#its always there and i will always love it!!
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Being the bane of sukunas existence as you're his girlfriend because you act like a perverted old man around him... he kinda digs it tho, its mildly hilarious and he doesn't dislike the unhinged attention (he tries to be so lowkey about it)
Every once in a while, you'll caress his behind or fondle his big boobily man breasts, the same way he does to you. he was only stunned at first - now he is completely unphased by your sneaky little hands.
he texts you, asking you what you want for dinner, and he's not surprised when the answer is "i want you oiled up and naked in bed by the time i get home". then he just replies with "making pasta"
Big obnoxious smacking noises when you kiss him all over, and sukuna just lets you be, he'll be sitting on the couch turning the tv on and here you come, smooching his cheek. sometimes, its the top of his head, other times, its his forehead or neck. if you do it too much though, you'll get covered with his bite marks in return.
when sukuna gets up to go to the toilet, you ask him if you can hold his peepee while he takes a piss, bc you saw a funny tiktok talking about it... he gives you a silent judgmental stare as he closes the door on your face. but behind it, he lets out the tiniest snort and shakes his head bc the idea of it is so ridiculous.
one time when you go outdoor camping with him you genuinely accidentally stumble close to sukuna who is taking a leak in the forest bush area and he catches you staring from behind as he's buttoning himself back up. and then he's chasing you down while you're screaming that it was an accident and that you only heard him peeing and didn't actually see anything. (not that you don't know what it looks like, anyway.)
when he's sweaty after a workout or some physical exertion, you'll definitely be approaching him deviously, talking about some "covered in flavour" type of bullshit... he'll push your face away and head into the shower but his ears are flushed with red.
just... sukuna who will let u mack on him endlessly bc he secretly doesn't hate the doting đĽšđĽšđĽš and if you're not being obnoxiously lewd or affectionate?? thats when he knows something's up...
and obviously, every now and then you'll say something that makes him know that you're not just lusting over his body.
during a walk back home on a summer afternoon, you point upwards while holding his hand and looking up.
"sukuna, look. you're in the sky."
he reluctantly looks up, expecting some sort of dick shaped cloud or something like that. but there are no clouds in sight.
"what is there to look at?" he asks, quizzically.
"the colour, silly. when the sun's still setting, the sky always gets like this, around the same time everyday. the pretty pinkish colour, like your hair."
he turns silent and observes the sky for a minute. you call him silly, as if it's an everyday thing that you compare a person with the literal sky.
"it's my favourite time of the day..." you mumble, just barely audible to his ears. and something about the way you stand there, and speak so softly, makes you look so pretty to him. "i'll always think of you when the sun is setting."
"oh- but i think of you everyday regardless, i suppose."
he already knows that. he already knows you love him. why does he feel so flushed right now?
"alright, i get it. enough. let's continue home," he urges you, holding your hand tighter. you follow him down the street, like a puppy.
life couldn't feel more at peace right now, with your fingers interlocked with his, listening to you hum your favourite song on the way home, the street now covered with the orange light of the sunset.
"any ideas for dinner?" he asks, a few minutes after some silence.
"mmm..."
oh, he regrets asking the question now, fully knowing what's coming.
"i want your tatas in my mouth, please."
"tatas?" sukuna's asks with furrowed brows.
after bursting into laughter at the way he said it, you attempt to think up an actual food you want for dinner.
"...just for tonight." sukuna mutters.
"huh?"
"don't ask me again, i might change my mind."
"wait- really?"
let's just say, your mouth had a taste of heaven for the first time that night.
#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#jjk x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna#jujutsu kaisen x reader#sukuna x y/n
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18+ - mdni
ἍáĄ. rafe wants you to make yourself squirt on camera.
"There'ya go baby, push it out." Rafe praised you. "fuck, I love you."Â
You looked away from your glossy cunt to the bright flashlight of Rafe's phone camera lens. His left hand hovered the phone over your bare body, and his right hand roamed everywhere, peeling your wet folds back or caressing the meat of your thigh.Â
Rafe eyes stayed glued to his phone screen--which was just a digitalized version of you relentlessly pumping your fingers into your cunt, trying to make yourself squirt. Â
You felt Rafe's thumb peel back your fold again and begin to pinch your clit.Â
Rafe pinch had stung, but fuck did the extra stimulation felt good as you fucked yourself closer to your release.Â
"Fuck, push it out baby." Rafe told you once more, and you did as told and pushed your core right when you felt your release, but once more, nothing happened, causing you to get frustrated, and you told Rafe to cut.Â
"What is it baby?" Rafe asked you, kissing the side of your mouth and craddling your jaw.
"Rafe, I can't do this."
"I made you do it before." Rafe muttered into your skin. "Twice, actually." he smirked.
"Yeah, exactly." You said "You were the one to make me do it."
Rafe stopped pecking your jaw, "Y/n, you never made yourself squirt before?"
You shook your head 'no', and you could have sworn you saw Rafe's cock grow twice its size.
Rafe harshly gripped your head and quickly pecked you cheek. "Fuck, I love you. You don't know how much I really want to get this on video.â Rafe had nearly whined.
You whimper as Rafe gently leaned you back into your previous position and got ready to press record but before Rafe had pressed that red button he told you:
"Just some advice sweetheart, when you reach that special spot inside you, start to bend your fingertips."
And with that being said, he pecked your cheek once more and pressed the red button on his camera.
You started fingering yourself again with slow lingering pumps, that increased each thrust as Rafe praised you.
You arched your back into your touch, feeling the waves of pleasure building inside you. Rafe's words fueled your desire, and with each passing moment, the intensity of your movements grew.
"Look at my good girl, slutting herself out just for me." Rafe praised, putting his phone closer to your drooling pussy.
"Fuck, Rafe, I think I'm close" you whined.
"Bend your finger, baby and push." Rafe cooed.
You whimpered as Rafe's instructions sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.
Obligingly, you arched your back and bent your finger, feeling the sweet tension building within you. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the air thick with the heady scent of desire.
Rafe's gaze was intense as he watched every move you made, his voice husky with arousal.
With a final whisper of encouragement, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, ready to plunge into the abyss of pleasure he had so skillfully guided you towards.
And it wasn't long until you were pushing out your arousal--your squirt splashing everywhere, but mostly on Rafe and his phone.
You were spent.
Rafe let out a surprised yelp as the cold liquid splattered across his phone, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.
In the sudden silence that followed, you both locked eyes, the air heavy with a mix of embarrassment and adrenaline.
As you caught your breath, a sheepish grin tugged at the corners of your lips, unsure of how to salvage the situation.
"Shit, looks like my phone and I just got baptized," Rafe quipped, filling the awkward tension.
a/n: I wrote this back in October but forgot to post it--oops.
as always, reblogs and comments keeps me motivated. đŤśđž
#crookedteethed#fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#fem reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#drew starkey#the obx#rafe smut#stranger things#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#outerbanks rafe#drew starkey smut#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks smut#outer banks#rafe x fem!reader
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jealous! viktor x reader (headcanons + tiny scenarios)
summary: viktor sees you talking with a friend and get jealous.
content warning: idk if it counts as a cw but jealousy?? also, i made with s1 viktor in mind!
author notes: heyyy, so sorry this one is little, im still trying to find motivation after the end of the series but i think it turned out cute! thank u for the request and hope u like it!! :)
Âť it was a common sight to see you walking up and down piltoverâs academy, working or just chilling on lunch breaks, but every time viktor would approach you, you were already with someone. sometimes an unknown person, other times with a friend, laughing and joking, touching them in such a sweet way, side by side in the aisles.
Âť he looked at you both, blood boiling and shaky hands. if you looked at him, it was possible to see his lips forming a thin line, brows furrowing, his left eye almost twitching. oh, he was jealous.
Âť he felt angry at himself to feel like this, he didn't mean to be jealous at all, but he wanted to steal you away, just for a second, and be the one by your side, be the one you smiled to, the one youâve been touching so sweetly.
Âť he wanted to reach for you, to interrupt your silly conversation about whatever you two have been talking about, he wanted to share his new discoveries with you, he wanted to be in their place so bad.
Âť but he couldn't complain, not when you waved a goodbye at your friend, and turned your body, recognizing viktor, eyes lighting up immediately, smiling from ear to ear.
âviktor!â, you shouted, voice echoing in the aisle while you walked to him, âiâve been looking for you all day. you wouldn't believe what happened!â
he looked at you, expression softening, eyes shining, mimicking yours, his thin lips now turning into a little smile, âyeah? tell me."
Âť soon all the jealousy melted away, now, he is the one walking by your side.
#âswe writes#league of legends x reader#lol x reader#viktor x reader#arcane x reader#i should thank my friend this time bcs they helped me on this one#i didn't like how it turned out and was erasing and rewriting and easing and#but if my friend says its good then its good#thank u friend#so sorry if some of you guys read my tags and all my post have the same thing#< âthank u friendâ and stuff like this. but they really help me out all the time#this is why i always thank them#they aint even part of the fandom! i just rant about arcane to them all the time#love my friend dearly <3#anyways!! sorry if this one is tiny. my motivation is almost zero these days#school stuff has been hard but its fine! at least i can write sometimes :)
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I'M REPOSTING THESE TAGS BC WTF YOU CAN'T JUST HIDE THAT IN THERE
wild that we got the dsmp download. but like. also. how much are we going to be able to see? does that make sense.
we can't visit lmanburg. or new lmanburg. exile's exploded but the tower is there. michael is missing. we can go to erets museum but its not the same. so much of the server is lost just by the nature of it. we can experience the after and we watched the during but. we only get the end of the story. ough. i hope this makes sense.
#i actually wrote something about this right before the World download dropped#âWhenever I think of the Dream SMP I feel like I'm walking through the ruins of a burned house..#A house that was built up by so many people out of pure love.#The fire that was started from both the inside and out.#However even if the house never saw the flames the foundation was cracked from the start#As I look through the charred remains I find photo albums and books that escaped the blaze.#I can barely make out some of the others as they are nothing but ash#what it was will be unknown#The flowers will grow from the destruction#some from spite#some from love.#Its a funny thing to leave home and return to its smoldering ashesâ#i wote that on Oct 2 lol#I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT THIS#It will always hold a place in my heart#dsmp
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Take My Love and Wear It
SYNOPSIS: Taking care of Charles has its own special challenges, but you didnât expect the hardest one to be the man who hired you. Distant, gruff and rough around the edges, Logan still manages to worm his way under your skin. But youâve worked your way under his, too.Â
PAIRING: Old Man Logan x fem!reader
WC: 10.8kÂ
WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; swearing; non-explicit mentions of wounds, blood and use of stitches; extreme physical pain; Charles is a lovable, meddling little shit; fluff sprinkled in for good measure; Logan in a tub (if I had a nickel for every time I bathed him, Iâd have two nickelsâwhich isnât a lot, but its weird it happened twice, right); touch-starved Logan; handjobs; shower sex; fingering; dirty talk; oral (f receiving); sex with feelings; unprotected p in v; creampie
A/N: Thereâs something special about Old Man Logan, isnât there? Old and grumpy and desperately in need of some love and affection. I know the Charles caregiver story has been done before, but I couldnât get this idea out of my head. And then Charles starting talking in my head and well...it blossomed into this. As always, thank you to @joelsgoldrush for allowing me to send her snippets of this as I went along and offering her love, support and suggestions. I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
You stare down at the remnants of yesterdayâs cold and congealed dinner and sigh. Scraping the food into the trash, you resist the urge to pack everything you have and leave.Â
One month.Â
One month of helping Charlesâmaking his meals, washing his clothes, giving him his meds, making sure he doesnât hurt himself (or others), assisting with daily tasksâand Logan still regards you as a nuisance, like a gnat needing to be swatted away.Â
At best, he ignores you, moving around the house as if you donât exist.Â
And at worst, he treats you with barely concealed contempt, his scowl deepening the lines of his face whenever heâs around you. As if youâre invading his space uninvited even though heâs the one that sought out help.Â
You grip the edge of the sink, staring down into the porcelain basin as if it holds some hidden answers. Every day youâve tried to break through walls Loganâs built around himself, held onto Charlesâ promise that eventually heâll soften, just give him time, but he only seems to have grown more hostile. And youâve done nothing to incur his ire besides watching him come home every day battered and bruised, his very bones weary with exhaustion, and offering your assistance.
Part of you is angryâangry that you care so much when your main focus is supposed to be Charles. Angry that despite all his efforts to come across unapproachable and cold, Loganâs worked himself under your skin and takes a little piece of you with him whenever he leaves.Â
Angry that somehow heâs stolen a piece of your heart.Â
You hear shuffling behind you and turn to find Logan entering the kitchen, fingers fastening the last buttons on his dress shirt. âWhat?â he asks gruffly and for a moment you wonder if he can read your thoughts.
You straighten and meet his gaze head on, swallowing down your nervousness. âHow much longer are we going to keep doing this, Logan?â
âDoing what?â
âThis,â you say, gesturing between you. âYou walking around here like Iâm some stain upon your life, acting like Iâm a problem when all Iâve ever done is try and help.â Your voice is steadier than you feel. âYou asked for me to be here, Logan. Itâs not like I barged in here without permission.â
Logan holds your gaze, his jaw tight, and for a moment you think heâs going to grab his keys and leave, head off into the night and drive until sunrise. His eyes soften for just a moment, something like regret crossing his features.Â
âI know why youâre here. And I doâŚappreciate it,â he says, his words coming out low and rough. As if the words taste foreign in his mouth.Â
âWouldnât kill you to show it,â you challenge.
Youâre waiting for him to lash out and instead he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. âLook, Iâm not good at this.â
âIâm not asking you to bow at my feet,â you say, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air. âAlthough, I wouldnât be mad about it.â You think you see the briefest hint of a smile flicker across his face. âI just want us to be able to live in the same space. Iâm here to help, Logan. Let me.â
âYou have no idea how hard this life is.â
A rueful smile tugs at your lips. âI understand more than you think I do.â
Loganâs gaze sharpens, inquisitive as he searches your face, as if heâs trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. He rubs a hand across his face, scratching lightly as his beard. âIâve gotta couple jobs tonight. Maybe more,â he finally says, changing the conversation. âShould be back before sunrise.â
You nod, his switch in topic not lost on you, but you donât push him. âAlright,â you say softly. âJustâjust take it easy, okay?â
He glances down at you, relief softening his gaze and you know a part of him is grateful you didnât push further.Â
Grabbing his keys, Logan heads towards the door but pauses just before heâs about to leave. He turns to look back over his shoulder. âThanks,â he murmurs, the word awkward on his lips.Â
You give him a small nod of encouragement as he slips out the door. He may not be ready to full open up, but you feel as if he extended a tiny olive branch tonight, cracked open the door just enough to let you peek in.
+++
Over the following weeks, Loganâs a little less avoidant. He doesnât go out of his way to make conversationâyou didnât expect him toâbut he at least as acknowledges your presence. Small nods and murmured goodbyes when he leaves and sleepy hellos when he returns. Itâs not much, but youâll take it.Â
Youâre cleaning the last of the dishes from dinner, Charles safely settled in front of the TV watching an old movie when Logan comes home. Heâs earlier than you anticipated, but exhaustion lines his face nonetheless. You expect him to slip away quietly, but he pauses instead, lingering in the doorway.Â
âSmells good,â he says softly, nodding towards the pan of half eaten lasagna still sitting on the counter.Â
Surprised, you turn around to face him. You brush the hair from your face and say, âSit. Iâll make you up some.âÂ
Logan hesitates and for a moment you think heâs about to decline, but then he nods, his shoulders dropping slightly as he sits down at the table. You fix him up a plate, setting it down in front of him with a bottle of beer as you slide into the chair across from him. Â
He tucks quietly into the food, his fork scraping against his plate as he eats, pausing only to wash it down with a few swigs of beer. You watch him, a strange satisfaction tugging at you at the sight of him actually sitting down, enjoying a meal with you, even if it is in silence.Â
âLong day?â you ask quietly, gesturing towards his bruised knuckles.
He flexes the fingers on his free hand before tucking them under the table. âNothinâ I canât handle,â he mutters, taking another bite of lasagna. âTheyâll be gone in a day or two.â
You know not that long ago an injury like that wouldnât have even marred his skin. Now, the simplest of wounds can take days to heal and itâs not the appearance of his skin that bothers you, but the newfound ache he experiences, the heaviness of constant pain.
You want to help him, ease his discomfort, like you know you could. But you know heâs not ready for that. Not yet.
âYouâre good with Charles,â Logan says then, his gaze steady on his plate. âHe seems calmer around you.â
Loganâs admission is so unexpected, you find yourself staring at him in disbelief. At your silence, his eyes flicker up to yours and you see more than simple acknowledgement in his expression. Itâs subtle, but itâs there, a current of something more, something youâre not quite sure how to address.
âThank you,â you murmur, your voice softer than you intended. âCharlesâhe means a lot to me.â You pause briefly, but something compels you to continue. âYou both do.â
His gaze is focused on you and you donât miss the flicker of surprise that breaks through his usual stoic expression. Clearing his throat, he looks down, pushing around the last bit of lasagna on his plate and then after a moment, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair. âYou mean a lot to him, too,â Logan finally says and you wonder if heâs talking about more than just Charles.
From the living room you hear Charles call for you, his voice soft but insistent. The moment between you still crackles as you stand from the table and as you begin to walk away, Logan reaches for your hand. His fingers are warm and rough against your skin and youâre barely able to suppress your shiver.Â
âThank you,â Logan says, his voice surprisingly soft.Â
His grip against your skin is gentle, a stark contrast to all his roughness and you can feel the weight of his unspoken words curling around you. Charles calls again, his voice breaking through the moment, but Loganâs hand lingers just a beat longer before he lets go, fingers trailing along your skin.Â
+++
âHe likes you, you know.â
You glance up from shaving Charlesâ face and find him staring at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You give a soft hum. âDid he tell you that or did you read his mind?â
Charles scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. âWhatâs the difference, dear?âÂ
You chuckle, shaking your head as you rinse the razor. âWith Logan Iâm pretty sure thereâs a big difference.â
âBah, if Logan wanted to keep me out of his head, he would. Stubborn man.â He tsks softly to himself and shakes his head. âBut, no my dear, he can be quite loud if you know how to listen.â
You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. âLoud, huh? And what exactly is that brain of his telling you?â
Charles gives you a knowing smile. âOh, just little things,â he says casually with a wave of his hand, but you can tell by the look on his face that heâs holding back. âHe notices youâwhat you do for me, this place, for him. He may not realize it himself, but his thoughts linger on you more often than heâd like.â
A flicker of hope sparks in your chest and despite yourself, you feel a blush creeping into your cheeks. âLogan doesnât strike me as the sentimental type.â
âLogan has spent so much of his life running,â Charles continues, his tone and expression growing more thoughtful. âThe loss heâs experienced has led him to believe itâs better to be alone than form meaningful connections with people. But youâve somehow become something of a home for him. And he doesnât quite know what to make of that.â
Your heart skips a beat as you take in his words. The idea of being a home for Logan, a comfort, feels surreal, and yet...thereâs a part of you that dares to hope what Charles is saying is true. That this isnât some fictional truth his brain has concocted, a product of his disease riddled mind.Â
âHome.â You repeat the word softly to yourself, testing the word on your own tongue as if it might shatter into pieces.
Charles nods, his hand reaching for yours, his gaze warm and knowing. âYes, home. He feels it, deep down, in a way thatâs unfamiliar and frightening for him.â
You glance down at your hand in Charlesâ grasp, his touch grounding you as his words settle over you.Â
âLoganâs spent so long hiding from himself,â Charles continues. âI think heâs convinced himself he doesnât deserve that kind of peace.â
âAnd you think I can give him that peace?â you ask quietly, your eyes flicking back up to Charlesâ face.
He smiles knowingly and gives your hand a squeeze. âYou already have, dear.â
+++
âWant some help?â
You turn to find Logan standing in the entrance of the kitchen, hands tucked into his pockets.
Itâs a rare nightâone where Loganâs chosen to stay home, taking a night off from the almost endless driving he does. Heâs dressed down, well worn jeans and a button-up flannel, and for once you actually think he looks comfortable.
You smile, surprised, but happy to see him there. âSure, the company would be nice,â you reply as he comes to stand next to you. âWant to wash and dice the potatoes?â
Logan nods and rolls up his sleeves before reaching for the bowl of potatoes you had set aside earlier. You watch him for a moment as he settles into the task with a quiet focus.Â
âSmells good,â he comments, gesturing towards the oven. âWhatâre we having?â
âCharles has been asking for beef tenderloin for weeks now, so Iâm finally indulging him.â You finish trimming the last of the green beans and toss them into the bowl beside you. âYou know, if you have any favorite meals youâd like me to make, you can tell me.â
Logan pauses and glances at you as he shuts off the tap. He clears his throat and says, âYou already are.â
You blink in surprise as Loganâs words sink in and then the realization dawns on you. A soft smile spreads across your face as you piece together the extent of Charlesâ meddling. You canât find it in you to be annoyed and only feel a mix of amusement and fondness towards the old man as you chuckle softly to yourself.
âWhatâs so funny?â Logan asks, raising his eyebrow as he catches your expression.
âOh, nothing,â you say, waving him off with a smile.Â
Logan doesnât look convinced, but he doesnât pry as he picks up the knife and begins to deftly dice the potatoes. You watch him for a moment, captivated by the simple domesticity of the task. Itâs in direct contrast to the man youâve seen numerous times before, brooding and gruff, brimming with an almost untamed violence.Â
It suits him, you think, this quieter version of himself.
You both finish the prep with relative ease. He helps you set the table as the rest of the food cooks, plates clinking softly as he sets them down. You busy yourself with finishing the green beans in a garlic butter as you wait for for the tenderloin to rest enough to carve into.Â
âAh, my dear, this smells wonderful,â Charles announces as he rolls into the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. âAnd you managed to pull Logan out of his room. What a treat.â
Logan snorts in response, giving Charles a pointed glare.
âI dare say itâs because the company has improved much as of late,â Charles says, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he glances between the both of you. âWe all know heâs not out here for my benefit.â
You laugh as you bring the dishes to the table, noting the faintest of blushes creeping along Loganâs cheeks. âIâll take that as a compliment, Charles.â
âAs you should, dear. Your personality is quite sparkling.â He looks over towards Logan. âIsnât it, Logan?â
Loganâs eyes land on you as he answers, âYes. Yes, it is.â
Dinner begins quietly, the three of you settling into easy conversation as the first few bites are consumed. Both Charles and Logan hum in delight and a warmth blooms within you watching them both. Thisâthis is the simplicity youâve been craving with Logan.
As the meal continues, Charles launches into his usual repertoire of stories, those of the school and his students, his words brimming with nostalgia and pride as he talks. Logan sits back in his chair, arms crossed as he listens to him speak, shaking his head fondly at some of the memories.
âYou know,â Charles begins, setting his fork down with an air of mischief, âI donât think I ever told you how I met Logan, have I?â
Loganâs head snaps up. âDonât, Chuck.â
But Charles is already smiling at you, ignoring Loganâs warning. âItâs a good story, dear. See, Logan had quite the career as an underground cage fighter.â
You lift your brows in surprise and you glance over at Logan, whoâs thoroughly unamused by Charlesâ choice of topic. âCage fighting, huh?â you ask, unable to suppress your curiosity.Â
Logan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stabbing at his potatoes with a little more force than necessary. âIt wasnât a career,â he mutters. âJust a distraction. Way to get by.â
âMmm, yes, perhaps,â Charles chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. âRegardless of the reason, it lead you to this exact moment. Didnât it, Logan?â
Logan narrows his eyes at Charles, though the glare is only half-hearted. âYou make it sound like all it all had some grand purpose.â
âDid it not?â Charles says gently, his tone shifting into something more serious. âKept you alive, for one. But more than that, it brought you to us. To me.â He pauses for a moment, his eyes darting towards you. âTo her.â
The words hang in the air and you glance over at Logan, whose expression softens just slightly. Without thinking, you reach across the table and give his forearm a gentle squeeze. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.
Charles watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction before clearing his throat. âWell, I believe my work here is done,â he announces, wheeling himself back from he table. âLogan, fancy a game of chess? I havenât made a player out of her yet.â
You laugh to yourself as Logan follows Charles into the living room. After clearing the kitchen from dinner and loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, you join them both in the living room. Tucking yourself into the couch, you read while the two of them play, the clinking of wooden chess pieces and the occasional dry quip from Charles filling the room.
From your spot on the couch, you glance up from your book every now and then to watch them. Loganâs brow furrows in concentration, while Charlesâ face is more relaxed as they play. You smile to yourself, wondering how often they played like this in the past, when times were simpler.
Youâre not sure when you fell asleep or how long youâve been out, but youâre jostled awake as two large, warm arms wrap around you, holding you close as youâre lifted off the couch. Loganâs familiar scentâcigar smoke and pineâfill your nose and you blink up to find him walking you down the hall towards your room.
âLogan?â you mumble, voice thick with sleep. âDâyou really cage fight?â
Logan chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. âI really did.â
âDid it hurt?â
âNo.â
You blink slowly, your sleep-laden mind struggling to process his answer. âNot even a little?â Your voice is barely audible as you nestle closer into the warmth of his chest.
âNot in the way you think,â he answers, nudging open the door to your room with his foot.
Youâre too drowsy to ask what he means and instead you hum softly, a noncommittal sound that Logan feels more than hears. Lowering you onto the bed, he moves with a gentleness youâve never felt from him before. He brushes a strand of hair from your face and pulls the blanket over you before he turns to leave.
Your limbs are heavy, eyes barely open, but you call out softlyââLogan?â
He looks back towards you. âYeah?â
âIâm glad Charles found you,â you murmur, closing your eyes.
Logan doesnât answer, but you swear you feel the lightest of kisses against the top of your head before he leaves.
+++
Itâs deep into the night when you hear the front door finally open. Your heart flutters against your ribs as you swing out of bed, unsure of what condition youâll find him in. He was expected back two days ago, those extra hours away feeling like an unfathomable eternity.Â
You find him sitting at the kitchen table, dress shirt hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his clothes rumpled and bloodied. A large gash oozes from his shoulder and you canât stop the gasp that falls from your lips.Â
Logan looks up at you, eyes narrowed and lined with exhaustion. âDonât look at me like that,â he grunts, tugging off the rest of his shirt.Â
âHow else am I supposed to look at you?â you ask, taking a tentative step forward. âNo phone call or text letting me know youâre not coming home and then you waltz in after midnight soaked in blood and covered in wounds.â Unshed tears burn in your eyes but you will yourself not to cry.Â
âDidnât ask you to care about me,â he bites back, but his tone is more weary than argumentative.Â
âOh, fuck you, Logan,â you snip, but your tone lacks venom.
He ignores you, pushing up from the chair with a heavy groan and limps over towards the cabinets. He shuffles through one of them, pulling out the makeshift sewing kit before sitting back down. You watch as he attempts to thread the needle, growing increasingly frustrated when he keeps missing.Â
Shoving down your own frustration, you pull up a chair next to him and reach for the needle and thread. He pulls his hands away from you, turning in the chair to keep you away. You chase after his movements, finally grabbing his wrists and removing the supplies from his grasp.
âI donât need your help,â he growls.Â
You sigh, tired of this same argument, this same endless loop every time he comes home injured. âGoddamit, Logan, just let me help you.â
He drags his gaze up to yours, eyes tracing the lines of your face. His chest still heaves with heavy breaths, but you can see the anger bleed from him. He nods once, turning just enough so that you have access to his wound. Threading the needle, you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch he gives at your touch.Â
âIâm not going to hurt you,â you whisper.Â
Logan huffs. âItâs a needle, darlinâ. Itâs not gonna feel nice.â
You try to ignore the flip your heart does at his use of the word darling. Despite his earlier gruffness and proclivity to push you away, Logan has softened to you over the last couple of months. Since that first dinner you shared, heâs joined you and Charles more often. Or if he comes home late, sought out the leftovers youâve kept for him. Heâs engaged in conversation, offering small pieces of himself, pieces that youâve cradled close and nurtured.Â
But thereâs a tension between you, thick and heavy in the air, and you wonder if he feels it too. Feels that same undeniable pull youâve always felt in his presence. Youâd like to think so, otherwise you were doomed to love him silently, your feelings for him bound in the quiet of your mind.
âJust trust me,â you say.Â
Slowly, you release your power, warmth spreading from your fingertips, easing his pain and discomfort as you begin to stitch him up. You try to ignore the heavy press of his gaze on your face and you can almost hear his unspoken thoughts, his words still stuck on his tongue.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â he asks, his shoulder relaxing as you continue to work.
You glance up at him then, finding his expression softer than youâve seen it. âA mutant is a dangerous thing to be, Logan,â you answer, your voice soft. âFew people know what I can do. Those I trust.â
For a long moment, Logan just looks at you, his eyes unreadable. Then, a rough, tired sigh falls from his lips. âYou coulda told me.â
You take a steadying breath, his words lingering in the space between you. âMaybe,â you say, your fingers brushing against his skin as you continue to stitch. âBut you donât make it easy to talk to you.â
Logan lets out a low huff. âNo. I guess I donât, do I?â
You finish the last stitch, securing the knot. Your fingers linger a touch long than necessary, the warmth of his skin a comfort youâre loathe to lose just yet. Slowly, you lift your gaze to his and you feel your heart beat solidly against your ribs as he looks back at you like heâs seeing something there he hadnât allowed himself to before.Â
Loganâs voice is low when he finally speaks. âWhy you keep stickinâ around? Watchinâ me come home time after time covered in blood?â
âBecause you deserve it.â The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. âEven if you donât see that.â
He doesnât respond, not right away, as he continues to watch you, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. Then he reaches up for you, fingers curling around your wrist, his skin warm and rough against yours. He holds you there as if grounding himself in your presence, his thumb drawing random patterns against your skin. The gesture is simple, but vulnerable and open in a way he rarely shows.
âIâm no good for you,â he murmurs, glancing down at where heâs touching you. âFor anybody.â
âHow âbout you let me be the judge of that?â you answer, your voice steady. âYouâre more than you think you are.â
Logan clenches his jaw, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features, and you know deep below the surface heâs waging a war against himself, one heâs been fighting for far too long. His thumb stills on your wrist, his grip loosening slightly, but not letting go.Â
Placing your hand over his, you give him a soft smile. âCâmon, letâs get you cleaned up.â
+++
Youâre surprised that he doesnât argue, doesnât try to brush you off or push you away as you gently nudge him towards the bathroom. He still gives you a dubious glance as he looks down at the tub, but you just ignore it, moving past him to run the tap.
You give him privacy to undress and get settled before you reenter the bathroom. The sight of him, as large as he his with his knees pulled up to his chest, makes you laugh, garnishing a terse look from him.
âYou find this amusing?â
âBig man in a little tub? Yeah, I do,â you reply with a smile. âJust relax, Logan. Thisâll be our secret.â
He huffs, but does seem to visibly relax, resting his arms over his knees. You kneel down in front of him, resting one hand gently against his forearm as your other reaches for the washcloth. You can feel the tension release from his muscles as your power floods through him and he breathes out a soft, âOh,â as all the pain and discomfort is eased from his body.
You wonder how long itâs truly been since heâs felt like this, unburdened by the pain and suffering of his own body. Your heart aches for him as you slowly begin to wash him, rubbing soft circles over the scarred flesh of his back, rinsing away the blood dried to his skin.Â
Even battered and marred as he is, you still find him beautifulâyou always have. When you first started working with him all those months ago, you felt that pang of attraction when you met him, youâd have been blind not to. Ruggedly handsome, so strong and sure of himself. But you know that wasnât all that drew you to him. Deep down, below all the tough, seemingly impenetrable exterior, you saw the man he truly was. Someone born of scars and rough edges, yet gentle. Someone who would selflessly put himself before others, even at his own expense.Â
You let the cloth linger a moment longer against his skin before dipping it back into the water, watching as his blood rinses from the fabric. Squeezing the excess water out, you press it back against his collarbone, tracing the warm cloth along his neck and over his shoulders. Logan doesnât move, his eyes half-closed, his expression relaxed in a way youâve never seen before.
Something deep tugs at you as you realize how vulnerable he is right now, how trusting. He hides behind a gruff exterior, his true self guarded so carefully so that he doesnât let people in, doesnât open himself up to the hurt that trusting another person can bring. But maybe youâve finally cracked through, broken down a little bit of that wall he surrounds himself with.
