's calling," you said, your hips moving in a slow, deliberate circle that made Joe's eyes roll back in his head.

"You're going to be the death of me, woman," he groaned, his hands tightening around your waist as you continued her delicate torture.

Your grin grew wider, your brown eyes gleaming with mischief. "Is that a 'yes'? You’re not too tired?" you asked, your voice dripping with sweet seduction.

"It's definitely a 'yes', sweetheart. I could never be too tired for you," Joe managed, his breath hitching as your hips continued their mesmerizing dance. He pushed your pajama shorts aside, the gold wedding band glittering against his skin as his fingers moved to reveal your slick folds.

"But you better be quiet," he warned, glancing over at the walls that separated them from your parents' rooms on either side. "I don't think they need to know what we're up to over here."

“It’s our wedding night, baby. I think our parents would hope we'd be having dirty marital sex on our wedding night,” you giggled, the sound light and airy, as you leaned down to kiss him. "They want grandbabies and this is how it happens."

Your tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting like mint and a hint of the champagne you had picked out for the reception. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, until Joe couldn't take it anymore. He flipped you onto your back, his body covering yours, his cock pressing against your heat.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder and lust.

"Told you," you said, your voice a smug whisper. You reached down to stroke him through his pants, feeling him twitch against your palm. "You always get me like this."

Joe chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with desire. "So it’s not just the multi-million dollar fortune now in your name?" he murmured, kissing you deeply.

"We can't have you waking up the whole floor." He pulled your pajama shorts down before throwing them over his shoulder to discard them. Your laughter was muffled against his neck as he positioned himself between your legs.

He slid into you with a groan, the feeling of your tight warmth around him making him forget about the walls that were a little too thin. Your nails dug into his back as he began to move, slow at first, savoring every inch of you.

"Fuck," you breathed, your eyes squeezed shut. "You feel so good."

Joe's teeth sank into your shoulder to keep his own moans quiet. "You're so wet, baby," he murmured, his voice strained. "So, so wet."

"I can't help it," you panted, your legs wrapping around him. "You looked so good out there, all husband-y and...fuck, Joe, right there."

Joe chuckled against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he hit your sweet spot with precision. He knew exactly how to make you squirm. He loved it when you lost control, when you forgot about the world around you and just focused on the pleasure he was giving you.

"I’m so thankful you’re mine," he whispered, his hips driving into you with increasing force. The headboard hit the wall with a muffled thump that made you both giggle, despite the intensity of the moment. You wrapped your arms around Joe's neck, your nails lightly raking his scalp as you pulled him closer, silently begging for more.

Joe's breath was hot against your neck as he murmured, "You're so fucking tight."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but moan a little louder. "Shh," Joe said, a hint of laughter in his voice as he pressed a finger to your lips. "These walls are so thin."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your breath hitched when Joe reached over to grab a pillow. He slammed it over your face, muffling your laughter. "Not helping," you mumbled into the softness.

He threw the pillow aside with a laugh and slid his thumb into your mouth instead, your teeth grazing the pad as you tried to keep your noises down. It was a struggle, especially as he found his rhythm and your moans grew more insistent. The scent of your arousal filled the air, and Joe couldn't resist the urge to bury his nose in your neck, inhaling deeply. It was like a drug, making his cock throb even more.

"So good. My wife’s so tight, squeezing her husband’s cock so well, like she was fuckin' made for it," he groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair as he held you in place. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your body arching up to meet his every thrust. The quiet room was filled with the slick sounds of skin on skin, your harsh breathing, and the occasional muffled curse.

"You're so...so...oh, fuck, Joey," you managed, your words barely audible around his fingers. Your legs trembled, your body poised on the edge of release.

Joe couldn't hold back his own groans any longer. He knew he was pushing your buttons, and the way you squirmed beneath him was all the encouragement he needed. "I know, baby," he murmured, his voice a mix of affection and lust. "You're close, aren't you?"

You nodded, your eyes squeezed shut as Joe picked up the pace. You were close, so close, but he wasn't done with you yet. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and slammed into you harshly, his balls slapping against your ass. The sound was obscene, but Joe couldn't bring himself to care. All he could focus on was the feel of your tight pussy clamping down around him, your walls pulsing with each thrust.

Your eyes snapped open, and you looked up at Joe with a mix of love and pure desire. "Don't stop," you begged, your voice a breathy whisper. "Please, Joe, don't stop."

"Never," Joe promised, his voice a gruff growl. He thrust deeper, feeling your muscles tighten around him. He knew you were close, and the thought of you coming apart under him was all he needed to fall over the edge. He reached down to rub your clit in tight circles, his fingers slipping and sliding in your wetness. "I'm gonna fill this sweet pussy up. Make my wife happy like I vowed. Might even make you a mama." he murmured, his voice low and guttural.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your breath coming in short gasps. The pressure was building, coiling in your stomach, threatening to break free. You nodded, your hips bucking up to meet his. "Please, Joe," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need it."

With a powerful thrust, Joe gave you what you craved. Your eyes snapped open, and you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming. He didn't stop, though, his strokes growing faster and more erratic.

"That's it, baby. Keep squeezing me, just like that. Gonna make you feel real good, sweetheart. Get you all nice and warm with my cum, huh?" Joe's voice was a gruff whisper in your ear as you rode the waves of pleasure. 

“Is that what you want?” His words were like gasoline on a fire, sending sparks of arousal through your body. You could feel him thicken inside you, his breaths growing harsher with each thrust. “You want me to give you a baby?”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you nodded, your hips moving in time with Joe's. The room was a whirlwind of sensations, the scent of your sex mingling with the faint ocean breeze that slipped through the open balcony doors. The sound of the waves outside seemed to echo the rhythm of your lovemaking, a steady movement building up to a crescendo.

"Oh, Joe," you breathed, your voice strained. "Fuck, yes. Yes."

Your eyes met, and Joe saw the desperation in them, the need for release that mirrored his own. He leaned down, his mouth claiming yours in a fierce kiss as he slammed into you, giving you everything he had. Your nails dug into his back, your body writhing beneath his. And then you were there, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, your inner muscles clenching down around his cock in a spasm of pleasure. He spilled over the edge at the same time, filling you with his hot, thick spend. You both froze for a moment, the room silent except for the harsh sounds of your panting.