The warm water drips from his skin as you continue to wash him, letting your fingers trail gently along the newly cleaned lines of his arms. Logan shivers at your touch, but he doesnât pull away. If anything, he seems to lean into it, his breathing deepening, muscles falling even more slack.Â
âFeel nice?â you ask in a murmur, voice barely above a whisper.
He nods, finally glancing up at you through his half-lidded gaze. ââS very nice,â he replies, his voice rough.
âGood. You deserve it,â you say, repeating your sentiment from earlier.
You feel a flicker of warmth as his eyes meet yours and he simply nods. It takes everything in you to not smile too widely, to keep the moment gentle, but you take his acceptance to heart.Â
Running the cloth down his ribs, you pause when you feel the misshapen knot of a bruise beneath your fingers and glancing down, you find a deep purple hue coloring his skin. Your eyes dart to his with worry, knowing that an injury like that will take him at least a week to heal, if not longer, in his weakened state. That with every breath heâll feel the pain of his muscles pulling and the bruise spreading if youâre not touching him.
Dropping the washcloth in the water, you press your palm against his side and take in a deep breath to steady yourself. Then, a warmth spreads from your skin into his as you pull his injury from him, feeling his skin knit back together, feeling his abused muscles realign themselves under his skin. A dull, yet sharp ache, blooms along your ribs as you continue to pull his pain into yourself, erasing the injury from his body. With a final gasp, you draw back, your fingers now running along unmarred flesh knitted whole.Â
Logan tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze as the back of his knuckles brush against your cheek. His eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze, and for a moment, the room falls into a deep quiet.
That pull between you, the magnetic force that youâve felt since the beginning, feels amplified now. Youâre acutely aware of every inch of space between youâhow small it is, how easy it would be to close it. How badly you want to close it. You swallow, feeling the tension coil in your belly as he continues to hold your gaze, unblinking, but more open and raw than heâs ever been before.
âWhat are you doing to me?â he asks.
Your breath catches in your throat at his question, voice rough and laced with something between wonder and disbelief. As if he canât quite fathom what youâve done for himâwhat youâve given him so freely.
Loganâs eyes search yours, his fingers drifting from your cheek to trace along your jaw, lingering with a tenderness that belies the man he presents to the outside world. His gaze is steady and intimate, as if heâs trying to understand you in a way that goes beyond words. But you say nothing, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears to form a reply.
âYou took it on yourself, my pain?â
You simply nod, distracted by the way Loganâs fingers continue to brush along the edge of your ear, tracing the lines of your face as if heâs afraid youâll vanish if he lets go.Â
âWhy?â
âBecause I want to,â you whisper, unable to resist the pull of his hand against your skin, the warmth of his touch that you feel with every fiber of your being. âBecause itâs the one thing I can do to help you.â
A beat of silence passes, the air thick and heavy with unspoken words. He exhales, shaky and deep, letting his hand slide to the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his fingers press gently against your skin, anchoring you in place and you can feel him pull you closer, his gaze dropping to your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the small, intimate space between you.
âI shouldnât want this, want you,â he says, voice so low itâs almost a rumble. âBut, fuck, I do.âÂ
His confession is raw, leaving him unguarded for the first time in a long time and before he can pull back, before he can throw those walls back up around himself, you close the gap, resting your forehead against his. You bring your hand up to touch his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as you breath him in, feeling the heat radiate between you.Â
Loganâs hand slides further along your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he finally, gently, presses his lips to yours. His kiss isnât demanding or rushed or filled with passion, but a lingering connection, the promise of something more. His lips are softer than you imagined, his touch more careful than you expected, as if heâs afraid heâll break you. Slowly, his thumb traces circles against your cheek, steadying and soothing, pulling you closer.Â
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. His breath is warm against your skin. âI donât wanna push you away anymore,â he murmurs.
âGood because I donât want you to.â
Logan lets out a breath, a hint of a smile finally softening his features.Â
Reluctantly, you pull away and pick the washcloth up again, intent on finishing what you started. The water turns to rust as you wash him of blood and grime, making sure you reach each cut, each bruise, each scar on his body that makes up the map of who he is.Â
You turn off the tap and hand him a towel, averting your eyes as he stands, wrapping the towel low across his hips. Logan reaches for you, tugging on the collar of your shirt to pull you closer. You stumble a bit as he pulls you in, surprised by the insistence in his grip. Loganâs eyes meet yours, an intensity behind his gaze that makes your breath catch.
âCâmere,â he murmurs, hand slipping along your jaw, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip.Â
Youâre drawn forward as Loganâs lips find yours again, but this time thereâs an urgency behind the kiss, a desperation and need heâs no longer trying to hide. He holds your face gently in his hands as he deepens the kiss, his nose pressing against yours, his beard scraping against your skin and you find yourself melting against him.
This is what youâve been craving since you met him. Despite it allâthe rage simmering just below his surface, the sharpness of his exterior, the sometimes shocking callousness of his wordsâyou always knew there was a tenderness underneath, a softness that even his tortured past couldnât erase.Â
Loganâs hands drift from your face, trailing down your neck and tracing along the curve of your spine as he presses you closer until thereâs no space between you. The dampness of his skin bleeds into your shirt and you gasp into his mouth when he shifts his hips just enough and you feel heat of his erection against your thigh.
He pulls away from your mouth long enough to husk against your lips, âIâm old, not dead.â His teeth nip lightly at your bottom lip. âIâve gotta beautiful woman lettinâ me kiss her, what did you expect?â
Your fingers trail along the edge of the towel slung low across this hips and a thrill runs through you as you feel his abdominal muscles flutter beneath your touch. You peer up at him, noting the flush of his skin, the black of his eyes as you tug the fabric just enough to loosen it. âHow long has it been since someone has touched you, Logan?â you ask, your breath warm in the space between you.
Loganâs hands urge your hips closer, seeking friction as he starts to slowly rut against your thigh. You hear him swallow as your fingers dip below the fabric, brushing along the damp hair at the base of his cock.Â
âFâfuck,â he groans, guttural and low, his head dropping down to your shoulder. âSince before you.â
The weight of Loganâs confession presses into you and in that moment you want to give him everything. Wrap him in all the love you can muster, show him something other than pain and suffering.Â
You move your hand from the towel, allowing the fabric to fall from his waist and pool forgotten on the floor. Loganâs breath catches as your fingers wrap around him fully, the heat and weight of his cock pressing against your palm.Â
A ragged groan escapes his throat. âChrist,â he mutters, voice thick and vibrating against your skin. âYou donât gottaââ
âI want to,â you interrupt, slowly and deliberately dragging your hand along his length, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock with your fingertips.
Loganâs hips jerk involuntarily, seeking friction, chasing your hand, and you oblige, tightening your grip just enough to elicit another groan from him.Â
âWhat do you like?â The question lands in the sliver of space between you, your strokes still light, teasing.
âFirmer, more ahââ He breaks off as you tighten your grip on the upstroke. âFuck, yes, like that, sweetheart.â
A shiver runs down your spine as his hands find your waist, fingers clutching at you almost hard enough to bruise. His breaths are growing uneven, each exhale warm against your neck as he fights to maintain some semblance of control.
âYou keep that up,â he rasps, lips grazing your ear, âand Iâm not gonna last long.â
His admission sends a rush of pride through you and you tilt your head back to look at him, your thumb brushing over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the wetness there. Loganâs eyes meet yours, dark and heavy-lidded, his expression raw and unguarded. You like him like this, such a large, imposing man boiled down to pure wanton need.Â
âI donât mind,â you reply, keeping your movements steady, your strokes firm yet gentle. You focus on the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his fingers grip you tighter each time you find the right rhythm. âJust wanna make you feel good, Logan.â
He leans forward, capturing your lips into a kiss thatâs both rough and messy, teeth nipping at your lip as his tongue licks into your mouth. He groans are muffled against your mouth as his hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes, his movements growing more erratic as he chases after his release.Â
âCanât believeâah, fuckâcanât believe how good youâre makinâ me feel,â he growls against your lips.
You smile into his mouth, your free hand brushing along his hipbone as your strokes quicken. His whole body tenses, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing, his abdominal muscles taut as he teeters on the edge.
âLet go, Logan,â you say. âIâve got you.â
With a strangled groan, he comes, his release spilling over your hand, hot and thick. His body shudders against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him close as he continues to thrust lazily into your grip, your own movements slowing as you guide him through the aftershocks.Â
For a moment, neither of you speaks, then Logan lifts his head, his hazel eyes soft as they meet yours. âYou walked into my life and I knewâI knewâyou would ruin me.â
You smile to yourself, unable to stop the thought that floats into your headâheâs ruined you as well.Â
+++
The text comes in at a little over one AMâhurt.
You jump out of bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you slip into one of his discarded flannels and head out into the night. Pacing the driveway, your heart jumps into your throat at every passing headlight, your thumbnail almost bitten down to the quick as you wait for him.
The minutes bleed into eternity until you finally see the limo turn down the long drive and it takes all your willpower to not run and meet him halfway. Youâre bouncing on your heels as he finally comes to a stop, the driverâs side door opening with a faint groan of steel.Â
Your heart stutters in your chest as he emerges from the car, blood soaking through his shirt, dark and spreading, as he steps towards you on shaky legs. Loganâs face is pale in the moonlight, his breathing uneven and shallow and white-hot dread shoots up your spine as you see his arm hanging limp, two of his claws unsheathed and dripping blood.
âOh, fuck, fuck!â you gasp, rushing to his side.
Logan tries to wave you off, gritting his teeth as he grips the doorframe. ââM fine,â he grits, but the tremor in his voice betrays him.Â
You reach for him, hands already attempting to steady him as his knees buckle and he collapses to the ground beneath him. âCareful. Claws,â he rasps as his left hand seeks purchase against your shoulder.
âI donât fucking care about your claws, Logan,â you snap, although you both know your anger isnât at him. You glance up at him and for once you think you actually see fear in his eyes. âWhat happened?â
âGas. Robbery.â Each word punches out of his chest, the effort to speak sending tremors down his limbs. âGot âem.â He nods down towards his limp arm, claws still unsheathed, but slowly, so slowly starting to retract.
He winces as you help him peel off his coat to get to the shirt underneath. Your fingers shake as they trace the holes the bullets madeâone in his shoulder, dangerously close to his lungs and the other just below his ribs. Hooking your fingers through the fabric, you rip it from his chestâthe wounds are deep and his skin is hot and slick with sweat.
Panic claws at you and unshed tears burn in your eyes. Youâve seen Logan hurt before, but thisâthis was different. His breathing is painfully shallow, his usual gruffness and resilience absent.Â
âLogan, youâre not healing,â you whisper, your voice shaking as your fingers stain with blood. Logan simply grunts, trying to wave you off, but lacking the strength. âI canâtâŚI canât lose you. I can help.â
Loganâs eyes widen as he grabs for your wrist. âNo. Youâll hurt yourself.â
âI donât care!â you shout. âI love you, dammit, and Iâm not just going to sit here and watch you die!â
Before he can protest, you press your palms over his wounds, the familiar warmth of your power surging through you as it spreads from your palms into his torn flesh.
The pain hits you like a freight train.
Itâs sharp and relentless, searing through your shoulder and into the softness of your belly like molten fire. You gasp, biting back a scream as your body jerks instinctively away from the intensity, every cell in your body demanding you withdraw from the torture.Â
But you donât stop. You cling to him, tears streaming down your face as you channel your power into him, knitting his flesh back together. You can feel it, the way his muscles, bones and tissue rearrange themselves, months of healing taking place in mere moments. Every second feels like an eternity, but you refuse to let go.
Youâre dimly aware of Logan yelling at you to stop, his own pain momentarily forgotten as he watches you endure his agony.Â
Black dots dance in your vision as the last of his wounds come together, the spent bullets clinking to the gravel and you finally collapse against him, trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The fire in your body begins to dull, fading to a cold, hollow ache as Logan wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest.
âHey,â you mumble against him, your voice barely above a whisper. âYouâre okay now.â
âMe?â Loganâs voice is low, disbelieving as his hand cradles the back of your head as if you might shatter. âYouâre the oneâwhy the fuck would you do that? You couldâveâdammit, youââ
His words break off, his forehead dropping to yours as his breath shudders against your cheek. You can feel the tension radiating through him, warring with himself between his gratitude and anger, between his guilt and the love heâs too afraid to speak out loud.
âI told you why,â you answer, lifting your head to look up at him.Â
Loganâs jaw clenches, his words caught in his throat, but his eyes say everything is voice wonât. You donât need him to say it, not yet, but you can feel it, pressing just below the surface.
âCâmon, letâs get you inside.â
+++
Thereâs a reverence in which Logan washes you.Â
Steam swirls around you as he works the thickly lathered loofah over your shoulders, down across your collarbones and down along the soft planes of your stomach. The water rinses away the faint metallic tang of blood, leaving behind the fresh scent of soap. He continues with a silent determination, as if the act of washing you can erase all the pain youâve taken from him.
You know better than to convince him youâre fine, that the pain is always temporary, that it only lasts for a few minutes, sometimes just a bit longer. That the pain is something youâd endure for him again and again if heâd let you.Â
His thumb brushes along the underside of your ribs, searching for a wound you know he wonât find. You reach for him, lacing your fingers together with his. He blinks up at you, hazel eyes holding far too much worry for such a stoic man.
âIâm not going to break, Logan,â you say softly.
A wordless noice escapes his throat as he removes himself from your grasp and continues to work, ditching the loofah in favor of his hands. His fingers are warm and calloused against your skin as they glide lower, down over the swell of your hips, over your thighs, down towards your knees.Â
His touch morphs from one of care and comfort to one more sensual, simmering with unspoken tension as his fingers rest in the hollow behind your knee. You glance down at him, water droplets catching in his hair, running off the slope of his nose.Â
Though youâve seen him bare before, you can help but trace the lines of his bodyâthe broadness of his shoulders, the well defined muscles of his chest, the sturdiness of his thighs, the scars that mar his skin. The sight of him stirs something deep within you and you feel your pulse thrum beneath your skin.
âLogan,â you murmur, your voice almost lost in the sound of the water.
He looks up at you then, eyes locking with yours. A storm swirls within them, a mix of guilt, affection and an intensity that takes your breath away. Leaning in, he presses the barest of kisses to the inside of your knee before he rises to his full height, pressing you close.
âDâyou mean what you said before?â he asks, voice low.
I love you, dammit!
âYes,â you answer without hesitation.
Logan exhales sharply, the tension heâs been holding coiled in his muscles loosening as he loops his arms around your waist. âIâm not very good with words,â he admits, his breath fanning across your damp skin. âCan I show you?â
Thereâs no mistaking the meaning behind his words and you can only nod, your voice catching in your throat.Â
His lips find yours, mouth moving over yours slow and deliberate as if heâs savoring the taste of you. The first touch is a spark, the second a fire, and by the third, itâs an inferno that engulfs you both and leaves you breathless. Logan kisses you like youâre his anchor, his salvation, his touch desperate and full of everything he canât yet put into words.
Your fingers slide into his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed in the space between you. His tongue brushes against yours, teasing and exploring and you respond in kind, your nails scraping along his scalp.
Loganâs control is fraying. You can feel it in the way his teeth nip at your bottom lip, the way his hands press along the curve of your spine, the way he canât seem to find enough of your skin to touch, to caress. A low growl rumbles through his chest as you slip a hand between your slick bodies, finding his cock, thick and heavy against your belly.
You give one slow drag of your palm along his length before heâs gripping your thighs and forcing your legs around his waist. His mouth leaves yours, trailing down to the curve of your jaw as he presses you against the wall, the coolness of the tile a direct contrast to the heat of your skin and you canât stop the gasp that escapes your lips.Â
Despite his age, the metal bones inside him slowly poisoning him and causing him human aches and pains, heâs still able to hold you up solidly with one arm as the other trails along your hip bone and dips down to where youâre warm and wet.Â
âThis all for me?â he asks in a murmur, sliding a finger along the seam of your cunt, just barely brushing against your clit.Â
Your breath hitches and you grip his shoulders, nails pressing lightly into his skin as you nod. Loganâs eyes darken at your reaction, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
âYes,â you finally manage to whisper. âAlways for you.â
âGood,â he growls, leaning in to nip at the skin just below your ear. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through you, his touch deliberate and almost torturously slow as he slides his fingers through your folds, spreading your slickness with a focused and unrelenting precision.Â
âOh, fuck,â you gasp, your head tilting back against the wall as he finally presses his thumb to your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to have your thighs trembling around his waist.Â
âI got you,â he coos against your skin, his lips trailing from the pulse point in your neck to your collarbone. His teeth scrape along the curve of your shoulder, his free hand gripping your hip tighter to steady you as his fingers continue to tease and coax. âLemme make you feel good.â
Every nerve ending is afire beneath him, every motion, every stroke of his fingers against your cunt leaving your mind reeling with pleasure. Your nails dig further into corded muscles of his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor yourself to. You pull back when you see the tiny, crescent shaped cuts marring his skin.
His eyes snap up to yours, sharp and molten. âNo, do it,â he urges, fingers still moving. âMark me with somethinâ pretty.â
âFuck, Logan,â you gasp.Â
âSay my name again,â he demands, his voice rough and commanding. Thereâs a quiet desperation in his tone, as if hearing it grounds him. Grounds him to this moment. To you.Â
You canât help but obey, whispering his name like a prayer, and he rewards you by slipping one long finger inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure along your spine. Logan watches your face intently as if memorizing the way you react to his touch. When he adds a second finger and slowly begins to thrust his hand, you cling further to him, the heat inside you building to an almost unbearable intensity.
âGood girl,â he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. âYouâre so beautiful like this. So wet and warm and tight around me.â
His words barely register in your mind, too focused on the way his fingers curl and thrust inside you, finding that soft spot that makes your eyes roll back. Heâs relentless now, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.
âLogan, Iâm so close,â you whine, your hips beginning to roll against his hand, seeking just a bit more friction, forcing his fingers deeper inside of you.
The tension coiling low in your belly finally snaps, your orgasm washing over you in waves that make your whole body shudder as you cry out his name. Logan holds you through it, his hand continuing to thrust against you as he draws out every ounce of pleasure from you, his own breathing ragged against your skin.
When you finally come down, Logan presses a kiss to your temple as he helps you unwrap your legs from his waist and carefully sets you down, keeping you close.Â
You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. âI didnât think youâd be into shower sex, old man,â you tease with a smile.
His laugh is low. âI can make exceptions. I need a bed to fuck you properly, though.âÂ
âProve it,â you challenge.
+++
The heat and intensity between you doesnât diminish as Logan helps you out of the shower and guides you down the hallway towards his bedroom. A shiver of anticipation crawls up your spine as you get closer, knowing that once you cross this line, thereâs no going back, that he will have claimed you fully.
You scoot back onto the bed, watching as he approaches you with a fire in his gaze that doesnât waver. He climbs onto the mattress, knee pressing down between yours as he cages you in from above, gently pinning you beneath him.Â
Leaning down, his lips brush against yours, teasing. âStill wanna challenge me, sweetheart?â His voice is a low gravelly growl that sends a prickling rush of arousal down your limbs.
âAlways,â you reply breathlessly, arching into his touch as his hands slide down your thighs, parting them with ease.Â
His grin is sharp as he leans back to take you in fully and you acutely feel the weight of his gaze against your skin. He traces his calloused fingers over your damp skin, along the dips of your collarbones, under the swell of each breast, mapping the curve of your hips as if committing you to memory. Dipping his head, he leans down between your legs, his beard grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you canât help but shudder at the sensation.
âYouâre so fuckinâ beautiful,â he says, almost to himself, his voice dripping with desire. He drags his lips higher, brushing along your damp cunt, his breath hot and tantalizing. âAnd all mine.â
The possessiveness in his tone has you clenching around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly and your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer. But he ignores your silent plea, almost deliberately testing your patience as he kisses you everywhere except where you want him most.
âLogan, please,â you gasp, the ache between your thighs almost painful.
âPatience,â he chides with a smirk, though his own resolve seems to be thinning. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer before he flattens his palms against your thighs, opening you fully to him. Then, his tongue is on you, lapping at you with flat, broad strokes in a rhythm that quickly has you teetering on the edge.
Loganâs focus is unrelenting, his low growls of approval vibrating through you as he works you over with an enthusiasm that proves to you this is about more than just pleasureâheâs claiming you, showing you just how much you mean to him. Making you his.Â
Your thighs tremble around him and his warm, rough hands hold you steady as he slips one, then two fingers deep inside of you. Itâs embarrassing how quickly you come as he thrusts his fingers against that spot inside you, your second orgasm of the night crashing over you as his name falls from his lips in a breathless moan.Â
Before you can properly catch your breath, Logan is moving from between your thighs, making his way back up your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. His lips finally find yours in a kiss thatâs messy and desperate and you can taste yourself on his tongue, sharp and bright, and the intimacy of it sends a thrill through you.Â
âYou taste so fuckinâ good,â he groans against your lips, his voice wrecked as he grinds his hips against yours, his cock hard and insistent against your hip. âCould spend the rest of my life between between those thighs.â
âWhy stop there?â you tease, your lips tugging into a smirk. âI thought you said youâd fuck me properly.â
Loganâs eyes darken, your challenge seeming to light something dark and primal in him. His grin is all teeth as he sits back on his heels, hands curling around your hips and pulling you down the bed like you weigh nothing until your hips are flush with his. âYou gotta mouth on you, sweetheart. Should we see if you can still talk stuffed full of my cock?â
The weight of his cock brushes against your slick folds and you gasp at the sensation, your nerve endings exquisitely sensitive. Logan grips himself at the base, giving himself one languid stroke before running the thick head along your cunt, teasing you with shallow thrusts. Each slow, deliberate stroke of him sliding against you leaves you desperate and aching and you lift your hips in search of more.
âLook at you,â he murmurs. âSo needy. Bet youâll take me so well, huh?â
âYes,â you breathe, nails digging into the muscles of his forearms. âPlease.â
He presses into you then, the stretch of his cock making your jaw drop as he takes his time, sinking in inch by inch, filling you completely. Loganâs gaze is locked on yours, heavy and possessive as he watches every flicker of pleasure cross your face.Â
âFuckâ he groans when heâs fully seated against your hips, his body trembling with the effort to stay still. âYou feelâŚso fuckinâ tight. So damn perfect.â
Your hands clutch at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as he starts to move, pulling out torturously slow before thrusting back in harder, setting a rhythm thatâs relentless and consuming. Each stroke of his hips has you crying out, your body arching into his as you meet him thrust for thrust.
âTakinâ me so well, sweetheart,â he growls, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise as he continues to pound into you. âLike you were made for me.â
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing in with your whimpered moans and Logans own ragged groans. He leans down, bracing himself on his forearms, the wiry hair on his chest teasing your nipples as his lips find your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin that feel like promises.
Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper, your heels digging into his back as the coil inside you begins to tighten once more. He feels it too, the way you body clenches around him, and his pace falters slightly, his breaths coming faster.
âCâmon,â he rasps against the pulse point on your neck. âWanna feel you come. Wanna make you fall apart.â
It doesnât take much moreâjust a few more well-angled thrusts that hit that spot inside you and the tension finally snaps, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling. Loganâs finesse is slipping, thrusts growing erratic as chases his own release.
âCome Logan,â you manage in a whisper. âCome for me.â
His hips stutter as he groans your name, spilling into you as his body tenses, lazily thrusting against you as he wrings out the last of his pleasure. He stays deep inside you, still for several moments before he shifts just enough to collapse against your side.
For a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breathes and the pounding of your heart. Logan rests his head against your chest, heavy and sweat slick between your breasts. You brush at the strands of hair against his forehead before running your finger along the old scar on his cheek.
He lifts his head to look up at you, his gaze soft yet still simmering with hunger. âI do, you know,â he murmurs. His fingers brush idly against your skin. âLove you.â
A smile spreads across your face, warming blooming in your chest.
âI know.â
+++
You wake before he does, rolling over to find him prone, face buried in the pillow he hugs close to his chest. Sunlight filters in through the half slatted blinds, catching on the silver in his hair and beard and you canât help but admire how handsome he looks, how at peace he is beside you. Heâs relaxed in sleep for the first time since you came here. Youâve heard his growls and yelps of terror that echo in the night, seen the claw marks that pierce his sheets.
Your mind filters back to last night and how he looked as he came apart inside you, how desperate and needy he was for your touch upon his skin. The memory of his gasps and groans send a rush of warmth over your skin, making you dimly aware of the ache between your legs. Logan, so guarded, so unyielding and seemingly unbreakable, trembled as he came, his voice rough and wrecked as he called out your name. You shiver thinking about it.
You want to hear it again. But not now.
Resisting the urge to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead, you leave him undisturbed and slide out of bed. Padding into the kitchen, you find Charles sitting in his chair at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He looks up at you with a warm smile as you start a pot of coffee, the machine humming to life.Â
âAh, I see,â he comments, a smirk tugging at his lips.
You glance over at Charles, his eyes back on the paper in front of him, but his smile still paints his face, sly and knowing. Heat creeps up your neck as you busy yourself with the coffee. âAre you reading my mind?â you ask, trying to force nonchalance into your tone.
Charles chuckles softly and taps at his temple. âI donât have to. Youâre projecting. And quite loudly, at that.â
You bite your lip as you fill your mug, leaning against the counter as the coffee warms your hands. You attempt to clear your mind, trying to think of anything mundaneâthe weather, baseball, laundry. Charles just shakes his head. âRelax, my dear. What the two of you do together as consenting adults is none of my business.â
âOh, God,â you groan, your cheeks aflame. âThatâs what Iâm projecting?â
âNot that explicitly, no. You think more in feelings, rather than words. But theyâre quite powerful emotions and rather hard to ignore when theyâre radiating as strongly as yours are this morning.â
You bury your face in your hand, peeking at Charles through your fingers, which only seems to amuse him further. âYouâre enjoying this far too much,â you mutter.Â
âPerhaps,â Charles says with a laugh. âBut youâre helping him. Healing him. And that, my dear, is worth everything.âÂ
Before you can respond, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Logan rounds the corner, hair tousled from sleep, his body still bare except for the pair of low slung sweatpants clinging to his hips. His eyes find yours first, softening in a way they rarely do for anyone else as he scratches at the back of his head and mumbles, âMorninâ.â
âMorning,â you reply with a smile, thankful for the distraction. You pour a second cup of coffee and offer it up to him. âCoffee?â
Logan grunts in affirmation, moving towards you, but instead of reaching for the mug, he loops an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. He buries his face in your neck, beard scraping against your skin as he sighs. âDidnât like wakinâ up with you not there,â he breathes into your hair, his voice so low you almost donât hear him.
âSorry,â you whisper. âI didnât want to disturb you.â
âSâokay,â he says softly, pressing the lightest of kisses just under your ear. âNext time, wake me.â
Your heart stutters against your ribs at his open display of affection, the softness and warmth in which he holds you, and the promise behind his words. From over his shoulder you see Charles give you a slight nod, a bright smile on his face before he turns his attention back to the newspaper in front of him.
You think back to what Charles told you all those months ago, about how you were a home for Logan. Those words echo in your mind as you feel Loganâs steady weight against you. Heâs so different now, soft and unguarded and in that moment you know.
Youâre home, too.
#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x you#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett fic#logan howlett fanfiction#logan x reader#logan howlett smut#logan howlett x fem!reader#wolverine smut#wolverine x men#wolverine fanfiction#old man logan#old man logan x reader#old man logan smut#logan x you
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arcane spoilers (s2ep09) incoming
so ive seen people talk about this scene, particularly about how jayce accepts viktors touch even when he knows its coming and could potentially dodge it/counter it with the hammer
from what ive read mostly people talk about how much affection (ha) and trust jayce puts in viktor, and personally i also think its because he saw the future and knows its the only way to reach him
if he wants to save him, save piltover he must strip away all the walls viktor has built around himself and his emotions, and thus jayce needs to be let into the hive mind where he can talk to actual viktor and not herald (also parallels to that scene when he shoots him, someone said he didnt let viktor utter a word because he knew he would convince him THEY ARE SO WEAK FOR EACH OTHER MY GOD)
but thats not what i wanted to talk about!! going back to the beginning of that scene on the rooftop
doesnt this seem awfully similar to the medieval coronation ceremony?
jayce is kneeling surrounded by followers/past inhabitants of zaun/piltover, during medieval coronation ceremonies it was a priest who would bestow the crown upon the future king. moreover, coronation was often considered a religious rite because of how rulers and deities were closely tied (different cultures would believe in different versions of this, that their ruler was chosen by gods or perhaps their descendant/vessel).
we already joke how viktor became god/jesus/deity/eldritch cosmic being etc, we also know despite everything he still holds strong feelings towards jayce (damn hypocrite) and views him differently than the others
so it would make sense he would wish to personally "introduce" jayce to his hive mind cult
notice how when jayce got to the roof NONE of the marionettes/machines tried to get to him asap unlike they do with others
no, this is a ceremony performed by their god who is choosing the one closest to him, demonstrating to the world how he wishes jayce to be the ruler of his glorious evolution
viktor places his fingers on him gently and carefully, while when they were fighting in the councils room he was ready to force his touch when jayce initially rejected his proposal (always trying to make jayce understand his perspective)
and jayce accepts it with so much serenity and solemnity that in that moment reminded me strongly of aragorn in lotr
a true king in the eyes of the one coronating them
also his unique fingerprints make me think of a crown/circlet every single time i see them and thats why i wrote all of this
i love all things related to medieval knighthood/royalty so this whole interaction has been boiling in my head until it spilled over, you are welcome
#arcane spoilers#arcane#jayvik#jayce talis#viktor arcane#jayce x viktor#yaoi so good it changed me as a person#i genuinely have not had a normal thought since the finale#also i havent really posted any blogs where i just?? talk?? happy yapper blog virginity loss
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3k7 | Marcus Acacius x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist
Summary: Acacius returns from Numidia several months after his departure, and comes back to his wife
Warnings: 18+ mdni. fluff, smut, established relationship, Acacius and reader are married and deeply in love, Acacius is devoted to his wife (heâs soft, protective, caring and slightly possessive), oral (m/f), oil massages, size kink, piv, creampie. No age specified
a/n:  this fic is just soft and sweet and I hope it will bring comfort to those who need it. This is my love letter to Acacius, basically, after watching Gladiator 2 (no spoilers towards the movie). I love this character so much. I did some research but I'm not an expert on ancient Rome at all.
Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for always holding my hand and for beta-ing, @joelmillerisapunk for cheering me up, @iamasaddie for being a sunshine- đŤśđ dividers @saradika-graphics đ
You felt his presence before he even spoke.Â
You knew he was here, because all your worries, all the tension in your body, dissipated instantly. All the weight accumulated during those last months was removed from your shoulders, allowing your body to relax and open up.
"My lady..," you heard.Â
You stood up and faced him, turning away from the fish pond. You murmured his name then hurried towards him to snuggle against his broad, protective chest, where nothing bad could reach you. His arms surrounded you, as his lips kissed your forehead and your hands slid along his waist to his back. The warmth radiated from him, warming your entire being, body and soul.
"You are here, my love," you whispered, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You had been holding them back for so long. Too long. Because you didn't want to seem weak, and because you didn't want to let your brain swallow you up in its darkness.
But now Acacius was here, and you could allow your fragility to consume you for a moment, to be your true self, letting your emotions overwhelm you. Because you knew that he would want to absorb them for you, to protect you. To be your man.
"I'm finally here. I missed you, you have no idea. You were always in my thoughts, my beloved.â
You hugged each other tighter, and you buried your face in his chest, rubbing against him, like a cat that marks its territory with its scent.Â
"I missed you too, Acacius," you replied, finally raising your face to his, staring into those soft brown eyes that you missed so much. The eyes of your husband who had returned from Numidia. Returned victorious, as always, but the worry never left you when he was gone. The intrusive thoughts that made you fear that he wouldnât come back to you, that he had perished. Or worse, taken prisoner. The highest representative of the Roman Empire on the battlefield, the general of Rome, gods only knew what they would do to him.
Caressing his cheek with your thumb, you chased away those dark thoughts to let yourself enjoy the present. Your husband, your love was there. You brushed his wrinkles, as you took the time to admire his slightly grayer curls, before running your fingers through them.
"You are even more beautiful than when I left," he said in a low, calm voice. You smiled when you heard him, moved by his love for you that was radiating from him. Love that had never wavered during your marriage. He always came back to you, as soon as he had dealt with the burdens placed upon him by the emperors he hated.
"Let me feed you, my love," you said. "And bathe you."
You walked toward the caldarium, his arm around your shoulder, yours around his waist, your body pressed against his. You were holding each other close as you were walking, it had been so long since he left for Africa nova.
âI cleaned myself before I went to the coliseum. You donât have to, you know?â
âI know. But I love to do it, even if itâs only symbolic.â
He smiled warmly and saw you melt under his stare, then pressed a kiss on your temple to forget the fast beating of his own heart.
You undressed him slowly, layer by layer. Taking the time to place your hands on his chest before you would remove the last fabric, to feel his torso rise under your fingers. To process the fact that he was really back with you. He watched you roam his chest, shoulders, arms along his body, face lowered towards you. Smiling, patient. Soothed.Â
Once you managed to stop staring at his skin, his muscles, the way his body reacted to your touch, you tilted your head up to meet his eyes. You both smiled, happy and relieved to finally find each other again. You always marveled at his softness, that side of him only you knew.Â
Your fingers ran along his skin, and you frowned at each new wound you felt under your digits.
âYou have so many new scars,â you said with a trembling voice. âI thank the gods for bringing you back to me.âÂ
âThank the soldiers, my love, they kept me alive,â he replied, brushing your cheek with his thumb. He had great respect for his men, treated them well, and had their complete trust. Tears appeared in your eyes again, and he gently took your chin between his fingers to lift your face up to him.
âIâm here now,â he said, his voice still low and calm. He knew you needed to be reassured, that meeting again always made his next departures more difficult, for both of you. He knew you were already anticipating them.
âI know,â you stammered. âI know. I just missed you a lot.â You tried to push aside the worries that were already trying to infiltrate your mind.
âI know, and Iâm sorry about that, I wish I never had to leave. But I have great news: I won't have to go for now. I told the emperors that I wanted to rest and spend time with my wife. Darius will lead the next battle, he's ready.â
âThis is such great news, Acacius!â you said, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and nestling your face in his neck. âI'm so relieved.â
He held you against him, before cupping your cheeks in his hands and resting his forehead against yours.
You moved slightly aside to pull off the last layer of clothing, freeing his half-hard cock. You thought about it so often when he was away as your fingers were buried inside you.
You covered him in oil and massaged his shoulders to relieve his physical tension. Then his chest, arms, palms and belly, taking your time. Gently, your fingers worked his skin, finding their favorite spots and his. Lingering there.
Finally, you faced him and took his shaft in hand, before jerking him off gently under the pretext of applying the oil, but you both felt the need grow.
You then asked him to sit in the warm water, and got undressed. The expression in his eyes changed from softness to eagerness and desire while he was watching you.Â
Fully hard, he stood up when you approached the bath, holding out his hand to accompany you down the steps.
âSit on me,â he murmured in your ear, his beard brushing your skin. You straddled him, placing your hands on his cheeks before playing with his curls. You leaned down and finally kissed him, tasting his warm, soft, luscious lips. You both moaned and it made you smile, as you felt yourself mesmerized by him being finally there, with you.Â
He caressed your lips with his tongue, then slid it between them. Your tongues found each other, for the first time in months, and you felt dizzy, savoring him again. His hands roamed your back, squeezed your skin sometimes, while your kiss was only growing more feral and needy. Unable to wait any longer, you grabbed his cock and nestled it at your entrance, making him growl from the depth of his chest.
âSlowly,â he stammered. âNo foreplay⌠donât hurt yourself.â
âCanât promise it,â you smiled. It was almost a lie, both of you knew it, you couldnât take him slowly, your need to feel him being too strong. You sank onto his shaft with your arms resting on his broad shoulders, and you had to bite him slightly when the fat head of his cock began spreading you wide open, until you welcomed him fully, leaving both of you breathless for a second.
âThat wasnât exactly slow,â he laughed once he caught his breath, his hand against the back of your neck as you peppered his collarbone with kisses, your cunt full of him.
âCouldnât wait,â you breathed and kept kissing him, slowly moving up and down his shaft, mixing your moans with his, your forehead against his. Your breaths mingled, similar in their urgency.
âI missed you. I missed you,â you repeated, while one of his hands was caressing your back, the other resting on your hip to accompany your movements, but sometimes pushing you slightly more down his cock.
âMe too, my love. Finally feeling you like that, wrapped around my cock, is almost unreal after all that time. But I wonât last, Iâm sorry,â he said in a breathless voice. âItâs been too long since I felt the warmth of your cunt. Only my hand could give me a release when thoughts about you invaded my mind.â
âNow Iâm here. Use me. Come,â you added, rubbing yourself against his lower stomach, knowing you would come soon too.
He held you tight in his arms, setting his pace, fast, powerful, to the point that the water overflowed from the bath with every move. He chased his orgasm, growling in your ear, his body surrounding yours, and you let him use you willingly until his grunts turned into moans and he froze, coming inside you. You pulsed on his shaft just after, milking his cock, feeling him shudder inside you.
You let him catch his breath and his wits before facing him, your hands on his cheeks, and covered his lips, cheeks, forehead with kisses. Already thinking about the moment you would go to your bedroom, and finally take the time to rediscover each other.
Washed, you had dinner, and you told him what happened during his absence. Life in Rome, the dream of Marcus Aurelius long forgotten. The emperors were hated by the subjects, and the cruel games were still allowed.
His worry was growing as he was listening to you. Each time he left, he was afraid a revolt would take place and he wouldnât be there to protect you.Â
He asked you the question that had been burning his lips since his return, but that he was holding back, afraid of your answer.
âDid⌠did anyone hurt you while I was away?â he asked, eyes lowered to the ground, your hands in his. Then finally forcing himself to look at you and hear your answer.
âNo, Acacius,â you answered quickly, eager to remove that weight from his shoulders and his heart. âNothing happened to me, donât worry.â You knew that he would lose his mind if someone hurt you, just like those who had hurt you would lose their heads.Â
He kissed your hands when he heard you, keeping them between his, brushing them with his thumbs.
âI couldn't stand it if that happened,â he added, voice shaking.
âI know, my love. But the guards protect me. The ones you chose, and trust completely. I am safe.â
He nodded, even though both of you knew he would never be calm during his absences.
Once fed, he told you about the new conquests. You felt the weariness on his shoulders and in his eyes. His anger. The emperors were making him lose patience, every day a little more.
âEnough about this,â he said finally. âI don't want my return to be full of sadness and bitterness. I saw how tense your body is, I will help you relax with some oil, like you did to me.â
âAcacius⌠you need to rest after these last few months. Not to take care of me,â you replied softly.
âI am your husband,â he said gently but firmly, moving closer to you until he took your hand in his and kissed it. âYour man. Thereâs nothing else that I want to do more.â You looked at him and smiled.
Once in the bedroom, he asked you to undress and lie down naked on your stomach. He poured some oil in his hands, and rubbed them together. He didn't take his eyes off you until you were on the bed. "You're so beautiful," he said. âIâm gonna take care of you. I missed it.â
He started by massaging your neck, with perfect pressure. Hands flat, he pressed his thumbs against each tense spot, helping to release the tension step by step. You felt your muscles relax at his touch, from your neck to your shoulders. Once satisfied with the way your body responded to his movements, he coated his hands with oil again, then he took care of your lower back. Your pelvis had been stuck for weeks, and you knew that he would do wonders, as always. That the next day, when you woke up, it would be free of its tensions.
âDo you feel better?â he asked, kissing your shoulder, his moustache brushing your skin.
âBetter than ever. Thank you, my love.â
âPerfect. Turn around now, please." You rolled onto your back, and you saw his eyes linger on your breasts for a few seconds, nipples hard after his hands on you.
âWell, General?â you chuckled.
âMmm. I was staring, wasnât I? I missed them too,â he confessed, blushing slightly, which was cute, coming from him.
He massaged your arms then your thighs, one by one, down to your ankles and feet, careful not to touch your breasts or even look at them, as if that would end the session prematurely. You didn't take your eyes off him, watching his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his tongue brushing his lip, his teeth nibbling on it.
Finally, you saw his gaze fixed on your pussy, something he had also avoided until then. The candlelight certainly didnât allow him to see, but he probably knew you were flowing down to the bed. His hand slid from your ankle to your thigh, then brushed your folds before slipping between them, making you whine, as you heard the grunt of approval when his finger got lost in your wetness.
He took a deep breath and said âIâm too eager to taste you, now. But tomorrow I will touch, lick, worship your whole body. I want to kiss you, from your forehead to your toes. Take back whatâs mine.â
âIâm yours, always, Acacius. Whether you are here or not.â
âI know, my sweet girl, I know. As Iâm yours. Ad vitam aeternam. (forever)â
He got undressed and you loved that he took his time doing it, with a soft smile on his lips. You loved knowing that he would be there with you for several weeks. Every day and every night.Â
You were never tired of looking at him. His body was a gift from the gods. His strong neck, with veins bulging every time he thrust into you. His broad shoulders, his belly slightly softer as the years passed. His large hands, next to which yours seemed tiny.Â
His cock.
So massive that on your wedding night you had been so afraid that you had thought of running away. But he had assured you that he would be gentle and go slowly, that he would take care of you. After another hesitation you had chosen to trust him, his tone, his gaze, and two nights later it had seemed that you had been physically made for each other.
But more than his body, his personality, his loyalty, the way he cared about you, made him a loving, reliable, protective husband. You thanked the gods every day for making him yours.
Once naked, he knelt on the bed between your thighs, gently spreading them, finally revealing your pussy. Again, he took a deep breath. His thumb ran over your wet folds.
âYouâre drooling for me.â
He lay down, bringing his face closer to your pussy and breathing it in. âGods, I missed it.â
His tongue traced a stripe between your folds, up to your clit, making you whine. He looked up at you, adding ânow, youâre gonna feed me.â
He dove between your thighs, eyes closed, your folds spread by his thumbs, burying his tongue in your core. Feasting, like he did each time he came back, but not only. From the wedding night, and all the others that followed, he had shown you how much he loved eating you out, pulling orgasm after orgasm, sometimes two in a row because he didnât want to or couldn't stop.
âAcacius,â you whimpered while his nose was rubbing perfectly against your clit. As he had learned during all those years the way your body responded to him.
Back arched, hands lost in his curls, you moved in harmony with his mouth and his tongue, reaching for him, rolling your hips towards him. He pulled back for a few seconds to look at you, and smiled when you cried for his loss. His beard and mustache glistened with your slick and his pupils were dilated as if he had consumed opium to heal a wound. He leaned towards you again, pushing one thick finger between your folds and then sucking your clit. He quickly added a second digit when he heard your needy moans, and licked at your clit. Your hands moved from his curls to your breasts, then to the sheets, your fists clenching on them.
âIâm gonna come, Iâm gonna come,â you whimpered, pelvis tilted towards him as far as possible, as if he wasn't already so close to you. The pleasure that was growing in your core finally exploded, hands and thighs holding his head against your cunt, not wanting him to stop. Docile, he kept licking and pumping you with his fingers, until you stopped clenching on them and released him.
He straightened up, crawling between your thighs, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking on it like his life depended on it before moving on to the other, leaving them glistening with his saliva. Finally, lying between your thighs, he kissed you, his mouth and lips tasting like you.
âI want to taste you too, please,â you begged.
âOf course, my sweet girl. You donât have to ask. Iâm all yours.â
You kissed him before he rolled onto his back, and you straddled him. Covering his cheeks, lips, neck with kisses, then moving down to his torso, hands roaming over his skin. You took one of his nipples in your mouth, sucking, nibbling, licking, then the other, without taking your eyes off him. Admiring his beautiful face. You continued to move down, kissing his belly and hips, your breasts brushing his hard, oozing cock. You took his shaft in hand, and licked his balls, eyes still fixed on him, to see him drop his head back on the bed. âGods..,â you heard him breathe.Â
You smiled and left his balls to suck on his tip, lingering on it, giving you some time to get used to its width, to savor him in your mouth again. His precum flowed in your throat. He had been gone for so long that you were afraid you had forgotten the taste, but it was so familiar again now. Your head bobbing on his shaft, you wanted to make him feel good, wetness dripping from your cunt, moaning on his shaft, and you closed your eyes until you heard him growl louder. Then opened them to see his head raised towards you. One of his hands was placed on the back of your neck.
âYou like it, General?â you asked playfully, then licked his shaft tongue flat.
âItâs divine.â
You crawled towards him, arousal dripping from your core after sucking him, you kissed his body again and then his lips, before murmuring âtake me.â
His eyes darkened and in one movement he laid you down on the bed, under him. Pressing his cock to your entrance, this time he didn't wait, hands tight on your hips, he pushed his whole lenght into your cunt. His massive cock, so hard that you lost your breath. He never took his eyes off you, dark gaze lowered towards you, soft eyes forgotten in favor of a feral stare. He was possessive, claiming your body as he claimed cities during battles, like his body and mind needed it. Like you needed it too.
You tried to keep your eyes open, to look at him, leaning towards you, eyebrows furrowed, veins throbbing. But the relentless rhythm of his shaft spreading your walls made you forget where you were, leaving you moaning and repeating his name. You clung to his shoulders, telling him how much you loved to feel him again, how much you needed it.Â
âAlways taking me so wellâ, he growled, and you hummed with approval.
He slid his hand to the back of your neck, holding you close, his nose against your ear. He breathed you in, focused on your moans, eager to have all his senses filled with you, after months of being surrounded by dirt, screams and blood.Â
He was home now, you were his home.
âAcacius,â you whined, his crotch rubbing perfectly where you needed it.Â
âCome for me. Soak me.â
âOh gods⌠Acacius⌠Acacius,â you whimpered, your orgasm rushing over you, making you pulse on his shaft, your clit throbbing against his skin.
âJust like that, squeezing me so hard⌠you were made for me,â he murmured, his breathing now ragged as his own pleasure rose.
âIâm⌠oh gods,â he said, just before cumming inside you, long spurts of cum painting your walls in white. You held him tighter against you, as he moaned in your ear. Your general of Rome, now the most vulnerable man in your arms.
His jolts finally stopped and he straightened up slightly, careful not to crush you under his weight. He covered your skin with kisses, from your neck to your lips, before rolling onto his side and welcoming you against his chest, arms wrapped around your bare body. Both of you waited for your breathings to calm down.
âI cherish it, you know,â you said, curled up against his chest.
âWhat do you cherish?â he asked, caressing your skin with his large, loving hands.
âHaving you like this, in these moments. It always seems unreal to me, your softness and protectiveness towards me, knowing that you lead battles for Rome. Everyone who fought near you evokes your cold blood.â
He hugged you closer and kissed your forehead, brushing it for a moment with his moustache.
âI love you. Iâm only myself when Iâm home, with you.â
Thank you for reading đ
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated â¤ď¸
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npt â¤ď¸ tagging those who showed interest in the wip post, love you â¤ď¸
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#marcus acacius x reader#marcus acacius#pedro pascal#gladiator 2#marcus acacius x you#marcus acacius x female reader#pedro pascal characters#general acacius
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the call. I (sevika + vi)
SYNOPSIS: reddit: a place for thought-dumping and being horny [college au] WORD COUNT: 9.5K WARNINGS: this was supposed to be dark but its very crack-ish, sevika and vi play rugby(kinda minor plot tbh), oc is a crazy redditor and wears skirts, STALKING, 90% SMUT MDNI(fingering + phone sex + munching + mult orgasms + dirty talk, tensionnnn) brief mentions of grief and loss bc me, recreational drug use, JUST TOXIC, abby makes an appearance later A/N: WROTE THIS WITH MY BABY!!! @trackinglessons art by lottie my love my light my everything this is a product of #OVULATIONWEEK and the #ARCANETAKEOVER
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    3y
no one likes me.Â
i [f18] donât have any friends. at all. i donât have anyone thatâs not family that likes me and sometimes im convinced my family regrets keeping me adound. i just moved cities for uni and havenât been able to have a valuable conversation with anyone and im starting to think iâm the reason why. to be honest iâve always been the âweirdâ one or whatever ppl at school called me. but i donât think im weird at all. I think iâm nice but ppl treat me like a germ lol they just stare and whisper to each other but i know theyâre talking about me
does anyone have any advice on being more approachable? or whatever iâm not even sure what to call it tbh.
kewlio313 ⢠3y
Everybodyâs weird in college! Youâre young and finding yourself. Join some organizations and put yourself out there! Itâll work out kidÂ
     artkiller OP ⢠3y
     i wish there was a chess club lolÂ
Margie ⢠3y
how do you go about approaching people?Â
      artkiller OP ⢠3y
      i just walk up and start talking about myself
      Margie ⢠3y
      Okay⌠and whatâs their reaction?Â
      artkiller OP ⢠3y
itâs different every time. sometimes they just leave, sometimes they laugh then leave, other times theyâre outwardly mean. one guy told me to âshut the hell up bitchâ and i immediately wanted to commit a federal crime(not murder)
      Margie ⢠3y
      Goddamn lol. Maybe u r weirdÂ
miKrophone ⢠3y
shut up hoe
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     ?? :/
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    2y
Advice Needed
how do you know if youâre mentally ill?
hello fellow redditors. lol. iâm finally back⌠very odd first term i think i got ghosted or whatever itâs called by some dude on the hockey team but yeah i plotted homicide. iâm pretty sure that situation sent me into a spiral. i think im sick.Â
iâm not sure whatâs going on with me but my thoughts have been really dark recently. not necessarily suicidal or harm inflicting(on myself) but⌠yeah⌠prettyyyy dark. idk. itâs weird what my brain conjures up sometimes. i guess im curious why my brain thinks the way it does. iâm not a bad person and i know that, but my brain makes me believe that i am. idk what to do at this point. iâve never been to a professional and tbh i donât think i should because i donât wanna be admitted somewhere lolÂ
kewlio313 ⢠2y
Welcome back kid. Itâs often better to seek help even though it can be fucking horrifying, especially in adulthood. Get help and youâll be fine
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     and if iâm not fine? what do i do then?Â
     kewlio313 ⢠2y
To be frank, I'm not sure. Iâve been through alot and even I donât have clear direction on life. Iâve been allowing my intuition to guide me for some time. Just try it and see what happens. Rooting for you
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     thank youÂ
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    2y
Advice Needed
am i a lesbian?
i [f19] think im attracted to females. i canât stop staring at their tits. i always assumed my middle school peeping was from jealousy or whatever the hell twitter said but now that iâm grown i think i wanna fuck girls. or like. girl adjacents??? idk the terminology or whatever.Â
PetersJoker ⢠2y
go eat some pussy and find out
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     no fuckhead
kewlio313 ⢠2y
⌠Girl adjacents? Females? Are you actually 40?Â
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     is this a dig
     kewlio313 ⢠2y
     You crack me up. Have you experimented before?Â
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     i never passed a science class
     kewlio313 ⢠2y
     ⌠Alright.��
 I meant hooking up. Have u kissed a girl before? Slept with one? Or whatever you youngins say these days?Â
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     no. iâm not a slut lol i hardly go outsideÂ
     kewlio313 ⢠2y
Finding out what you like isnât being a slut. Youâre in college for fucks sake. Find you someone to lay with, ya loser.Â
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     or i should just shoot myself. less complicated then sex
     kewlio313 ⢠2y
     Maybe so, but theyâre equally as messy.Â
ButchesForChrist ⢠2y
Questioning is usually the first sign. Lol
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     fuck me
     ButchesForChrist ⢠2y
     Well
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    2y
what does sex feel like? (wlw)
[f19] just watched scissor porn for the first time. what the fuck was that. (i need it)
MisandristInTraining ⢠2y
the work of demons aka men
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     i drink their blood
     MisandristInTraining ⢠2y
     Lmao
OnHorseback ⢠2y
Feels like dying but emotionally ⢠2y
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     i wanna die physicallyÂ
     OnHorseback ⢠2y
     Iâm sure some dirty fuck can set that up for you
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     lit
kewlio313 ⢠2y
Welcome to the dark side.Â
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     flirt a little harder oldheadÂ
ButchesForChrist ⢠2y
Ready to come out?Â
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     of where
     ButchesForChrist ⢠2y
     BitchâŚ..
â
__
__
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    2y
home sweet home.Â
hello found family. been mia bc fuck school but iâm back⌠and i think im a sadist.Â
does anyone know where rugby originated from? i like watching large women be physical w each other and i wish they would harm me in similar ways. pls push me to the floor and stomp me out(specifically directed to one pink head) iâve been thinking dirty things all day i need her so fucking bad. is this why ppl r so obsessed with sex? bc of hot people? i get it now. i need her to bend me over and put her cleat on my neck
lezziesthatembezzle ⢠2y
good morning to u too bitch
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     big muscly girls pls rail me from da bckÂ
     lezziesthatembezzle ⢠2y
     someone muzzle this thot
Accuntress ⢠2y
A dykeâs pride and joy: large women.Â
kewlio313 ⢠2y
This is crazily your most normal post. Missed ya. Do well in school
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     :3 đŠˇ
[deleted] ⢠2y
The cards are in my favorÂ
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     would you like to sex through private message?Â
     [deleted] ⢠2y
     What the fuck you crackhead
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    2y
Advice Needed
sex addiction while a virgin?Â
is this possible? i shouldnât have watched ppl with big clits trib. quite criminal. even more criminal when iâve imagined the girl iâve been following around for the past 2 weeks doing it to me
[deleted] ⢠2y
is this who we areâŚ.Â
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     obviously.Â
kewlio313 ⢠2y
This is my last straw.Â
     artkiller OP ⢠2y
     hugs xD
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    6mo
iâm confessing.Â
idc anymore. i donât give a FUCK. i am in love. i [f21] am in love. the deepest kind i think. love at first sight truly. itâs the kind of love thatâs painful. it kills and leaves behind trails of misery if betrayed or lost. whenever i see her, i cry from happiness. her joy is my joy. her hurt is my hurt. our hearts are forever intertwined no matter the distance. iâm writing this for her. if you ever see this: i love you, darling. thereâs not a second that goes by where youâre not at the forefront of my mind. iâll treasure everything weâve built thus far, and promise to never take it for granted. i hope to die by your side.Â
i love you. i love you so much.Â
even if weâve never spoken.Â
kewlio313 ⢠6mo
Yup⌠sheâs lost it, folks. Very deep sigh.Â
     ButchesForChrist ⢠5mo
     Thatâs part of being a lesbian. Sheâll live. Trust me
â
â
â
âViolet! ⌠VIOLET!â
Whyâs Sev always so loud in the goddamn library? The receptionist already has tacks on her behavior chart like some kindergartener. âI heard you! Jesus Christ, Iâm sitting right fucking next to youââ
âI wouldnât haveta fucking scream if you woulda answered me when I asked 3 days ago! Are you coming on Saturday?âÂ
How does she tell Sev fuck no bitch I donât wanna go in a polite manner? Itâs the first weekend after Christmas break and quite frankly, she's already sick of being on campus. Vi loves her friend to death but holy fuck does she wish she had an off button.Â
âJust come the hell on and stopââ
âDude, Iââ
âYou know itâs not gonna be fun if youâre not there! Half the bitches are cominâ for you! Plus⌠I think you could use a fun time after⌠yâknow.â Sevika softens â only a bit, she's still Sevika. Hard ass.Â
She does know. At this point, who doesnât? Her last year of university started on a bad foot when her family home caught aflame with her little sister and father still inside, but the icing on the cake was when her long term, blue-haired girlfriend sent her the can we talk? important text. Now sheâs single with corpses for relatives(she thinks her sister wouldâve found that funny). Her teammates returned to campus with her; eyes mournful and hearts sunk to the bottom of their stomachs, so prepared to shield and coddle when needed. Sev was one of them: through every breakdown and anxiety attack and hungry but nauseating night.Â
âIâm not tryna bring up old shit. You been through a lot and deserve some fun. Thatâs all Iâm sayinâ. Get your last bit of jitters out before the season starts.âÂ
Vi nods. She gets it. Losing her sister was just as much of a loss for Sev as it was for her, but somehow, she was able to ease back into herself. Become⌠normal again. Socializing takes so much energy outta Violet, now. Sheâd rather go lift or go sock the shit outta rich person. In some ways, she wishes she had as much willpower as her friend.Â
She knows why Sev wants her to go. New pussy, new me, her and Abby once told her, but sheâs not in the mood to smash right now. Sheâll probably start crying if they donât kiss both her cheeks before her nose like⌠Ugh. She shivers in disgust⌠and extreme longing. She misses her ex like crazy.Â
âI know. Iâll, uh, think about it.âÂ
âMâkay⌠now what the fuck is epitactic theory.âÂ
âGirlâŚâÂ
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    12mi
Advice Needed
how crazy is it to ask for a threesome from two ppl that donât know you?Â
[f21] iâm currently in my campus library watching my girlfriend study with her teammate from my stiff ass beanbag and i need them both like crack. how do i bring intercourse up without making it awkward or uncomfortable? help asap pls
also i might c her this weeknd sheâs going out and i wanna go
CreamTeam ⢠5mi
Wait ⌠so is she your girlfriend or not?? đđÂ
     artkiller OP ⢠2mi
     we have a complicated relationshipđŠˇ
     ButchesForChrist ⢠1mi
     Aka sheâs stalking her. Scroll down a little
     artkiller OP ⢠30s
     stay out my businessÂ
     CreamTeam ⢠1s
     What the fuck
kewlio313 ⢠2mi
I thought we were better than this, honey.Â
     artkiller OP ⢠30s
     you prob are. im not
     kewlio313 ⢠4s
     Deep sigh.Â
Your phone drops from your jittery hands and into your lap, screen glowing with every disappointed reply from fucking Kewlio who youâve grown to love. You like to call them a friend. A faceless, emotionally intelligent, oddly attractive friend who youâve never met.Â
The love of your life is right there, as always. Exactly 34 steps away, past the shelves littered with history novels and biographies, sat at the table surrounded by Liberal Arts textbooks and her star-littered laptop. Black jacket, black shirt, ripped black jeans, hair dyed black: thatâs new. Still streaked with pink and somehow youâre even more hungry for her. Sheâs looked a mess recently: beaten and bruised, coming to class with black eyes and bandages across her pretty nose. It makes you wanna burn down the entire Arts and Sciences building with everyone inside of it.Â
Sheâs annoyed with Sevika, you can tell. Theyâre talking about something. Maybe her sister, rest in peace. Or piss if she sucked. Whatever. A small part wishes you listened a little closer when she talked about Jinx(weird ass nickname, but okay) so youâd know exactly what to ask. She can take out any aggression or sadness on you anytime. In here, outside. Youâd drop âem for her wherever.Â
Kewlio is a dirty liar. Youâre not a stalker. Youâre a fan, an admirer, a lover. Your girlâs simply unassuming⌠How the fuck is that your fault?Â
She wonât be like that for long, though.Â
Vi lost her cleats a few days ago. Her black and blue ones that are worn the hell down and hanging at the seams, but she loves them. Wears them almost every match despite how unsteady they make her on the field. Theyâre her lucky charm, besides you, of course.Â
Her lucky charm found her lucky charms.Â
And by found, you mean broke into her gym locker with the code you memorized 2 years ago and snagged âem. She should really get those locks changed before someone takes something important.Â
The explanation of how you found her cleats exactly? Youâre not sure and youâre not dwelling. Sheâll be so relieved that you found them that it wonât even matter. Might even drop to her knees and praise you like a God. Is she religious? One of the minor details you donât know about her.Â
But youâll find out soon enough. No worries at all.Â
You wonder how Caitlyn is doing.Â
â
Rabbit holes are either your best friend or worst enemy. Today, theyâre straddling the fence. Your brain never shuts off when you're in a crisis. Youâre ovulating, overstimulated, and searching for a cure from someone youâve never said hello to.Â
The internet can solve your problems though. Especially if theyâre sex-deprived millennials. Their long-term lack of human contact makes for some hilarious stories and useful what-not-to-dos.Â
how to finger a vaginaÂ
vagina g spot where is it
where is clit vagina
vagina map
scissoring hacks positions
lesbian sex how to
can lesbians do analÂ
is mommy kink a trauma response
Reddit searches are always on your side. All answers to the world at the tip of your fingers. You love the media! Squirting is not pee evidently. PornHub comments are not a reliable source. You should ask your girlfriend if she squirts.Â
Caitlyn would know. Fucking BITCH!
how to make girlfriend come
Mansplainer misogynists geeking about making their wives do housework while they sit on their asses and flirt with young Discordians. âI clap and she appearsâ
âŚ
You should craft a bomb that only targets cis-het men because what the fuck is going on right now.Â
how to make girlfriend cum
â[M48] Iâve never made my wife climax and weâve been together for 15 years and have 2 childrenâ
Your eyes are fucking burning. Is it bad to wish death on a person? Cursed imagery. Your fingers attempt to salvage the last bits of your sanity.Â
how to make girlfriend orgasm wlw
date ideas lesbian
am i crazy quiz
insanity quiz
Youâre normal youâre okay youâre literally fine.Â
mental illness signs for lesbians
what does dying feel lik
âMaâam.â
You gasp sharply. Librarian. Fuck oh shit
âHi. Weâre, uh, lockinâ up, soâŚâÂ
Youâre still at the library. How much time has passed? How many rabbit holes have you fallen into? Whereâs your girlfriend? Her and Sev are goneâŚÂ
But you know where to find your g-spot! Hooplah!
âOh yeâ Yeah! Uhh⌠bye.â You stand so fast you get whiplash. Your backpack beats against your back when you adjust the straps on your shoulders. Headphones on, music blasting, and just like that, the world is off and youâre on. Right into the darkness of the city.Â
You love a stripperâs playlist in times like this.Â
You love Reddit in times like this.Â
You walk and walk with an extra skip in your step. Time to drive Kewlio crazy.Â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    1s
guys im happy
the joy that i feel rn is unmatched. i love my life. im so excited for the future. thank you god and or universe for these blessings
And post. Nothing could wipe the smile off your face. Nothing nothing nothing you love it here! You love school. You love your girlfriend and her friends and her sport.Â
âOofââ
âAHââ
You back connects with the angles of your hardcovers and fuck you hope your laptop survived that drop. Not enough cushion in your bag to cover that fall fuck your life you hate everyoneâ
âYOU FUââ
âHoly fuckinâ shit Iâm so sorry are you okââ
And your mouth zips. OhâŚ
Oh.Â
Your girlâs in running shorts. Squeezing her thighs good ân tight and she glistens with sweat, brows pulled down in concern as she eyes you from above. If the fun was still out, the rays would dress her head like a halo. A heavenly sight. Youâd die here⌠but not before a drop of her sweat falls on your face. You need that at least once. Zooweeemaâ
âAre you okaâ fuck, gimme your hands, up ya go, câmonââ
Oh sheâs talking. And grabbing you.Â
Your hands are warmed by skin and your spine tickles when youâre pulled to your feet like a feather. The pain in your back and shoulders donât fucking matter anymore. Life works in mysterious ways, doesnât it?
âHi, Vi.âÂ
âIâmâ hey, uh⌠do we know each other?âÂ
We love each other actually!Â
âNoâ I uh, sorry! I go to watch your matches and all that. Kinda a fan⌠Sorry if thatâs weirdââ
âNo no no no, not weird at all. Uh, very flattering actually. âPreciate it.âÂ
Youâre gonna fucking pass out.Â
âAre you okay though? Nothing hurts, right?â And your knees wobble when a squeezing hand lands on your shoulder, gauging you for pain. No pain. Just deprived. Needy. Desperate. Touch me some more.Â
âM good.âÂ
âCoolâŚâ Her hand drops and you nearly screech like a banshee, âAnd your name? Sorry bout tââ
You interrupt with yours and she smiles. Nice to meet you, she says with gravel and your heart grows another heart inside of another heart. Holy fucking youâre boutta
âI like rugby.âÂ
Kill yourself. Youâre boutta kill yourself.Â
Viâs eyes widened before nodding in agreement, âYeah⌠me too. If it wasnât obvious enough. Itâs a great⌠stress reliever.âÂ
So is sex, according to Sexcopedia.edu. Do me.Â
âReally? It looks painful sometimes.âÂ
She sighs with tension, âIt is. We gotta lot of aggressive people playing against us so we have to always⌠do more. I guess, I dunno. But whenever Iâm mad itâs great. Very useful.â
âAre you mad often?âÂ
âAre you studying psychology?â She pins with an arched, slit brow, but her eyes remain light and friendly. Itâs funny, she doesnât appear to be this approachable with her grunge-ness. Â
âNah. I need to, though. Could do me some good.âÂ
Her laugh is hearty. Genuine. âShit, me too. Help me out.â
âDo you wanna be my friend?âÂ
She seems stunned and you donât know why. Doesnât banter create friendship? Whatever. Fuck it. She can say no. You donât care. You still got her shoeâ
âGimme your phoneââÂ
Your heart drops to the floor, through the concrete, right into the center of the Earthâs crust waiting to burn and cease to exist. Sheâs got you figured out. Youâve been exposed and sheâs gonna fry you in the middle of the damn street
ââIâll put my number in.âÂ
⌠Oh.