"Holy shit," Joe breathed, collapsing onto you with a satisfied groan. His chest heaved with each breath, his heart racing in his ears. The feel of you, warm and wet around him, was heavenly. He kissed your neck, your skin salty with a sheen of sweat.

You chuckled, the vibrations traveling through Joe's body. "You're such a romantic," you teased. "Now get off, you're 20 pounds heavier than normal."

"Nah, gotta make sure it all stays inside, you know?" Joe quipped, his voice muffled by your shoulder. He didn't move, enjoying the feeling of your body still quivering with the aftershocks of your climax. You giggled, your breath warm against his neck.

"You're ridiculous," you murmured, your voice still shaky with pleasure. Joe's laughter rumbled against your skin, his body a delicious weight that you didn't want to shift just yet. The two of you lay there, tangled in the sheets, your hearts racing in sync.

"There's no way they didn't hear something," you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. You could feel Joe's cock still twitching inside you, the evidence of his release seeping out to wet the bed between your legs.

"Your mom's been talking nonstop about a grandchild. I think she'll appreciate the knowledge that we're working on it right away," Joe replied with a lazy grin, not bothering to move. You playfully slapped his ass, making him yelp.

"Get off, you're crushing me," you giggled, pushing at Joe's shoulder. He chuckled, rolling off you and flopping onto his back. His cock slipped out with a wet sound, and you couldn't help but stare at the mess you had made. You felt a warm trickle of his cum slide out of you and trickle down your thigh.

Joe glanced over and grinned. "Looks like we've got a little cleanup on aisle five," he said, gesturing to the wet spot on the bed.

You threw a pillow at him, which he caught with ease. "You're so annoying," you said, your voice filled with affection. "If you're gonna be into this breeding kink thing, you're gonna have to help clean me up after."

Joe sat up, his chest heaving from the exertion. "Fair enough," he said, tossing the pillow back at you. "Can I lick you clean?" he offered with a waggle of his eyebrows, his voice filled with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your gaze betrayed your arousal. "Perv," you murmured, a smirk playing on your lips.

Joe shrugged, unabashed. "What? Is that a yes?" He leaned over to nip at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. Despite the teasing, there was a genuine question in his voice, his breath hot against your skin.

"Not today, playboy," you said, swatting Joe's hand away as he reached for your still-sensitive folds. "But I'll keep it in mind for later."

You slithered out of bed, the dampness between your legs leaving a stain on the sheet. "For now, I'm going to take a shower before your mom starts knocking on the door wondering if we're okay."

Joe watched your retreating form with a lazy smile, his eyes lingering on your round, firm ass as you disappeared into the en suite bathroom. "Without me?" he called after you, pouting as he feigned disappointment in his voice.

When you looked at him over your shoulder, a smile pulling at your lips, he leaped out of bed. His cock was still half-hard as he chased after you, his playfulness evident in every step.

-

You stretched your limbs against the crisp, white villa sheets. You blinked your brown eyes open to the early morning sun peeking through the luxurious curtains, hinting at the promise of a new day. Next to you, Joe lay still, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep. His dirty blonde hair was a mess, a heartwarming contrast to his usually meticulous grooming.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of the man who was now your husband. Your first days as a married couple had been filled with passion and laughter, and you were eager to start this new chapter of your life together.

Your private plane ride had been nothing short of a dream. The thrilling rush of flying high above the clouds, sipping champagne, and even sneaking away to join the mile-high club in the spacious bathroom.

As you slipped out of bed, the soft carpet whispered a greeting beneath your bare feet. You padded over to the floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the breathtaking view of the tropical paradise that stretched out before you. The sea was a canvas of azure, blending into the horizon where the sun had just begun to paint streaks of gold and pink. It was the perfect setting for a honeymoon, and you couldn't have been more grateful for Joe's thoughtful surprise.

As you continued to gaze at the view, you felt Joe's arms snake around your waist from behind. He pulled you into his embrace, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. "Good morning, Mrs. Burrow," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and a hint of pride. You giggled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

"Good morning, Mr. Burrow," you replied, leaning into his touch. "I can't believe we're actually here." You twisted around in his arms, your smile widening as you met his gaze. Joe's blue eyes sparkled with love as he said, "I know what you mean. I had to pinch myself during the flight to make sure it wasn't just a dream."

"Was that before or after we christened the plane's bathroom?" You quipped, your eyes dancing with mischief. Joe chuckled, his arms tightening around you as you shared the intimate memory.

"Before," he said, his voice low and playful. "But I'm sure we can make some more memories today if you're up for it."

You decided to shower together, the warm water cascading over your bodies as you soaped each other up. The sensual act of washing each other had become a morning ritual for you, a gentle reminder of your love and devotion. As you stepped out, Joe couldn't resist smacking your ass playfully, making you yelp in surprise. You shot him a mock glare, which quickly melted into a grin as you grabbed a towel and dried off.

Dressing in your swimwear, you headed down to breakfast. The hotel had laid out a spread that could feed a small army, but you kept it simple: avocado eggs benedict for you and an omelet for him, a side of crispy bacon for you both. You sat by the pool, sipping on tropical smoothies, the gentle sound of the waves in the distance setting the mood for the day ahead. You felt your excitement build as you listened to Joe recount the plans he had made for your day.

Your midday snorkeling adventure was nothing short of magical. The crystal-clear waters revealed a vibrant underwater world of coral reefs and a rainbow of fish. You couldn't help but cling to Joe's arm in amazement as you floated above the aquatic wonderland. His constant, nerdy stream of ocean facts kept you laughing. You held hands underwater, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight that pierced through the surface, a symbolic declaration of your commitment to each other.

-

"You're so sunburnt," you teased, your eyes sparkling with mirth as you traced your finger across Joe's pink shoulder. Your own skin, kissed by the sun, had a warm glow that contrasted with the vibrant, floral-printed sundress that clung deliciously to your curves like a second skin.

Joe groaned dramatically, his fair complexion suffering from the tropical heat more than your naturally darker skin. "You think that's funny?" he shot back, though his smile gave away his playful annoyance.

You had spent the entire day snorkeling in the crystal waters and lounging under the palm trees, and Joe in all his stubbornness had decided against sunscreen, claiming it would be nice to get a "tan" in. Needless to say, the Caribbean sun had been less than kind to his poor, Midwestern pale skin. You had been more fortunate, your skin a beautiful canvas of brown with the hint of a shimmer from your coconut-scented sunscreen.