You meticulously make sure your notis are deleted and OFF before handing her your device with the keypad on display. Her fingers are pretty and nimble. Flexible with how slender they are. Pretty hands. Pretty, blue veins and you're instantly reminded of her ex. You hate the color blue.Â
She hands your phone back, âThatâs me. Hit me up when you get⌠wherever youâre going. And lemme know if I need to cover your medical expenses for spinal cord surgery.âÂ
You laugh. Really fucking loudly and she flinches, but smiles after. Sheâs so fucking cute! Is this flirting?Â
âY-Yeah, I will.â
Her head tilts fondly, âCool.â
âCool.âÂ
She gives you one last look before plugging her earbud in to continue her jog. You check her contact to make sure itâs real and fuck you have her fucking number! Fuck fuck fuck fuck
You leap like the happiest frog in the pond when sheâs out of your line of view and a sharp pain whips through your shoulder blades.Â
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    3mi
lads i just got proposed to. spring wedding in sweden
number collected. so it begins.Â
kewlio313 ⢠48s
Christ help us all.Â
CreamTeam ⢠10s
Ring pics.Â
     artkiller OP ⢠3s
     cawk ring pics***
     CreamTeam ⢠1s
     Shouldâve fuckin known. I hate you genuinelyÂ
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    30s
whenâs a good time to text the girl youâre obsessed with?Â
[f21] soooo iâm laying in bed lookignat her contact and idk what to do. iâve fantasized about this so many times and now its in my lap⌠im so used to shit going wrong that idk how to react to it going right. itâs kinda late but i really wanna talk to her but idk she might be sleep or whatever.Â
should i scale her building and check if sheâs awake? :(
â
Vi doesnât know why thereâs a pit in her stomach. She sits on her teammateâs fluffy rug with a smoked out Sevika who patiently waits for her green light, but it hasnât come. She feels an oncoming breakdown and she needs a babysitter just in case.Â
âFinish this for me?â A roach floats in front of Viâs face before she pushes it away.Â
âNo.â
âBuzzkill.âÂ
Sev and Vi sit in silence for 12 seconds before the roach is stolen and hit by the latter. Sevika snickers. Vi drops her head on the couch and exhales her worries through clouds. Stressed, anxious riddled, maybe not the best headspace to get high but fuck it.Â
âWhatcha thinking about?â
She shrugs, âEverything.â
âTalk ta me. Whatâs happening.â
Viâs face burns when her mind plagues with you. Your giant bifocals and smudged mascara and acrylic-stained hoodies. You had a backpack on⌠Could be a student here. You might be a freshman. Vi hates making assumptions about strangers but you seemed a littleâŚÂ
Immature? Your eyes were too shiny to be a senior.Â
âYouâre gonna laughâŚâÂ
âIâll always laugh at your stupid ass,â She snickers. âWhat happened, though, seriously.âÂ
Wafts of smoke curl around her words, âI almost bulldozed a girl earlier.âÂ
Sevika scrabbles to her knees with a slack jaw, âWHAT THEââ
âOh my fucking god can you be normal forââ
âBITCH BULLDOZED? WHAT THE FUCK FREAKY ASS BITCHââÂ
âNOT LIKE THAT!â Vi scoffs, âI went on a run and bumped into her! Fucking WEIRDO!â Â
Sevika slumps back on her ass, clearly disappointed, â⌠Oh.â
Vi tends to the roach until her fingertips burn, stubbing out the burnt paper on Sevikaâs ashtray. When she looks up, she finds a very intrigued looking fox. Here she fucking goes.Â
âShe hot?â
Viâs sigh is littered with agitation at her friend while she laughs, âI hadta fucking ask! Tell me! She smell good?âÂ
âI donât fuckinâ remember! We talked for like⌠2 minutes!âÂ
â2 is enough time to check her out. Showâa hands, how fat were her tits? Like this?â Sevika mimes holding watermelons that are too goddamn heavy and Vi cringes.Â
âYou fucking disgust me.âÂ
Sevika relaxes back onto her elbows, legs extended in front of her. Her brow quirks when she catches Viâs gaze drop to her waist, âMeh. You like that about me.âÂ
âSometimes. Not when Iâm in a crisis.â
âMeeting a girl is a crisis now?âÂ
âYes! I donât fucking know, she wasâŚâÂ
Honestly, Viâs unsure how to describe you.Â
âDoes she at least go here! Youâre not giving me shit to work with.âÂ
âI DONâT KNOWââ
âDONâT FUCKING YELL AT MEââ
Vi groans with her palms in her eyes, âShe just asked to be friends. She told me she watches us play and that sheâsââ
âBack the fuck up,â Sevika raises up again, âDo you not see whatâs happening here!âÂ
ââŚâÂ
âYouâre actually fucking stupid, wow,â She scoffs, âYou know she set all that up, right?âÂ
â⌠What in the fuck are you talking abouââ
âShe ran into you on purpose! Sheâs a fan bitch!â Sev reaches for her phone on the coffee table, âWhatâs her Instagram?âÂ
Vi whines, âI donât knowââ
Before Sevika can cuss her out for the 40th time, she bursts, âI GAVE HER MY NUMBER!â
â⌠Did you get hers?âÂ
ââŚâÂ
âBROTHERââ
âShut up! Iâm not⌠I donât flirt! I donât know how, not anymore! She caught me off guard honestly.â
âWhat's her name?âÂ
Vi sheepishly mumbles your title; itâs slimy the way it curls on her tongue. You were so nice and now sheâs setting you up to be pestered by her best friend.Â
Itâs silent for 3 minutes, only the pittering of Sevikaâs fingers on her device while she hunts for you. Another 4 pass before she tosses her phone in annoyance.Â
âYou sure you werenât hallucinating? Nothingâs poppinâ up.âÂ
âYouâre so annoyââ
WHO THAT IN THE BAAAAAAACK, WHO THAT IN THE BAAAAAAACK
Viâs phone screen glows gray with an unsaved number across the top⌠One with their area code⌠Sevika watches the number scroll like a hawk. The smile that grows on her face is crooked. And knowing.Â
Itâs 11PM. Itâs not you. It couldnât be you.Â
âThatâs your ringtone?â Sevika snorts.Â
âShut up.â Whyâs she so anxious all of a sudden? Her sweaty palms arenât enough to stop her from reaching for the device, though.Â
She answers and puts you on speaker.Â
âHello?âÂ
ââŚHi. Itâs me.âÂ
Sevikaâs brow lifts in questioning. Is that her? She mouths and Vi nods. Her eyes roll when her friend whispers, cute voice. Â
Sheâll never say, but Sevikaâs presence re-energizes her. Makes her a little more playful, so she teases, âMe who?âÂ
A beat of silence passes before you start mumbling to yourself, âIâm gonna fuckinâ throw up is this the wrong perââ
Sevikaâs hand flies over her mouth to smother her laughter while Vi coddles you; laughs that sheâs joking and that she was waiting on your call. Her cheeks burn when her teammate throws her an accusatory look.Â
âDo you mean it?âÂ
âMean what?âÂ
âThat youâve been waiting on me?âÂ
Before Vi can answer, Sev raises up onto her knees and mimes fucking somebody from the back, face slack with faux and exaggerated pleasure. She ignores the sinful jolt in her tummy and flings a throw pillow right at her face.Â
âYeah, âcourse I wasâŚâÂ
And then itâs silent again. Her muscles freeze with every deep breath you take over the phone. Sevika waits expectantly, talk to her, she says with flapping fingers.Â
âWhatcha up to?âÂ
â⌠Uhh⌠nothing?â
Your laugh is featherlight, âAre you asking me?âÂ
âMaybe?âÂ
Sevikaâs had enough of the tomfoolery. She wiggles over and hits the mute button with a heavy slam. Leans in close while she whispers,Â
âDude, sheâs tryna fuckââ
âNo, she isnâtââ
âYes she is, dodo, did you hear how she was talkinâ?â Her tone heightens in pitch, mocks seduction, âYou were waiting on me, baby?ââ
âH-Hello?â Your mumble is drenched with insecurity. Sevika doesnât give a fuck.Â
âSee?â She nearly screams, âSheâs DJinâ right nowââ
Violet shoves her back before unmuting, âSorry, mâhereâŚâ
â⌠Was it a bad time to call?â Youâre quieter now. Ashamed sounding. Embarrassed.Â
âNot at all! Sorry, I was smoking earlier, makes me lose my train of thought.â
âItâs okayâŚâÂ
âYou make it home safe?âÂ
âMhm. I was about to fall asleep but then I remembered to call, soâŚâ
Vi catches her smile before her friend can bully her for it, âSo, you calledâŚâÂ
âYes,â said excitedly. She can hear your smile. Very puppy-like. Cute. Vi jolts when Sev starts snoring obnoxiously fucking loud. She flicks her forehead.Â
âIs someone there with you?âÂ
Both their eyes widen. A sharp hand raises to slap Sevika, but she flinches before it lands, âSorry. Just my stupid ass roommate.â
âHi, Sevika.âÂ
Youâre oddly calmâŚ. But why wouldnât you be? You had no other intent for this phone call other than keeping your promise. They still share a look though; a brief flash of intrigue and skepticism. Howâd you knowâŚ
Itâs not pondered on for long by Sevika before she sings, âHey, sweetheart.âÂ
You sound like the wind has knocked outta you. âH-Hi.âÂ
Sev singles for Vi to pass the phone over to her. She obliges with a hard stare, âI was just passing through, but while Iâm here, I gotta couple⌠questions. That good with you?âÂ
âYes.âÂ
âGood. You single?â
âMhm. For forever, sadly.â
âGreat. Are we at the same school?âÂ
âDuh. Iâm at every match. Weâre, uh⌠graduating together if everything goes as planned.âÂ
So definitely not a freshman. Just when Vi thought it was impossible to finish college without a chip on your shoulder. You seem to have made it through just fine.Â
Despite Sevikaâs reputation of being cold-hearted and abrasive with wicked flirtation skills, she speaks to you like youâve been in her life for years. Gentle. Inquiring. She lays flat on her stomach with her feet kicked up behind her, âWhatâs your major?âÂ
âArchitectural engineering. Whatâs yours?âÂ
âYouâre so smart. âM doing mathematics. You should tutor me when you getta chance.â
âSure. Just lemme know when. Iâm always in the library, so.âÂ
âWell, what a fucking coincidence, so are we! You coulda dropped by and said hello if that was the case.âÂ
âIâm trying to do that now⌠Am I doinâ okay?â
âJust fine actually. Arenât you sweet.âÂ
âI taste sweeter.âÂ
Sevika drops the phone on the plush rug beneath them. Sits upright with urgency. Gawks at Vi whose jaw is nearly in her lap. Thereâs hardly any air in her chest. She squabbles for her phone and ensures that the volume is all the way up. Holds the device right in between them.Â
â⌠Swear? I donât think thatâs possible.â Sevika hums at you, holding her roommateâs gaze while her tongue traces over the dryness on her lip.Â
âYou could find out⌠Both of you can if you wanna.âÂ
ââS that easy?â Sevika rasps, and Vi flinches when her breath hits her mouth. Leans in a bit closer to feel more on her face.Â
âWhy do you sound like that?â Vi huffs at your genuine curiosity. Youâre so fucking cute, fuck.Â
âBecause youâre turning me on, hon,â Her gaze washes over Vi and her skin burns with trails. âBoth of us.âÂ
âOh⌠cool.â You exhale unsteadily. They canât help but laugh at you. âCool?â Vi repeats.Â
âYeah. Awesome. Iâve never done that to someone before.âÂ
âYou a virgin?âÂ
âYup.â
âFaceTime us.â
âI have a Samsung.âÂ
Both girls explode into laughter, âWeâll call you, then, Jesusââ Vi sends an eager finger towards the small camera before you mumble,Â
âWho says Iâll answer?âÂ
Sevika tuts, âYou donât wanna watch us kiss?âÂ
âIâd rather watch in person.âÂ
Sevika throws Vi a look and sheâs instantly reminded of Abby. Usually, that glance â filled with an equal amount of tenderness of filth â is shared between her teammates and sheâs forced to endure whatever nonsense they plan to take out on somebody together, but now sheâs here. Sevikaâs including her in such a sacred ritual. Sheâs suddenly skittish, âYouâre killing me, baby. Whatcha doing this weekend?â Sev quiets, timbre amorous.Â
âPlaying Overwatch.âÂ
âFuck that shit. Come to Kappa on Saturday. Everybodyâs goinâ.â Sevika snips down at Violet, and she whines while her fingers dig into her roomieâs tank top. A little closer, and theyâre kissing. Just an inchâ
âWhatâs Kappa?â
Vi giggles, âHouse,â Sevika mumbles against Viâs mouth, âFrat house. Right off 16th. It's bright blue, canât miss it.â Â
ââK, Iâll go. See ya there.â
âWhââ
Three dial tones break through the smoke in the air before the screen goes dark, both girls left stunned and⌠very tempted to track your location. Maybe pop a titty for your RA in exchange for your room number. Wouldnât be the first timeâŚ
⌠Is that too much?Â
It could be, but you didnât hesitate to drop bomb after proposition, and the selfish part of her heart canât help but think you wouldnât mind two ravenous strangers at your front door. The knowledge that theyâd give you everything you needed would be enough for you to allow them entry.Â
And the way Sevikaâs staring at her⌠Craving, but careful. Sheâs so patient.Â
Itâs been such a long time â two years since theyâve had any physical connection. Drunken nights, quickies in the locker room showersâ the distractions from grief were all put on the back shelf when Vi got into her relationship. Sevikaâs a sleaze, not a homewrecker â most times, so she kept her hands to herself out of respect, no matter how many times Violet would catch her staring where she knew was off limits.Â
Vi can't get to you, but she can get to Sevika.Â
So she yanks her close, dissolves the space between them as their mouths collide with heat and a newfound ache for you in the middle. Sevikaâs just as rough as she remembers â pushes her down so her back molds to the floor, entangles a cinched hand in her hair to pull and expose her neck to the attacks. Sheâs got blotches and teeth marks on her throat â the unrestrained and possessive and her stomach flips. She gasps at the ceiling when her nightshirt shreds under a forceful hand.Â
She hasnât had the heart to have sex in months â propositions were turned down on dozens of occasions because her mind couldnât focus on enjoying. Every second of euphoria gets overshadowed by hollow, unforgiving guilt.Â
You sparked something in her with your forwardness, that curiosity that left her aching to read your mind. Her best friend, too, evidently.Â
Every movement is fast. She crawls down her torso with intent â fangs sharp where they leave blood down her sternum. Viâs fingers pry Sevikaâs shirt off, her tongue separating from her waist for mere seconds before reattaching. An eager hand fondly moves her friendâs hair out of her face.Â
You want it? Sevikaâs eyes read.Â
Yes, I want it, please. Vi says aloud. Eager with a twisting hand in her scalp.Â
Sevika sends waves through Vi with every wrestle her tongue devotes to her clit. She canât think of anything but Sevika and you and both of you at the same time; on top of her â you sat on her face while Sevikaâs fingers drove inside her. She wants her tongue inside you; unrelenting and feverish until you scream and soak her tongue in your sweetness.Â
Sevika eats like sheâs hungry. She eats like she misses having her like this and that wounds Vi up tight; it sends shockwaves down her legs. Makes her twitch, but Sevika forces her still with a tight grip on her waist.Â
Vi curses with fluttery eyes when a finger â then two, circles around the entrance that aches for a stretching.Â
Theyâre heaven sent when they push in. Sheâs getting fucked like sheâs hated and she loves it. She deserves to feel like nothing; her walls are selfish where they encase the digits that bring her to the sun, massage against every sensitive ridge just how she needs. Her mouth spills with whatever energy she has left within her; slurred and drooled fuck yes yeses. She can barely conjure a warning when her core locks tight, right before she explodes.Â
Thereâs wetness everywhere while she pulses through her pleasure, thighs squeezing around Sevikaâs head with every satisfied moan that vibrates on her clit. Tells Violet to give her more and to take it take it take whatever she gives her like she knows she can.Â
Itâs not until Violet starts sobbing and Sevikaâs mouth is dripping wet that she pulls out and separates from her completely. She kisses her pussy gently before shifting to help unlock Violetâs knees. She shivers with every peck thatâs trailed up her torso to her chest to her neck.Â
Sevika laughs when Vi does, choked and clogged, but elated and genuine. Itâs been so long since her bodyâs felt this light.Â
âYou needed that. Ya look better already,â Sevika cackles. âCan you stand?âÂ
âFuck off, gimme a sec.â Vi shoves playfully at her chest.Â
â
â
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    3s
guys.Â
i love being a liar. it makes me feel alive never let a bitch tell you lying is wrong it literally makes life so much easier!! wishing everyone a good night.Â
everythingâs going as planned. just one more tally on the board and weâre set
â
â
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    20mi
Advice Needed
itâs been 24 hours and my girl whoâs not my girl has been texting me nonstop.Â
[f21] hello. im in a crisis but a good one? if thatâs possible. long story short im in love but not dating the girl im in love with yet. i took some of yâallâs flirting advice and i think it worked. im betting my life that yall do witchcraft. i barely said anything to her and now she wonât međđđ and tbh⌠i think her friend wonât me too!!!!! sheâs always asking about my day and asking if i ate and if id wanna eat with her but i always decline bc im not ready physically mentally like iâm gonna combust the second she walks up to me i barely survived our first interactionâŚâŚ but her friend invited me to a party tomorrow nightâŚâŚ.. wtf do i wear to that iâve never been outside before LOL
might get a train ran on meâŚâŚ WEâLL SEE FRIENDSÂ
adding her undies to the shrine𩷠yaaaay
CreamTeam ⢠14mi
bro is she your girlfriend or not? Itâs been years at this point.Â
     artkiller OP ⢠12mi
     yes i mean no or yes :)
kewlio313 ⢠7mi
Wear something that you wouldnât wear to your parents funeral. Good luck dearÂ
     artkiller OP ⢠5mi
     i would whore out if my family died
     kewlio313 ⢠2mi
     Good God.Â
â
What does genuine happiness feel like?Â
Youâre unsure how long youâve been on your beanbag, but Violet and Sevika have been laughing since you sat down. Theyâre so relaxed around each other, content with silence. Accepting of failure.Â
Youâre not a jealous person at all. Far from, actually, but something furies from within whenever you see them â or people, in general, gleeful; the desperation to feel. You havenât had the privilege. Maybe thatâs why you cling to whatever you have with Vi. She has birthed a wanting inside you. A desire for connection after spending decades comforted by the sound of your own voice. Or comments under your posts.Â
Violet makes you happy. And Sevika might, too. Just as long as she doesnât get too close to your light.Â
Youâre standing right behind Sevika. She canât see you, but Vi can. Her fear is swiftly overshadowed by delight. She greets you with a smile that makes your heart throb.Â
Sevikaâs gaze wanders down to your legs, that remain exposed despite the weather,Â
âYouâre not cold?â She asks. Not exactly the introduction you were expecting, but that makes you giddy. Vi must tell her about you!Â
âYes,â You say with ease, âY'all should come to my room. Itâs warmer there.âÂ
Vi nods after gawking, 2 books immediately tucked to her chest with her bag on her back. Sevika just laughs. She gets it. You like that.Â
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    1s
Advice Needed
how do i mentally prepare for sex? (virginity)
literally fucking freezing walking to my room rn with two burly butches that i want to throw me around and i think theyâre going to bc theyâre not talking to me but the y are very close i donât want them to see my screen guys im about to have a threesome pls fucking help me
â
âCute room.â Violet says, inspecting your horror movie posters and stuffed animals.Â
âThank you.â You smile.Â
I hid the 14 polaroids of you that I had taped to my door. Hope that makes you more comfortable!Â
âItâs just you in here?â Sevika chimes, eyes glued to the small bed up against the wall, right next to your PC setup. You should ask if they game afterwards.Â
âYes.âÂ
Violet takes her jacket off and hangs it on your doorknob.Â
âAlready takinâ off your clothes?â You plop down onto your freshly made mattress. Both girls look very stiff in your space; Is that normal? Maybe theyâre nervous.Â
Both girls laugh the same. âNot like that. It is warm in here.â Sevika follows in Viâs lead, removing her hoodie and her undershirt is squeezing her and yup those arms are still there those muscles are popping out yup yup yupâ
âYeah. I canât sleep in the cold.â You pat your bedspread for them to sit⌠and they do. On either side of you. Vi brought her notebook and pencil. Sevika brought her heavily ringed hands.Â
She scoffs, âMe neither. Immune system is worse than a newbornâs.âÂ
âDo you get sick easily?âÂ
âYes. I just got over it last week.âÂ
âDamnâŚâÂ
âAlmost got me sick,â Violet pins playfully, skimming through her pages. She erases before rewriting. So so so so smart; too bad both her answers were wrong. Youâll show her the way soon enough.Â
âCoach would hate me. Her star pupilâs under the weather, what ever shall we do,â Sevika mocks and you both chuckle.Â
âThe season starts next week. Yâall nervous?âÂ
âNoââ âYesââ
âIâm nervous for games, not practice,â Vi corrects, âI canât find my fuckinâ shoes.âÂ
âWhat shoes?âÂ
âMy cleats. My sister got âem for me a while ago, wear âem every match for good luck. I donât remember where I fucking put them though.âÂ
âAww, âm sorry.âÂ
Sorry for keeping them in my closet.Â
âS whatever. Just gotta get new ones.âÂ
Small talk is boring as fuck, but it continues between you and Vi. Sevikaâs quiet as a mouse; every glance in her direction is met with hooded eyes. Sheâs very focused on your nightstand drawer. Can she see whatâs inside it? You hope so; Maybe your unworn thongs will motivate them to move this along.Â
âAwww! Wait, you used to play soccer?âÂ
You already know all this. Itâs on her fucking Instagram for fucks sake!Â
âOn the junior team when I was like⌠10! I wasââ
Trash. I kept tripping over the fuckinâ ballâ
ââAnd forgetting to tie my shoes. It was a hot fucking mess!âÂ
Yup. Same as the caption.Â
The laughter between you finally quiets. You count 12 seconds in your head. You raise a hand to place it on the Hello Kitty bandage directly under her eye.Â
âWhat happened here?âÂ
Sevikaâs breathing is very calming.Â
âGot in a fight,â Vi mumbles. Poor things embarrassed! âGot socked in the eye.âÂ
âSorry,â Your hand rests in your lap, âDid I hurt you?â
âYouâre good⌠still stings though. They gotta good one in.âÂ
âHowâd it happen?âÂ
âDonât remember honestly.â
âOh okay.âÂ
The conversation ends. Another 12 seconds.Â
âSo⌠Did you guys fuck after I hung up?âÂ
Sevika smiles and Vi chokes in shock. Theyâre so different. No wonder theyâre so close.Â
âIâ sorry, thought we were studyingââ
âWho said we were gonna study?â You stare at Vi quizzingly.Â
âNo one did. We mighta fucked.â Sevika shrugs nonchalantly.Â
âOh⌠was it fun? Whatever it was.â
âAsk her.â She nods in direction of the girl whose face is beet fucking red. How cute!Â
âVi⌠was it fun?âÂ
Her eyes droop to the pencil in her hand before flicking it nervously.Â
â⌠I guess.âÂ
âYou guess?â
âThatâs what I said.âÂ
â⌠Okay.âÂ
Vi sets her book and pencil on your nightstand before releasing a stuttered sigh.Â
âTell me what happened if ya wanna,â Softness wafts off your tongue.Â
Vi swallows, âI⌠uhâŚâ
âMhm?â
âWe⌠I didnâtâŚâ
âI gave her head til she cried.â Sevika whispers right in your ear; tickling against your lobe and youâre suddenly winded. Viâs legs twist until one crosses over the other.Â
Gave⌠OhâŚ
This isnât new information. Youâre 79% sure Sevika was Viâs first kiss⌠or you heard something like that in passing, so why does the sudden confirmation make you wanna hide? Curl into your blankets and shield yourself from both of them?Â
âOh⌠fun.â Your face burns underneath the skin.
âVery.âÂ
âYupâŚâÂ
âYouâre shy now? After all that?â Sevika almost laughs when your eyes drop to the floor.Â
âItâs uh, easier to talk when no oneâs actually there.âÂ
âWe coulda been if youâd answered the fucking phone.âÂ
â⌠Sorry.âÂ
âItâs okay, baby.âÂ
Sevikaâs captain of the team for a reason; a leader by nature and Vi allows her to despite her anticipation. She's much closer now, the respectful distance she kept up upon arrival now completely shut, her shoulder touching yours, nearly straddling your leg.Â
Thereâs a light tickle on your thigh; Sevikaâs index finger barely grazes the skin exposed beneath the hem of your skirt.Â
âYouâre so stiff,â She whiffs tender against your neck and you choke a noise.Â
âIâm ⌠âmscaredtobreatheââ
âDonât be scared,â Sevikaâs whole hand caresses your knee, eases you into her, all while Vi mouths at your neck. âHere, wanna know a secret?â
You release the air in your lungs, âSureâŚâÂ
Sheâll never tell, so I will. Your head bobs so encouragingly.Â
Vi told me something after she showered that night.Â
With every buttery brustle against your shoulder, Viâs hands gently attack wherever they can reach; the plush of your hips, on your thighs, grabbing at your tummy over your hoodie that takes up too much fucking space for her liking. You canât stop squirming with every taut pull at the pit of your stomach.Â
I was sitting on my bed and she came in, and she smelled so good. I was trying to roll up again, but she took my tray and put it on my dresserâŚÂ
Roll up? Tray? What what what the fuck is she sayingâ
And she got on her knees in front of me⌠and she looked so fucking cute just staring up at me like that, like sheâd do anything to make me happy⌠Sheâs sweet like that if sheâs in the mood.Â
She said âmay I practice on you, please?â⌠And I said okay⌠So she pulls down my underwear and treats me so well. You wanna know who she was practicing for?Â
Yes, yes, pleaseâ
It was you, baby. She kept telling me how good she wanted to make your first time.Â
A strained noise chokes from your throat, and Vi smiles against your ear before her lips close around your lobe and itâs too much theyâre too muchâ
Uh huh, and her tongue felt so fucking good on me. Almost impressive⌠and she loved every second of it.Â
Please⌠please, IâmâÂ
Listen to that, Violet, sheâs so fucking cute, isnât she?
So sweet, too. Bet she tastes so fucking good.Â
Sheâs so hungry for you, baby, Sevika coos at you, Gonna stop teasing and give us what we want?Â
You agree obediently â desperately, with every thrumming cell you can use at the moment.Â
Viâs benign hand rests on your cheek to turn you towards her before kissing you softly. A gentle peck before she pulls away. Itâs overstimulating; Vi kissing and touching you like youâre made of glass while Sevika sucks large bruises on the side of your throat. Your nails dig into the muscular thigh that hardly shakes at your grip in attempts to ground yourself, but they fail because youâre about to faint.Â
Your sun kisses you deeper, holds your face tighter to keep you where she needs to tongue at your lips. Youâre trying to keep up with her, to use the muscle like she uses hers, but youâre falling behind. They donât seem to mind, satisfied with the fact that theyâre gonna devour you regardless.Â
And when Vi lays you back nice and cozy against your pillows while Sevika kisses all over your face, you know youâre fucked.Â
â
Sevika and Vi take turns kissing you.Â
Itâs a messy and uncoordinated mess of teeth and saliva, mainly because of you, but you like it. You love it. You hope they do, too. The warmth of their bodies beside you resonates deep in your core. Whenever one of them pulls away, the next is more than open to take her place, over and over. Your thighs are already shaking.Â
Your hoodies raised up thanks to Viâs wandering hands, tucked right above your rib cage. Your stomach jolts when a feathery finger teases at the band of your skirt.Â
âYou ticklish?â Vi mutters against your cheek.Â
â⌠Nope.âÂ
âYesââ She swipes the same finger against your exposed skin and you jump with a giggle, âyou are. Liar.â
âFuck you!âÂ
âYeah⌠I really, really want to.â
She doesnât give you time to think of a response; just kisses you one last time before climbing onto her knees. Meanwhile, Sevikaâs struggling to get comfortable in your bed. Sheâs essentially on top of you, both her legs wrapped around one of yours.Â
âFucking â small ass mattress! I forgot how much I hate these!âÂ
âS-Sorry! Couldnât afford anything else â mmh!â
Sevika reconnects your mouths while the bed dips beside you. Then thereâs lips on your tummy.Â
Laughter explodes outta you; Sevika canât help but laugh into your mouth while Vi nibbles at your pudge. Her grin glows on your skin before her tongue glides on your hip. Her attention stays there; sloppy noises from above and below, your gasps swallowed with every bite Vi gives you.Â
You hardly register her pulling your skirt down. Youâre just colder. And fuzzier in the head. Sevika breaks away to ask,Â
âHow wet is she?â
Huhâ oh sheâs not talking to you yup yupâ
âCome see.âÂ
Sevika rises from position and youâre even colder. When she whistles at the spot on your underwear, your thighs squeeze shut⌠for 000.3 seconds before she pries them open again.Â
âStop Iâll fucking cryââ
âCry about what? Thatâs so fucking hot. Youâre so cute, baby.âÂ
âBro I wanna dieââ
Sevika rolls her eyes, âBust one last time at least, damn.âÂ
âCan we make it quick please Iâm already on the vergeââ
âOf cumming?â Sevika purrs.
âOf suicideââ
Viâs in hysterics. You shouldnât be this fucking funny. She watches you and Sevika go back and forth with tears in her eyes.Â
You bite, âWonky ass foreplayââ
âIâll strangle youââ
âIâll like itââ
Both of you are fucking stupid. Neither of you notice Vi tugging your panties down. She almost starts drooling at the sight of your pussy. Swallows down the lump of saliva before it can drip down her chin. Youâre wet and throbbing and pretty and you smell like heaven.Â
You gasp when two curious fingers separate your sticky lips; strings of slick cling to Viâs digits. Sevika watches with an insatiable hunger.
âWhat do you like?â Vi whispers, and you shrug.Â
âI dunno, Iâm new here.âÂ
She rolls her eyes, âI mean what do you do when you touch yourself?Â
âI donât do that.âÂ
âNever?â Both girls exclaim.Â
You shake your head. âI tried once and nothing happened so I just ate spaghetti and went to bed.âÂ
âWere you wet?âÂ
Viâs forbearing with her inquiries, but still, youâre on the fucking spot and you might start sneezing from anxiety. Theyâre too patient with you; Maybe youâve been misreading how they were in bed this entire time. You were expecting them to be knuckles deep in every available hole by now.Â
Youâve never been so nervous, and for you, thatâs saying a lot. âI donât remember, it was years ago.âÂ
âYouâve never used toys or anything?âÂ
âI⌠No.â
Sevika stares at Vi, and Vi at Sevika, and you at the wall.Â
Your thighs twitch when velvet nuzzles at them, Viâs voice deep as the ocean. âIâm gonna try something, tell me if you like it and Iâll keep going⌠okay?âÂ
You canât formulate a response but your head bounces in approval. A finger applies the gentlest of pressure on your clit and you expel a wheeze.Â
âOkay?â Sevika hums from above you, a hand easing underneath your hoodie to massage your breast.Â
âYe-ahââ
âSit up for me, honey,â She whispers and you obey so she can creep in behind you, your back resting against her chest. Both her hands rub at your chest this time, her fingers massage your nipples while Vi strokes your clit in slow, teasing circles.Â
âHowâs this feel, babe?âÂ
âGâ good! Great⌠h-hooray?â How do pornstars dirty talk so eloquently? Youâre literally fucking dying right now. Sevika laughs to herself in your neck and your chest burns.Â
âYeah? And this?â She utters right before pressing in, flicking you from side to side and your core squeezes tight. Youâre dripping and she watches so closely.Â
âOh fuckââ
âThere she is, good girl, just feel what sheâs givinâ you.â Sevika rasps against your shoulder.Â
You are feeling and itâs too much for your body to comprehend. Your brainâs never been this focused on one thing. On one feeling, especially one this enjoyable. Itâs so good itâs so good you love your fucking girlfriendâ
âTell me when youâre gonna cum?â Vi says against your soft skin
âUhhâŚ? Iâ oh godââ
âGetting there, baby? Feel how tight youâre getting? I can see it.â
2 ragged inhales and your eyes roll back and your jaw slacks and your nose tickles oh shitâ
âYeah, yeah, give it to me, câmonââ
ACHOO!
Your thigh squeezes shut when euphoria overtakes your entire system; thighs clamping shut around Viâs wrist while she giggles and rubs out your pleasure with ease because sheâs stronger than you. Your initial efforts of staying as silent as possible were in vain because youâre squealing your little head off. Sevika rests back on her hands and watches like a hawk while you thrash and clench and leak all over her roommateâs hand.Â
âGood job. Felt nice, hm?âÂ
You struggle to nod because youâre still cumming so hard and her fingers wonât cease on you. Your thighs stick together with your wetness.Â
âIâm still eating you out, you know that, right?â
Your whines of approval sound wounded.Â
You couldnât see it, but when Vi finally pulled her hand from you, slurping noises swiftly followed, alongside Sevikaâs hums of satisfaction.Â
Mentally preparing for your burial.Â
â
Vi might be obsessed with you.Â
Sheâs back in her original position between your thighs â with Sevika this time because sheâs greedy â and fuck sheâs never been so antsy to give head. She loves it and she loves getting it even more⌠at least she thought so. The aliens could come crashing down from the clouds and her first focus would still be getting you to soak her face.Â
Youâre fully undressed now, minus a sock that slipped off some fucking where but she doesnât give a fuck. Sheâs so desperate to touch you again. It plagues her mind; stuffed with everything that sheâs learned about you thus far. You sneeze before you orgasm for fucks sake thatâs the cutest shit ever â
Can I?
Sheâs asking you and youâre whispering yes, please and fuck you moan so pretty when she first glides her tongue on you. Sevika allows her to ease you into the feeling, but she stays close enough to see every drop of slick that glides on Viâs tongue. Youâre so noisy and she loves that. All she can think about is how loud youâd be with your face in her pillow and your hands behind your back while she â
Vi! Violet! Iâm cumming again!Â
Youâre a fucking dream. An insane fucking freaky ass dream.Â
If anyone were to walk past your room right now, theyâd be appalled at the ruckus that permeates through your space; sloppy sucking noises and encouraging praises and dehumanizing name calling that makes you grind your hips faster. Youâre nearly riding her fucking face.Â
Vi wishes she could see you in entirety; memorize every thrust and wriggle you give into her face, drowning her in your scent and juices and everything she could ever want in this moment. Youâre exactly what she needed; a pliant distraction. You turn her mind off so easily.Â
Sevikaâs greedy and selfish as she raises one of your legs up with ease. You fall back onto the mattress with your back arched to the skies, a cracked wail squeezing from your lungs when another tongue smushes against your clit. Sevika sucks hard at your clit when Viâs tongue swirls down to meet your entrance. The eager muscle wastes no time to shove inside and catch whatever bursts from you.Â
She moves on autopilot; eases one finger past your pulsing heat and your legs start to shake. The digit curls deep inside, plunges into you with vigor and determination to get you there, hits a spot that almost lands her a kick in the back of her head, but she catches you; curls an arm around your thigh to keep you still.Â
And the night â or afternoon or morning, none of you remember, continues like that until youâre drained completely dry and your body contracts from memory.Â
Hours pass when Sevika and Vi finally start tonguing each other down for your viewing pleasure, and it starts all over again.Â
â
r/AskReddit
u/artkiller    1s
2 butches are sleeping next to me rnâŚÂ
never let a hoe tell you to stop following your dreams. iâve been following mine for almost 3 years and now theyâre sleep next to meâŚ.Â
#HAPPYPRIDE
#vi smut#vi arcane#vi fanfic#vi league of legends#sevika#sevika smut#sevika arcane#sevika x you#vi x you#lesbian#rugbyplayer!vi#works đ§§ŕŁŞ#arcane smut#arcane
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i love soft ale 𼚠potential request if it sparks your interest: very early days of dating alexia and reader assumes sheâs not a cuddly type so tries to give her space. realises alexia is in fact very much a cuddly type whoâs asking to be lil spoon. reader teasing her cos how tf is the stoic woman i met a couple weeks ago the same one now making happy noises because iâm scratching her back??? đ¤¨
little spoon â alexia putellas x reader
in which: alexia needs a cuddle after a long day. she just doesn't know how to approach it
warnings: none
wc: 1.5k
a/n: been a minute since i published something! i've been very busy with my christmas series, but i got this request an hour or two ago and couldn't resist lol. hope you enjoy! (not proofread, sorry for any mistakes)
Alexia was many things. Sweet, thoughtful, caring, affectionate, considerate, dating the Spaniard was more perfect than youâd ever imagine it would be. It was still early days, you two had only been exclusive for a couple weeks, but you felt good with her. It felt right. Like you belonged together.
Every night, when Alexia finished rewatching footage or studying game plans, and you finished work for your marketing job, youâd find yourself together on the couch. Talking about anything and everything, munching on a meal either her or you cooked, nursing a glass of wine as the night went on. It usually ended in watching a movie or an episode from a show you were following together, a little routine youâd grown to love.
There was one thing, though, something that you found yourself feeling a little apprehensive about. Alexia wasnât a cuddler. You loved nothing more than the prospect of cuddling up against your brunette lover after a long day of missing her at work. Alexia, on the other hand, not so much. Always an armâs length between the two of you on the couch, never snuggled up in bed. She wasnât very fond of cuddling close to one another. Or so you thought.
It wasnât until one particular Thursday night, that you realised you were very wrong. Alexia came home late. A double training session, two tactical meetings and some media bits here and there led to a very long day, only arriving home a little past 9 in the evening. She dreaded days like these, especially since she knew she had a warm body waiting for het at home.
You were sat on the couch, immersed in the final couple chapters of your book, when you heard a set of keys jiggle outside the front door of your apartment. You glanced at the clock on your phone and frowned, knowing your girlfriend would probably not be in the best mood following the long day she had. You closed your book and left it on the coffee table, making your way over to the front door.
You noticed how slagged her shoulders were, barely able to carry the weight of the day anymore. She toed off her shoes and took off her jacket in complete silence before turning towards you and engulfing you in a tight hug. âAmor,â she breathed against your shoulder. âIâm here, baby,â you reassured your girlfriend, rubbing soothing patterns across her back.
You stayed like that for a while, only pulling away after a couple of minutes as you heard Alexiaâs belly growl. âThereâs a plate in the microwave for you. I made your favourite pasta. I figured you could use some comfort food after the day you had.â Alexia wouldnât admit it, but you swear you saw some tears welling up in the Spaniardâs eyes. âGracias, amor. I love you.â You retreated back to the couch after a couple more lingering kisses, soon joined by your girlfriend with a plate of pasta perched on her lap. Again, though, a couple feet away from you. You decided not to think much of it and put on a movie youâd started watching the other day, before you got interrupted by a surprise visit from Alba.
Alexia finished her portion of pasta in record time and stood up to put her dishes away in the dishwasher, the Spanish captain forever a clean freak. It had its perks, sure, but you werenât exactly very fond of the scolding youâd get every time you left your dishes in the sink to clean up the next day.
She sat back down next to you with a deep sigh, feeling the weight of the long day slowly ebbing away the longer she was in your presence. âHow was your day, bebĂŠ?â Alexia mustered up a small smile and turned her body towards you, her elbow resting on the back of the sofa, supporting her head. âHmm, fine. Lots of meetings, a couple new projects, nothing out of the ordinary.â Your girlfriend hummed, trying her best to seem interested, but talking about your work wasnât really high on her list of things to do right now.
In reality, she just wanted to bury herself in your arms and let the remnants of the long day wash away in your embrace. But she didnât know how to. Youâd never really⌠cuddled. She assumed it just wasnât your thing, because you had never initiated it. Not on the couch, not in bed. She didnât want to intrude, or make you uncomfortable, so she would usually steer clear. Today, though, she needed it.
Alexia shuffled a little closer to you and rest her hand on one of your outstretched legs, softly tracing her fingers up and down your bare thigh. You softly hummed at the sensation, her touch slightly ticklish. A couple moments passed and she shifted again, now nudging your legs apart a little and positioning herself in between them, but not facing you. You tried to catch her gaze, wondering what it was that she wanted, but she avoided any eye contact.
You didnât hear her the first time, causing her to speak up a little louder. âAmor,â Alexia breathed, in a voice that you couldnât describe any different than whiny. âYes, baby?â You raised your eyebrows and met Alexiaâs gaze, frowning slightly as you noticed the troubled expression on her face. âWhatâs up, Ale? You wanna talk about your day?â The brunette shook her head rapidly, biting her lip before she spoke up. âCan I lay with you?â
The question surprised you. Of all the things that you thought Alexia would want or need after a long day, you didnât think it would be that. Alexia had never asked for a cuddle. She asked for hugs, sure, but never to lay close to you. You quickly agreed, wanting nothing more than to hold your girlfriend close. âOf course, baby. Come here.â You shuffled a bit further up the couch and nudged your legs further apart, leaving her space to crawl into â but she didnât.
âAle? All good?â The Spaniard looked up at you and you tried to read her gaze. âCan I be⌠how you say, the spoon?â You withheld a chuckle at her accent, forever endeared with the brunette whenever she tried to speak English. âYou want to be the little spoon?â You asked, wanting to make sure thatâs what she meant. It earned you a nod and a small smile, a sight you swear youâd never grow old of.
âOf course. Come here.â You shifted on the couch so your back was now facing the back of the couch, leaving some space for Alexia in front of you. She wasted no time in curling up against you, burying her face in your neck as she fished your shirt in her hands.
You didnât quite know what to do. Alexia had never been like this with you. You werenât complaining, not at all, youâd probably never felt happier in the past couple weeks of dating the footballer than now. Alexia exhaled deeply, nuzzling her face deeper in the crook of your neck as she settled. âComfortable?â She hummed, pressing a soft kiss against the exposed skin where her head rested.
You shuffled and got comfortable, reaching a hand behind your girlfriendâs body and softly scratching her back underneath her shirt. Alexia nuzzled impossibly closer and you held her tight, tracing your nails up and down her back as the weight of the day slowly ebbed away.
You scratched her back until you thought sheâd fallen asleep, her breathing evening out a bit, but you were very wrong. Your attempt at retreating your hand from underneath her shirt was met with an unsatisfied grumble and a pinch to your side, to which you chuckled. âNeedy, are we?â Alexia scoffed, but it held no malice as you felt her lips forming a grin against the skin of your neck.
You once again started scratching your nails up and down her back. âMhm, feels good,â Alexia mumbled against your neck. You pressed a tender kiss against her crown. You soaked up the warmth from Alexiaâs body pressed so close to yours, your figures moulding together like you were made for each other.
You spent the rest of your evening cuddled up on the couch, eventually moving to the bed where the Spaniard once again curled up against you, this time her head resting on your chest and her leg swung across your midsection.
âWouldnât have taken you for a cuddler, Alexia,â you teased, after giving her a kiss good night. âShut up. I thought you didnât like it. We have to make up for lost time.â You chuckled and pressed a soft kiss against her crown, closing your eyes as you soaked in the warmth from your lover. âThereâs nowhere Iâd rather be.â
#woso#woso community#woso imagine#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#barcelona femini#fcb femenĂ#fcb femeni#spain wnt
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Hey! I did this request before your work was deleted, so I thought that I could do it again, so, the jjk men receive a message telling them that reader was kidnaped and they demand money, at first they think its a prank, until the kidnapper send a picture were reader is tied up and hurt, then they take this as a serious thing (sorry my bad english, love yourk work :3)
ahh I remember this. As always please never apologize for leaning more than one language đ I can barely speak English and it's my first language
JJK Characters don't believe you're kidnapped without proof (Established Relationship)
Ft ~ Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryoumen Sukuna, Choso, Takuma Ino, Shiu Kong, Uraume, Shoko Ieiri, Mahito Synopsis ~ You get kidnapped and the JJK Characters think its a prank at first, until they get proof Content Warning ~ 18+, Crack is present, Suggestive, Language, some Angst, no real Fluff, talks of violence and kidnapping. I'm autistic IDK
#jjk smau#jjk#jjk texts#jjk fake texts#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu smau#jjk gojo#jjk geto#jjk nanami#jjk toji#jjk sukuna#jjk choso#jjk ino#jjk shiu#gojo x reader#geto x reader#nanami x reader#toji x reader#sukuna x reader#choso x reader#ino x reader#shiu x reader#jjk uraume#jjk shoko#jjk mahito#uraume x reader#shoko x reader#mahito x reader
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⥠cw: BACKSHOTSSSSS!!! (daddy) chris is very degrade-y, he squishes the reader's face in his big sexy hand, 2 lil cheek slaps, dumbification, crying, drooling, no gendered pronouns but he calls the reader his good girl and i know all of you desire to be chris's good girl... freaks! /j oh yeah and he says slut once sorry!
⥠a/n: reposting this one first because its a personal fav <3. as always, mdni, and thank you for reading! any & all feedback is welcome. :*
husband!chris, ever so soft, attentive, and doting.
when describing him outside of an intimate setting the only thing you can ever talk about with your girls is how pure and consuming his love is for you. it's a relationship akin to one that feels like sunbathing in a beautiful, massive garden and being hand-fed grapes. but when he's got you in a position so vulnerable, like now, with your wrists clasped together behind your back in his hold, and he's so deep in your guts you feel like you're going to die in his arms, his hot and heavy cock abusing that sweet spot in your messy cunt with no restraint â gentleness is far from his demeanor.
you've been at it for hours. so much so your knees have indented it's place in the mattress, and his brutal pace is making it no better. you're sure you've got carpet burn at this point. your weak sobbing and incoherent wails begin sounding winded, and you struggle to gather air into your chest but he knocks the breath right out of your lungs almost immediately after every gasp you take. âfucking slut.â he sneers. he's in his zone. a usually hidden place chris only goes on special occasions you're in bed with him.
then he utters something. it's so muffled you can only feel the vibration of what he says and you barely make out any syllables.
â â be the good girl you know you are and moan my name.â you miss the first half of his sentence again, completely zoned out and held prisoner to his thick cock in your cunt. struggling to speak, stammering over weak little whimpers, you manage to get out a small âch â chris â,â but that's not what he's looking for you to call him.
he grips your cheeks in his palm, squishing them together and suddenly he's tilting your head back to force you to make eye contact. well, if you could even call it that; you can hardly see him through your blurry wet eyes. his thrusts slow and he's pressing all the way inside with a harsh jerk of his hips, balls pressed tightly against your throbbing clit, and you cant help but whine again, body trembling like a leaf. his gaze is pointed and you feel pinned to him, chrisâs expression mimicking a scowl he's so focused on getting a response from you. âyâfucking stupid? that's not my name.â
your head is swimming, drool slipping down your chin and you babble wordlessly like some brain-dead toy, hips gyrating pathetically as you're trying your damnedest to get him to just move again.
âstop fucking squirming and listen.â he hisses, using that same palm that's currently holding your face in place, and tapping your cheek twice. enough to get you to focus, but not enough to hurt. he gives you a second sharp thrust as punishment, grip returning to your face. his hold on your cheeks are so tight, it's puckering your cute little lips. âi won't ask you again.â
âd-daddy!â you squeal, and a cocky grin takes it's place on his flushed face, his hips picking up speed.
atta-girl.
#đ mimiwriting!#stray kids smut#skz smut#bang chan smut#bangchan smut#bang chan x reader#bangchan x reader
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Viktor x Reader
tags: nsfw, suggestive but on a spiritual lvl đ¤ hurt/comfort. robo viktor and intimacy basically.
[established relationship]
Viktor's new body doesn't feel physical pleasure. Doesn't feel friction or warmth to any extensive degree.
But you'll often find yourself placed on his lap, with him guiding your hips to grind against his own. His arms guiding yours around his shoulder, neck, back...wherever your heart desires to leave a ghost of an imprint. He traces your skin with fingertips that don't really feel any pressure whatsoever, but his soul yearns to touch you like he used to.
And he does. It makes him desperate at first...lost and heartbroken. He has to learn to calculate better, in fear of not giving you a good enough illusion that he is still as human as he was, still an attentive lover that he used to be.
The kind that would spend hours making you feel good, loved and precious. He used to push himself to exhaustion just because he needed to show you his affections thoroughly.
He still would. He still does. Every little speck of him that is left within this new vessel, he selflessly gives to you. The shudders that he lets out when you whine and moan are raw and real, the adoration in his eyes when he does something right and you gasp...it's for you only.
He can feel your emotions and hear your thoughts when the connection between you is at its peak. Once you place your forehead against his and you fall apart under his skilled hands, he can experience the ecstasy similar to the one he used to when he was mortal.
It's yours. It's borrowed. But it gets him high. The fraction of your pleasure that he can feel through your bond makes him addicted, insatiable. It can be considered selfish when he thinks about it more in depth, however it isn't.
Because he would do it all just for you...even if he couldn't feel a single thing, he knows he would always feel utter love and devotion towards everything that makes you. Your plump lips, your eager hands, your honey coated words, your mind and intelligence, your familiarity.
He'd rip himself apart and turn to nothing if it made you happy.
So he's quick to learn. He learns how to press his cold lips against yours just right...all over again. Relearns how to touch you in ways he used to know by heart. The instincts that seemed to die with his body, he has to fabricate.
There's beauty in those calculations. It comforts him. Because those seemingly "robotic" efforts are naked proof that his love for you will never falter, no matter the form he takes on.
He knows that you see his struggles, notice the smaller errors he makes in rhythm, in the gentleness or the roughness of his movements. But as always, you understand him and his body, the state of it, the "faults" as he used to call them, which you always said you'd love, no matter what they were.
This stayed constant in your relationship from before and now. Your stubbornness to love him through everything , even this, and he'd be a fool to not repay you.
So he makes love to you, under the glossy, shiny stars and then under the morning sunrise, on the wet grass or the cloudy floor of his hidden universe. You'll feel him molding his body for you and pouring his soul into you until you're crying, panting and shaking underneath him.
He'll swallow the screams from your lips as you crumble for him, and he'll engrave them so deep within himself so that nothing could rip them away.
Noone can ever love me like the fictional men in my head and I'll have to accept that eventually . Anyways I hope you enjoyed this blurb, if you did, stay tuned bc this blog is slowly turning into a Viktor shrine.
requests are set to open while this season's high fuels me, so feel free to drop byđŠľ
#arcane#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#viktor league of legends#viktor machine herald#arcane season 2
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â
'cause she's watching him with those eyes / and she's loving him with that body, i just know it / and he's holding her in his arms late, late at night / you know, i wish that i had jessie's girl / i wish that i had jessie's girl / where can i find a woman like that? âââJBâš
⢠â đ°đ¨đŤđ đđ¨đŽđ§đ | 18k (a lot more than i expected...)
⢠â đŹđŽđŚđŚđđŤđ˛ | a college student navigates her complicated feelings for her charming yet infuriating neighbor, joe burrow, while dating the seemingly perfect linebacker. after a series of missteps, flirtatious teasing, and an unexpected kiss, she finds herself caught in a whirlwind of tension, confusion, and unexpected sparks, all while trying to avoid the loud, chaotic presence of joe and his ever-constant parade of girls.
⢠â đ°đđŤđ§đ˘đ§đ đŹ | unedited (sorry... i got lazy), NSFW (with lots... and lots... AND LOTS of plot), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it, kids) praise, teasing, lots of kissing/foreplay, p in v, uhhh.. descriptions of big dick joe??? enemies to lovers, roommates, mentions of drinking/alcohol, cheating (not on reader), joe being an asshole, cocky joe, lots of fighting, heated arguments.
⢠â đđŻ'đŹ đ§đ¨đđđŹ | this has been in my drafts for a good 2 months and finally decided to finish it up on the sunday before american thanksgiving! so... yaya! please let me know your thoughts!
The muffled sound of JaâMarr Chaseâs bass-heavy playlist seeps through the thin walls of your apartment, rattling the picture frames you swore you hung up straight last week. The tiny LSU apartment complex, with its peeling beige paint and eternally broken elevator, has its charmsâlike the way the front door doesnât lock unless you kick it just right or how the air conditioner only works when itâs below 70 degrees outside.
But Joe Burrow? Heâs not one of those charms.
No, Joe Burrow is the bane of your existence, the human equivalent of a pothole on a road you have to take every day. His name alone makes your best friend, Ella, roll her eyes so hard itâs a miracle they donât get stuck in the back of her head. âJust ignore him,â she says every time you come storming through the door, ranting about whatever fresh annoyance heâs cooked up that day. âHe only bothers you because youâre fun to mess with.â
Right. Like thatâs supposed to make it better.
Living next door to Joe and JaâMarr was tolerable at first. Sure, they were loud, occasionally messy, and probably violating a dozen lease terms, but it wasnât personal. Then, you had one small misunderstandingâokay, so maybe you yelled at Joe for leaving his bike in front of your door after you tripped over itâand now itâs like heâs made it his lifeâs mission to drive you insane.
Sometimes, itâs harmless: an obnoxious smirk when you cross paths on the way to class or his sarcastic comments about how you always seem to be spilling coffee on your shirt. Other times, itâs borderline infuriating: stealing your parking spot, taking the last box of cinnamon rolls at the grocery store, or claiming the shared apartment complex grill for âofficial game day businessâ every single Saturday.
Still, thereâs something annoyingly magnetic about him, even when you want to wring his neck. The way his eyes crinkle when heâs laughing at his own jokes. The stupid mop of curls he somehow manages to pull off. The effortless confidence that borders on cocky, though youâd never say it out loud because thatâs exactly the kind of thing that would go straight to his head.
Ella always jokes that you two are like an old married couple, constantly bickering but secretly loving it. You disagree. Mostly because Joe already has enough people falling at his feetâlike the swarm of girls in purple-and-gold jerseys who show up at the apartment complex every other week, giggling like theyâre auditioning for a reality show.
You sigh, brushing a stray crumb off the countertop as Ella flops onto the couch behind you, textbook in hand. And if his stupid grin when he sees you on your balcony later tonight is any indication, heâs already got something planned.
You just donât know it yet.
The parking lot outside your apartment complex is a war zone at 11 p.m., with far too many cars crammed into a space that was clearly designed with only half the residents in mind. You circle the lot for the third time, your headlights cutting through the dark like a searchlight on some hopeless mission. After eight grueling hours at the campus library helping undergrads figure out why their printers are possessed, your brain feels like oatmeal, and all you want is to collapse into your bed.
But, of course, tonight isnât going to be that simple.
Because there he is. Joe freaking Burrow.
Heâs in his Jeepâwindows down, music playing softly, and, naturally, thereâs a blonde perched in the passenger seat laughing at something he said. Of course, he found the last available spot. Exceptâitâs not his spot, because you saw it first. Your blinkerâs been on since the beginning of time (or at least the last 30 seconds), and you refuse to back down now.
Your grip tightens on the steering wheel as he slowly starts to reverse into the spot, like he hasnât noticed your very obvious claim to it. Heart pounding with a mix of exhaustion and indignation, you tap your horn. Just once. Polite, but firm. He stops, glances in his rearview mirror, and thenâof courseâhe smirks.
Oh, hell no.
You roll down your window and lean out. âHey, Burrow! I was waiting for that spot.â
He leans his elbow casually against the window frame, his curls catching the faint glow of the streetlight. âWere you? Didnât see your name on it.â His voice is slow, lazy, like heâs got all the time in the world to be a pain in your ass.
You glare at him, barely suppressing the urge to snap. âI was here first.â
âAnd I started reversing first,â he counters, raising an eyebrow like itâs a debate class and not a parking lot at nearly midnight. The blonde giggles beside him, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. âJust let me have it. You look like you could use the exercise.â
Oh, heâs done it now.
âExcuse me?â Your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but youâre too far gone to care. âIâve been on my feet for eight hours dealing with entitled freshmen, and if you think Iâm about to let youââ
âAlright, alright,â Joe interrupts, hands raised in mock surrender. âRelax, Iâm not trying to ruin your night.â He throws the Jeep into drive, and with a dramatic sigh, he pulls away, leaving the spot open for you. But not without one last parting comment. âDonât scratch the paint when you park. Oh, waitâyouâre really close to that poleââ
You park with excessive precision, throwing your car into park before leaning out the window to call after him. âI didnât ask for your help, Joe!â
His laugh echoes across the parking lot, carefree and infuriating. You slam your door shut a little harder than necessary, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you trudge toward the building. Finally, peace.
Or so you think.
Because just as you reach the elevator, its ding announcing its arrival, you hear the telltale sound of sneakers scuffing against concrete andâbecause your luck is absolute trashâJoe freaking Burrow strolls in behind you, Blonde Giggles McGee still glued to his side.
âHey, neighbor,â he says casually, stepping into the elevator with you like he didnât just steal and relinquish a parking spot out of sheer pettiness. The blonde gives you a wide, vaguely clueless smile, her gum snapping between her teeth.
You press the button for the third floor with a pointed jab and cross your arms, leaning against the elevator wall as Joe and his date take their sweet time figuring out which floor theyâre going to. The door finally slides shut, and the tension in the small space is unbearable.
âSo,â the blonde says brightly, flipping her hair over her shoulder, âyou guys, like, live here? Thatâs so fun! Like, neighbors and stuff. Wow.â
Your lips press into a tight smile, trying to avoid eye contact with Joe, who you can feel grinning at you like this is the highlight of his week. âYep. Fun,â you reply curtly, forcing the word out like itâs laced with acid.
Joeâs shoulders shake slightly, and you realize heâs laughing. He glances at you, and thereâs that damn smirk again, like he knows exactly how close you are to losing it. âSheâs real talkative tonight,â he says, tilting his head toward you. âUsually, sheâs got more to say.â
You turn to him with a withering glare. âDonât you have something else to do, Burrow?â
Before he can reply, the elevator lurches slightly as it comes to a stop on your floor. You step out quickly, muttering a polite âGood nightâ that is entirely devoid of warmth. Joe follows, his pace annoyingly casual as he throws one last look over his shoulder.
âSee you around, neighbor,â he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.
You donât look back.
The smell of cheap ramen hits you the moment you open the door to your apartment. Itâs comforting, in a wayâfamiliar, like Ellaâs answer to every late-night craving or bad day. Sheâs in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove, barefoot and wearing the oversized LSU sweatshirt youâd bought together during freshman year.
âYouâre late,â she says without looking up, her voice light with mock reproach. âWas the library on fire, or did you stop to fight Burrow in the parking lot again?â
You kick off your shoes with a sigh, tossing your bag onto the couch. âOption B. Obviously.â
That gets her attention. She turns, spoon in hand, eyebrows raised. âSeriously? Itâs, like, midnight. You two are going to give each other aneurysms before graduation.â
You slump into one of the kitchen chairs, letting your forehead hit the table dramatically. âHe stole my parking spot. Had the audacity to smirk about it, too. And thenâget thisâI got stuck in the elevator with him and some girl who wouldnât stop talking about how âfunâ it is to have neighbors.â You lift your head to glare at Ella, who is now struggling to hold back a laugh. âIâm cursed. That man is my curse.â
Ella snorts, pouring the ramen into two mismatched bowls. âHeâs not your curse. Heâs just a guy with too much charm and not enough common sense. And clearly, youâre living rent-free in his head, which, honestly, is kind of impressive considering heâs got a playbook in there.â
You accept the bowl she slides across the table, your stomach growling despite your lingering irritation. âI donât want to live in his head. I want him to stop being so⌠so Joe all the time.â
Ella sits across from you, propping her chin in her hand with a sly grin. âAre you sure? You seem to spend a lot of time talking about him.â
You glare at her over a mouthful of noodles. âDonât start.â
But sheâs already started, her grin widening. âIâm just saying, itâs giving sexual tension.â
You nearly choke, coughing as you wave her off. âNope. Absolutely not. Thereâs no tension. Only irritation. And rage. And an overwhelming desire to see him move to a different apartment complex.â
Ella laughs, leaning back in her chair. âWhatever you say, babe. But for the record, I think you secretly enjoy it.â
You open your mouth to argue, but before you can form a retort, thereâs a knock at the door. Both of you freeze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.
âYou expecting someone?â Ella whispers, her tone suddenly conspiratorial.
âNo,â you whisper back, your heart sinking as a horrible suspicion creeps over you.
Ella gestures for you to check, and with a deep, resigned breath, you shuffle to the door, bowl still in hand. You crack it open just enough to see whoâs on the other side, andâbecause the universe apparently hates youâthere he is. Joe Burrow, in all his smug, infuriating glory, holding a box of cinnamon rolls.
âHey, neighbor,â he says, his grin infuriatingly wide. âFigured I owed you something for stealing your spot.â
You stare at him, speechless, for a moment. Then, finally, you manage, âItâs 11:30 at night.â
He shrugs, as if thatâs a perfectly reasonable time for a peace offering. âBetter late than never, right?â
From behind you, Ellaâs voice rings out, barely containing her amusement. âIs that Joe? Invite him in!â
You turn to glare at her, silently vowing revenge, but when you look back at Joe, heâs already stepping inside like he owns the place.
âNice place,â he says, glancing around before holding up the box. âSo⌠cinnamon roll?â
You sigh, shutting the door behind him. Itâs going to be a long night.
Joe leans casually against the counter, still holding the box of cinnamon rolls like heâs been invited to stay for a late-night hangout. You narrow your eyes at him, folding your arms. âSo, whatâs this about, really? Cinnamon rolls arenât exactly your style.â
âWow, judgmental much?â he says with a mock-wounded expression. âWhat if I just wanted to be neighborly?â
Ella snickers softly behind you, spooning up her ramen as she watches the exchange like itâs prime-time TV.
Joe grins, ignoring your skepticism. âActually,â he says, setting the box on the counter with a little too much flourish, âIâm out of sugar. You wouldnât happen to have any, would you?â
You blink at him, incredulous. âSugar? You came over at almost midnight to borrow sugar?â
âYup,â he says, popping the âpâ for emphasis, completely unbothered by your glare.
Ella, ever the peacemakerâor enabler, depending on the situationâsets her bowl down and gets up to rummage through the cabinets. âWeâve got some,â she says reluctantly, pulling out a small bag. She walks over and places it in Joeâs outstretched hand, but not without narrowing her eyes at him. âYou better bring this back, Burrow. Or at least repay us with something better than cinnamon rolls.â
âNoted,â he says with a charming smile, tucking the bag under his arm. He turns to you, his grin softening into something almost teasing. âThanks, neighbor. Youâre a real lifesaver.â
You donât bother replying, instead stepping aside so he can leave. He makes his way to the door, pausing for a moment. âOh, and donât forget to check your parking job in the morning,â he says with a wink before slipping out into the hallway.
The second the door clicks shut, you groan, slumping against the counter. Ella bursts into laughter, practically doubling over as she grabs her bowl again. âYou two are ridiculous,â she says between bites.
âIâm moving out,â you mutter, dragging yourself to the couch. âI donât care if itâs to a cardboard box in the quad. Itâll be quieter than this.â
You think thatâs the end of itâJoeâs random sugar-borrowing adventure, Ellaâs endless teasingâbut of course, youâre wrong. Because a few hours later, just as youâre finally starting to drift off in the tiny bedroom you call your sanctuary, you hear it.
A muffled giggle. A low, rumbling voice youâd recognize anywhere. Then, unmistakably, the rhythmic creak of a bed frame against the wall.
Your eyes snap open, and for a moment, you pray youâre imagining things. Maybe itâs a nightmareâa cruel joke your overtired brain is playing on you. But then you hear it again, louder this time, followed by a very enthusiastic âOh my God, Joey!â
You groan, grabbing your pillow and pressing it over your ears.
From the other side of the wall, Ellaâs muffled voice reaches you through the darkness. âIs thatâŚ?â
âYes,â you hiss, your voice barely audible through the pillow. âItâs him.â
She snorts, and you can hear her shifting in her bed. âWell, at least heâs getting good use out of that sugar.â
You let out a strangled laugh, torn between exhaustion and disbelief. âI swear, if this goes on all nightââ
As if on cue, thereâs another creak, louder this time, followed by more giggling and exaggerated moaning.
Ella sighs. âThin walls, huh?â
âApparently,â you mutter, rolling onto your side and glaring at the wall like itâs personally offended you.
The noises continueâgiggles, muffled moans, the occasional thud that makes you wince. You bury your face in your pillow, silently cursing Joe Burrow and his audacity.
Itâs going to be a very, very long night.