"It's hilarious, actually," you said, leaning in to kiss his burnt nose. "Come on. We can grab some aloe from the gift shop for your poor, crispy skin."

Joe rolled his eyes, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Oh, the joys of being married to a smartass," he murmured, pulling you closer to his side. Your hand splayed across his chest, ring catching the golden sunlight as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your temple.

"You love this smart ass," you quipped back, gasping with surprise as Joe's left hand reached down to smooth over the fabric covering your ass.

"I do love this ass," Joe murmured lowly, delivering a full-handed squeeze to each of your cheeks. "No lie."

After retrieving the aloe from the gift shop, you retreated to your luxurious villa. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting a warm, romantic light over the plush California king-sized bed and the floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the stunning view of the ocean. You carefully applied the cool aloe vera gel to Joe's sun-bitten skin, your gentle touch offering a sweet respite from the sting.

Joe's eyes fluttered shut as you worked your way down his back, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, which had been honed from countless hours in the gym and on the field. He could feel the tension of the day melting away under your touch.

"I'm sorry, baby," you hummed softly as Joe hissed when you reached a particularly tender spot. "I know it stings."

"It's okay," Joe managed through gritted teeth, his eyes still closed. "Guess I'll have to stay out of the sun tomorrow."

You chuckled, your hands continuing their soothing dance across his skin. "I can't imagine that happening. It's so beautiful out there," you said, glancing out at the horizon where the sun was dipping below the waves.

"Just means I get to stay in bed with you all day," Joe murmured, his voice thick with innuendo. He turned his head from his spot on his stomach, looking at you over his shoulder with a smoldering gaze.

Your laughter turned into a knowing smile, and you leaned in to kiss the back of his neck. "Is that a promise?" you asked, your voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down his spine.

Joe's gaze met yours in the reflection of the large, ornate mirror on the opposite wall. "I'm a man who takes his vows seriously," he replied, his voice low and gruff with desire. Your eyes darkened with anticipation as you set the aloe aside, replacing it with a bottle of massage oil. You climbed back onto the bed, straddling his back with the bottle balanced delicately in your hand.

"Let's see if we can make this feel a little better," you said, your tone a mix of sweetness and conspiracy. You began to work the oil into his shoulders, your soft, skilled hands kneading out the knots that had formed from a full day of swimming and sun.

Joe groaned in pleasure, his eyes still locked on yours in the mirror. "You're a miracle worker," he murmured, feeling the heat of the oil and your touch seep into his sore muscles.

You grinned, your eyes glued to his baby blues. "Just doing my wifey duties," you said, your voice dripping with sweetness. You continued to massage him, your hands moving in slow, firm circles that grew increasingly sensual as you worked your way down his back.

Joe felt his body responding to your touch, his muscles relaxing and his skin prickling with goosebumps. "Is this part of the standard honeymoon package?" he managed to ask, his voice strained.

You giggled, your hands sliding lower, dangerously close to the waistband of his swim trunks. "Oh, this is a special upgrade," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear as you leaned forward to press your chest to his back. "Just for my favorite man."

Your thumbs dipped beneath the fabric, tracing the waistline of his trunks and sending a jolt of electricity through his body. He bit his lip, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "What else does this upgrade include?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Well," you began, your hands moving to the back of his trunks, "It's a full-service deal. I'll take care of every inch of you." You tugged the material down, exposing his firm, sun-neglected ass. His skin was tight and pale, practically begging for the warmth of your palms.

With a devilish smirk, you started to massage the oil into his ass, your touch feather-light at first, teasing him with the promise of more. Joe's breath hitched, his body tensing under your touch. You leaned down, your chest brushing against his back as you kissed the top of his shoulder. "Do you like that?" you whispered, your breath hot on his skin.

Joe's only response was a nod, his eyes squeezed shut in focus. You chuckled, your hands growing bolder, kneading his cheeks with a firmness that made him moan. Your fingers danced closer to his crack, and you could feel his arousal growing against your thigh.

"Just keep that finger to yourself, missy," Joe warned playfully, his voice strained with pleasure. Your disappointed groan was like music to his ears, and he felt his cock twitch against the mattress at the sound.

Your response was to give his right cheek a gentle smack, the sound echoing through the room. "One of these days, I'll get what I want," you teased, your hands leaving their spot on his ass to work at his shoulders once more. The warmth from your touch seeped into Joe's bones, and he couldn't help but let out a low moan.

"One of these days," he echoed, his voice thick with desire, "but not today." You knew he was enjoying the anticipation, the buildup of pleasure that you so skillfully crafted. You leaned in closer, your breasts pressing into his back again as you whispered a command into his ear to flip over.

With a groan, Joe obeyed, his cock standing at full attention underneath his swim trunks as he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling fan that lazily spun above you. You took in the sight of your husband, your eyes lingering on the trail of hair that led from his navel to his groin, the faintest dusting of sun freckles across his shoulders, and the way his chest stood proud and firm. You couldn't help but feel a surge of pride knowing that this man, this powerful, successful man, was all yours.

Straddling his hips, you leaned over to kiss him, your oiled hands sliding over his chest. Your kisses grew more heated, Joe's hands coming up to grip your ass firmly, now his turn to kneed your flesh. You felt his cock throb against your inner thigh and you broke away, breathless. "Someone's eager," you teased, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

"You have no idea," Joe murmured, his voice breaking with surprise as you playfully pinched his nipples. You straightened your back as you sat up, your crotch slotted perfectly over his erection. Your manicured nails trailed down his stomach, the cool metal of your wedding ring sending goosebumps skittering across his skin. Joe's hands moved to your waist, his thumbs playing with the soft material of your dress. His blue eyes blazed with need as he took in your beauty, the way your tits strained against the fabric, the curve of your hips, the shadow between your thighs that promised heaven.

"You should wear these dresses more often," Joe said, his voice strained as you ground your hips against his. The dresses in question had been a staple to your honeymoon wardrobe, all thin straps and flowing in every color under the rainbow. You leaned back, arching your spine, giving him a better view of your body.