The next morning comes too soon. Despite the symphony of creaks, giggles, and thuds that plagued the night, you manage to drag yourself out of bed, bleary-eyed and cranky. The coffee pot sputters as you pour yourself a life-saving cup, muttering curses at your neighbor under your breath. Ella, still in her pajamas, watches you from the couch with an amused smirk.
âYou look alive,â she teases, spooning cereal into her mouth. âBarely.â
âI hate him,â you say flatly, taking a long sip of coffee.
âSure you do,â she singsongs.
You donât dignify her with a response, grabbing your bag and heading out the door.
As luckâor fateâwould have it, the universe isnât done with you yet. Because just as youâre locking your apartment door, you hear the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking down the hallway.
You glance over your shoulder and immediately regret it.
There she is. Last nightâs Blonde of the Hour, strutting toward the elevator with a walk of shame so confident it might as well be a victory lap. Sheâs wearing Joeâs oversized LSU hoodie, paired with last nightâs skirt and heels. Her hair is tousled, but she doesnât seem to care.
And because the universe apparently has a sense of humor, she notices you at the same time you notice her.
âMorning!â she chirps, her voice way too chipper for someone who clearly didnât sleep much.
You press your lips together to keep from laughing, nodding in acknowledgment. âMorning.â
The two of you step into the elevator together, the silence stretching awkwardly between you. You steal a glance at her from the corner of your eye, wondering if she has any idea that her night of âfunâ ruined yours. But then she sighs and adjusts the sleeves of Joeâs hoodie, completely unbothered, and you realize she probably doesnât care.
The doors slide open to the lobby, and you step out first, your pace brisk as you make a beeline for the exit. But as you push through the glass doors into the bright morning sunlight, you nearly collide with none other than Joe Burrow himself.
Heâs leaning against his car, coffee cup in hand, looking far too put together for someone who should be as tired as you. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, then flick over to the blonde trailing behind.
âMorning, neighbor,â he says, his voice laced with amusement.
âMorning,â you reply dryly, brushing past him toward your car.
But of course, he canât just let it go. âSleep well?â
You stop dead in your tracks, turning to glare at him. His smirk is infuriatingly smug, and you canât tell if heâs genuinely clueless or just messing with you.
âThin walls,â you say pointedly, raising an eyebrow.
His smirk falters for half a second before he recovers, lifting his coffee cup in a mock toast. âNoted.â
The blonde, oblivious to the tension, giggles. âJoe, you didnât tell me your neighbors were so fun!â
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead unlocking your car with more force than necessary. âOh, weâre a blast,â you mutter under your breath, sliding into the driverâs seat.
As you pull out of the parking lot, you catch a glimpse of Joe in your rearview mirror, still leaning against his car, watching you leave. Thereâs a flicker of something in his expressionâamusement, maybe, or curiosityâbut you donât have the energy to figure it out.
Later that afternoon, when youâre back in your apartment trying to catch up on work, Ella pops her head into the living room with a mischievous grin.
âGuess who I ran into at the coffee shop?â
You glance up warily. âWho?â
âJoe,â she says, plopping down on the couch. âHe said heâs planning a little âbuilding mixerâ this weekend. Invited everyone on the floor. Including us.â
You groan, letting your head fall back against the couch. âNo. Absolutely not. I am not going to some Burrow-hosted mixer.â
âOh, come on,â Ella says, nudging you with her foot. âIt could be fun. Free food, free drinks⌠awkward encounters with your mortal enemyâŚâ
You glare at her, but she just laughs. âYouâre going,â she says firmly. âI already RSVPâd for us.â
And just like that, you realize your week is about to get a whole lot more complicated.
Saturday night rolls around faster than youâd like, and with it comes the so-called âmixerâ that Joe Burrow somehow convinced Ella you had to attend. Youâd held onto the slim hope that it would be a small, quiet gathering of your neighbors in the building, with maybe some snacks, polite small talk, and an early exit for you.
Instead, you step off the elevator into what can only be described as chaos. The hallway is packed with people, the distant thrum of music vibrating through the walls. Someoneâs yelling about finding the keg, and the faint scent of spilled beer and cologne wafts toward you.
âThis is not a mixer,â you mutter to Ella as you both navigate your way through the crowd.
Ella, of course, looks thrilled. Sheâs dolled up in a crop top and high-waisted jeans, her hair and makeup perfectly done. âRelax,â she says, looping her arm through yours. âItâs just a party. Have a drink, let loose. Who knows? You might even have fun.â
You highly doubt that, but before you can argue, she spots JaâMarr Chase leaning against the doorway to Joeâs apartment and perks up immediately. âIâll catch up with you later!â she says, already untangling herself from your arm and heading toward him.
âElla!â you call after her, but sheâs too busy tossing a flirty smile JaâMarrâs way to notice.
Great. Now youâre alone in the middle of a party that feels like half of LSU showed up to, surrounded by strangers and sticky floors. You push your way toward the kitchen, hoping to grab a drink and then find a corner to blend into until Ella decides itâs time to leave.
But, because the universe apparently loves messing with you, you hear his voice before you see him.
âWell, well, look who decided to show up.â
You groan internally and turn to see Joe leaning against the counter, a Solo cup in hand and that ever-present smirk on his face. Heâs dressed casually in a fitted t-shirt and jeans, but somehow still manages to look like he owns the placeâwhich, technically, he does.
âIâm only here because Ella dragged me,â you say, crossing your arms. âDonât get any ideas.â
Joe chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. âCome on, admit it. Youâre having the time of your life.â
âYeah, sure,â you deadpan. âSticky floors and loud music are exactly my idea of fun.â
He grins, clearly enjoying your irritation. âYou know, if you wanted to hang out with me so badly, you couldâve just asked. No need to pretend Ella dragged you here.â
âIââ You stop yourself, realizing thereâs no point in arguing. Itâs exactly what he wants. Instead, you grab a bottle of water from the counter and turn to leave.
âHey, hold up,â he says, stepping in front of you. âYouâre not just gonna drink water all night, are you?â
âYes, Joe, I am,â you say, trying to sidestep him, but he moves to block you.
âAt least let me get you a real drink,â he says, gesturing toward the makeshift bar someone set up on the other side of the room. âI make a mean rum and Coke.â
âIâm fine, thanks.â
âSuit yourself,â he says, stepping aside, but not before adding, âBut youâre missing out. My bartending skills are unmatched.â
You roll your eyes and head toward the living room, finding a spot near the wall where you can observe without being dragged into the chaos. You sip your water and watch as Joe works the room, effortlessly charming everyone he talks to.
About an hour later, youâre starting to regret not leaving when Ella abandoned you. Youâve been stuck making awkward small talk with strangers, and the music is only getting louder.
Then Ella appears out of nowhere, grabbing your arm with a giggle. âCome with me,â she says, pulling you toward the corner where Joe and some of his teammates are lounging on a worn-out sectional.
âWhy?â you ask, resisting her tug.
âBecause JaâMarr wants to introduce me to his friends, and I donât want to go alone!â
You sigh, reluctantly following her over. JaâMarr greets Ella with a grin, and she practically melts under his attention. You, on the other hand, find yourself stuck sitting next to Joe, who looks far too pleased about the arrangement.
âMiss me already?â he asks, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music.
âNot even a little,â you reply, glaring at him.
He chuckles, clearly unbothered. âYouâre really bad at hiding how much you enjoy my company, you know that?â
You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, one of his teammates interrupts. âYo, Burrow, whoâs this?â
âThis,â Joe says, gesturing toward you with a dramatic flourish, âis my lovely neighbor.â
âNeighbor, huh?â the guy says, raising an eyebrow. âYou two seem⌠close.â
You snort. âNot even remotely.â
Joe grins, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind you. âDonât listen to her,â he says. âSheâs just shy.â
You shoot him a withering look, but he only laughs, clearly enjoying himself.
As the night drags on, Joe makes it his personal mission to annoy you. Every time you try to leave, he finds a way to pull you back into the conversation, teasing you relentlessly. His teammates, to their credit, seem amused by the dynamic, occasionally chiming in with their own jokes.
By the time Ella finally decides sheâs ready to leave, youâre exhaustedâphysically and emotionally. You practically sprint for the door, eager to escape Joeâs smirk and the endless teasing.
As you step into the hallway, he calls after you, âSee you around, neighbor!â
You donât bother responding, instead dragging Ella toward the elevator. But as you press the button for your floor, you canât help but feel like you havenât seen the last of Joe Burrow tonightâor any night, for that matter.
The next week at LSU passes like any other, but somehow, Joe Burrow has managed to worm his way into your daily routine. It starts smallârunning into him at the mailboxes, hearing his muffled laughter through the thin walls at ungodly hours, and the occasional âgood morning, neighbor!â shouted across the courtyard when youâre clearly not in the mood.
Itâs maddening, really, the way he seems to delight in being everywhere you donât want him to be. And yet, despite your annoyance, you canât deny that his presence makes life just a little more⌠interesting.
FRIDAY NIGHT
Ella bursts through the apartment door, her face lit up with excitement. Youâre sprawled on the couch, flipping through lecture notes and wishing the week would end already.
âGuess what!â she exclaims, tossing her bag onto the counter.
âLet me guess,â you say dryly. âJaâMarr invited you to another party?â
âClose,â she says, wiggling her eyebrows. âJaâMarr and Joe are throwing a tailgate tomorrow before the game, and weâre invited.â
You groan, already dreading the idea of spending yet another afternoon dodging Joeâs incessant teasing. âIâm busy,â you lie.
âYouâre coming,â Ella insists, plopping down next to you. âItâs practically a campus tradition, and besides, you could use a little fun.â
âFun,â you repeat, raising an eyebrow. âIs that what weâre calling being forced to socialize with half of LSU now?â
Ella rolls her eyes. âCome on, itâll be fun. Food, drinks, andââ she grins mischievouslyââa chance to hang out with your favorite quarterback.â
You glare at her. âJoe Burrow is not my favorite anything.â
âUh-huh,â she says, clearly not believing you. âWear something cute. Weâre leaving at noon.â
SATURDAY AFTERNOON
The tailgate is, unsurprisingly, a spectacle. Rows of tents stretch across the field, decked out in purple and gold, with grills smoking and music blasting. Students and alumni alike mill about, laughing and chatting as they gear up for the game.
You follow Ella through the crowd, clutching a plastic cup of soda and trying to blend in. She, of course, makes a beeline for JaâMarr, whoâs manning the grill with an ease that suggests heâs done this a thousand times.
And where thereâs JaâMarr, thereâs Joe.
He spots you almost immediately, his trademark smirk spreading across his face as he waves you over. âHey, neighbor! Glad you could make it.â
âDonât flatter yourself,â you mutter, but heâs already stepping closer, his easy confidence making it impossible to ignore him.
âWhat, no hug?â he teases, holding his arms out dramatically.
âNot in this lifetime,â you reply, sidestepping him.
Ella, now fully engrossed in a conversation with JaâMarr, leaves you to fend for yourself. You glance around, debating whether to make a run for it, but Joe blocks your path, clearly amused by your discomfort.
âYouâre really bad at this whole socializing thing, arenât you?â he says, leaning casually against the nearest table.
âMaybe I just donât enjoy your company,â you retort, taking a sip of your drink.
He grins. âIf that were true, you wouldnât be here.â
Before you can respond, one of his teammates calls his name, distracting him long enough for you to slip away. You find a quieter spot near the edge of the field, letting the noise of the crowd fade into the background.
But, of course, Joe finds you again.
âThought youâd try to escape, huh?â he says, appearing at your side like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
âI wasnât escaping,â you lie, crossing your arms.
âSure you werenât.â He pauses, glancing at the crowd. âNot a fan of tailgates?��
âNot a fan of crowds,â you admit.
He nods, surprisingly serious for once. âFair enough. Theyâre not for everyone.â
You glance at him, caught off guard by the genuine tone in his voice. Itâs a rare moment of sincerity from someone who seems to live for getting under your skin.
And then, just as quickly, the moment passes.
âStill,â he says, his smirk returning, âyouâve got to admit, the foodâs pretty good. JaâMarrâs burgers? Best on campus.â
The party stretched well into the night, turning the once-bustling tailgate into a dimly lit, hazy scene of music, laughter, and scattered conversations. Youâd almost forgotten how much you hated these kinds of events. The air was warm, the smell of grilled food and spilled beer thick, but for once, you werenât faking a smile just to survive.
Instead, you were leaning against a folding chair near the makeshift DJ booth, chatting with a guy named Wes. He was a linebacker for LSU, though, by his own admission, mostly a benchwarmer. Shy, soft-spoken, and refreshingly normal, Wes wasnât at all what you expected to find at a party like this.
âYouâre telling me youâve never been to Mikeâs cage?â he asked, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the music.
You laughed. âI donât know, it just never seemed like a big deal to me. Itâs a tiger.â
His eyes widened in mock offense. âItâs not just a tiger. Itâs our tiger.â
âOkay, okay, maybe Iâll check it out sometime,â you said, grinning at his enthusiasm.
From the corner of your eye, you caught movement, and instinctively, you glanced over. There, leaning against the bar table, was Joe.
His usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his jaw was tight, and his eyes were fixed on you and Wes.
The sight of his uncharacteristically cold expression sent a jolt through you. Was he annoyed? No, that didnât make sense. He didnât care about you, not really.
Wes was saying something about the tiger habitat, but your attention flickered back to Joe. His knuckles whitened around the edge of his red Solo cup, and he seemed to be muttering something to JaâMarr, who only shrugged in response.
âEverything okay?â Wes asked, his brow furrowed as he followed your gaze.
You blinked, forcing yourself to refocus. âYeah, sorry. What were you saying?â
Joe, however, was impossible to ignore. At one point, he stormed past your little corner of the party, brushing close enough that you could feel the heat of his arm against yours.
Wes had just finished telling a story about his first LSU practice, his nervous laughter making you smile, when Joeâs voice cut through the conversation like a jagged knife.
âNice to see you making friends,â he said, his tone just sharp enough to raise the hairs on your neck.
You turned to find Joe standing a few feet away, his trademark smirk forced and strained. He wasnât looking at you but at Wes, his gaze heavy with something you couldnât quite place.
âHey, Burrow,â Wes said, his voice even but noticeably quieter.
Joe stepped closer, ignoring you entirely as he clapped Wes on the shoulder. âWesley Evans, right? Linebacker extraordinaire.â His words were light, almost teasing, but there was a strange undertone to them.
âUh, yeah,â Wes said, rubbing the back of his neck. âThough âextraordinaireâ might be a bit of a stretch.â
Joe chuckled, his laugh cold. âOh, come on. Donât sell yourself short. I mean, someoneâs got to keep the bench warm, right?â
The group went silent.
You froze, your stomach dropping as the words settled over the conversation like a wet blanket. Wesâs easygoing demeanor faltered for just a momentâjust long enough for you to catch the flicker of hurt in his eyes.
But he recovered quickly, letting out a forced laugh. âYeah, well, someoneâs gotta do it.â
âJoe,â JaâMarr said sharply, stepping forward. âThat was uncalled for.â
Joe raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk faltering. âWhat? I was just joking.â
âNo, you werenât,â JaâMarr said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
You stared at Joe, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and confusion. What was his problem? Youâd seen him tease people before, but this was something else. This was cruel.
Joeâs eyes finally flicked to yours, and for a brief second, something like regret flashed across his face. But just as quickly, he turned away, muttering, âWhatever,â before stalking off into the crowd.
The group stood in awkward silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
âIâm sorry about that,â you said softly, turning to Wes.
He shook his head, forcing a smile. âDonât worry about it. Happens all the time.â
But you could see the way his shoulders sagged, the way his fingers tightened around the edge of his cup.
JaâMarr sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. âHeâs not usually like that.â
âCouldâve fooled me,â you muttered, still staring at the spot where Joe had disappeared.
JaâMarr shot you a look but said nothing. The group eventually dispersed, the easy energy of the night soured by the encounter.
And as you followed Ella home later, you couldnât stop replaying the moment in your head, trying to piece together why Joe Burrow seemed so determined to ruin the nightânot just for you, but for Wes, too.
The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the faint buzz of crickets and distant party music filling the air as you and Ella navigated the dimly lit sidewalks. The night had been long, and your head was still spinning from Joeâs earlier outburst. Youâd always known him to be annoying, maybe even a little infuriating, but tonight was different. There was a sharpness to him, an edge that left you unsettled.
Ella broke the silence first, her voice soft. âWhat do you think that was about? With Joe, I mean.â
You shrugged, kicking a loose pebble down the pavement. âWho knows? Maybe he ran out of people to torture and decided to branch out.â
Ella laughed lightly but didnât press further. By the time you reached your apartment complex, the cool night air had started to seep into your skin, making you shiver. All you could think about was collapsing into bed and forgetting this day ever happened.
But, of course, Joe Burrow had other plans.
There he was, right in front of your door, pressed up against yet another blonde, her manicured nails tangled in his hair as they made out like the world was ending.
You stopped dead in your tracks, Ella nearly bumping into you.
âYouâve got to be kidding me,â you muttered under your breath.
At the sound of your voice, Joe broke away from his hookup, turning to face you with a smirk that was equal parts shameless and infuriating.
âWell, well, if it isnât my favorite neighbor,â he drawled, his voice low and teasing. âDidnât think youâd be back so soon. Wes not invite you over for a post-party study session?â
Your jaw tightened. âGet out of the way, Burrow.â
He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. âWhatâs the rush? You donât want to hang out? I can introduce you toâŚuhâŚâ He glanced at the girl beside him, snapping his fingers as if trying to remember her name.
The blonde giggled, clearly unbothered. âStephanie,â she offered, tucking her hair behind her ear.
âRight. Stephanie,â Joe said, his grin widening.
Ella groaned softly beside you, crossing her arms. âJoe, move. Weâre tired.â
âYeah, yeah,â he said, stepping aside but not before leaning casually against the doorframe, effectively blocking your path again. âBut seriously, whereâs Wes? Thought you two were hitting it off. Or is he back on the bench already?â
âAre you serious right now?â you snapped, finally losing the last shred of patience you had left.
Joe straightened up, clearly surprised by the sudden bite in your tone. âWhat? Iâm just messing around.â
âNo, youâre being a jerk,â you shot back. âFirst, you humiliate Wes at the party, and now youâre standing here, rubbing it in like itâs some kind of joke. Whatâs your problem?â
Stephanie shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting between you and Joe. âUh, maybe we shouldââ
âNot now,â Joe cut her off, his tone sharper than youâd ever heard it. He didnât even look at her, his eyes locked on yours.
Stephanieâs mouth fell open in shock. âExcuse me?â
âJust go,â he said, his voice quieter but no less firm.
For a moment, the three of you stood frozen, the tension hanging thick in the air. Then, with an indignant huff, Stephanie grabbed her purse and stormed off, her heels clicking angrily against the pavement.
Ellaâs eyebrows shot up to her hairline. âWow,â she muttered under her breath.
Joe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply before turning back to you. âHappy now?â
âNo,â you said, crossing your arms. âYouâre still here.â
âUnbelievable,â he muttered, shaking his head. âYouâre acting like I committed some crime. I was just joking, okay? Itâs not my fault you canât take a little teasing.â
âTeasing?â you repeated, incredulous. âJoe, you embarrassed Wes in front of everyone tonight. And for what? To make yourself feel better? To prove youâre the big man on campus?â
His jaw clenched, the cocky facade cracking ever so slightly. âYou donât know what youâre talking about.â
âThen enlighten me,â you challenged, taking a step closer. âWhy do you always have to be such an ass?â
For a moment, he didnât say anything, his gaze dropping to the ground. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and tense. âMaybe because itâs the only way to get your attention.â
Your breath caught, his words hitting like a punch to the gut. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of his door slamming echoing through the quiet hallway.
Ella let out a low whistle. âWell, that wasâŚsomething.â
You stared after him, your heart pounding in your chest. âYeah,â you said softly. âSomething.â
âDid he justâŚ?â Ellaâs voice was barely a whisper beside you.
You swallowed hard, not trusting yourself to speak. What the hell was that supposed to mean? It wasnât like Joe to be vulnerableâhell, he practically lived to get under your skin. And yet, there it was, hanging in the air: the truth you never asked for, wrapped up in all his stupid teasing and annoying antics.
âForget it,â you finally muttered, fumbling with your keys as you moved to unlock the door. âHeâs just trying to mess with me.â
âUh-huh,â Ella said slowly, following you inside. âBecause, you know, the guy who just ditched a hot blonde to argue with you at midnight clearly doesnât care.â
You shot her a glare, unwilling to entertain the idea. âIâm going to bed.â
Ella raised her hands in surrender, smirking knowingly as she headed for her room. âOkay, but donât act surprised when he shows up tomorrow. Heâs not exactly the type to let things go.â
âGoodnight, Ella,â you said firmly, shutting your bedroom door behind you.
But as you lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, you couldnât get his words out of your head. Maybe because itâs the only way to get your attention. Was he serious? Or was this just another game to him, a way to throw you off-balance and make you question everything?
With a frustrated sigh, you rolled over, punching your pillow as if it was somehow Joeâs fault that you couldnât sleep. Whatever his deal was, you werenât going to let him get under your skin any more than he already had.
But deep down, you knew it was too late. Because whether you liked it or not, Joe Burrow had already wormed his way into your thoughtsâand no amount of denial was going to change that.
The next morning, you woke up to a series of loud knocks on your door, far too early for any sane person to be awake. Groaning, you pulled the covers over your head, but the knocking continued, persistent and unrelenting.
âGo away!â you yelled, but the noise didnât stop.
With a huff, you threw off the blankets and stumbled out of bed, yanking open the door with every intention of giving whoever it was a piece of your mind.
But, of course, it was Joe.
He stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe like he hadnât just woken you up at the crack of dawn, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. âMorning, neighbor.â
You stared at him, too stunned and too tired to muster a response.
âDidnât think youâd be up,â he said, his tone annoyingly chipper.
âI wasnât,â you snapped, rubbing your eyes. âWhat the hell do you want?â
His smile widened, and he held up a to-go coffee cup, the LSU logo bright against the paper sleeve. âThought you might need a pick-me-up.â
You blinked at the cup, then at him, suspicion rising. âWhatâs the catch?â
âNo catch,â he said, still holding it out. âJust coffee. Truce?â
You hesitated, the words from last night still lingering between you. But, against your better judgment, you reached for the cup, your fingers brushing his for a brief second. âFine. Truce. For now.â
His eyes gleamed, like heâd just won some kind of invisible battle. âIâll take it.â He turned to leave but paused, glancing over his shoulder. âOh, and by the wayâIâm not going anywhere.â
And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing in the doorway with a coffee cup in hand and the distinct feeling that, somehow, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.
Things between you and Wes have been going really well. Youâve been texting each other daily since that first meeting in the quad, and his messages always seem to bring a smile to your face. Some days, you talk about classes and the usual college chaosâcomplaining about professors who seem to thrive on assigning last-minute papers, laughing over campus gossip, or sharing music recommendations.
Other days, the conversations drift into deeper topics: family, future dreams, and the things you never thought youâd share with someone youâd barely known a few weeks ago. It's easy, effortless, and you feel like you've known him forever. There's a connection that grows stronger with each passing day, his texts becoming a constant you look forward to amid the swirl of college life.
When game days roll around, you make sure to watch, even if football has never been your thing. You learn enough of the basics to text him encouragement before each game and tease him when his team makes a stupid play. And every single time he wins, you get a photo of him in his jersey, sweaty and glowing with victory, his smile so wide you can feel it through the screen.
One crisp Saturday evening after a particularly big gameâa win that had the entire stadium roaring and chanting for moreâyour phone buzzes. Itâs Wes, as expected, but this time the message is different.
Wes: Big win tonight. You should come out to celebrateâparty at the house. It'll be fun, promise.
You hesitate for a moment. Frat parties arenât usually your scene, but the idea of seeing Wes in person after weeks of building up this text-based connection makes your heart beat a little faster. It feels like the right time to finally break out of the comfort of your phone screen. You donât want to overthink it, so you respond quickly.
You: Okay, Iâll come! What time? Wes: Perfect. Starts at 9, but Iâll be there around 10. Meet me out front? Iâll make sure you donât get lost.
You canât help but laugh at thatâhis protective side has become more apparent lately, and you find it kind of endearing. The rest of the evening passes in a blur of anticipation. You try on half your wardrobe, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness that makes your stomach flutter. After way too much deliberation, you settle on something thatâs cute but comfortableâa black crop top, jeans that fit just right, and your favorite sneakers. Casual, but you donât want to come off like youâre trying too hard.
The party was in full swing by the time you and Wes went in, the familiar buzz of laughter and music filling the air. His arm rested loosely around your shoulders as you made your way through the packed house, a red solo cup already in his hand. It was a typical LSU post-game celebrationâteammates hyped up from their win, students eager for a reason to cut loose, and just enough chaos to keep things interesting.
Wes, ever the golden retriever type, was all smiles as he greeted his teammates. You couldnât help but feel a twinge of guilt as you plastered on your own smile. Wes was greatâsweet, thoughtful, and good-looking to bootâbut there was something missing. Conversations with him always felt a little too polished, like he was sticking to a script.
Still, you werenât going to let your wandering thoughts ruin the night. As he led you toward the makeshift bar in the kitchen, you decided to let loose a little, leaning into his world for the evening.
You were two drinks in when you felt itâa shift in the air that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Glancing across the room, your eyes locked with Joeâs. He was leaning casually against the wall, his cup dangling from his fingers as he laughed at something JaâMarr said. But his focus wasnât on his teammateâit was on you.
That look.
Youâd seen it before, the one that screamed Iâm up to something. Your stomach twisted as his lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.
âWhatâs wrong?â Wes asked, his voice breaking through your thoughts.
âNothing,â you said quickly, forcing a smile. âJust thought I saw someone I knew.â
Wes didnât notice your distraction, too busy rambling about the game. You nodded along, but your attention kept drifting back to Joe. He was still watching, and now he was moving.
Straight toward you.
âWesley,â Joe said, his voice louder than necessary as he clapped a hand on Wesâs shoulder. âMan of the hour! Hell of a game tonight.â
Wes beamed, his chest puffing out a little. âThanks, Burrow. That means a lot coming from you.â
âOh, donât mention it,â Joe said smoothly, his grin sharpening. âYouâre really making a name for yourself out there.â He paused, his tone dipping just enough to make the compliment feel off. âYouâve got a solid five minutes of playing time this season, right?â
Wes laughed, missing the sarcasm entirely. âYeah, Coach says Iâm improving every week.â
Joe nodded, his expression the picture of sincerity. âNo doubt. Youâre an inspiration, man. Really showing the bench how itâs done.â
You rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to step in. Wes didnât deserve to be Joeâs verbal punching bag, even if he was too oblivious to notice.
Then Joe shifted his focus.
âAnd this,â he said, gesturing toward you with his cup, âis the girl everyoneâs been talking about?â
You stiffened, already bracing yourself.
âSheâs great, right?â Wes said proudly, tightening his arm around your waist.
âAbsolutely,â Joe said, his eyes locking on yours. âSmart, pretty, patient.â His lips twitched as he added, âDefinitely one of a kind.â
The room felt hotter, smaller. You knew what he was doing, and you refused to let him win.
âWow, Joe,â you said, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. âThatâs almost a compliment. Are you feeling okay?â
The corners of his mouth twitched upward. âWhat can I say? Iâm a generous guy.â
Wes chuckled awkwardly, clearly missing the tension simmering between the two of you. But the people around you werenât as oblivious. Conversations around the kitchen began to quiet, heads subtly turning in your direction.
Joe leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. âThough I gotta say, Wes, youâve got your hands full. She seems like the type to keep you on your toes. Always ready with a snappy comeback.â
You took a step forward, your jaw tightening. âMaybe because some people deserve it.â
âOh, Iâm sure youâre talking about me,â Joe said, his smirk widening. âBut hey, youâve got to admit, I keep things interesting.â
âInteresting?â you repeated, your voice rising. âYou mean infuriating.â
By now, you were toe-to-toe, the space between you charged with unspoken words and something else you refused to acknowledge.
Joeâs eyes flicked down to your lips for a fraction of a second before he smiled again, softer this time. âGuess thatâs one way to put it.â
Your breath caught, and for a moment, you were certain everyone in the room could see the way your cheeks flushed, the way your chest rose and fell faster than it should have.
Joe straightened, patting Wes on the back. âYouâve got a good one here, man. Donât screw it up.â
And just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd with that stupid smirk still on his face.
Wes turned to you, oblivious as ever. âMan, Joeâs great, isnât he?â
You didnât answer, too busy trying to calm the storm raging inside you. Because as much as you hated to admit it, Joe Burrow had just gotten under your skin again. And this time, you werenât sure you could shake him off.
The days blur together after the party, each one bleeding into the next with a heavy quiet you canât shake. Joe hasnât teased you, hasnât made any more snide comments in passing. Itâs almost like heâs disappeared entirely, and the silence heâs left behind feels suffocating.
But it's not the kind of peace you wantedâit's the kind that echoes, that bounces around inside your skull, replaying the things he said over and over again until you canât ignore them anymore. You try to focus on Wes, try to let his easygoing, good-natured attitude soothe the irritation that keeps curling under your skin, but the more you think about Joeâs words, the more they fester. Suddenly, everything about Wes feels too soft, too careful. Heâs kind, yes, but there's a blandness to it, a safe predictability that only makes you itch for something sharper.
Then, days later, you find yourself in the apartment lobby, bundled up against the late autumn chill, glaring at a maintenance form on the wall. The hot waterâs been out for days, and youâre halfway through filling out a complaint when you hear footsteps behind you. You donât have to turn around to know who it isâthe shift in the air is enough.
"Wow, fancy meeting you here," comes Joeâs voice, smooth and mocking, with just enough bite to make your spine stiffen. You donât turn around, donât give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you keep writing, the pen pressing hard enough against the paper that it almost tears.
"Cold water bothering you too?" he continues when you donât respond, his tone amused. You can feel him looming behind you, a little too close, and you grit your teeth, willing yourself to stay calm.
"Just trying to get it fixed," you reply curtly, finally turning around and catching the cocky smirk tugging at his lips. Youâre not in the mood for whatever game heâs about to play, but of course, heâs not about to let you off that easy. His gaze slides from the form in your hand back up to your face, one eyebrow quirking up in that infuriating way that always makes you want to wipe the smugness off his face.
"Surprised youâre handling it yourself," Joe drawls, his eyes bright with something almost like delight. "Thought you'd get your little boyfriend to do it for you."
Your fingers tighten around the pen, and you force yourself to take a breath, ignoring the way your pulse quickens. "Not everything revolves around Wes," you shoot back, but your voice wavers just enough to make Joeâs smirk widen. His eyes flick over your face, and you hate the way he seems to read every expression, every crack in the mask youâre struggling to hold up.
"Really?" he says, the word heavy with skepticism. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall like heâs settling in for a show. "Couldâve fooled me. Heâs got you wrapped around his little finger, huh? I bet youâre the perfect, supportive girlfriend." His voice drips with sarcasm, and something inside you snaps.
"Shut up, Joe," you hiss, your voice low and dangerous. You turn back to the form, determined to ignore him, but he doesnât move. In fact, he leans in closer, his breath warm on your ear.
"Why?" he murmurs, his voice soft but taunting, like heâs got all the time in the world. "Hit a nerve?"
You donât answer. You canât. Because the truth is, he did hit a nerve. And he knows it.
"Come on," he pushes, a note of genuine curiosity in his tone now. "Donât you ever get tired of it? Playing nice, doing everything right, sticking with someone whoâs⌠I dunno, safe?"
You spin around, eyes blazing, and Joeâs face lights up with triumph. "You donât know anything about him," you snap, but thereâs a waver in your voice that makes Joeâs eyes narrow with interest. "Wes is kind, and heâs decent, and he actually cares about people, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you."
Joeâs smile doesnât falter. In fact, it only grows wider, almost wolfish, and you hate that it sends a thrill through you, a charge that leaves your heart racing. "Yeah," he says, his tone almost pitying, "heâs safe. Boring. Heâs exactly the kind of guy whoâd never get in your way, never challenge you, never push back. And youâre happy with that? Really?"
You glare at him, your blood boiling, but you canât look away. Because some part of youâthe part youâve been trying to silence for daysâknows heâs right, and it makes you want to scream. "What the hell is your problem, Joe?" you demand, your voice shaking with anger. "Why do you even care? What does it matter to you if Iâm with him or not?"
For a moment, something flickers in Joeâs eyes, something you canât quite read, but itâs gone as quickly as it appears, replaced by that infuriating smirk. "I donât care," he says, too quickly, his voice a little too smooth. "I just think itâs funny, thatâs all. Watching you pretend like heâs enough for you."
You step closer without realizing it, your fists clenched at your sides. "You donât know what youâre talking about," you insist, but it sounds weak, even to your own ears. Joeâs gaze drops to your lips for a split second, and you feel a jolt of something hot and dangerous twist in your stomach.
"Donât I?" he murmurs, and suddenly, youâre standing toe-to-toe, your breath mingling with his, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. Heâs so close, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his smirk softens just enough to be dangerous.
You donât move. Neither does he.
Thereâs a beat, a moment suspended in time where it feels like the whole world has narrowed down to just the two of you, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air. Then, suddenly, Joeâs expression shifts, a slow, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he leans back, breaking the spell. He claps you on the shoulder, his touch light but lingering.
"Good talk," he says, his tone infuriatingly cheerful as he pushes past you towards the elevator, leaving you standing there, breathless and rattled.
"Have fun with Wes," he throws over his shoulder, and the door slides shut behind him before you can find the words to reply. Youâre left staring at the closed elevator doors, your chest heaving and your hands still trembling around the pen, the echoes of Joeâs taunting voice ricocheting in your mind.
And for the first time in days, the silence feels even louder.
The days drag by, and every one of them feels heavier, weighed down by Joe's words. They hang over you, echoing whenever you try to ignore them, seeping into your thoughts when you're with Wes. The way he holds your hand, the way he smiles politely at your jokes, the way he never raises his voice or teases you too hardâitâs all safe. Itâs what you thought you wanted. But now, thanks to Joe, itâs all starting to feel empty, like a shell with nothing inside.
As if to make matters worse, Joe's been louder, more present, and more irritating than ever. Heâs upped his game, bringing a new girl home almost every night, the kind who giggle just a little too loud in the stairwell, whose heels click sharply against the tile floors, waking you and Ella up in the middle of the night. You hear them laughing through the paper-thin walls, their voices carrying long after you wish theyâd shut up. Ella throws a pillow at the wall one night, groaning in frustration, but you just lie there, staring up at the dark ceiling, the annoyance mixing with something elseâsomething you refuse to name.
And then Wesâs birthday sneaks up on you, like a storm youâd been pretending not to see on the horizon. Everyone's talking about itâthe party of the semester, hosted at his parentsâ mansion on the outskirts of Baton Rouge. You know itâs a big deal. Wesâs parents are the kind who throw events instead of parties, the kind where everyoneâs wearing their best, and youâd feel out of place if you werenât on Wesâs arm. You spend way too long picking out your dress, ignoring Ellaâs teasing smile as you change twice and then settle on something classy, something you think Wesâs parents will approve of.
The mansion is even more extravagant than you expected. Tall, stately, and glowing with warm light spilling from every window. A string quartet plays softly near the entrance, and thereâs enough champagne to drown in. Itâs a perfect picture of Southern elegance, the kind of party where everyoneâs on their best behavior and no one dares spill a drink on the white marble floors.
Youâre almost able to relax, standing with Wes as he introduces you to old friends and relatives, his arm around your waist like youâre some kind of prize. But then, from across the room, you catch sight of someone familiar stepping through the grand double doors, and the air goes still.
Joe. And heâs not alone.
On his arm is a girl who looks like sheâs stepped straight out of a beauty magazineâperfect curls cascading down her back, a dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, and a pageant smile that could light up the whole room. Sheâs everything youâre not: polished, pristine, and undeniably beautiful. And Joeâs leaning in close to her, whispering something that makes her laugh, the sound light and carefree, echoing above the music.
Your heart sinks. You should have known heâd be here. You should have known heâd show up with someone like her.
The moment he walks in, itâs like the temperature drops. You feel him scan the room, his gaze sliding over the crowd until it lands on you. Thereâs a flicker of recognition, a half-smile that tugs at his lips, and for a second, you swear heâs going to make a beeline for you, but then he turns to his date, all easy charm and confidence.
You look away quickly, swallowing down the hot, bitter twinge of jealousy that rises in your chest. Beside you, Wes is oblivious, laughing with some cousin or another, completely unaware of the storm thatâs building in your mind.
The party moves on, but you can't shake the weight in your chest. Every time you turn around, Joe is thereâalways in your peripheral, laughing with his date or effortlessly sliding into conversations with people heâs never met, commanding attention without even trying. And itâs driving you mad. You hate that heâs here, hate the way his presence seems to seep into every corner of the room, hate that you canât stop looking for him, even when you donât mean to.
Wesâs parents announce dinner, and you find yourself at a long table, perfectly set with silverware that you donât even know how to use properly. Wes is on your left, chatting away, and you force yourself to smile and nod at the right moments, though your gaze keeps drifting over his shoulder. Joe is at the far end of the table, but his eyes meet yoursâbright and full of something that feels like a challenge. He raises his glass in your direction, and you donât miss the way his date practically glows under his attention, leaning into his side.
You grit your teeth, focusing on Wes, whoâs completely unaware of the way your stomach is twisting. Heâs sweet, attentive, a perfect gentleman, and you wish you could ignore the itch under your skin, the restlessness that grows with each passing minute. But itâs there, burning hotter every time you catch sight of Joe, laughing too loud or leaning in too close to whisper in his date's ear.
By the time dessert is served, youâre practically vibrating with frustration, and Wesâs voice is starting to blur into the background. Heâs telling some long-winded story about his summer at the family lake house, but all you can think about is how easy it would be to just walk over to the other end of the table andâ
âHey, you alright?â Wesâs voice breaks through your thoughts, and you force yourself to focus on him, pasting on a smile that feels hollow.
âYeah, Iâm fine,â you lie, reaching for your glass of champagne and taking a sip that burns all the way down. He seems satisfied, squeezing your hand gently under the table, but his touch feels distant, almost suffocating.
And when you glance back at Joe, heâs watching you, his smile sharper than you remember. Thereâs a glint in his eyes that makes your skin prickle, like heâs waiting for something, like he knows exactly what kind of game heâs playing. His date is still chattering away, oblivious to the way his gaze keeps flicking back to you, like a tether he canât quite cut loose.
You look away, your face heating, and try to drown out the feeling with another sip of champagne. But it's no use. The night has only just begun, and you already knowâitâs going to be a long one.
You escape upstairs, the noise of the party fading as you climb the grand, spiraling staircase. Itâs quieter up here, with the muted sound of conversation and laughter drifting up from below, and you can finally breathe a little easier. Youâre not even sure what youâre doingâjust that you need a break from the suffocating conversation, the polished smiles, and the feeling of being watched. Wes is deep in conversation with a teammate, and it was easy enough to slip away unnoticed. You tell yourself you're only going to the bathroom, but you donât even bother finding one. You just wander down the hall, hoping to collect yourself, to calm the thudding in your chest.
But then, of course, you see him.
Joe, leaning lazily against the wall at the end of the hallway, like heâs been waiting for you. Thereâs no sign of his dateâsheâs probably downstairs, lost in the crowdâbut Joeâs here, and he looks too damn comfortable, his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He gives you that infuriating half-smirk the second your eyes meet, like heâs been expecting you. Like he knows youâre going to stop.
âLost?â he drawls, his voice a low, lazy tease, and you freeze, every muscle in your body going tense.
âNo,â you snap, hating the way your heart skips when he pushes off the wall, taking a step closer. âJust getting some air.â
âFrom Wes?â he asks, eyebrows raising, and you can hear the taunt in his tone, the way he draws out the name like itâs a joke. âOr from this whole perfect little party of his?â
âNone of your business,â you shoot back, but heâs closer now, and you hate how your breath catches, how the air between you feels thick and electric. Heâs looking at you like heâs stripping away all the layers youâve put upâthe polite smiles, the careful charmâand seeing straight through to the part of you thatâs restless and hungry for a fight.
âYou know, I canât tell if youâre actually enjoying yourself,â he says, his voice dropping lower, almost intimate. âOr if youâre just playing the role of âgood girlfriendâ to make everyone happy.â
âShut up, Joe,â you warn, but your voice is weaker than you want it to be, and he notices. Of course he notices. He takes another step, and suddenly heâs way too close, the heat of him radiating into the space between you, making it harder to breathe.
âOr is it that Wes is justâŚtoo boring for you?â he presses, and something snaps. You step forward, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble back a step, anger flaring white-hot in your chest.
âWhy do you care?â you demand, your voice rising. âWhy do you always have to ruin everything? You canât stand seeing me happy, can you? You always have to get in the wayââ
âOh, please,â he cuts you off, his voice sharp with irritation. âDonât act like Iâm the one ruining things. Youâre the one who canât stop looking at me. Youâre the one whoâs pretending this perfect little relationship is enough for you.â
You donât even think. You just react, stepping closer, your chest heaving with the force of your anger, your hands curling into fists at your sides. âYou donât know anything about me!â you shout, the words tearing out of you before you can stop them. âYou donât know what I want or what I need, so stop pretending like you have me all figured out!â
Heâs laughing now, a low, mocking sound that sets your teeth on edge, and you want to hit him, to scream, to do something to wipe that infuriating smirk off his face. But then heâs had enough. Suddenly, he moves, quick as a flash, and before you can even blink, heâs grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up as if you weigh nothing, throwing you over his shoulder in one swift, effortless motion.
âPut me down!â you shout, struggling against him, but he just tightens his grip, carrying you down the hall like youâre some kind of rag doll. Your fists beat uselessly against his back, and youâre half-cursing, half-panicking as he ignores you, kicking open the nearest door and stepping inside.
The door slams shut behind him, and you barely register the darkened roomâa guest bedroom, dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the curtainsâbefore heâs setting you down, pressing you up against the wall with a force that steals the breath from your lungs. Youâre too stunned to move, your back hitting the cold plaster, and suddenly his body is pinning you there, his hands on either side of your face, caging you in.
âFinally shut you up,â he mutters, his voice rough, and you feel a shiver run down your spine at the way his breath brushes your cheek, hot and fast. His eyes are dark, burning with something youâve never seen before, and the space between you feels like itâs crackling, alive with an energy that makes your skin prickle and your pulse race.
âWhy do you have to be such aââ you start, but he cuts you off, leaning in closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his chest pressing against yours. His mouth is inches from yours, his lips twisting into a wicked smile.
âGo on,â he taunts, his voice low and dangerous. âSay it. Tell me what you really think.â
Youâre breathing hard, your anger warring with something hotter, something thatâs been building between you for months, and you canât stop yourself. âYouâre an asshole,â you spit, your hands coming up to shove at his chest, but he doesnât move. He just leans in, his nose brushing against yours, the air between you thick and suffocating.
âAnd you,â he says softly, his voice almost gentle, âare a liar.â
You donât know who moves firstâwhether itâs him closing the distance or you surging up to meet himâbut suddenly his mouth is on yours, hard and desperate, and youâre kissing him back like itâs the only thing youâve ever wanted. The kiss is furious, full of all the things you canât say, all the frustration and the longing and the anger thatâs been building up for so long it feels like itâs going to explode. His hands are in your hair, his grip almost painful, and youâre clinging to him, pulling him closer, gasping into his mouth as he presses you harder against the wall.
âTell me you donât want this,â he whispers against your lips, his breath ragged, and you shake your head, too far gone to think, to lie, to do anything but pull him closer, your nails digging into his shoulders.
âShut up,â you breathe, and he laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin, before he kisses you again, deeper this time, slower, like heâs savoring the taste of your surrender. The room feels too small, the air too thick, and you know you should stop, you know this is wrong, but you canât, not when his hands are sliding down your sides, not when his body is pressing into yours, not when heâs kissing you like heâs been waiting for this just as long as you have.
And then, suddenly, itâs too much. You push him away, your breath coming in short, harsh gasps, and he lets you go, stepping back with a grin thatâs all arrogance and triumph. Your lips feel swollen, your face flushed, and you hate that you canât stop looking at him, that you want more even though you know you shouldnât.
âSee?â he says softly, his voice maddeningly smug. âI do know you.â
The words barely have time to leave his mouth before youâre on him again, shoving him away from you, your hands hitting his chest with more force than you intend. He stumbles back a step, a flash of surprise crossing his face before his eyes harden, that infuriating grin vanishing. Youâre both breathing hard, the air between you heavy with everything unspoken, with all the sharp words that have been building up since the day you met.
âYou donât know anything!â you snap, your voice cracking, and he just laughs, a short, humorless sound that makes your blood boil.
âYou keep saying that,â he shoots back, his voice low and dangerous, âbut here you are. Every time, itâs the same thing. You want me to stop? Then say it. Tell me to leave.â
You open your mouth to say exactly that, to tell him to go to hell and stay out of your life, but the words wonât come. They catch in your throat, tangled up with the truth you canât face, and he sees it. He always sees it. His gaze softens, something like understanding flickering in those dark eyes, and it pisses you off more than anything.
âSee?â he murmurs, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. âYou canât. Because you donât want me to.â
âShut up,â you whisper, but itâs too lateâheâs already crowding into your space, his hand curling around the back of your neck, tilting your face up to his. You hate him for the way heâs looking at you, like heâs unraveling you with a single glance, like he knows exactly how to break you down, and before you can stop yourself, youâre surging up, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kiss him again, harder this time, angrier.
His arms come around you instantly, pulling you closer, and you hate that it feels good, that it feels right, even as youâre pushing against him, your nails digging into his shoulders. Itâs a mess of teeth and tongues, the kiss desperate and furious, and youâre drowning in it, in the heat of him, in the way his fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp.
Then the door swings open, and you both jerk apart, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven pants. You barely have time to process whatâs happening before you see JaâMarr standing there, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. He looks at you, then at Joe, and lets out a long, frustrated sigh.
âReally, Joe?â he says, his voice laced with disappointment. âIn the middle of Wesâs birthday party? Do you have a death wish or something?â
âCalm down,â Joe says coolly, like heâs not the least bit bothered, his gaze still fixed on you, as if daring you to run. âWe were just talking.â
âYeah,â JaâMarr scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. âTalking, right. Because making out with your teammateâs girl is totally a normal conversation.â
You feel your cheeks burn, and you step back, smoothing down your clothes like you can erase what just happened. âThisâthis was nothing,â you stammer, trying to ignore the way Joeâs lips curl into a smirk at your flustered tone. âWeâre done here.â
Joe just gives you a lazy, almost triumphant smile, like heâs won some unspoken battle, and turns to JaâMarr with a shrug. âSheâs got a mind of her own, you know,â he says, and you want to punch him, to scream, but JaâMarr just shakes his head, looking equal parts disappointed and resigned.
âWhatever,â JaâMarr mutters, grabbing Joeâs arm and pulling him out into the hallway. âYou need to get your act together. Wes is going to notice if you keep pulling this crap.â
Joeâs eyes flick to you one last time, something unreadable in his expression, before he lets JaâMarr drag him away. The door clicks shut behind them, and youâre left alone in the darkened room, your heart racing and your thoughts spinning out of control. You know you should follow them, that you should go back downstairs and pretend like nothing happened, but your knees feel weak, and it takes you a long moment to gather yourself, to steady your breathing.
By the time you make your way back down to the party, your face feels numb, and youâve forced on the brightest smile you can muster. Joe is already back in the thick of things, his arm slung casually around his dateâs waist, laughing like he doesnât have a care in the world. You want to be angry, to hate him for making it look so easy, but then Wes catches sight of you, his eyes lighting up as he excuses himself from his conversation.
âHey, there you are!â he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. You try to smile, but it feels fake, like your skin doesnât fit right anymore. âWhereâd you disappear to?â
âJust needed a minute,â you say, your voice sounding hollow even to your own ears. Youâre about to say something else, anything to fill the awkward silence, when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye.
Joeâs watching you, his gaze flicking from your face to your mouth, and thatâs when you realizeâhis lips are still stained with the faintest trace of your lipstick, a dark, telltale smear at the corner of his mouth.
Wes follows your gaze, and his smile falters, his brow furrowing in confusion. âJoe, whatâs on yourââ
But Joe cuts in smoothly, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his grin widening as if he finds the whole thing hilarious. âGuess I got a little carried away,â he says, his voice dripping with mock innocence, and you feel the ground sway beneath you as Wesâs arm tightens around your shoulders, his confusion shifting to suspicion.
âWhatâs he talking about?â Wes asks, his eyes narrowing, and you open your mouth to respond, to deny, to do somethingâbut nothing comes out. Your voice has abandoned you, and all you can do is stand there, frozen, as Joeâs smirk deepens and he lifts his drink in a mocking toast, his gaze never leaving yours.
âGood party,â Joe says casually, his tone almost friendly. âReally enjoyed myself.â
You donât remember what happens nextâjust the blur of faces, the noise of the party swelling around you, and the hollow ache settling deep in your chest as Joe turns away, laughing with someone else, like he hasnât just blown everything to pieces.
Wes's smile is strained when he pulls you aside, away from the music and the crowd. Thereâs a tightness around his eyes you havenât seen before, something almost defeated, and for the first time that night, you feel a genuine pang of guilt. This is the part you were dreadingâthe confrontation, the disappointment in his eyes. But instead of yelling, instead of demanding an explanation, he just looks... tired.
âHey,â he starts softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the floor. âI donât wanna make a scene, okay? But I think... I think maybe you should go.â
You open your mouth to respond, but the words die in your throat. Thereâs no anger in his voice, just resignation, like he already knows the answer before you can even try to lie. You canât tell if that makes it better or worse.
âWes, Iââ you begin, but he holds up a hand, a weak, defeated smile pulling at his lips.
âItâs okay,â he interrupts, and thereâs something achingly kind in his voice, which somehow makes it hurt more. âI think we both know this... isnât what you want. Not really.â
You feel relief flood your chest so suddenly that itâs almost nauseating, and thatâs how you know heâs right. Because instead of being devastated, instead of scrambling to explain yourself, you just feel lighter. Like a weight you didnât realize you were carrying has finally been lifted.
You reach out to touch his arm, but he steps back, shaking his head. âDonât,â he says quietly, and you let your hand drop, nodding numbly. Thereâs nothing left to say. You donât try to apologize; you donât try to make excuses. You just turn and leave, the buzz of the party fading behind you as you slip out the front door, the cold night air hitting you like a slap.
The walk back to the apartment feels like a blur, your mind whirling with everything that just happened, everything you donât want to think about. You donât know if itâs the relief of being free from something you never truly wanted, or the shame of how it all went down, but by the time you reach your building, your hands are trembling and your breath is hitching.
You let yourself into the apartment, your eyes already burning with unshed tears, and you find Ella curled up on the couch, half-asleep in front of the TV. The moment she sees your face, though, she sits up, worry creasing her brow.
âWhoa, what happened?â she asks, her voice thick with sleep, but you donât even know where to begin.
âEverything,â you say, your voice barely above a whisper, and then it all spills out. You tell her everythingâabout Joe, about the kiss, about Wesâs sad, tired smile and the way he let you go without a fight. Youâre talking so fast youâre stumbling over your words, your emotions a chaotic tangle of regret and relief and frustration, and by the time youâre finished, you feel completely wrung out.
Ella listens without interrupting, her expression shifting from shock to disbelief to sympathy as you pour your heart out. When you finally go quiet, she just sighs and pulls you into a hug, squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe.
âIâm sorry,â she murmurs, and you donât realize how much you needed to hear that until the tears start falling. She doesnât tell you that you screwed up, she doesnât lecture you about Joe, she just holds you while you cry, rubbing soothing circles on your back until the tears run dry.
By the time you pull away, your throat is raw, and youâre exhausted. Ella doesnât say anything, just gives you a look that says she understands, that sheâs on your side no matter what, and thatâs enough. Itâs more than enough.
But then, just as youâre wiping your eyes and trying to compose yourself, you hear itâa loud burst of laughter echoing through the thin wall you share with Joeâs apartment. Itâs followed by the high-pitched giggle of a girl, and your stomach twists. Of course. Of course.
Ella catches the look on your face and scowls. âHeâs such an ass,â she mutters, rolling her eyes. âYou want me to go bang on the wall and tell them to shut up?â
âNo,â you say quickly, shaking your head. âItâs... itâs fine. Letâs just go to bed.â
You donât even believe yourself, but you canât deal with Joe right now, not after everything. So you go to your room, shut the door, and try to block out the noise. You tell yourself you donât care. You tell yourself itâs over. But sleep doesnât come easily, and all you can hear is Joeâs voice in your head, his mocking words echoing long after the sounds from next door have finally gone quiet.
Over the next few days, you try to fall back into a routine, but everything feels off-kilter. Wes doesnât text you, and you donât reach out, letting the silence stretch between you until it feels like a mutual understandingâsomething that was always going to happen. Ella hovers, supportive but careful not to push, and you appreciate that. You just need space, time to sort through everything.
Joe, however, is a different story.
You barely see him around the complex, but when you do, itâs impossible to ignore him. Heâs still bringing home girlsâmore than ever, it seemsâand theyâre always loud, obnoxiously so, like heâs doing it on purpose, like heâs rubbing it in your face. And maybe he is. Maybe this is his way of proving a point, of showing you that he doesnât care, that he never cared, and the worst part is... you donât know if you care either. Or maybe you care too much.
One night, after a particularly sleepless stretch of listening to laughter and footsteps pounding through the walls, Ella finds you staring blankly at the ceiling, dark circles smudged beneath your eyes.
âHeâs doing this on purpose, you know,â she says bluntly, her tone halfway between irritation and pity. âHeâs trying to get to you.â
âYeah, well,â you mutter, rolling over to face the wall. âItâs working.â
Wesâs birthday party fades into memory, and a few weeks pass. Itâs easier to pretend you donât care when you donât have to face the fallout. You focus on classes, avoid places where you might run into Joe, and try to ignore the way your heart sinks every time you hear his voice next door.
Then, one Friday night, thereâs a knock on your door. Youâre half expecting Ellaâs latest Tinder date or a package, but instead, you find Joe leaning against the doorframe, his usual cocky grin nowhere in sight. Thereâs something almost hesitant about the way he looks at you, and for a second, you donât know what to say.
âHey,â he says, his voice softer than youâve ever heard it, and it catches you off guard.
âWhat do you want?â you ask, and you hate how defensive you sound, how you canât help but put a wall between you.
Joeâs eyes flicker, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing down the hallway before he looks back at you. âCan we talk?â he asks, and you canât tell if heâs asking because he wants to or because he thinks he has to. âPlease?â
You hesitate, every part of you screaming to slam the door in his face, to tell him to go to hell. âTalk?â you echo, as though the very idea is laughable. âWhatâs there to talk about, Joe?â
He shifts uncomfortably, his hands still deep in his pockets. âI justââ He sighs, running a hand through his hair. For once, he doesnât look cocky or composed. He looks tired. âI screwed up, okay? I know that. And I just⌠I want to make things right.â
You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. âNow you care about making things right? Weeks later? Where was this when you were busy humiliating me in front of everyone at Wesâs party?â
Joe flinches, and the sight of it sends a small, mean thrill through you. You want him to feel every ounce of the anger and hurt thatâs been simmering inside you since that night.
âI was drunk,â he mutters, like itâs an excuse. âYou know I didnât mean half the shit I said.â
âOh, so you only mean half of it?â Your voice rises despite yourself, and you take a step closer. âWhich half, Joe? The part where you said Wes was too good for me? Or the part where you implied Iâm some kind of charity case?â
Joe groans, his frustration bubbling to the surface. âThatâs not what I meant! Youâre twisting itââ
âIâm twisting it?â Your laugh is sharp, humorless. âNo, Joe. Iâm finally calling you out on your crap. You think you can just waltz in here, throw out a half-assed apology, and Iâm supposed to forget how you treated me? Newsflash: Iâm done being your punching bag.â
âPunching bag?â His voice spikes, and you can see his patience starting to fray. âAre you kidding me? You think I donât care about you? That Iâd say that stuff to hurt you on purpose?â
âThen why did you say it?â you snap, stepping closer until youâre almost toe to toe. âWhy, Joe? If you care so much, why do you always find a way to make me feel like Iâm not enough?â
He stares at you, his jaw tightening, his chest rising and falling as he tries to keep his temper in check. But then he snaps, his voice loud enough to make you flinch. âBecause you drive me crazy, alright? Youâre in my head all the damn time, and itâs like I canât think straight when Iâm around you!â
Youâre stunned into silence, your heart pounding in your chest. The air between you crackles with something electric, something you canât name but can feel in every nerve of your body.
Joeâs eyes are blazing, his chest heaving as he takes a step closer. âYou think I wanted this? That I wanted to feel like this about you? I didnât, okay? But I do. And it scares the hell out of me.â
You swallow hard, your throat dry. âJoeâŚâ
He shakes his head, his voice softening just a fraction. âIâm sorry, alright? For all of it. I justâI didnât know how to deal with this, with you.â
You donât know who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you is gone. Joeâs hands are on your arms, his grip firm but not rough, and youâre looking up at him, your breath catching in your throat.
Joe doesnât step back. He doesnât let the anger rise again. He stays close, his hands still resting on your arms, his grip grounding and firm. His gaze softens, something vulnerable breaking through the tension in his voice.
âYou think I like being the guy who gets under your skin?â he asks, his voice low, but thereâs no bite to it now. Only honesty. âYou think I enjoy pissing you off just for fun?â
You stare at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift, the rawness in his tone. âDonât you?â
Joe lets out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. âNo. Thatâs just the only way you ever seem to notice me.â His words hit like a punch to the gut, and your breath hitches. âIf Iâm not in your face, annoying the hell out of you, itâs like I donât even exist to you.â
You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Heâs too quick, too honest, and you donât have a defense ready for the truth.
âThatâs why I invite them over,â he continues, and thereâs no cockiness in the admission. Just exhaustion. âThose girls, the loud music, the stupid gamesâitâs not because I want them. Itâs because Iâm trying to get you to see me. To pay attention. Even if itâs just so you can yell at me.â
Your stomach twists, a lump forming in your throat. You want to stay mad, to cling to your anger like a shield, but itâs slipping through your fingers. Joe doesnât stop; he steps closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him.
âI donât know how else to get through to you,â he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. âAnd Iâm tired, okay? Iâm tired of pretending like I donât care when I do. So much more than I should.â
Your breath catches, and your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. You donât know what to say, what to feel. Joe watches you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, his hesitation palpable. And then, before you can process whatâs happening, his lips are on yours.
Itâs not rough or demanding like you might have expected. Itâs soft, tentative, as if heâs afraid youâll pull away. His hands slide from your arms to your waist, anchoring you gently, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds back.
For a moment, you freeze, torn between the urge to push him away and the overwhelming need to lean into him. But then your walls crack, and you kiss him back, your hands clutching at the front of his shirt as if itâs the only thing keeping you grounded.
Joe pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. His breathing is unsteady, his expression a mix of relief and something deeper. Without a word, he steps forward, his hands tightening around your waist as he gently pushes you through the door.
You donât resist. You canât.
He closes the door behind him with a quiet click, then sweeps you off your feet in one swift, effortless motion. You let out a small gasp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carries you down the hall toward your bedroom.
âJoeâŚâ you begin, but he silences you with a lookâa look so tender, so unlike the Joe you thought you knew, that your words die on your lips.
By the time he lays you down on the bed, the anger and frustration from moments ago have evaporated, replaced by something else entirely. Something that hums between you like a live wire.
He hovers over you, his weight supported by his arms on either side of your head. His eyes search yours, silently asking for permission, for understanding. And when you nod, so small and uncertain, he dips his head to kiss you again, this time deeper, more sure of himself.
Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging gently as he trails his lips down your jaw, your neck, every touch making your pulse race. Heâs careful, almost reverent, as if afraid to break the fragile moment youâre sharing.
And for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybeâjust maybeâJoe Burrow isnât the selfish, cocky guy you thought he was. Maybe, behind all the bravado, heâs just a boy who wanted you to see him. And now, you finally do.
Joeâs lips trail along the curve of your neck, leaving a warm, electric path in their wake. He takes his time, his breath hot against your skin, and every deliberate touch makes your pulse thunder louder in your ears.
His hands glide over your waist, fingers pressing lightly, almost teasing as they trace the hem of your shirt. You feel his smile against your neck when you squirm slightly beneath him, a soft laugh rumbling in his chest.
âYouâre quiet all of a sudden,â he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. âNo more yelling? No smart remarks?â
You swallow hard, trying to find some semblance of control, but the way his hands move, the way his lips hover so close yet donât quite touch, leaves you breathless. âMaybe I just donât have anything to say to you right now,â you shoot back, though your voice wavers.
Joe chuckles, lifting his head to look at you, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. âOh, I donât believe that for a second,â he says, his thumb brushing over the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up. âYouâve always got something to say to me. Even if itâs just to tell me to fuck off.â
You glare at him, but itâs half-hearted, your resolve crumbling as he dips his head again, lips brushing the shell of your ear. âI like it when you get all fired up,â he whispers, his tone teasing. âBut I think I like this quiet side of you even more.â
You huff, trying to ignore the way your body betrays you, leaning into him despite yourself. âYouâre so full of yourself.â
Joe smirks, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slides under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and you shiver at the contact. âMaybe,â he admits, his tone smug, âbut youâre still here, arenât you?â
You want to retort, to wipe that cocky grin off his face, but before you can, he shifts his weight, his lips capturing yours again. This time, the kiss is slower, deeper, and you feel the teasing edge in his movements as he kisses you until you forget whatever comeback you had planned.
His fingers inch higher, tracing light patterns on your stomach, deliberately avoiding the places where you want him most. Itâs infuriating, how easily he has you unraveling, and when he pulls back just enough to smirk down at you, you let out an exasperated groan.
âYouâre infuriating,â you mutter, tugging at his shirt in frustration.
Joe leans down, his nose brushing against yours, his lips curling into a playful grin. âBut youâre not telling me to stop.â
He shifts again, his hands sliding up to frame your face as he kisses you once more. His lips are soft but insistent, drawing you in until all you can focus on is himâhis weight pressing you into the mattress, the warmth of his skin, the way his touch sets every nerve in your body alight.
âSay the word,â he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft but laced with a challenge. âTell me to stop, and I will.â
You stare up at him, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. But the word never comes. Instead, you pull him down again, your fingers threading through his hair as you kiss him with all the pent-up frustration, anger, and longing thatâs been building between you for weeks.
Joe groans softly, his hands sliding down your sides, his teasing touch giving way to something more intentional. âThatâs what I thought,â he murmurs against your lips, his tone smug but laced with something warmer, something that makes your stomach flip.
Joe's lips find yours again, the kiss deepening as his teasing facade begins to slip. His hands roam your body with more purpose now, fingertips pressing into your skin like heâs memorizing every curve. He nips lightly at your bottom lip, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
âStill hate me?â he whispers, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. He moves back slowly, before pulling off your leggings, his eyes never leaving yours.
You bite back a moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you pull him closer, your nails grazing the back of his neck, and the quiet groan he lets out is enough to make your pulse race.
The leggings are long forgotten now, leaving you exposed in your underwear. Joe chuckles softly, his breath fanning against your lips as he trails kisses along your jaw, then lower, his teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue follows, soothing the faint sting, and the combination has your hands fisting in his shirt.
âYouâre not as tough as you act, you know,â he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. His hands slide beneath your shirt, his palms warm against your bare skin as he pushes the fabric up slowly. âI think you like this way more than youâre letting on.â
âYou talk too much,â you manage to gasp, but your retort loses its bite when his thumb grazes just beneath your ribs, sending a rush of heat through your body.
Joe pulls back just enough to tug your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. He takes a moment to look at you, his blue eyes dark and filled with something you canât quite name, and for a second, the teasing smirk is gone, replaced by something softer.
âYouâre so damn beautiful,â he murmurs, almost to himself, and the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard.
Your breath hitches, and you feel your cheeks flush under his gaze. Before you can overthink it, his lips are on you again, softer this time but no less insistent. His hands trace slow, deliberate patterns along your sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath the band of your bra, and you arch into his touch without meaning to.
Joe grins against your skin, clearly pleased with your reaction. âThatâs more like it,â he murmurs, his lips trailing lower as he presses kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and then to the edge of the fabric.
He pauses, glancing up at you as his fingers toy with the clasp, his expression both playful and questioning. âTell me if you want me to stop,â he says again, his tone softer now, without the usual cockiness.
But stopping is the furthest thing from your mind. Instead, you pull him down to you, your lips crashing into his with a fervor that answers his unspoken question.