"You like them? Maybe I'll start wearing them to your games," you quipped, your eyes dancing with mischief. Joe's grip tightened on your waist, his mind racing with the thought of you in this dress, teasing him in front of the cameras. He could picture your figure amplified on national television as the color commentators declared you as his wife, your new last name rolling off their tongues easily.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Joe chuckled, his thumbs stroking your hips as he fought to keep his cool. "No way are you distracting my focus like that."

You giggled, your hands sliding down to grip the bulge of his dick through the fabric of his trunks. "But you'd love it," you whispered, your teeth grazing his earlobe. "Imagine every time you looked over at the sidelines and saw me sitting there, you'd know exactly what's waiting for you after the game."

Joe's eyes rolled back in his head as you squeezed him lightly, his hips bucking involuntarily. "I don't think I'd be able to play," he managed to murmur, his voice tight with need. "I'd spend the whole game thinking about tearing that dress off you. And I don't think I'd be the only one thinking that."

You laughed, your grip tightening on Joe's cock. "We wouldn't want that," you said, your voice a sweet purr. You sat up straight, your oiled hands sliding down your thighs to rest on Joe's. "But you can take it off me now."

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring with lust as he sat up and reached for the hem of the sundress. His eyes were trained on your exposed skin as he tugged the dress up over your head. He threw the thin fabric to the side, leaving you perched pretty on his lap. The ruched, bridal white string bikini you had been wearing underneath the dress contrasted beautifully against your shimmering skin.

"You're so beautiful," Joe murmured, his voice filled with awe. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in the fullness of your breasts, and the way your stomach dipped before flaring out into your hips. You leaned into him, your heart racing as his hands found the strings of your bikini top.

With a swift pull, the fabric gave way and your breasts spilled out, bouncing slightly with the movement. Joe's mouth watered as he reached out, cupping one in his hand, his thumb brushing over the hardened nipple. You gasped, arching into his touch. The coolness of the room washed over your bare skin, making you feel even more exposed and alive.

Joe's eyes never left yours as he leaned in to capture your nipple between his teeth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Your breath hitched, your hands tangling in his hair as you held him to your skin. He kissed and nipped at one peak before moving on to the other, his mouth and teeth teasing you until you were squirming in his lap.

Your hips rocked against him, your pussy slick and hot through the fabric of your bikini bottoms. Joe's cock strained against the confines of his trunks, desperate for release. He reached up, his fingers undoing the strings of your bottoms, and with a firm tug, they too gave way. Your body was laid bare before him, your skin glistening with tanning oil and the light sheen of arousal.

"Your turn," you murmured, your voice thick with desire. You pushed at Joe's shoulders, urging him to lie back on the bed. He did so willingly, his cock bobbing free as you slid his trunks down his legs. Your eyes were glued to his cock, your mouth watering at the sight of his thick, veined shaft.

Without a word, Joe lay back on the bed, his cock standing proud and eager against his stomach. You took a moment to appreciate the view, your eyes drinking in every inch of him. He was perfection personified, and you felt a thrill knowing you were the one who got to claim him.

"Let me taste you, sweetheart," Joe whispered, his voice husky with need as he maneuvered your back to fall against the crisp, white sheets. Your eyes widened in surprise but you didn't resist, your legs falling open to give him access to your slick folds. He kissed and nibbled at your inner thighs, his tongue tracing the path to your core as you squirmed with anticipation. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs, gently caressing the skin before moving them to rest on his shoulders, giving him the perfect angle to dive in.

Your breath caught in your throat as his tongue parted you, tasting your sweetness. You could feel his breath hot against your pussy, sending shivers down your spine. Joe took his time, savoring your flavor, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that made your toes curl. Your grip on the sheets tightened as Joe's tongue swirled around your clit and flattened against your folds, the pressure building until you could hardly stand it.

He knew exactly how to drive you wild. With each flick of his tongue, you felt yourself inch closer to the precipice of ecstasy. "Joe," you breathed weakly, your voice trembling with desire. "I'm gonna come."

He chuckled against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your core. "That's the plan, babe," he murmured, his voice muffled by the wetness of your pussy. He picked up the pace, his tongue dancing and flicking in a way that made your hips buck and your breath hitch. You threw your head back, short, strangled breaths leaving your mouth as your eyes squeezed shut, Joe's mouth worked you into a frenzy.

The room filled with the sound of your moans and the wet, sloppy noises of Joe's enthusiastic indulgence mixing in with your glistening arousal. He was relentless, his tongue probing and lapping until you were sure you couldn't take anymore. You felt your orgasm building, a coil of tension in your belly that grew tighter and tighter with each pass of his tongue.

"Oh god, Joe," you panted, your hips rising to meet his mouth. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding your pussy against his face. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he feasted on your sweetness. You could feel the pressure building, the heat coiling in your core, ready to explode.

And then it did. With a moan that echoed through the villa, your body convulsed as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your muscles tightened around Joe's tongue, your juices flooding his mouth as you came harder than you ever had before. Joe groaned in satisfaction, his own arousal reaching new heights as he drank you in. He didn't stop until you were trembling and panting, your body a puddle of boneless bliss beneath him.

Your eyes slowly opened, and you looked down at Joe, your face warm and your chest heaving. "Damn, baby," you breathed, a lazy smile playing on your lips. "I knew you were a munch but that was… wow."

Joe looked up at you with a grin, his face shiny with her arousal. "I was face first in my wife's pussy, couldn't help it," he said, his voice filled with a cocky confidence that made your heart race even faster. He kissed his way back up your body, leaving a trail of heat and wetness in his wake. When he reached your mouth, you tasted yourself on his lips, a heady mix of salt and sweet that only heightened your desire.

Your kiss grew more intense, your tongues dancing together in a rhythm that mirrored the pulsing need between your legs. Joe reached up, cupping your breasts in his hands, his thumbs playing with your still-sensitive nipples. You moaned into his mouth, your hips lifting to meet his.

"Face the mirror, gonna take you from the back," Joe murmured against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. You eagerly complied, turning to face the mirror and scooting closer to the edge of the bed. Your heart thundered in your chest as you watched Joe's reflection, his muscles rippling as he moved behind you.

He slid his hand down your spine, sending shivers through your body, and gripped your waist, pulling you closer to his body. You felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, and you couldn't help but whimper with anticipation. The position was rare for you two, usually reserved for moments when Joe was feeling particularly possessive. Your eyes locked onto his in the mirror, and you watched as he lined himself up, his hand guiding his shaft to your awaiting heat.