Joe groans against your mouth, his hands moving to unclasp your bra with surprising ease, and you feel the shift in his demeanor as his teasing gives way to something more raw, more urgent. His lips trail lower, leaving a path of heat in their wake, and every deliberate touch has your body humming with anticipation.
âStill hate me?â he asks again, his voice rough and teasing, but thereâs a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes as he looks up at you.
You reach for him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer. âShut up, Joe,â you whisper, your voice breathless but firm, and for once, he listens.
Joe's smirk returns, but itâs softer now, laced with something warmer than his usual arrogance. He lets out a quiet laugh, the sound low and full of disbelief, as if he canât quite believe where the night has led. But he doesnât argue. Instead, he lets his lips and hands do the talking, his touch reverent but still filled with that undeniable fire that seems to burn between you.
He slowly pulls away, looking up at you with a small smirk before he gets up. Before you could start questioning him, he takes off his shirt and sweats swiftly, your eyes widening at his body.
Joeâs smirk deepens as he catches the way your eyes widen, lingering on his toned frame. His confidence seems to grow with every second you stay silent, your gaze betraying the sharp tongue you usually use to deflect him. He steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to drink him in.
âYouâre staring,â he teases, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes burn with something more primal. âI knew you liked looking at me, but this is a new level.â
You roll your eyes, but the heat rushing to your cheeks gives you away. âDonât flatter yourself,â you mutter, trying to sound dismissive, but your voice wavers slightly, betraying the effect he has on you.
Joe chuckles, leaning down to brace his hands on either side of you, his face inches from yours. âToo late for that,â he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. âYouâve already done it for me.â
Before you can fire back, he trails his hand down your side, fingers skimming over your waist and hip with maddening slowness. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, then another to the swell of your chest, each one softer than the last, as if heâs savoring the way you shiver beneath his touch.
You can feel his hardened bulge against your stomach, and you're just about done with his teasing. You need him, now. âJoe,â you whined as he pulls back with a smirk.
âYou drive me crazy, you know that?â he says, his voice low and raw. âBut I wouldnât want it any other way.â
Before you can reply, his lips are on yours again, his kiss stealing whatever snarky comeback you might have had. His hands move with purpose, sliding over every inch of bare skin, and the slow, deliberate way he touches you has your body aching for more.
âTell me to stop,â he whispers against your lips, the words a quiet challenge. But you donât. You canât.
Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him with all the frustration and longing youâve been holding back for weeks. Joe groans, the sound vibrating against your lips as his teasing slips away entirely, replaced by something deeper, more desperate.
âGod, youâre impossible,â he mutters, his voice laced with both exasperation and awe. But his actions betray the truthâhe wouldnât have it any other way.
He finally pulls away, breathless as he gazes down at you, his eyes filled with adoration and lust. âI'm gonna fuck you, alright?â he mutters before leaning closer. âAnd for all those times you pissed me off, and annoyed me, I'll forget about all of that if I can just... hear you.â
You're caught off by the request and you almost think he's joking, but you're mistaken. He's dead serious. All you could was nod slowly in response and Joe leans away, pleased.
Joeâs control starts to slip, and itâs evident in the way his kisses grow hungrier, more urgent. His hands tremble slightly as they trail over your body, mapping out every curve like heâs afraid this moment will disappear. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide and his breathing uneven.
âDo you have any idea what you do to me?â he whispers, his voice raw, the cocky edge completely gone. âYouâve been driving me insane for months.â
Then finally, he slowly peels off his briefs, and his large, hardened cock falls out.
Joe lets out a small groan as his head falls back, relief in his expression. His pink tip is already leaking with pre-cum. You practically faint at the sight, you couldn't help but let out a whimper. His hands find his cock before he slowly begins to pump it, his eyes finding yours again.
He spreads your legs open before leaning in, his lips finding yours as his hands lead his cock to your cunt. His forehead falls against yours as he slowly begins to insert himself, a heavenly groan leaving his lips at the feeling of your warm, tight walls.
You felt like you were being split in half, in the best way possible. You can't even describe how good his cock felt, he wasn't even a quarter inside of you, but you still felt like you were filled to the brim.
âO-oh, fuck, Joey,â you moaned as your swollen lips form an O, your head falling back onto the plush pillows. Now you understood why the girls in his apartment were so loudâthey definitely weren't exaggerating.
His hands grip your hips firmly, pulling you closer as if he wasn't inside of you already. His lips crash against yours again, the kiss filled with desperation, like heâs trying to pour every suppressed emotion into it. Itâs intoxicating, the way his need for you feels almost overwhelming, and you find yourself clutching at his shoulders, wanting to be as close as possible.
He bottoms you out slowly, and he tries to give you a second to adjustâhe really, really tried. He just couldn't. He slowly started thrusting in and out of you, and before you could even process the change in speed, he was rocking his hips against yours like the world depended on it.
The bed was creaking loudly underneath the two of you, the only sounds that could be heard was your loud moans, his grunts of pleasure, and the sound of skin against skin.
His cock was dizzying, to say the least. It hit all the spots you swore nobody had ever reached, making you question all your previous partners. You couldn't even form a singular thought about anything else except for Joe's huge cock and the way he was making you feel.
âJoe!â You manage to gasp as he begins to pound into you impossibly harder, but he cuts you off with another kiss, groaning softly against your lips.
âSay my name again,â he demands, his voice husky and edged with desperation. He leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes you gasp as his hands spread your legs wider, pinning you to the mattress.
Before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, his kisses growing more frantic, more needy. His hands are everywhere, exploring, worshipping, as if heâs afraid this moment might slip away. The way he touches you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, leaves you utterly undone.
His words make your head spin, and you canât find a response. You're too caught up in the way he was pounding into you, like a fucking animal.
But Joe doesnât seem to care; heâs too caught up in you, his hips moving faster and faster until you're practically crying out loud. His hands roam your body as if heâs memorizing every curve, every inch of skin. Thereâs no pretense now, no gamesâjust raw, unfiltered desire.
You begin to feel the knot in your stomach begin to form, tight and persistent. You begin to grip his shoulders even tighter, your head falling back into the pillow as you moaned.
âO-oh, fuck! I'm gonna cum, please.â You began rambling as your legs wrapped around his waist, his hips not faltering one bitâif anything, he began going faster.
âYeah? Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?â He grunted out, his own impending orgasm. âCum for me, baby.â
That was all you needed. The knot in your stomach snapped violently, your whole body spasming as you cried out in utter pleasure. The orgasm washed over you perfectly as Joe's hips began to falter, and a few moments later, his cum spilled into you.
You both lie there, tangled in the sheets, your breathing ragged and your hearts racing as the room settles into a heavy, satisfied silence. Joeâs arm is draped lazily across your stomach, his fingers tracing light, absentminded patterns on your skin. The intimacy feels different nowâsofter, quieter, as if the storm that had built between you for so long had finally passed.
He exhales deeply, his chest still rising and falling against your side. âWell,â he says, his voice low and hoarse, âthat was... long overdue.â
You glance over at him, your lips twitching into a faint smile despite yourself. âYou think?â you reply dryly, the lingering warmth of the moment making it hard to muster the sharp edge your tone usually carries with him.
Joe turns his head to look at you, his hair mussed and sticking out in every direction, his cheeks still flushed. Thereâs that cocky grin of his, but itâs softer now, tinged with something you donât think youâve seen beforeâcontentment, maybe. âYeah,â he says, chuckling lightly. âSo overdue Iâm almost mad at us for waiting this long.â
You roll your eyes, but you canât help the laugh that escapes you. His grin widens as he props himself up on one elbow, leaning over you. His gaze flicks across your face, and he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. âBut hey,â he says, his voice taking on a playful tone, ânow that Iâve finally got you right where I want you, I think itâs time to make this official.â
Your brow furrows slightly as you tilt your head at him. âOfficial?â
Joe nods solemnly, though the sparkle in his eyes gives him away. âYup. A real date. No fighting, no yelling, no storming off. Just you, me, and a public setting where we try very hard not to tear each otherâs clothes off.â
You snort, shoving his shoulder lightly. âOh, is that so?â
âThatâs so,â he replies with a grin, catching your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, his gaze softening. âCome on, let me take you out. Iâll even behave. Swear.â
You arch a skeptical brow, though the warmth in your chest betrays you. âBehave? You? Iâll believe it when I see it.â
Joe leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. âGuess youâll just have to say yes and find out,â he murmurs, his voice teasing but undeniably sincere.
You roll your eyes again, but thereâs no hiding the small smile that tugs at your lips. âFine,â you say, trying to sound reluctant but failing miserably. âOne date. But if you embarrass me, itâs the last one.â
Joeâs grin is blinding as he flops back down beside you, pulling you against his chest. âDeal,â he says, his voice full of triumph. âYou wonât regret it. Best date of your life, guaranteed.â
You shake your head, laughing softly. âYouâre impossible.â
âAnd you love it,â he counters, his tone smug as his hand tightens around yours.
Maybe, just maybe, heâs right.
âł make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !
âł thank you for reading all the way through, as always âĄ
#jb5#nfl fic#nfl football#nfl lb#nfl imagine#joe burrow bengals#cincinnati bengals#joeyb#joe burrow fan fic#joe burrow smut#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow#joe burrow x you#joe burrow x y/n#joe burrow x oc
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request: âCan you please write a Toji x (blk)fem reader smut but she like one of those earthy girls with all the waist chains/beads and he like obsessed with her style and all the jewelry she wears. boho/earthy girls donât get enough love.â
i hear you anon and i see you so here you go <333
ᥣđŠŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛â âš cw include: drug usage (weed), oral m receiving, unprotected sex, riding, slight pussyjob, toji likes her sm so a lot of praise, PUSSYDRUNK TOJI!!!, sex outdoors (no one can see them hehe), creampie, an âi like youâ confession bc iâve been watching a lot of rom coms lately///not proofread sorry :(
âitâs a lot of lust not a lot of loveâ
you hummed along to the song as you made out with toji, your tongue swirling against his. your bracelets jangled against your wrist as you tugged on his soft locs, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you did so. âslow down toji, sâno rush,â you mumbled against his lips, teeth biting down the tiniest bit on his bottom lip.
toji tried to distract himself by toying with your waist beads, but it just wasnât working. between the two blunts you both shared, along with a couple sips of wineâcourtesy of you, there was just no way you expected him to be in his right mind enough for him to go slow. âi donât want to go slow though,â he groaned, grabbing a handful of your ass over your skirt.
you kissed your teeth, now pulling away from the pouting man. you pushed him down against the blanket you had crocheted yourself, your hands now resting on his pecs. âyouâre so impatient you know that? need my pussy that bad hm?â you giggled cocking your head to the side. toji gulped, his eyes finding it hard to stay locked on yours. eye contact with you was always so intense.
âyesâŚ.yes i am impatient and yes i need your pussy that bad.â
you smiled at his words, now leaning down to give him a slow kiss. you kissed your way down his jaw, to his neck, and finally down his chest. âdamnâŚ.you got this worked up over a little kissing?â you teased, cupping toji over his jeans, earning a deep groan from him. toji didnât respond, instead he just gave you the finger, too fucked out already to even come up with a proper comeback.
toji hissed when he felt you finally undo the button to his jeans, his leaking dick now free from its confinements. âgo slow mâfeelinâ a little sensitive,â toji grumbled and all you did was laugh, taking his throbbing dick in your hands. you gave the tip a soft squeeze, licking your lips. ânow you wanna go slow? thatâs funny,â you snickered, bringing his dick to your mouth, suckling the tip softly.
you ran your tip along the underside of his dick, fighting the urge to laugh again when you felt toji buck his hips up. toji wanted so badly to just push your head down, but you had just gotten your hair done a few days prior and heâd hate to cause you any discomfort. it was your first time getting passion twists and he was absolutely enamored with the way you looked with them.
âdeeperâplease go deeper y/n,â toji finally lifted his head up, now making eye contact with you but he reallyyyyy wishes he hadnât. the way you were looking at him with those low, red eyes; eyelashes fluttering shut each time you took more of him in your mouth had him wanting to bust right then and there. toji felt his face flush, cheeks burning hot at the way you looked at him like he was the most precious thing to ever grace this earthâwhich in his opinion he wasnât, far from it honestly.
tojiâs eyes rolled back when he felt his dick hit the back of your right throat. âmmph fuck yeahâthatâs that shit,â he groaned, bringing his hand to rest on the crown of your head. he didnât grip it or apply any pressure, he just sat there and let you do what do bestâsuck the soul outta him.
the wind began to pick up, giving tojiâs flaming cheeks a nice breeze to cool off. you made him soâŚsoâŚbeside himself. i mean for god sakes you had him fucking in the middle of a field of flowers, blazed out of his mindâitâs safe to say the grip you had on him was the most annoying shit ever.
âkeep sucking me like that baby, f-fuck, take it deeper. be a good girl and take it deeper fâme,â you listened without protest, taking the last few inches of him in your mouth. toji was beyond fucked out, praises flying past his lips left n right and it only egged you on to turn him into even bigger pile of mush than he already was.
you pulled off of his dick with lewd pop! now paying attention to his swollen balls. tojiâs body jerked, his heavy hand gripping onto your shoulder. âwâhah! w-wait y/n,â toji hissed, his jaw clenching impossibly tight. you lifted your head up, puffing air through your cheeks.
âiâm sorry iââ
âjust shush toji.â
you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand before crawling up tojiâs body, your lower half hovering over his twitching dick. you pushed toji down gently by his shoulders, humming to yourself at just how damn good he looked beneath you.
âyouâre fuckinâ unreal,â toji sounded damn near breathless as he said it, his chest puffing up with each deep breath. his hand reached up to tug down your olive green, cropped tube top; his rough hands immediately latching onto your breasts.
âyou really mean that or you jusâ fucked up?â you knew he meant it with all his heart, you just wanted to hear him say it. you blindly reached for the end of your skirt, tugging the soft material up your thighs. just as you pressed your panty clad pussy against tojiâs dick he whispered the three words âi mean itâ in your ear, his teeth nibbling at your lobe.
the words âi like youâ were sitting so heavy on his tongue but he just couldnât find the courage to tell you how he felt.
tojiâa grown ass thirty four year old man whoâs literally served time in the slammer was scared to tell you, a twenty something year old woman who was the literal embodiment of a fawn how he felt about you. what a joke.
âwhat are you thinking about?â you spoke softly, running your thumb over the stubble on tojiâs jaw. toji shook his head, bringing his rough hands to your petal soft love handles.
âsânothin.â
âliar.â
âi said itâs nothing.â
your breath hitched, mouth dropping open slightly at the feeling of tojiâs dick pressed against your bare pussy. he felt so hot and soft against you and toji could certainly say the same thing about you. with one harsh tug toji ripped your thong off, tossing the semi soaked material to the side. you rlly shouldâve known better with that oneâtoji hates whenever things are in his way.
âyouâre such a liar toji,â your laugh was breathless as you began to slowly grind your pussy against tojiâs dick. he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, his brows furrowing in annoyance but mostly pleasure. he was already so close it was so fucking embarrassing. pre dripped from his throbbing tip and onto his clenching abs, creating an even bigger mess between the two of you.
toji bucked his up, puffing air through his cheeks to silently tell you he was more than ready for you. you gave him a small smile, your tooth gems glistening in the afternoon sun. âcan i confess something toji?â you asked, lifting yourself up to balance your weight on your feet. you grabbed tojiâs dick, swiping his tip between your folds before slowly inserting it.
you both gasped in unison, tojiâs eyes fluttering shut at the warmth that enveloped his cock. âw-what do you need to confess you fuâhucking brat,â he growled, his fingernails digging in the soft flesh of your thighs. in one swift movement you sat all the down, tojiâs balls now pressed snugly against your backside.
âi really, really like hanging out with you toji,â your voice was a little high pitched, rightfully so because you practically feel the trembling man below you in your stomach. you pressed your hands against tojiâs chest, bouncing on his dick like your life depended on it.
you brushed a stray hair out of tojiâs face, cradling his jaw in your palm that still smelled of the shea butter you applied before your outing. âyou like hanging out with me too toji? you like me?â your tone was coming off a tad desperate but you couldâve cared less. tojiâs adamâs apple bobbed, a pathetic whine bubbling in his throat.
âyes.â
âyes what?â
toji wrapped his arms around your waist, his feet planting into the ground before fucking up into you. âyes i fucking l-like you y/n, could you notâshit! fucking tell? jesus christ your pussy is so good,â toji couldnât help the drool that slipped past his lips, it was impossible to keep his mouth shut at this point. your hands found themselves in tojiâs hair, tugging roughly at the soft strands.
âi knew you did i just wanted to hear you say it. i like you too toji.â
i like you too toji.
toji halted his movements, his dick now in you to the hilt. you suddenly felt a warm sensation in your lower half and knew immediately that toji was in the process of cumming. you circled your hips as best as you could, milking him for all he was worth.
âhah f-fucking shit i canât stop fucking cumminggg,â he groaned, burying his face in your sweet smelling neck; the scent of vanilla and caramel had him feeling more dizzy than he already was.
after giving toji a few minutes to catch his breath you sat up, his dick still sheathed inside of you. âlook how messy,â you spread your lips, giving toji a mouthwatering view of your overly stuffed pussy. toji licked his lips, reaching over to down the rest of the wine that was in your abandoned glass.
âlemme clean you up.â
#this was very fun to write hehe#toji fushiguro smut#toji smut#toji x black reader#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x black reader#jjk toji#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x black reader#jjk x black reader
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Hello, how about a part 2 of being Sevika's boss maybe when they got together or something like that thankyouuu and i love all of your ficss thank you making them hehe
Sevika's Boss ęŠ part 2
hi anon, sevikas boss fanfic got a lot of love a while ago so im happy to write part 2 !! let me know if you enjoyed i threw in some misunderstandings for fun here..maybe kind of angst?? its okay tho you make up very quickly PART 1 , masterlist
You and Sevika hung around eachother a lot, I mean that was normal right? She is your second in command afterall.
Personally, you didn't see a problem with it, and nor did Sevika.
She had grown accustomed to your presence and didn't mind all your small, loving touches and annoying jokes.
And yes, sometimes she went a little overboard for you, like what kind of subordinate stays at their bosses house to tend to them whilst they are injured? Or goes out for drinks every weekend? But maybe your relationship was starting to exceed the bounds of boss and employee.
She has definitely warmed up to you more than she did with Silco. She thinks it was your charming personality, or cute outfits, your smile...
Some people might say you sitting in Sevikas lap while you fixed up her arm might be indecency in the workplace, but you found it to be a simple and innocent task.
But this begs the question, what exactly is your relationship?
This is also a question Jinx was starting to ask herself.
"So uh...whats with you and Sevika?" Jinx asked in an almost singsongy voice.
She flipped her gun around in her hand haphazardly while she was sprawled out on your (Silcos) desk.
"What do you mean whats with us..?" You shook your head, mimicking her movements with your pen.
"I meaaan, you guys act like a married couple or something!" She threw her two hands in the air with a 'duh' kind of look plastered on her face.
You pushed one of her braids to the side to pull out a paper from under it. One of Sevikas reports from a recent trip. Her handwriting was an imperfect cursive. Sighing, you put your face in your hand while you held the paper, staring at it diligently.
Jinx looked at you quizically at your lack of an answer. She sharply pushes the paper down with the tip of her gun, "Hey, are youâ Oh," She let out a nasally laugh at the paper, "Damn, you got it bad, huh, toots?"
"What? I have what bad?" You slid the paper away and tilted your head at her.
The blue-haired girl sat up and rested a spindly arm on her knee, "You're so in L word with her." She snickered at you.
"Im inâ" Your face flushed at your realization. "I am not in 'L word' with her." You raised your hands to do finger quotes around 'L word.'
"Hmmmm, are you sure?" She teased, putting her gun to her chin and looking up in mock thought "I mean, you practically cling to her, you always walk home with her, and plus you talk about her all the timeâ hell! You talk to her all the time."
You stared at Jinx, now zoning out in thought. What were you supposed to tell Sevika? Does Sevika even think the same way about you? Would that relationship even be appropriate?
"You know what?" You stood up and pointed in Jinx' face, "Im going to do itâ"
She attempted to cut you off with a meek,
"Sevikasâ"
"Im going to tell her I love her," You continued, Jinx' half attempt to save your ass fell on deaf ears.
You looked up, finger still in the girls face to make eye contact with a very familiar set of grey eyes. Fuck.
Sevikas gaze faltered, and she cleared her throat, bringing a fist to her mouth, "Um. I came to ask you if you wanted to grab a drink, but it seems like you have better plans."
Holy shit. She didn't know it was about her. Is that good or bad? You only felt a few seconds of relief before Sevika just turned around and walked out. That was bad.
Jinx whistled, still under the pressure of your pointing finger, "You have some explaining to do."
You fumbled over your words before pushing Jinx' forehead back with your finger. "Ughh.. This is your fault."
You drooped back down into the large chair, putting your head in your hand and heaving a sigh.
"Just go tell her while you still have a chance. She's probably going to be moping around the Last Drop," Jinx got up from her spot on the desk, and some papers fell with her.
"That's my queue to leave, though," She hopped out of the office with a little too much energy, probably on her way to cause more mischief.
You sighed and packed up your stuff, picking up stray papers and shoving them into a random drawer on your desk.
Grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you pushed open the double doors to your office. It was time to go to the last drop.
poor sevika
Your entrance was signified with the ding of a bell atop the door. Music was playing loudly, and people were swarmed around the bar. Your eyes scanned the nearest areas for Sevika, but as you figures she was nowhere in sight.
She was most definitely in her usual gambling spot. You didn't want to approach her while she was in the middle of a game, so you waited at a nearby table, making sure to stay out of her sight.
You could hear the groans of the men at her table, most definitely losing. Chuckling at this, you watched as a waiter came up to your table asking for your order.
You just asked for a simple whiskey sour, hanging your bag on the back of your chair.
Several minutes (and a few drinks later), you felt someone's eyes on the back of your head. Turning around, you, once again, were met with steely grey eyes. Sevika stood near behind you with her arms crossed. The game had finished.
"You get rejected or something." She deadpanned.
"Noâwell.. not yet." You turned around in your chair to face her, the metal back of the chair was now settled between your legs.
You held what you thought was your sixth whiskey sour in between your fingers, chin resting on the top of the chair back.
She scoffed at this, turning her head to avoid eye contact. You could have sworn a small blush coated her cheeks. But her frown made you think otherwise, her large forearms tensed before she spoke.
"Oh, so you're waiting for her here."
How cruel of you to profess your love to someone in the place you knew Sevika would be. You probably wanted her to see it, right?
"Yeah, shes already here." You said, still staring at her side profile, tracing the scar on her cheek with your eyes.
The neon lights illuminated her face and brought out every curve and angle. But your thoughts were interrupted by her stern and almost angry voice.
"I should leave then," she started to walk away, but you reached out quickly.
(I dont know why you would do that when she wasn't even in arms length to begin with.) You started to fall forward, you let out a small yelp and held onto the chair, your drink falling onto the ground. You awaited impact, but it never came.
Instead, you were met with strong arms holding the back of your chair up. Sevika was bent over slightly, both mechanical arm and human arm on the metal of the chair. And for the third time, you made eye contact with now very close grey eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed in shock or frustration- you couldn't tell.
Without another thought, you grabbed her by the collar and pulled her lips into yours. At first, she tried to pull away but eventually melted into the heat of the kiss. She sat your chair back up on four legs, and her elbows lean on the top of the chair, encircling you.
Almost as soon and she relented she pulled away, "What the hell are you doing," She rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of a large hand.
Her lips were still puffy from the kiss, but almost more downturned than before. When you didn't respond she offered a question, "Are you drunk?"
Your lopsided grin told her all she needed to know. She knew she needed to take you home, but she was going to do so reluctantly. Afterall you were going to become someone else's girl, couldn't have her hands all over you like she usually did.
She grabbed you (almost roughly) by the arms and pulled you out of the chair, "How are you going to profess your love now?" She scoffed.
"I just did, was that not enough?" Your words were slurred and you helped her by stepping up with heavy legs.
She furrowed her brows until she came to a not-so-shocking realization. Cursing under her breath she smirked at you. You could almost see the relief wash over her face.
Her thick arm held you by your upper torso as she almost carried you to the doors. She sighed at your stupidness, why not just tell her right away, then you wouldn't have to have gone through all the trouble.
She eyed your glossed over eyes, shaking her head at the dumb smirk that held its place on your face. She could feel the quiver of your body against the cold night wind.
At that she lifted you into her arms, covering you with her cloak. You looked up at her with wide eyes, burying your face in the material. God she wanted to kiss you so bad. But she'd save that for the awkward talk in the morning.
thank you for reading ! yes i see your asks all your fics are on the way I swear !!!! much love
#arcane#sevika#sevika x reader#lesbian#sevika arcane#arcane sevika#sevika arcane x reader#wlw#arcane netflix#need that#jinx arcane#arcane x reader#angst with a happy ending#arcane masterlist#arcane league of legends#arcane s2#arcane season 2#arcane meta#i love sevika#fanfic sevika#fanfic x reader#fanfic#arcane fanfic#lgbt#sapphic#drunk confessions
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how about arcane characters with a s/o that has a cat companion. Like his cat is seen everywhere they can go, on there shoulders, runs to the market, gang shootouts( for some of the more morally grey characters in zaun.) ect. The cat is very protective of there s/o and was hesitant when they first met the characters in question, but the the less is a good boy/girl.
A protective, ride-or-die cat as your constant companion? ICONIC. This little feline bodyguard is out here stealing hearts and taking names, while also being suspicious of anyone who gets too close to you. Spoiler alert: theyâre gonna be OBSESSED.
Jinx
Jinx would be INSTANTLY fascinated by your cat.
⢠The first meeting? Pure chaos. Your cat hisses, and Jinx hisses back just to mess with it. âOh, so YOUâRE the boss here, huh? Letâs see how long THAT lasts!â
⢠Once your cat warms up, Jinx is smitten, carrying it around like a baby while saying stuff like, âWeâre gonna blow stuff up together, kitty. Youâre in the gang now.â
⢠Sheâd build it little accessories, like goggles or a harness for âmaximum chaos.â (âEvery sidekick needs gear, babe!â)
⢠During fights, Jinx is cackling as your cat perches on your shoulder like a tiny warlord. âLook at usâunstoppable!â
Vi
Vi would think itâs hilarious at first, but the catâs loyalty earns her respect.
⢠The first time the cat hisses at her, Vi raises an eyebrow and smirks. âFeisty little thing, arenât you? Just like your owner.â
⢠Once she gains the catâs trust, sheâs giving it belly rubs and calling it tough-sounding nicknames like âScrapperâ or âClaws.â
⢠She LOVES how the cat follows you everywhere, even into sketchy situations. âGuess Iâve got competition for best protector, huh?â
⢠If anyone messes with you, sheâs jokingly like, âBack off before my partnerâor their catâtears you apart.â
Sevika
Sevika would be skeptical at first, but the cat would win her over.
⢠The initial meeting? Your cat hisses, Sevika laughs. âThis oneâs got guts. I like it.â
⢠Eventually, your cat starts curling up on her lap while sheâs playing cards or sharpening her arm, and Sevikaâs like, âYou better not tell anyone about this.â
⢠She secretly respects how loyal and fearless the cat is, especially during high-stakes situations. âThat furballâs got more spine than half the people I know.â
⢠Sevika would jokingly side-eye the cat whenever it interrupts your time together. âI get itâyouâre the favorite.â
Silco
Silco would be intrigued by your catâs protective nature but would take his time earning its trust.
⢠The first time the cat hisses at him, he just raises an eyebrow and calmly says, âLoyalty. A rare trait.â
⢠Once the cat warms up, Silco quietly appreciates its presence, occasionally letting it lounge in his office or sit on his desk.
⢠He admires how the cat mirrors your loyalty, seeing it as an extension of your character. âA creature so devoted is a reflection of its owner.â
⢠Silco would lowkey enjoy the catâs protective instincts, smirking when it growls at anyone who gets too close to you.
Vander
Vander would LOVE your cat and its unwavering loyalty.
⢠The first meeting? Vander just chuckles when the cat hisses at him. âAlright, alrightâIâll win you over eventually.â
⢠Heâd bribe the cat with scraps from the bar until it starts curling up next to him while he works. âSee? Told you weâd be friends.â
⢠Vander appreciates how the cat follows you everywhere, especially in dangerous situations. âGood to know someoneâs always got your back, even when Iâm not there.â
⢠Heâs always sneaking the cat treats, saying, âYou keep looking out for âem, and Iâll keep looking out for you.â
Ekko
Ekko would LOVE your catâs adventurous spirit.
⢠When the cat hisses at him, Ekko laughs and holds up his hands. âOkay, okayâI get it. Youâre the boss.â
⢠Once the cat warms up, heâs geeking out over how cool it is, building it little toys out of scrap and playing with it whenever he gets the chance.
⢠He admires how the cat sticks with you through thick and thin, even during Firelight missions. âYour catâs tougher than half my crew. Respect.â
⢠Ekko would probably try to teach the cat tricks, joking that itâs your teamâs new mascot.
Jayce
Jayce would think your cat is the CUTEST thing ever.
⢠The first time the cat hisses at him, Jayce gasps dramatically. âHey! Iâm one of the good guys!â
⢠Heâd try so hard to win the cat over, and when it finally lets him pet it, heâs grinning like a kid. âSee? Weâre friends now!â
⢠He loves how the cat sticks by your side no matter what, always making jokes like, âYour bodyguardâs doing a great job. I donât even need to be here!â
⢠Jayce would probably try to invent something cool for the cat, like a heated bed or a high-tech collar.
Viktor
Viktor would be fascinated by your catâs loyalty and behavior.
⢠The first time the cat growls at him, he tilts his head and says softly, âI suppose trust must be earned.â
⢠When the cat warms up, Viktor starts absentmindedly petting it while working, smiling softly when it purrs. âA loyal companion⌠quite remarkable.â
⢠He admires how the cat follows you everywhere, even into risky situations. âIt seems Iâm not the only one who values your presence so deeply.â
⢠Viktor would probably get distracted by the cat while working, letting it sit on his desk and bat at his tools.
Caitlyn
Caitlyn would be absolutely charmed by your cat and its devotion.
⢠The first time it hisses at her, she just smiles and steps back. âFair enoughâIâd probably be wary of me, too.â
⢠Once the cat accepts her, sheâs all about giving it gentle head pats and sneaking it little treats.
⢠Caitlyn loves how the cat sticks with you everywhere, often teasing you like, âI think your companionâs better at keeping you safe than I am.â
⢠If the cat ever senses danger, Caitlyn takes it seriously, trusting its instincts completely.
Mel Medarda
Mel would be intrigued by your catâs presence and loyalty.
⢠When the cat growls at her, she just chuckles and says, âProtective, arenât we? I can respect that.â
⢠Once the cat warms up, she lets it sit in her lap during meetings, occasionally stroking its fur as she works.
⢠She admires the bond you have with the cat, seeing it as a reflection of your strength and loyalty. âA creature so devoted is rare. You must be someone truly special.â
⢠Mel would probably spoil the cat, commissioning a luxurious collar or bed for it.
Ambessa Medarda
Ambessa would find your catâs loyalty both amusing and impressive.
⢠The first time the cat hisses at her, she smirks and says, âA bold one. I like that.â
⢠Once the cat accepts her, she quietly grows fond of it, often letting it sit beside her during quiet moments.
⢠She respects how the cat stays by your side no matter what, especially in dangerous situations. âYouâve chosen your allies wellâeven the furry ones.â
⢠Ambessa would probably train the cat to follow commands, just to see how far its loyalty goes.
Maddie Nolen
Maddie would immediately be soft for your cat.
⢠The first time it hisses at her, sheâd laugh nervously and say, âAlright, tough guyâIâll win you over eventually.â
⢠When the cat warms up, sheâs constantly sneaking it treats and letting it curl up on her lap.
⢠Maddie loves how the cat is always by your side, often joking like, âYouâve got the best backup anyone could ask for.â
⢠If youâre ever upset, Maddieâs probably cuddling you and the cat at the same time, whispering, âWeâre both here for you.â
Lest
Lest would be enchanted by your cat and its loyalty.
⢠When the cat growls at her, she just smiles and says softly, âItâs alrightâI understand. Iâll wait until youâre ready.â
⢠Once the cat warms up, sheâs gently stroking its fur and murmuring little compliments like, âArenât you a beautiful one?â
⢠She admires how the cat sticks by your side no matter what, seeing it as a sign of your kind and dependable nature.
⢠Lest would quietly make sure the cat feels as loved and cared for as you are.
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