With one smooth, powerful thrust, he filled you, making you moan out with a mix of pleasure and surprise. The angle was new, and it hit you in just the right way, making your pussy clench around him. Joe groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he took in the sight of his cock disappearing into your wetness. Your body was a work of art, and he couldn't get enough of watching you react to his touch.

He began to move, his hips sliding in and out of you with a rhythm that grew more intense with each stroke. Your breasts bounced with the motion, your hands straining to grip the sheets as you watched Joe's reflection in the mirror. His eyes were hooded with desire, his teeth bared in a feral grimace as he claimed your body.

Your walls stretched around him, your body adjusting to the new sensation of being taken from behind. Your breaths grew shorter, your moans growing louder with each thrust. Joe's grip on your waist tightened, his strokes deep and demanding as he watched you in the mirror. The sight of your face contorted in pleasure, your dark hair splayed across the pillows, and your body writhing under his, only spurred him on.

"You like that?" he growled, his voice low and possessive. You could only nod, your mouth forming silent words as you struggled to keep up with the overwhelming sensations. Joe's hand reached around to find your clit, his thumb pressing down in a steady, insistent rhythm that matched his thrusts.

"Yes, Joey, I fucking love it," you gasped, your eyes watching him move in the mirror. Your voice was a mix of desperation and pleasure, the words barely recognizable through your moans. His thumb circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of sensation through your body.

"I'm so lucky to have you," Joe murmured, your eyes glazed with pleasure as Joe's cock filled you completely. His hand slid down to cup your ass, his fingers digging in as he pulled you back into each thrust. The angle was exquisite, hitting all the right spots, and you knew this was going to be one of those moments that would be forever etched into your mind.

"You're everything I've ever wanted," you managed to pant, your body jolting with each impact of his hips slamming into you. Your inner walls quivered around him, your pussy greedily sucking him in deeper.

"I promise I'll spend every day of the rest of our lives making you feel like this," Joe groaned, his words punctuated by his relentless pounding. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the promise of another earth-shattering orgasm just out of reach.

Your eyes remained locked with his in the mirror, the connection between you two more intense than ever. Your breathing grew ragged, your moans echoing off the walls as Joe picked up his pace. Each thrust was deeper, harder, more demanding, and you could feel yourself climbing toward the peak.

Suddenly, Joe leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back as one arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly against him. The other arm fell forward, caging your body in as his hand settled over yours, fingers intertwined, rings nudging against each other. Your chest collapsed, your nipples tightening as you grazed the coolness of the mattress. He whispered sweet, dirty nothings into your ear, his breath hot and ragged, sending shivers down your spine.

"I want to see you come, baby," Joe panted, his thrusts growing more erratic. "Go ahead, baby. Let go for me."

You felt your orgasm building, the pressure in your core growing stronger with each word. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to hold back the inevitable. But Joe's touch was too much. He knew just what you needed, and as his thumb circled your clit faster and his cock pounded into you harder, you couldn't resist anymore.

Your body tightened around him, your muscles clenching as you came, your walls pulsing with pleasure. You whimpered his name weakly, your body bucking wildly under his. Joe's eyes watched as you lost control, feeling your pussy grip him as you spilled over the edge. His own orgasm followed close behind, his cum spurting into you with a force that made you both groan.

Your bodies remained connected for a moment, both panting heavily, the sound of your mingled breaths the only noise in the quiet room. You felt Joe's cock soften inside you, and you leaned back into his chest, your body still trembling from the intensity of your lovemaking.

"I don't know if I can move," you murmured, your voice shaky with the aftermath of pleasure. Joe chuckled, kissing your shoulder before gently withdrawing and rolling over to your side. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your waist as you both stared at your reflections in the mirror.

"I love you so much, you know that?" Joe murmured into your ear, his breath still coming in pants as he held you close. Your head rested on his chest, your breathing finally starting to even out. You nodded, a content smile playing on your lips.

"I would hope so, you married me last week. You better love me," you replied, your voice teasing but filled with affection as you cuddled closer to Joe, your hand resting on his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heart, a reminder of the passion you just shared.

The two of you lay there for a few moments, the sweat cooling on your bodies as the tropical breeze gently caressed your skin. You turned your head, your eyes meeting Joe's in the mirror. His gaze was warm, a soft smile playing on his lips as he stroked your hair.

"I think that's only the second time we've had sex in this bed," Joe said, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

You chuckled, your eyes fluttering shut as you nestled into his warmth. "It's not my fault you can't keep it in your pants long enough to make it to the bed, Burrow," you teased, feeling the warmth of his skin against your cheek.

"What's the point of a villa on a quiet island if we're not going to use every surface?" Joe replied with a smirk, his fingers tracing lazy circles into the skin of your lower back. You laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest as you rolled over to face him fully. His cock twitched helplessly as he watched you, the sight of your sated smile and glowing skin making him want you all over again.

But he knew you needed a break. And so, you lay together, your bodies entwined in a mess of limbs and damp sheets. Your hand found its way to his chest, playing with the light dusting of hair that trailed down to his stomach. You traced the path with your fingertip, watching his abs contract with each breath he took.

"What do you think your love language is?" you asked, your voice lazy and content. You traced the contours of Joe's chest with your finger, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch.

Joe smiled, his hand moving downward to squeeze your ass playfully. "I'd say my love language is definitely making you happy, especially when it involves me fucking you just the way you like it," he said, his voice filled with pride. You snorted, swatting his chest lightly. "Okay, in all seriousness, I think it's quality time. Nothing makes me happier than being close to you."

Your expression softened, your eyes shining with affection. "Mine's definitely words of affirmation," you murmured, your hand sliding up to caress his cheek. "I love it when you tell me how much you love me, how beautiful I am, how you chose me."

Joe leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll never run out of ways to tell you that," he promised, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "I guess I like that too. Hearing that I'm doing right by you. That you're happy. That I'm enough."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his vulnerable admission. "You are," you said, your voice firm. "More than enough. And I'll never get tired of telling you that." You leaned in to kiss him softly, the sweetness of the moment lingering between the two of you as your bodies settled.

"You wanna know something cool?" Joe hummed, pulling away from the kiss with a playful grin. You hummed in question, your eyes beginning to hood from the sleepiness that was slowly creeping in. "I'm your husband," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and a hint of disbelief.

"I'm aware," you said with a roll of your eyes, though the smile on your face gave away the joy you felt at the reminder. "But you know what's even cooler than that?"

"What's cooler than being your husband?" Joe asked, his grin widening as he propped himself up on an elbow. His eyes searched yours, eager to hear your response.

"Cooler than that?" you teased, your voice playful. "I'm your wife. That's pretty cool."

Joe chuckled, his hand sliding up to squeeze your hand. "I guess it's a tie then," he conceded. Your smile grew as you watched the love dance in Joe's eyes, feeling it deep in your soul. You were married, and it was still so surreal. The last week had been a whirlwind of emotions, but this moment right here, with Joe's arms around you and the sound of your mingled breaths, was pure bliss.

The room was quiet except for the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. Your eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion of the day catching up to you. You snuggled impossibly closer to Joe, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. He was your home, your sanctuary, and you never wanted to leave this tropical paradise.

[peachylynnie]

glasses

word count: 1.2k synopsis: in which you wear zayne's glasses. contains: zayne x mc!reader, slightly posessive zayne, whipped zayne, mentions of violence, slight angst, and fluff overall. a/n: i really like zayne's glasses (the frameless ones). do not copy or translate my work. zayne does not endorse plagiarism. reblogs and comments are appreciated :) lads masterlist: here

zayne doesn't expect you to be awake when he comes home. given how late he leaves his office, he's not surprised to find you fast asleep in your adorable pajamas with your mouth open and legs splayed by the time he arrives at your shared bedroom. though, there are times when he finds you awake, either treating your wounds from another day of hunting wanderers or sitting outside on the balcony to gaze at the stars. but, those times are rare. (not to say he doesn't appreciate them; he's in awe of how strong you are whenever you ramble about taking down a wanderer as he bandages you up and how the stars don't even compare to how stunning you look whenever he joins you at the balcony).

point is: zayne doesn't expect you to be up so late at night (morning at this point) when he walks in. so, he's surprised to find you awake... in his glasses.

the prodigious doctor freezes in place after closing the door. there you are, legs crossed on the couch with a book in your hand and your eyebrows furrowed as you flip a page, causing his glasses to tilt on the bridge of your nose. oh, god. he can feel his knees buckling. not from the eight-hour surgery he just finished, no. but from the gorgeous sight in front of him. his glasses looked so good on you.

"darling?" he calls breathlessly.

you yelp, causing the glasses to nearly fall until you swiftly catch and adjust them with your fingers. he thinks it's the most seductive thing you have ever done (besides the time you insisted on shaving his chin on a rocking chair). "zayne?!" you stand up immediately, abandoning the book on the couch and rushing to him to wrap him in a hug. "how long were you standing there for? i didn't notice you at all!"

"was the book that interesting?" the man questions as he returns the hug, careful not to apply too much pressure. he doesn't want to break his glasses after all. not because they're his, no, not at all. but because he wants to see you wear them more often.

you look up at him from his chest and nod. his heart soars at the sight. the glasses...they bring out the light in your eyes.

"oh? thanks, zayne." you giggle. ah, he said that out loud. his ears grow red as he averts his gaze to the side.

"ahem," he coughs. "why are you wearing my glasses, anyway? do they match your prescription?"

"yes, actually!" your beam. "i couldn't find my glasses earlier, so i decided to use yours." you lean playfully to the side to see his face. zayne can't help but smile upon meeting your eyes. they really did look good on you, and he couldn't be happier to hear that his prescription matches yours. "i hope you don't mind," you say sheepishly. "i was only going to use them for tonight. i'm sure my glasses are lying around here somewhere." at that, you twist left and right to scan the living room.

"no need," he says almost immediately. he really doesn't want your eyes to leave his right now, not with you wearing his glasses so mesmerizingly. you look at him with curiosity when his hands slide up your neck and stop at your face, gently cooling your cheeks.

"are you alright, zayne?"

he nods silently and presses a delicate kiss to your forehead. "i'm alright, darling." caressing your cheek with his thumb, the man adds, "and i don't mind. not at all. wear them whenever you like. i have some spares back at the office."

"oh, okay." you're taken aback by how eager he sounds. it's almost as if he wants you to wear his glasses, and his glasses only.

except that's exactly what the man standing before you wants. to continue to wear his glasses whenever you please. the idea of you enjoying a book while donning his glasses fills him with an immaculate sense of pride. he takes it even further by imagining the faces of all the interns who dared to gawk at you with starry eyes whenever you visited him at his office. he's sure once they see you with his glasses, they'll get the message.

"but i still have to look for mine at some point," you yawn. he takes note of how his glasses slide down whenever you scrunch your nose. "they weren't exactly cheap, you know?"

"i'll help you look for them in the morning," he says as he guides you to the bedroom (lies, he's going to hide them). your sleepy eyes look even more adorable with his glasses on; oh, he swears he can feel himself melting (and that says a lot given his evol).

"thanks, zayne," you say sleepily as you settle under the covers. "you always take care of me, you know that?"

"i'm your primary care physician. it's my job to take care of you," he answers as he sheds his coat and hangs it in the closet.

"you're also my boyfriend, remember?" you grumble, shifting onto your side.

"no, i forgot," he replies monotonously.

you jerk your head back, shooting him a glare. him and his dry humor.

zayne remains unfazed as he joins you in bed. "you should remember this too," he murmurs your name. "you don't ever have to thank me for taking care of you." pulling the covers up to your chin, he adds, "i will always take care of you." you open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it. "not because i am legally obligated to do so, but because i love you. please remember that."

you blink, taken aback by his words. it's not often you get to see zayne so honest and close to you like this. due to your busy schedules, tender moments like these are hard to come by. determined to make the most of this, you cup your lover's face and plant a kiss on his lips. indulging in the much-needed warmth your lips provide, zayne deepens the kiss, his hands finding your waist.

after pulling back for air, you throw him a cheeky smile. "thanks, zayne."

he looks at you unamused. "what did i just say?"

you laugh before shifting onto your back, ready to sleep. sparing him one last glance before you close your eyes, you say, "i love you, zayne."

"i love you too," he whispers as he watches you drift off peacefully. it doesn't take long for him to turn and reach for the pull chain on the lamp. except he notices something.

you forgot to take his glasses off.

chuckling to himself, zayne carefully removes them from your face. as much as he loves how they suit you perfectly, he wants you to be comfortable. after placing his glasses on the nightstand, he returns to your side and notices another thing: the small dents on your nose bridge left by the pads from his glasses.

unable to stop himself, your lover admires them by gently tracing his finger over them. it seems there are many ways to show that you are his and he is yours. he's delighted his glasses are one of the ways.

after finally pulling the lamp chain, zayne presses one final kiss to your forehead.

"goodnight, darling."

[fatherbrat]

SESSION ONE: TOUCH & SHUSH, S. GOJO

sum. part 1 of the lessons learned series. you have a hard time concentrating during the final thirty minutes of your first tutoring session. not to worry! your new tutor knows just how to keep your attention.

feat. satoru gojo

cw. tutor!gojo, fem reader, physics/math/calculus mentions, fingering in public (the campus library), hold the moan, mdni

wc. 2.4k

You’ve been trying to beat Satoru Gojo for three years.

It started in high school, when he snuck past you on the class rankings during the first semester of your final year, stealing that valedictorian title right from under your nose. You hadn’t even known to be looking out for him. His GPA seemed to have shot up out of nowhere.

It felt like someone had knocked you off a winding staircase just as you were about to reach the top.

Even now, in your third year of university, you have yet to best him. You weren’t aware that Gojo was going to the same school as you after high school, but it felt like the universe was giving you a chance to seek a little revenge.

However, with less than four semesters until graduation, it’s looking like you’ll be second fiddle to Gojo for the rest of your life. There isn’t even a word that can convey how fucking humiliating that is for you. Your friends think it’s dramatic of you to say you’d rather die, but you’ve never been more serious about anything else in your whole life.

It’s a nearly failed physics exam that ends up being your final straw. Well, “nearly failed” is a bit of an exaggeration. You got a B. But B’s don’t beat Satoru Gojo. It’s that thought that makes you finally sign up for a one-on-one tutoring session—one of the pricier ones that all but guarantees you’ll get perfect grades for the rest of the semester.

You fidget in your seat, glancing towards the library entrance every time someone enters. The table you picked is on the second floor, tucked away in a corner with a perfect view of the double doors downstairs.

It’s not very quiet. You would have preferred a session at a time when the library was a bit more deserted, but the only appointment slots available were during peak hours. Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Your fingers toy with the corners of your exam—four pages of questions and too many markings made with red ink. They freeze when a familiar somebody enters the building, his eyes scanning the first floor like he’s looking for someone.

Satoru Gojo is wearing gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He tugs his wired earbuds out of his ears and pushes his sunglasses up onto his head as he stands and searches.

You sink into your seat, not wanting him to notice you. It’s bad enough you have to pay someone to help you beat him. You don’t need the added shame of your rival knowing how far you're going just to outdo him.

But it’s almost like that very movement alerts him to your presence. His head jerks up suddenly and he finds you, peering through the railing with those scary blue eyes. A crooked grin stretches across his face and he immediately rushes up the staircase, skipping steps on his way up. 

You sink further, hoping he doesn’t come straight to you. But of course, he does. 

Gojo puts his hands on the opposite end of your table, his knees hitting the modesty panel that hangs down.

“Hey you,” he says, all too familiar, acting like you’re longtime friends. “Whatcha doin’?”

You motion towards the spread of study materials on the table. “What does it look like?”

“Well, it looks like you’re just studying. But from down there–” he juts his chin in the direction of the front door downstairs–“it looked like you were waiting for someone.”

You frown, fingers pattering along the bottom of your graded exam. “I’m not waiting for anything. I’m studying.”

Gojo comes around to your side of the table and sits next to you, dumping his bag onto the surface. “You sure? I thought we had an appointment.” He holds his phone up in front of his face and squints at it. Your stomach drops. “You said you needed help in physics. Specifically…electromagnetism?” He puts his phone on the table, smiling. “Or was that not you?”

You put your head in your hands, cursing the universe for giving you the worst luck in the world. Of course, he gets assigned to be your tutor. You didn’t even know he was tutoring. 

“There’s no fucking way,” you mumble into your palms.

Gojo tilts his head and pokes your arm. “Is something wrong?”

You take in one deep breath. And then another. And then lay your hands flat on the table.

“You’re my tutor?” you ask.

“Sure am,” Gojo says, putting his arm on the back of your chair.

You groan and your phone vibrates. You’ve just unlocked your phone when Gojo plucks it out of your hands. 

“We only have an hour and a half,” he says, before his eyes catch the words on the screen and he smirks. You wince and reach across him, but those long limbs keep you at bay as he scrolls through the new messages in your group chat.

“Baddie baddie shot o’clock,” he mutters, reading the name of the group off the top of the screen.

“Give that back,” you say, smacking his arm. He just keeps reading.

You know the last few messages you sent were about him. And you know any conversation about him always ends up…kind of thirsty. (You’re not blind! He may be a pain in your ass but he’s also fine as hell.) Whatever he’s reading must be stroking his ego.

You watch him put your phone on do not disturb and then lay it down on the opposite end of the table, out of arm’s reach. When he turns to look at you he’s got his eyebrows raised.

“You and your friends are funny,” he says, obviously trying not to laugh. 

You sigh and wave your test in the air. “Just help me with this.”

Gojo shifts into teaching mode, still looking vaguely amused, but offering notes and corrections on your exam and the notes you’ve taken yourself. It surprises you how good he is at this. That air of cockiness is still there, but he’s genuinely helpful. It surprises you further when he pulls out a practice sheet.

“You’re struggling with this because you don’t have a good grasp on vector calculus,” he says, tapping on the worksheet with the end of his pen. 

You groan. He’s right, but no amount of office hours or YouTube videos have helped. This was your last hope.

But the two of you have already been at it for an hour and your focus is dwindling. Your mind wanders, wondering what your friends are talking about, what’s happening on your Twitter timeline, what you should get for dinner. Your fingers twitch and you glance at your phone, face-down on Gojo’s side of the table.

He pockets it, shaking his head a little. “Don’t tell me you're getting restless already.” He makes a big show of extending his arm so that his sleeve moves up a little, exposing his watch. “We only have half an hour left.” He pokes your temple. “You can make it.”

A heavy sigh escapes you, but you refocus on the paper in front of you. Gojo grabs one of the legs of your chair and pulls you closer to him, until your seat clangs against his and he can lean over your shoulder. 

You stare at the top of the page until your eyes unfocus. Would it be rude to end the session early? You’d hate to not get your money’s worth, but God this stuff was so mind-numbing. You look around the library, leg bouncing.

Gojo’s hand lands on your thigh and you pause.

When you glance at him he just taps the paper. “Focus. Vector fields first.”

You blink and get back to your worksheet, not moving his hand.

He starts circling his thumb on your skin. “Vector fields are just functions,” he explains, pointing at a formula written in bold at the top of the page. “Look, there’s an example.”

You scan the example graph and the explanation below it, striving to absorb the information. Gojo’s hand shifts higher, his fingers slipping just beneath the hem of your skirt. When you raise your eyebrow at him, he just stares right back.

“I read your texts,” he reminds you.

You try to recall exactly what you said in there. Something nasty about him, for sure. You eye the ceiling, trying to remember.

Gojo squeezes your leg, drawing your attention back. “I’ll give you a phone break if you can answer the first two without help.”

You yearn for your phone, so you nod and pick up your pencil.

It doesn’t take you long to finish the questions, but you think Gojo spends longer than necessary reviewing your work. 

He pulls your phone out of his pocket and you practically leap into his lap for it. 

You’re fully occupied with catching up and responding to messages until he tucks his hand into the waistband of your skirt. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, still tapping away.

You know what he’s doing. The first thing you did when you got your phone back was check which texts he read. 

you #that man just walked in

Thing 1 what if he’s ur tutor lolll

you i’ll jump off the roof rn

Thing Two shiiii he can teach ME show me how to ride that dick sir!

you ur nasty

Thing 1 you literally sent us a message abt his bulge yesterday

you … touché

Gojo hums. “You can tell me to stop.”

You don’t. You spread your knees further apart so he can have better access and do a quick sweep of the floor with your eyes. The two of you are in a corner and there’s a modesty panel on the table, but still…

“Relax,” he whispers, his lips just brushing your ear. “Nobody’s gonna see. Just act natural.”

It’s hard to “act natural” when someone’s hand is between your legs in a crowded library, but you try your best. Your phone vibrates in your hand and you resume scrolling. Gojo pinches your clit through your underwear.

You toss him a hard glare and he deliberately avoids eye contact, looking up and around and acting oblivious.

“Break time’s over,” he says suddenly, pulling your panties to the side at the same time.

“Wha-”

“Fifteen minutes left of your session,” he says, sliding one long finger inside your cunt. “Let’s make it count.”

Your brain stutters. Make what count? There’s no way he expects you to pay attention to any kind of lesson while he’s doing…that.

“You okay?” he asks, slowly dragging his finger out of your pussy only to add another one. He points at the bottom of your worksheet with his free hand. “One more of these and then we can review line integrals.”

This guy’s fucking insane.

You shift a bit, sitting up in your seat to concentrate on the task at hand. Gojo takes your phone again, but you hardly notice. 

When you complete the problem he makes a sound of approval and takes out another worksheet. “See it’s not that bad. Line integrals now.”

He points at a figure in the middle of the page as he stuffs a third finger up your already-full cunt. “Line integrals are used to calculate the work done by a force on a moving object. But if you take this curved line and-”

Everything he’s saying is going in one ear and out the other. You’re nodding along, trying to look composed and natural as he fingers you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you have to resist the urge to shut your eyes.

“It’s just like line integration in scalar fields,” Gojo continues. He sounds excited. You’d like to think it’s because he really likes this advanced calculus, but it’s probably just because he can tell you’re getting close.

He presses the pad of his thumb onto your clit and a full-body shudder rolls through you. He smiles wide, still lecturing. You exhale gently, careful to not let a moan slip as you grip the edge of the table.

He stops talking in the middle of a sentence about arc length, but his fingers never slow. You watch as he checks the time and frowns. 

“Oh no,” he murmurs, sounding disappointed. He turns to face you, taking in your widened eyes and barely parted lips. “Our hour and a half is over.” He pouts. “I’ll finish up, mkay.”

He thumbs your clit again, increasing the speed of his fingers. “Here,” he says, leaning into you. “Bite my shoulder when you come. And try not to make any noise, yeah?”

He’s so conceited, you think. But before you can say something snarky, he buries his fingers knuckles-deep again, pressing them up against that spot inside you that makes you clamp down on his shoulder, tears pricking your eyes as your orgasm hits you harder than expected.

It takes all your effort to hold back your moans as you pulse around Gojo’s fingers. He chuckles a little, letting you catch your breath before he pulls his hand away. You stop biting him and slouch in your seat, reaching down to readjust your skirt and underwear in a way that’s subtle.

Gojo sucks your slick off of his hands, releasing each finger from his mouth with a pop sound. You scrunch up your nose at him, irked at the unnecessary noise. You exerted so much energy to stay silent and here he goes.

“So we’re done?” you ask, blinking away the tears that formed when you came.

“Yep,” he answers, nodding. “Just finish up those worksheets before next week and make sure you take notes in class. I’ll make sure you’re all set for midterms.” He winks.

You start to put your things away, closing your laptop and notebooks.

“By the way,” Gojo says, standing up, “this has been my favorite tutoring session I’ve done so far.”

You just roll your eyes, the smallest of smiles tugging on your lips. 

He places your phone on the table and swings his backpack over his shoulder. “And see if you can reserve one of the private study rooms for next time.”

He pins you with a knowing look before spinning around, long legs striding towards the staircase.

If you know tutoring went like this, you would have signed up sooner.

a/n. all the physics math stuff i got from the uc berkeley website and khan academy so...thanks to them lmfao. (or yk, blame them if it's wrong)

taglist. @megumisthirdog @chaccomiya @hellokittyish @ash--007 @gojoakgae @bunnisthings @ourfinalisation @levislug @inlove-maze @tobiodoll @iwaizumisloverrr @kentogetsmewetter @newdruid @cocoamide @y34rnf0rcc @missthatgirl @shutuppeter @skyshadowsworld @usbrous @cherryredribbons @lolitamermaid123 @kinnimi @aerareads @billiondollarworth @sillymortalblob @vadiatree @kachntos @www-sanrioslut-com you must have an age indicator in your bio to be added to the taglist